Molsheim – Colmar – Basel: 155 km

Yesterday night, while writing for this blog I’ve met two men. Two friends from Germany who’re travelling by motorbike now they were retired. Characters they were, speaking and laughing a little too loud for the terrace we were on. We exchanged road-stories, while they kept ordering me beer. To be honest, I did not stop them. When the evening became night, I was not allowed to pay, and half drunkenly went to my tent.

The pine trees turn into vineyards, and the Euro 5 into the local ‘wine route’. My half-hangover is pushed out by absolute joy as I ride through the Alsace towns that are connected by nothing but wine fields, and it seems there are more wine houses than actual houses. The villages smell like moulding grapes, the weather is perfect, the roads winding.

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I can feel I’m getting stronger. I’ve been riding every day for a bit over a week by now and the kilometres I’m covering today feel easy. I must admit, the roads are flat(ish). I set course for Basel, from which I’ll cover Switzerland’s national North-South Route. The last day in the Alsace valley presents me with amazing mountain views; to my right the Voges, to my left the Black Forrest, and in front what I think are the Alps, but is actually the Jura Mountain range, looms gloomy, blue and large. I can’t wait for Switzerland, the stories I heard and the pictures I’ve seen promise nothing less than incredible views along wonderful cycling paths.

Between Colmar and Basel lays one big city; Mulhouse. I decide to have lunch there, even though it will add bunch of kilometres to my route. As I arrive, the town doesn’t speak to me at all. Even worse, I feel uneasy, and even a little afraid at times. The runup through the outskirts is grim, and as I enter the city the closed shops, windows, and a general lack of life, except for the groups of men hanging around and drinking, is less than welcoming. It’s a grey day and streets are still wet from earlier rainfall. That also doesn’t help. As I arrive in Basel I share my thoughts with Nadia, who’s offered me a stay trough Warm Showers. She confirms that the city is a harsh one, and the literal translation in French is ‘shit town’.

Nadia is a perfect host and she invites to me to her friend’s place to have dinner. After a very needed shower, we cycle there. I feel like a local. The apartment is spacious, modern and tasteful, and I’m welcomed in as if we’ve been friends for years. We have a very extensive Indian dinner. After a couple of nights in the tent I feel almost overwhelmed by all this luxury.