Luxembourg – Saarbrücken – Walscheid – Molsheim: 255 km

Jan and me are waking up early in Luxembourg. Our clothes are finally dry as we check out of the hotel. The last supper, which for us is breakfast, we have in the city. Jan needs to catch his train. I need to make a plan. So far, the plan has made itself, but this morning I have no idea whether I should go south along Moeselle river towards Metz and Nancy, or go east, into Germany. During breakfast we discuss, and find the popular long-distance route E5, from Calais (France) to Brindisi (Italy). I decide to take part of it. It means I go east, to Saarbrücken (Germany).

Jan and me say our goodbyes. It’s been only four days, but it’s been a special journey. It’s been the start, and I’m grateful to have a friend with me see me off. Jan has to go right, I have to go left. We shout our best wishes towards each other, along the Luxembourg roads, and with each pedal stroke we are further away from one another.

I turn another corner. I can’t hear or see Jan anymore. Simultaneously the sun starts to shine and the clouds start to drizzle. The road goes up slightly, a perfectly kept, clean neighbourhood turns into a flyover, traffic left and right, the road descends, into a cycling path along a river. I turn on my music. As the descend continues I pick up speed. I now, am truly by myself, alone. A complete feeling of awe, no responsibilities but to myself and overwhelming freedom takes over my body. Here are the butterflies. Here is the feeling I’ve been waiting and searching for. It’s me, only me, the road and the world. I’m ready!

Do you remember how I said I should take it slower? Less kilometres in the day. I haven’t really come through on that promises to myself. Still I’m doing around 100 km a day. Out of all things I imagined could be painful, my ass, back, legs or shoulders, my Achilles’ heels are killing me. Even on relatively flat days like today. I find comfort in the symbolism. But I won’t allow it to stop me. These past two days have been nice but a little boring. The E5 route I’m taking is leading me along The Saar, seemingly forever. The nature is lush and incredibly green. I’ve picked blackberries along the canal, and ate them for breakfast the next morning, and feel like a real Bear Grylls.

I’ve met two Belgian bike travellers. We’ve ridden about 50 km together. I’ve tried to understand them. I couldn’t. Then I tried to seem like I could understand them. I could. The area around Saarbrücken is industrial, but in bad shape it seems like. Faded glory. I pass underneath coal or gas pipes leading from one town to the next. It’s rusty but interesting. The kind of decaying industrial architecture of a time in the not too distant past. Ready for some gentrification I guess.

I felt good today. So I rode a bit more than planned, and landed at a camping in Saarbrücken, still waiting for my first wild camping experience. I’m ready but just need to find a good spot. Maybe tomorrow.

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Day 6

Morning came, and I was so excited about the day to start, that I woke up before the alarm. Always a good sign. Your body telling you it’s time, time for adventure. I ate my bread for dinner the night before, because I had bought all the ingredients for a nice pasta, except for the actual pasta. Luckily the supermarket was a two-minute walk. Confident about the day ahead, I walked with a baguette underneath my armpit towards the cashier. “99 cents please”, she said. “Card please”, I replied. But upon opening my wallet, no debit card was there. SHIT.

The night before I’d took money out the cash machine to pay for my stay at the camping, and, as you do, wrapped the money around my card and put it in my pocket. Should have used my wallet, I guess. Reality check; no baguette, no card. What next? I’ve searched my bags, the inside of my already packed tent, my wallet, the pants I wore when getting cash, the pants I didn’t wear when getting cash, the streets I walked, the cash machine, my wallet again, the pants again, the bags again. Called the police station. Nothing. Saarbrücken is not really the place you want to wait for a week until a new card arrives.

So I called my bank. “You should change your post address to where you want it sent”, they said, after about 30 minutes of waiting music. OK. I’ll be in Como for a week in two weeks. Let’s send it there. The app of my bank doesn’t recognise the address I’m staying. Let’s call again. “No we can’t put it in manually”, was their answer after 1.5 hours of calling and about five to nine different service reps. Computer says no. I’m having it send to a Bed & breakfast along the road. That leaves me about two weeks of survival without credit card. Don’t worry about me though friends. I’ve been able to install Apple pay and seem to be able to pay with my phone wherever contactless payment is possible.

Fairly bad start to an otherwise worse day. Please do note, that even though I’m complaining, I’m having the time of my life. Setting off from Germany into France without a bank card, and possibly no way to pay for anything but the € 30 left in my pocket is quite exciting. I’m not sure if ‘contactless’ is a thing in France. And if it is, possibly only at the big supermarkets. I don’t know. Also, I still have to cross Switzerland without my card. To be honest, this uncertainty made me feel even freer.

Tonight, I’m sleeping at my first Warm Showers ever. Warm Showers is like Coutchsurfing for cyclists. Due to the card issue I’ve only left at 13h. I need to cover 80 kilometres today to get there. But I’m curious for the experience. At 18h I realise I’ve put in the same address, but in a different town. Another 25 kilometres lay ahead. I set my mind to it and before I know it, I’m there. 

The house is in ruins. Marie-Anne and Quinton bought it about a year ago and have mainly been deconstructing, in order to build it up again. As much the place is a mess, the welcome is warm. They’ve waited for me for dinner. We’re eating pasta with cheese. They’ve put a tent up in one of the many rooms, as there’s no furniture, electricity, let alone beds yet. But the air mattress is much thicker than my own lightweight hiking one. The energy is good, we talk for a while, drink the wine I bought for them, and have blackberries from their garden for dessert.

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Day 7

Walscheid, where Marie-Anne and Quinton live is a tiny but more than cute village at the foot of the Voges. The E5 route I’ve been following was flat and green, but boring at times. So I decide to take the climb through the Voges. I like climbing, or so I thought. Climbing with a steel, fully packed bike is different. The Ardennes thought me that already. The Voges challenge me with longer climbs, but not as steep. For the most part. After breakfast I settle in, for the climbing starts straight away. I’m having fun as the corn fields make way for forests, and the leaves give way to pines. I’m hurting but the views are amazing, the sounds are incredible and the solitude is breath-taking. I rest often, and the 15 kilometres up the mountains take me two hours. At the top a group of German cyclists treat me to a coffee at a place I cannot use my contactless Apple pay. We’re 1000 meters high. It’s getting colder. Google recommended a way that doesn’t exist. I therefore need to take a detour and arrive an hour later than I thought I would. Upon arrival at the camping, it was fully booked. The guy before me got the last bicycle spot. FUCK. There’s just one camping on this town. Next town then. The receptionist sees I’m disappointed and as I push open the rotating door, he calls me back in. “Maybe I can do something for you after all”. Apparently they’re not allowed to put people in tents in spots for campers. But he’ll allow it for this time only.

By any stretch of the imagination today was the perfect day. I’ve suffered, but overcome. I’ve found the peace to ride less. I’ve achieved what I wanted. I’ve managed to survive without a card. And the kindness of others has carried me along.  

It’s Friday today, for me too, in an experience where weekends and weekdays are the same. As I’m writing this I celebrate this Friday, I’m having a drink. And maybe one more. It’s the first Friday of my trip after all. All days will be Fridays in the months to come, but for now I can still distinguish between weekends and weekdays. As if I still need to abide by the workweek that I have been for so long. But the Fridays will turn into Mondays, and the Tuesdays will be Thursdays all the same. I can feel it happening already. Every now and then people ask me where I came from today, and I can hardly remember if it was Luxembourg or Saarbrücken, Maastricht or Lierneux. Complete freedom is not only freedom of responsibilities, it’s also freedom of time.