Day 8 { june 2nd 2002 }
“My first hotel”
Creepy looking men ask me for a light, and directions to a post-office. Bugger off dudes! Totally bummer when a hotel has closed it’s doors, and I give myself an early birthday gift. Ah! What luxury!
I was not mistaken about them. Marie-Claire invites me inside for breakfast. It’s a cosy little house. The interior on the first
floor is largely made out of wood. Crammed with plants and kitch-objects. We talk about all sorts of things while Marie-Clare stacks one
sandwich after the other on my plate...
She speaks only French, but Raymond is bi-lingual; he speaks German too. Such a shame I did not pay more attention during French class...
Translating everything from German to French does not appear to be a problem.
Marie-Claire is a member of the local animal-rights movement.
Raymond explains a bit about his police-activities, after I inquired for the need of it in such a small village...
Patrolling is what he does most of the time, burglaryis the main reason for it.
“...linked by villages with idyllic architecture”
The view from the breakfasttable is wonderful. The forest is just a few meters away from their house. It will be a lovely day today. The nice thing is I will go down-hill for a few kilometers first. I leave with a lunch package, after having exchanged addresses. Lovely people.
Bazel is waiting for me out there. The terrain should be flat on my way south. I glide through the forests that morning and pass several small villages. At one point, I notice a man standing alongside the road with a camera. It’s Raymond! The funny thing is that I will meet him again a couple of miles further on.
After an hour or so, the rocky slopes and the woods have disappeared. Instead, numerous vineyards are dotted throughout the rolling landscape linked by villages with idyllic architecture. It’s the initial part of the ‘route du Vin’. It is possible to go all the way south, continually flanked by vineyards. Provided that the history of this product interests you...
“My defences were up-and-running”
Cities like Kintzheim, St Hippolyte and Bergheim reflect the wealth and prosperety this product has brought the people. More than once I recognise Dutch numberplates on cars which pass me by. Euh...quite a lot actually. Do they get a discount here or what?
I decide to cycle east of Colmar. The view in this valley is impressive; on my far right are the Vosges, and to the left (miles and miles away), the Schwartzwald. And in between, well, it’s completely flat. Patches of small forests and pastures cris-crossed by roads make up the landscape.
I have a welcome fresh salad in the small village of Sundhoffen. Needed that, because ‘I was low on fuel’. While I prepare my Concor to cycle on, a car stops alongside. In it, two Southern (creepy) types. They asked me if I had a light, and if I knew where the post-office was... My defences were up-and-running, just in case...
“I get angry...”
Later on that evening, I notice that I gradually start to ‘run on empty’... But I have several miles to go... I look on my map, and see that the ‘Forêt Domaniale de la Hardt Nord ’ and ‘Sud ’ will soon appear. Oh well, let’s go those few miles extra and then I’ll see where I can sleep. That should be in the village of Kemps, only, there is no camping... A woman tells me to go to Loechle. By that time, I am really tired and want to call it a day.
But in Loechle I can’t find this hotel which is promoted on signs alongside the road. After about half an hour,
I pinpoint it’s location. And then there is the surprise when I pass the gate; it is no longer in existence...
The rusty playground and the tall grass are a tell-tale sign. It went bankrupt in december last year...
I get angry,
for I have no other options. The former owner and her daughter tell me that I can pitch my tent on the terrain,
but there is no water, and no showers.
“This kid is lying”
”No way, I’m smelly and sweaty and want a proper place to stay”, I think by myself. The woman tells me that there is a hotel in Bartenheim. Disappointed and with a grim expression on my face, I accept the situation.
Two kids drain me of my last bit of patience by annoyingly asking things before I leave the terrain.
After 3 miles, the road stops in the middel of the village of Bartenheim. It is being completely overhauled.
I have to walk for a few hundred meters, negotiating very rough surface. A teenager on a square, obviously doing nothing, stares at me from a distance.
The whole situation has dramatically decreased my ‘laissez-faire’ way of thinking by now. He annoys me. What am I, an alien?
I walk up to him and ask if there is a hotel nearby. Not knowing were to look, he mutters that there is no hotel.
This kid is lying... Guess what I see about 300 m ahead? ‘The Red Lion Hotel ’.
A waitress sits outside, enjoying a break and answers my
question if they have a room left with “of course”.
“The room is like a palace”
At last! My search ends. The Condor is conveniently parked in the garage and I haul my bags upstairs.
Marble staircases and posh looking chairs. Classy. It will cost me 40 euro’s without breakfast. Hmm...the day after tomorrow is my birthday, so I consider this as an early present for myself.
The room is like a palace. A proper shower, an excellent bed and a tv. I do have some croissants and Marie-Clair’s lunch package in my panniers. That will be my dinner. Tv is boring. Some channels are checked, but appear to be non-interesting (all right then; apart from that documentary about bra-sizes) I do not sleep very well that night because of noisy youngsters outside.
