17 May

To quote from Dr Hook, “Before I begin, thank you, thank you” … for reading all this.

Some items I forgot from yesterday:
As I left Innsbruck yesterday and drove across the Inn, I saw a walking school bus. I don’t know where the idea came from, but it was successful there, with all seats full.
As I drove along beside a river (and there are many of them in Europe, all with water in them and as such, a strange sight for me) I saw a barge with a car on it. The owner/operators live on the barges and it is common to see the washing hanging out, and in older times, horses on there to be used as transport when the barge was tied up. I suppose they have just moved with the times, as evidenced also by satellite dishes on the barges. In some cases they were pushing containers but some were complete with holds.
As I booked into the hotel at Zell, four cyclists also booked in. As I said before, cycling here is not for the rugged, but more for those who want to show how it should be done, without lycra and gritted teeth, but with panache, loose clothing and comfort in cuisine and accommodation.

I had shut the shutters, so had to rely on the mobile to wake me. It did, I arose and found that although the shower looked perfect, the hard water had clogged some of the nozzles so there was a very powerful spray but only from three holes, and consequently very harsh. Also, the shower curtain didn’t sit on the walls, and so despite my best efforts, the floor was awash by the time I got out. I had wondered why there was no bathmat, and my question was answered! I managed to dry off, dress and be down for breakfast.
Breakfast was the buffet style I have come to expect from German/Austrian commercial accommodation – bread rolls in abundance, sliced ham and other meats, sliced cheese in at least two varieties, fresh fruit, orange juice, butter, a variety of spreads and a form of sausage unique to the area. While some may criticise it, you never leave feeling empty (or if you do, you only have yourself to blame). I had ham and cheese rolls (with vegemite of course) and expected at any moment to be outwitted by a police dog and lose the ham rolls.
A couple came down and although they professed not to speak much English, I soon found out that they were from Munich, the wife was on holidays, they had taken the train north and were cycling down the Main River. If the weather remained fine, they would cycle all the way to Munich – if not, they would catch the train back from where they finished. A very civilised way to experience the countryside.
I settled my account, packed the car, photographed the bar and breakfast buffet, then headed off. I was on the main road by 8:45 and out of the Wurzburg environs before 9. I set course to the Tourist Bureau in Copenhagen, but found that if I avoided the Autobahns, then it was going to take me around twelve hours, so I decided on a compromise. I would travel the byways if all was clear and well and the Autobahns if the weather was inclement. I would see where I was in the middle of the afternoon and reassess.
As I travelled the byways, some things were clear. German drivers, like other Europeans, really cut corners. Very few bends on winding roads had the centre line visible – it disappeared for about fifty metres either side of the bend. I made sure I was well over my side of my lane, but still there were many instances where I saw the car coming towards me and almost jumping back into its lane (and often not making it, so I was glad I was as far over as I could be).
Very few rest stops had toilets of any form, and in the villages I passed through, I never saw any signs of any (but that may be because I am unsure of what to look for, a problem I cleared up in France).
Driving along roads in forested areas, it was obvious which suffered from ice by the grit boxes liberally sprinkled along some roads and totally absent from others. The grit is spread on the road to allow vehicles to gain traction in icy conditions, much easier on car bodies than the habit of salting roads in many places.
At the beginning of each village is the village name in a sign, which also serves as the restriction (to fifty kilometres per hour unless otherwise signed). At the end is another sign with a diagonal red slash to indicate the end of the restriction (and up to one hundred kilometres per hour, again unless otherwise signed), but in Germany there is also the name of the next town and usually the distance to it. This is very handy if you think you may want to overtake the vehicle in front (don’t if the distance is only one kilometre) or if you want to look for shops or other facilities.
The characteristics of certain classes of car drivers is also interesting. Top-down cars are either speed demons or totally relaxed and at ease with the world. It’s fun trying to pick which is which if you are next to them at traffic lights and then head off onto a rural road. However, Smart cars are misnamed if their drivers are taken into account. Braking after the stop line, sitting right in the middle of the road (not their lane) and trying to keep up with traffic on open-speed-limited Autobahns show the drivers are not as smart as the cars. However, in narrow old city streets and on country lanes, they are brilliant – if driven correctly.
The weather closed and drizzle started, so I set off onto the Autobahns. The weather cleared slightly, so I can answer the question some of you may have been wondering about. The little Renault Clio will top 180 km/hr, but lacks any grunt over 160. But at 180, being a light car, it is wind buffeted terribly by trucks when overtaking them, and, let’s just say that it doesn’t have a good grip on the road. I would back even the Barina (or Opel Corsa 1.4, if you’re European) for better roadholding, and the top speed is about the same, even though the torque for passing is less. 130 is the Renault Clio’s practical limit, unless you play a CD of “Nearer my God to Thee” and want it to come true.
After an hour of so, I changed my destination to the Tourist Bureau in Hamburg. I still kept on with the fastest way, as I realised it is Saturday and so things may shut early and people may be out. But a sudden “ping!” in my ear as I was overtaking in rain made me hesitate until I realised it was just the car saying I had used fifty-five litres of diesel and had better think about refuelling. This is one of the criticisms of the car I have which would stop me form ever getting one, despite its frugal use of fuel and great city and open-road performance up to 130. A few other criticisms include: thick roof pillars which limit visibility diagonally in both forward directions (so you have to move your head forward and scan in both directions at intersections, otherwise you will get caught out), no visibility over the driver’s left shoulder (what isn’t hidden by the pillar is hidden by the headrest), the cruise control switch hidden but the on/off and up/down settings on the wheel and impossible to locate when turning a bend or corner and, of course, those accursed mirrors which are TOTALLY useless. I had a discussion with a motoring writer who said you can adapt to them after consistent use – HE’S WRONG! The different views in the rear vision mirrors and only the centre one being consistent with reality means every glance has to be reassessed. I have learned to live with them by ignoring them, and so have moved back to before 1959, when cars didn’t have outside rear vision mirrors.
I pulled over to refuel (and found I had accidentally found the most expensive diesel in Germany, but had no choice as I didn’t want it to run empty and I have no real idea of the tank capacity) and decided to refill tummy as well. At a Burger King I found units of the German Army living off the land and walking back to their vehicles with the small crowns. I wonder if the German taxpayers know how their army personnel eat and take their lives seriously! When I went to go to the toilet, I found a turnstile and cash slot – yet I’m a paying customer. This is poor PR on the part of the Autobahn administration to let this happen.
When I left there, it was raining quite heavily, so I thought I would look for accommodation earlier. I set course for the nearest Tourist Bureau, on the grounds that if it was rural they would probably have information posted outside on B&Bs, even if they were closed – and besides, the little Renault did not fill me with confidence if I had to brake heavily on the autobahn in the wet!
I found myself skirting an army area. Signs on the road included “Give way to tanks.” Now even if I’m driving a fourteen tonne prime mover, I’m going to give way to a fifty tonne tank, no matter what a sign says. Driving a car of about a tonne means the tank will win every time, with its driver hardly noticing the pile of scrap metal on the road.
I found I was heading towards Hermannsburg, a twist as when in the Northern Territory, they had all gone on holiday as the same time as we had. I hoped this wasn’t going to be the same.
One ironic twist of travelling under the guidance of the SatNav is that, unless you study the route directions beforehand (which you can’t if you program it while driving), you know exactly where you are going, with total confidence, but you have no idea of where you are. It was with a measure of sadness that the town name of Belsen popped up in front of me. I was interested, but saddened, feeling for what happened but realising that all those Germans who I meet weren’t even born then.
I arrived in Hermannsburg and found the Tourist Bureau (closed), but with a list of accommodation houses outside.
I found one, a small hotel (which I reasoned would be more likely to have someone on duty than a Zimmer was to have someone at home, in the middle of a Saturday afternoon (4:30)), and it also advertised Internet. I found it, after a Cook’s tour through the back streets, and yes, there was someone there, yes, there was room, and yes, they did have Internet access. I forgot to ask about a Laundromat, so did the unthinkable and washed out underwear and will wear my T-shirts if I can’t find a laundromat tomorrow. I also found out that the Internet is a pay-for-use, but even with the (excessive) charge, the night with breakfast will still set me back less than €40, which is my standard at the moment (then the day, with food, costs me less than €50, and the car fuel costs me about €30 – all up, about A$140 per day, which is acceptable and affordable).
I set up shop, hung the washing up, processed the photos (none of here yet, as it was raining too heavily outside) and wrote this blog up and then posted it and photos (I hope) and checked email.