dimrub
Senior Member
Copied from my blog. Most of the images were removed, to fit into the 20 images per post limitation.
I used to write these incredibly long and detailed travelogs. Once upon a time everybody wrote them, or so I choose to believe. These days it’s all about incredibly well produced, shot by multiple cameras, professionally edited and precariously soundtracked videos – everybody’s their own David Attenborough these days, and when you see someone mastering a hugely challenging single track, you know he’s done it three times: first to put up the camera, then to ride it through, then to go back and pick up the camera.
Well, I’m old fashioned. So here comes another amazingly tedious description of interest to anybody but myself about how me and my son Daniel have spent a week biking along the Danube, a trip done by millions of people every year, most riding e-bikes, most over the age of seventy. Excitement!
Why Danube, you ask, my imaginary reader? Well, back when I first tried to introduce biking tours as a family activity, I stumbled upon a route along the Austrian Danube. Given our love for the Austrian capital city, finishing the ride in Vienna seemed like a great idea, so we did the part from Linz to Krems (about 140 km) then took a train to the capital city. We (myself and Daniel) liked it so much that a couple of years later we did it again, properly: from Passau on the border with Germany all the way to Vienna, about 350 km. As the Russians say, appetite comes with the eating, so we decided to do the German part of the Danube too, with an eye out for doing the whole of Danube bit by bit, the entire 2850 km stretch of it, and maybe also tackle then the EuroVelo 6 route, of which the Danube is just a part, and which goes all the way from the Atlantic near Nantes, to the Black sea, 3653 km.
EuroVelo 6, cutting the continent in half
But I diverge. So for this week our plan was to have 7 days of biking, and to complete the segment from Ulm to Passau, almost exactly 400 km, so a sizable yet manageable increase upon our previous trip. However, we decided to do things a bit different this time. First, last time we brought our bikes with us from Israel, and it was a world of pain and inconvenience – and not all that much financial gain, if at all, compared with renting bicycles similar to ours in Vienna. In fact, this is exactly what we did this time: we flew to Munich, rented our bicycles from this nice guy Steffan, took them on a train to Ulm, then took another train from Passau back to Munich. That made a world of difference! I’m sure I’ll have the temptation to bring in my own bike in the future, but I must be strong and resist it. Just not worth the trouble!
Another change had to do with our choice of accommodation. Back then we thought we’d be camping most of the nights, and will maybe use a hotel once or twice, to get a better sleep and to vary things a bit. However, after our first night in a tent Daniel was adamant that he is not a fan (I’m absolutely sure my snoring in a tiny tent had nothing to do with it), so from then on we stayed in hotels I booked on booking.com, while still lagging our full compliment of camping gear on our bikes. This time we did the smart thing, and gave up on camping from the get go, in favor of booking.com.
Being an orderly person that I am (not at all a painstakingly orderly OCD suffering robot of a human being, as some would want you to believe), I invested in some modest amount of prior planning, such as booking all of the hotels, planning the route using komoot.com, as well as planning which museums and cathedrals we’d want to visit, which restaurants to have a lunch at, and which colorful vistas to use as a backdrop for our midday breaks, nothing more serious than that. All the documents, spreadsheets, maps and formulars thereby used are available upon request.
And so, on a lovely evening of August 12 we landed in the Munich airport. According to the time table, once off the plain we had something like 20 minutes to catch a train into the city, so we did not make an obligatory stop at the toilet and did not collect $200, but rather made our way rather hurriedly towards the train station, with the damn bicycle panniers banging our legs and chaffing our shoulders. We shouldn’t have hurried: the train wasn’t there yet. It wasn’t there half an hour later, at which point we could wait no longer, and made a hurried excursion to the men’s room. We then waited some more. Finally, the train arrived. Germany was welcoming us with a train conductors’ strike.
It was almost midnight as we came from below the surface at Marienplatz, and we were pleasantly surprised by the hustle and bustle of the young crowds, walking around, laughing, riding bikes, eating at McDonalds right next to our hotel. The hotel turned out to be quite fancy, located in a historic building, and even the COVID plastic wall separating us from the reception clerk was classy, with legs made of polished wood.
Hallway of Hotel Schlicker (“Zum Goldenen Löwen”)
Next morning we went down to the breakfast, were greeted there by a couple of cute lions wearing masks (here I should mention that the hotel was called “Zum Goldenen Loewen”, meaning “At a golden lion”), had breakfast, took a walk around the vicinity, and then my phone ringed, announcing that Steffan has arrived with our bikes.
Steffan turned out to be super nice, he transferred my saddle to the bike, made all the necessary explanations and adjustments, and we parted ways.
We then checked out and headed to the train station. We were quickly confirmed in our opinion, that there is no love lost between us and the German train system. The train station seemed like the least pleasant place we’ve seen so far (and kept its title throughout this trip), and besides, we got left on the platform in a rather embarrassing way: we actually managed to get on the train at the last moment, but in that particular car there was no place to store our two bikes, so we got off the train and started running along it, hoping to get to the next bicycle car in time – at which the train locked itself up and left the station.
No biggy. It’s not as if we had anywhere to be any time soon. We had a snack at the station, looking at all the other cyclists with their cycles, then got on on the next train. There were just two other bicycles in our car, we did just fine.
Our bikes on a train
Once in Ulm, we went to our hotel, but the room was not ready yet, so we left the bikes there, and went for a walk, given that the hotel was practically on the main square of the city. It turned out to be a lovely city, with an interesting bread museum, which, being an amateur baker, I made a point of visiting. Here though we’ve ran into an issue I wasn’t aware of. It turns out most of the restaurants in Bavaria (and perhaps in Germany at large as well) close for a break from 2pm till 5pm. I was triumphant, since it’s things like that that make meticulous planning pay back big time. We did manage to find an open restaurant of the local cuisine eventually, and were even seated before too long. Now I know enough German to navigate myself through a menu, but not in Bavaria, it seems – it could have been written in Chinese.
At the breat museum, being greeted by Mao the farmer.
The next morning we woke up ready to ride our bikes. After a short visit to the produce market spread all over the main square, we hopped on our bikes, strapped on our helmets, and here we come, Danube trail! A scenic ride through cobblestone streets of Ulm, and we were in a park, riding along with other cyclists and overtaking an occasional runner, and before long we were out of town, and in the corn fields that were to be our staple, visual if not nutritional, for the rest of the week.
Shortly before leaving Ulm, at the main square.
We planned for an easy first day, with a mid-day break at a place called Radler Tankstelle, which was supposed to be a cyclist haven. However, shortly before arriving there, we had a bit of an accident. As we were riding along a gravel path alongside the Danube, I saw a lady blocking the path on her bicycle. Wishing to avoid surprising her, I rang my bell. The said lady probably meant well, and wished to vacate the path, but instead blocked it completely, causing me to break hard. Daniel, who was riding right behind me, applied the breaks too, but lost control of his bicycle, and went sliding on the gravel. Sadly, he was not wearing his gloves that day, so he opened up quite an impressive scratch on his palm. Happily, we had all we needed in terms of first aid, so while his hand was aching for the rest of the day, and some of the next, he was ok otherwise. And so, with our freshly wounded, we arrived at the Radler Tankstelle, which turned out to be a kind of a fast food self-service joint, but with nice tables, a toilet, and a reasonable food (and, indeed, quite a lot of cyclists enjoying all of the above).
Daniel is seen with his wrist thoroughly bandaged
It was a hot day, and we didn’t have all that much riding to do, so when we glanced a lake with swimmers having fun, and then another, we couldn’t help ourselves. We stopped, and declared this day a swimming day! I changed into a swimming suite and hopped right into the ice cold water, whereas Daniel was still nursing his wound, so he only went in a knee deep. We both felt refreshed, however.
Next stop was a small, but well preserved (or well restored?) Roman temple. It was amusing to see that only some of the basis of the temple was there, the rest was marked by a chalk line on the asphalt, and one of the columns that used to be at the corner of the compound ended up in someone’s front yard!
We finished our day at a small town called Dillingen, with the unavoidable ending “an der Donau” (on the Danube). It turned out to be a nice little town, however, as we rode through its center, the GPS relentlessly pushed us forward, out of the center, along a busy road, and all the way to an industrial zone, where we finally located our hotel.
There was nobody at the reception, and we retrieved our key from a lock box. After resting for a bit after an eventful day (although only 52 km of riding) we started thinking about late lunch/early dinner. There was an option of a restaurant at the hotel, but we never choose the easy way, so we went back to the center – on foot. There we were in for a nasty surprise. Most of the restaurants were closed, and those that were open – including one in which an open air concert was about to begin – were packed. Looking at Google Maps, just one restaurant a bit aside from the center was left unexplored, a Greek taverna, and we decided to give it an unlikely chance. To our surprise, it was open, it had a table for us, and it had great food and lovely staff – I even attempted to speak a couple of Greek words to them. Kalispera, i filii!
It always amazes me that no matter where you’re staying, whether it’s in a center of a bustling city, or on the outskirts, somewhere near a highway in an industrial zone, a mere few minutes in the saddle – and you’re in the middle of nowhere, in a forest, or riding through the corn fields. And so it was. We had our breakfast in our hotel/restaurant next to the Mercedes dealership, started riding, and soon were lost in the fields of Bavaria. We had a busy day ahead of us: over 70 km, more than Daniel has ever ridden (and close to my record too).
A small note on the restaurants. Many of them were closed, probably fairly recently (given that they still appeared as open on Google Maps). Those that were closed were often at full capacity. We paid lip service to the pork-heavy local cuisine, but after that preferred Greek, Vietnamese and Indian restaurants, which were, for the most part, amazing. I mean, even the smallest town had its own genuine, authentic Greek taverna or two. Good job, Bavaria!
We continued our way through the towns and fields, sometimes getting close to the Danube, sometimes losing its sight, sometimes crossing it over a bridge or a dam, until we were on the outskirts of Donauworth, riding through the Airbus helicopter compound. The first break of the day was in fact planned for Donauworth. We landed in the first restaurant we saw once reaching the tiny island where the rivers Wornitz and its little brother Kleiner Wornitz part ways for a moment, and it was an Italian one – and a great one.
We then left our bikes and took a stroll in the city center. There was rain planned for the afternoon, so we were fatalistically inclined: there’s no escaping what can’t be escaped.
Having walked off some of that pasta, we rode again, shortly through the cobbled streets of Donauworth, and soon again through the countryside. A certain gentleman just happened to ride in the opposite direction, and we both took notice of him because he was a) wearing a buttoned pink shirt, b) wearing sandals and c) seemed in quite a hurry. After a while he overtook us. A bit later, as we rode on a battery along the Danube, he overtook us again. We thought nothing of it, until we arrived at a tiny village of Stepperg and saw a bunch of bicycles near an opened and inviting door of a restaurant – a sure sign that good things are being served to a good company. We dismounted and walked in. As we did so, we noticed that three tables were occupied: one by a group of bikers getting ready to go, another by a solitary older gentleman, and a third – by our pink shirted friend.
A conversation spontaneously broke out, during which we learned, that the pink shirt was biking with his family, but they decided to travel by train today, so he was catching up with them at a camping near Neuburg, and got lost on his way (so that explained his going back and forth, though nothing has explained the pink buttoned shirt). That the older gentleman was from the Netherlands, was travelling from the source of the Danube at Donaueschingen all the way to Vienna, and, as befits a true Hollander, he was doing it 100 km in a day, so today he planned to finish at the same city as us – in fact, at the same hotel – while having started some 30 km earlier than we did. The gentleman from the Netherlands also mentioned in passing, that the whole day tomorrow is going to rain (it didn’t, in fact), but that’s ok, because neither of us was likely to melt (we all laughed). We chatted for a while and agreed to meet at the breakfast next day (which we did) at which he departed, and soon we followed suite.
The weather has definitely changed while we were eating our ice cream and drinking our coffee. The clouds were racing through the skies and the wind had a newly acquired freshness to it. We started riding, but soon lost our way, and lost valuable time regaining our path. When we finally did, the first drops of the rain were falling. We rode on, and the rain was gradually increasing in force to the point when it was raining small domestic pet animals. At this point our path led us into a dark, menacing forest, with uncertain gravel tracks and steep inclines. It was also getting really dark, to a point where I could hardly see the GPS screen. Suddenly it dawned on me. I stopped, and changed my sun glasses to regular ones – suddenly the forest was dark no more. I then directed the crew to gear up. This, however, presented a challenge, since Daniel’s rain gear was plugging one of the many holes in his panniers, which, apparently, chose the beginning of our trip as a fitting time to give up the ghost. Luckily, I had two rain jackets for different strength of rain (OCD FTFW!) so we geared up and rode on. At this moment the rain realized we got him figured, and stopped. Soon we left the forest behind us, and the outskirts of Neuburg showed up before us, with the imposing silhouette of the Renaissance castle on the opposite bank of The River.
As we rode up to the hotel, we saw the sturdy Batavus of our Dutch friend already tied up near the entrance. We were soaking wet and cold, to the surprise of the locals, I think, so we quickly checked in, changed, and soon were walking the streets of the lovely Neuburg (an der Donau). Again, the contrast couldn’t be escaped: one moment you’re riding through a dark and rainy forest, like a crazed rider out of a Goethe’s ballad, and the next you are dry, warm, and walking through the streets of the lovely town, lit by the warm evening sun.
We marveled at the Renaissance castle, we pitied missing a classical music concert at a nearby hall, from which musicians were filtering out into a nearby bar, we walked all over the place, and finally headed towards a Vietnamese restaurant right across the hotel – which, alas, was closed. We settled then for a Mediterranean restaurant on the other side of the river, which strongly exceeded our expectations (which were, granted, low, due to our, Israeli idea of what a Med restaurant can possibly mean).
Day 3 of our tour was supposed to be the longest one, and the only one with an actual deadline: we were supposed to be at the door of the Weltenburg abbey no later than 18:40, because that is when the last ferry towards Kelheim was leaving, and the alternative to the ferry was a long and arduous climb on a busy road (but also missing the view of the Danube Gorge from the water, which, I’m jumping ahead, was gorgeous). But before that we had to buy Daniel a pair of new panniers – the old ones by this stage have half-desintegrated, and the bungee cords were no longer holding them together. We were at the door of Fahrrad Appel a couple of minutes before their opening time, but they beat us to the punch. We immediately zeroed down on a pair of panniers by Thule, and I also bought a map cover for my handlebar bag, that proved very useful as my Bikeline guide book fit there perfectly. We left what was left of Daniel’s old panniers at the hotel, and went riding. The rain promised by our Dutch road companion was first diminished to a drizzle ending at 10 am, and eventually even that failed to materialize, and we had, in fact, what I consider to be perfect weather that day, and for the rest of the trip too.
After an obligatory detour into a Lidl store (Daniel made a point of missing none, nor any of the Aldi chain) we rode past a lovely summer hunting house of the local duke, and soon were on our way to Ingolstadt, one of the bigger cities on our route. I don’t know what it was about this city, but neither of us liked it all that much, so we snacked on a panini in a cafe near the town hall (or the way I got used to referring to these building, Rathaus) and got out of it.
The Duke’s summer hunting residence
On we biked, well ahead of our cut off time of 18:40 at Weltenburg, but still, we made a couple of shortcuts, one of which ended up costing us in some additional time, with a single break for cake and tea. As we were getting closer, Daniel got into his head that he wants to take the ferry at 17:20, so third from the last one, and started sprinting ahead, with me barely keeping up with him. We took over most of the other bikers, except the elderly on electric bikes, and a couple of french guys on mountain bikes, who rode as if Robespierre was chasing after them with a guillotine. We ended up getting there at 17:21, and when I dismounted nearly hitting the wall of the ticket office, the lady within told me that the next ferry is at 18:00. I was quite content: this meant (and I told this to Daniel repeatedly while we were riding at break neck speed) that we have time for a dinner with beer at the Abbey. And we did. My only regret is that I didn’t buy any of the locally made waffles, which strongly remember those made in Karlovy Vary, my favorite desert.
40 minutes and half a liter of beer later we were on the ferry, gliding along the Danube past the magnificent vistas of the Danube Gorge, until after yet another bend of the river we noticed a small town on the left bank, and to the left of it – a rather pompous building reminiscent of a Roman temple, but amazingly well preserved, perched on top of the hill overlooking the town. The town was Kelheim, our destination for the day, and the building – the Befreiungshalle, or the “Hall of Liberation”, a creation of two co-conspirators, the Bavarian king Ludwig the first, who provided inspiration and money, and Leo von Klenze, who did the actual work. The building was placed there in commemoration of the victory over Napoleon, 50 years earlier, which may well be the longest period of time between an event and its monumental commemoration by a fake temple on a steep hill.
By the time we disembarked I was able to ride again without half a liter of Weltenburg Weißbier affecting my steering, but we didn’t have much to ride: our hotel was practically next door from the peer. It was one of the DORMERO network, and to our eyes at least, its building took up about 50% of the old city of Kelheim. We dropped our stuff in the room and went a-climbing, attempting to get to the top of the Befreiungshalle’s hill before the sunset. As we were coming back down, suddenly we heard the sounds of an organ, coming from a nearby church. Not just an organ: it appears that a whole organ museum is located there, but alas, it was already closed. We finished our day with a cake and tea at a cafe on the main (and, probably, only) square of Kelheim.
Fourth day of our ride, and we’re taking it easy after two days of 70+: in a blink of an eye, and after a single stop for ice cream at a place called Bad Abbach, we’re in Regensburg, the largest city on our route so far. We make our way to a hotel via precariously steep narrow cobbled alleyways, and find it right next to a sex shop. Instead of running off at once and starting to explore, Daniel decides to stay at the hotel, and I go and do our laundry at a laundromat nearby. Somehow the city has a very different vibe than a slightly smaller Ingolstadt, and receives our stamp of approval. We walk into a cathedral, where organ is playing a mixture of 20th century progressive American music and somewhat more traditional baroque pieces, step into a bakery for a traditional cake and tea, and end up in a supermarket, where I find, to my sheer delight, these waffles that I missed in Weltenburg!
There’s a story about them. Growing up in Moscow, my choice of sweets was limited to the Soviet produce, which, while sometimes being of good quality, was not very varied. And then my mom took me to a Czech exposition at the VDNH – the expo center of Moscow, and there, she managed to get us into a Czech restaurant. I think they served some kind of beef, or maybe pork, but they also sold these Karlovy Vary Oblatky, waffles made in the spa city of Karlovy Vary. They were delicious! I ate them slowly, until there were no more, but I remembered the taste, and the texture, for years. Many years later me and my then not yet wife traveled to the Czech Republic, and we ended up in Karlovy Vary and found this treat being sold everywhere. I was so happy I could eat them all!
Fifth day of riding. Pretty early in the morning we made it to the other creation of Leo and Ludwig – the Walhalla. I kid you not, that’s what they called this Parthenon replica, perched on top of another hill overlooking the Danube. We weren’t sure how to approach it, so we left the trail following the river shortly before the hill, made it to a parking where another bunch of bicycles were already present, left ours there, and went up the stairs through the forest. It appears we had two other options of getting there: either riding up the hill, which is not horribly steep, or continuing with the river route, then leaving the bicycles directly beneath the Valhalla, and taking the trail from the river, from where the excursion boats from Regensburg moor. But the important thing is that we got there.
Once we got there, however, we were greeted with a rather lengthy line, stretching along the entrance side of the building, and most of the perpendicular side of the portico. So we waited, glad to be out of the drizzle that has just started. At times people walked by the line, so as to take a photo down on the river or something, but never came back. We each made our conclusions about them: Daniel – that they were cutting the line, me – that they were plunging to their death from the precipice.
Finally, we have filled our contact tracing questionnaire, paid our fee (4.50 for adults, and free for kids), and were in. Valhalla turned out to be a single large space, with the walls line with busts of various people. At first we thought these were famous Bavarians, but were soon confused to find Ekaterina the Second, the Tzarina of Russia, Field Marshal Radetzky of the Habsburg Empire, Beethoven, Van Eyck, Mahler and many others, some of whom might have been German by origin, but certainly not Bavarian, and some weren’t even German by any stretch of imagination. Finally, we’ve encountered the instantly recognizable Einstein, whose bust was made of some rather strange material: according to Daniel, it looked as if made of bubblegum.
I had a coffee at a nearby kiosk, while Daniel drank the tea he brought with him, and we were off again, on a rather uneventful, but invariably beautiful ride. According to our guide book, a town called Worth an der Donau was a promising place for a short visit, and indeed as we approached it, many signs aimed specifically at the riders greeted us, beseeching us to make a detour through the town, so we did. It was all for nothing: the whole town was closed, with small groups of deceived riders just like ourselves circling it in search for nourishment. We ended up congregating with the rest of the riders in the only open ice cream cafe in town, after which we continued our way to our destination – the city of Straubing.
Worth an der Donau, the town of false promises
Our hotel for the day was called “Hotel Asam”. Now if you’re travelling in Bavaria, and take the least interest in the history of the region, you’ll immediately recognize the name – Cosmas Damian Asam and Egid Quirin Asam are two brothers whose names are synonymous to that of Bavarian Baroque: the sculpted, painted and built half of what the guide book deems worth mentioning as far as the Baroque era goes. However, my hopes that we will be staying in a building designed by the famous brothers were dashed: this was clear before we even reached the hotel, by the fact that we rode through the center of the city, and kept riding for some time still. On the other hand, even though the hotel was *only* built in 1905, across the street of it was a spa complex, with free access for the hotel residents. And a wonderful spa it was, with 3 different saunas, a jacuzzi, an ice shower of sorts, and something called I think a quiet room, with water beds. Or at least I hope it was a quiet room. Whatever.
Daniel decided that biking all day is not enough exercise, so he decided he’ll go running, so we agreed to meet at the main square, with me walking there, like a regular human being, and he running, like an ape. Sadly, the Vietnamese restaurant we were aiming for was closed, but an Indian one we went to instead was excellent too.
Next morning was less than 72 hours before our flight back to Israel. The significance of this has to do with the COVID regulations in Israel: a negative test, taken within 72 hours from the flight is required. So we signed up for such a test in Straubing – it is free, as it turns out, even for Ausländer (that is, foreigners). It was all very efficient. There was one person there, wearing a mask, but otherwise not protected, who told us which barcodes to scan, which forms to fill etc., another person inside a clothed booth, who gave us the test tube, and a third person, assisted by the first person, inside a boot and wearing 3 layers of gloves, who took the samples from behind a glass – we were very curious about the varying degrees of protection, but what do we know.
Right, on with riding. We had about 60 km to do this day, all the way to the town of Deggendorf. We were doing nicely, until that couple with a map. They stopped at the side of the path and were contemplating their map, which was surprising, since there was a clear sign ahead. Or was there? The sign towards Deggendorf that we expected to see was covered up with a plastic bag. We didn’t know what to make of it, so we took the turn indicated by the sign, and hoped for the best. Soon the worst happened: we ran into a roadblock, behind which we could clearly see construction work. So we took a left, and soon where back on the road towards Niederwinkling, and a rather long, convoluted detour followed, with us meeting that couple a few more times.
Eventually we made it to Deggendorf, and here a rather unpleasant surprise awaited us: the hotel, which I ordered at the last moment (actually, during the trip itself) turned out to be on the outskirts of the town, even further out than the one in Dillingen. However, the hotel itself at least was good: it belongs to that same network DORMERO we met already in Kelheim. It’s a brand new, recently opened hotel, and it had sauna, which I asked to use, and which was heated especially for me. We did go to the center for dinner though, but it was a lengthy walk home.
Ok, our last day on the bikes. Today we’re riding into Passau! Our friend the flying Dutchman is probably somewhere near Vienna by now. We’re riding past the fields and the villages, we get closer and farther from the river, knowing that this is the last time we’re experiencing this on this trip. A few couples, including the couple from the day earlier, are riding at about the same average speed, meaning that we pass each other frequently every time somebody makes a stop. Suddenly something strange can be seen near the path: a sign that says Neptune and has something written on it, and a block of stone, on which something resembling a chess pawn. A while later another such thing appears, this time it says Pluto. At this point I realize what it is: the pawns are the representations, in terms of size, of the corresponding planets, and their distances from a sun somewhere ahead of us are representative of the planets’ distance from the real sun. This guess proves to be right, and before long we witness the sun.
Uranus, Earth and the Moon, Sun.
We now ride near Vilshofen (an der Donau), the last city before our destination, meaning that the next sign shows the distance to Passau, for the first time. We ride past a gate made of beer crates, past a landing strip with its restaurant, we think of stopping there but decide eventually to continue to Windorf, the last town before Passau. Alas, everything in Windorf is closed, so we stop for a picnic with our own supplies, near a landing of a ferry. And there it is, no more Bavaria to ride, we switch to the right bank of the river, and we’re inside Passau, first the city park, then the modern living areas, and then we’re riding on an embankment with the long cruise ships moored to our left, and the cobble streets and the old buildings of the old city to our right. The ride is done.
Here’s our route on Komoot, the way it was planned, and the way it actually happened. I used the following resources while preparing it:
I used to write these incredibly long and detailed travelogs. Once upon a time everybody wrote them, or so I choose to believe. These days it’s all about incredibly well produced, shot by multiple cameras, professionally edited and precariously soundtracked videos – everybody’s their own David Attenborough these days, and when you see someone mastering a hugely challenging single track, you know he’s done it three times: first to put up the camera, then to ride it through, then to go back and pick up the camera.
Well, I’m old fashioned. So here comes another amazingly tedious description of interest to anybody but myself about how me and my son Daniel have spent a week biking along the Danube, a trip done by millions of people every year, most riding e-bikes, most over the age of seventy. Excitement!
Why Danube, you ask, my imaginary reader? Well, back when I first tried to introduce biking tours as a family activity, I stumbled upon a route along the Austrian Danube. Given our love for the Austrian capital city, finishing the ride in Vienna seemed like a great idea, so we did the part from Linz to Krems (about 140 km) then took a train to the capital city. We (myself and Daniel) liked it so much that a couple of years later we did it again, properly: from Passau on the border with Germany all the way to Vienna, about 350 km. As the Russians say, appetite comes with the eating, so we decided to do the German part of the Danube too, with an eye out for doing the whole of Danube bit by bit, the entire 2850 km stretch of it, and maybe also tackle then the EuroVelo 6 route, of which the Danube is just a part, and which goes all the way from the Atlantic near Nantes, to the Black sea, 3653 km.
EuroVelo 6, cutting the continent in halfBut I diverge. So for this week our plan was to have 7 days of biking, and to complete the segment from Ulm to Passau, almost exactly 400 km, so a sizable yet manageable increase upon our previous trip. However, we decided to do things a bit different this time. First, last time we brought our bikes with us from Israel, and it was a world of pain and inconvenience – and not all that much financial gain, if at all, compared with renting bicycles similar to ours in Vienna. In fact, this is exactly what we did this time: we flew to Munich, rented our bicycles from this nice guy Steffan, took them on a train to Ulm, then took another train from Passau back to Munich. That made a world of difference! I’m sure I’ll have the temptation to bring in my own bike in the future, but I must be strong and resist it. Just not worth the trouble!
Another change had to do with our choice of accommodation. Back then we thought we’d be camping most of the nights, and will maybe use a hotel once or twice, to get a better sleep and to vary things a bit. However, after our first night in a tent Daniel was adamant that he is not a fan (I’m absolutely sure my snoring in a tiny tent had nothing to do with it), so from then on we stayed in hotels I booked on booking.com, while still lagging our full compliment of camping gear on our bikes. This time we did the smart thing, and gave up on camping from the get go, in favor of booking.com.
Being an orderly person that I am (not at all a painstakingly orderly OCD suffering robot of a human being, as some would want you to believe), I invested in some modest amount of prior planning, such as booking all of the hotels, planning the route using komoot.com, as well as planning which museums and cathedrals we’d want to visit, which restaurants to have a lunch at, and which colorful vistas to use as a backdrop for our midday breaks, nothing more serious than that. All the documents, spreadsheets, maps and formulars thereby used are available upon request.
And so, on a lovely evening of August 12 we landed in the Munich airport. According to the time table, once off the plain we had something like 20 minutes to catch a train into the city, so we did not make an obligatory stop at the toilet and did not collect $200, but rather made our way rather hurriedly towards the train station, with the damn bicycle panniers banging our legs and chaffing our shoulders. We shouldn’t have hurried: the train wasn’t there yet. It wasn’t there half an hour later, at which point we could wait no longer, and made a hurried excursion to the men’s room. We then waited some more. Finally, the train arrived. Germany was welcoming us with a train conductors’ strike.
It was almost midnight as we came from below the surface at Marienplatz, and we were pleasantly surprised by the hustle and bustle of the young crowds, walking around, laughing, riding bikes, eating at McDonalds right next to our hotel. The hotel turned out to be quite fancy, located in a historic building, and even the COVID plastic wall separating us from the reception clerk was classy, with legs made of polished wood.
Next morning we went down to the breakfast, were greeted there by a couple of cute lions wearing masks (here I should mention that the hotel was called “Zum Goldenen Loewen”, meaning “At a golden lion”), had breakfast, took a walk around the vicinity, and then my phone ringed, announcing that Steffan has arrived with our bikes.
Steffan turned out to be super nice, he transferred my saddle to the bike, made all the necessary explanations and adjustments, and we parted ways.
We then checked out and headed to the train station. We were quickly confirmed in our opinion, that there is no love lost between us and the German train system. The train station seemed like the least pleasant place we’ve seen so far (and kept its title throughout this trip), and besides, we got left on the platform in a rather embarrassing way: we actually managed to get on the train at the last moment, but in that particular car there was no place to store our two bikes, so we got off the train and started running along it, hoping to get to the next bicycle car in time – at which the train locked itself up and left the station.
No biggy. It’s not as if we had anywhere to be any time soon. We had a snack at the station, looking at all the other cyclists with their cycles, then got on on the next train. There were just two other bicycles in our car, we did just fine.
Once in Ulm, we went to our hotel, but the room was not ready yet, so we left the bikes there, and went for a walk, given that the hotel was practically on the main square of the city. It turned out to be a lovely city, with an interesting bread museum, which, being an amateur baker, I made a point of visiting. Here though we’ve ran into an issue I wasn’t aware of. It turns out most of the restaurants in Bavaria (and perhaps in Germany at large as well) close for a break from 2pm till 5pm. I was triumphant, since it’s things like that that make meticulous planning pay back big time. We did manage to find an open restaurant of the local cuisine eventually, and were even seated before too long. Now I know enough German to navigate myself through a menu, but not in Bavaria, it seems – it could have been written in Chinese.
At the breat museum, being greeted by Mao the farmer.
The next morning we woke up ready to ride our bikes. After a short visit to the produce market spread all over the main square, we hopped on our bikes, strapped on our helmets, and here we come, Danube trail! A scenic ride through cobblestone streets of Ulm, and we were in a park, riding along with other cyclists and overtaking an occasional runner, and before long we were out of town, and in the corn fields that were to be our staple, visual if not nutritional, for the rest of the week.
We planned for an easy first day, with a mid-day break at a place called Radler Tankstelle, which was supposed to be a cyclist haven. However, shortly before arriving there, we had a bit of an accident. As we were riding along a gravel path alongside the Danube, I saw a lady blocking the path on her bicycle. Wishing to avoid surprising her, I rang my bell. The said lady probably meant well, and wished to vacate the path, but instead blocked it completely, causing me to break hard. Daniel, who was riding right behind me, applied the breaks too, but lost control of his bicycle, and went sliding on the gravel. Sadly, he was not wearing his gloves that day, so he opened up quite an impressive scratch on his palm. Happily, we had all we needed in terms of first aid, so while his hand was aching for the rest of the day, and some of the next, he was ok otherwise. And so, with our freshly wounded, we arrived at the Radler Tankstelle, which turned out to be a kind of a fast food self-service joint, but with nice tables, a toilet, and a reasonable food (and, indeed, quite a lot of cyclists enjoying all of the above).
It was a hot day, and we didn’t have all that much riding to do, so when we glanced a lake with swimmers having fun, and then another, we couldn’t help ourselves. We stopped, and declared this day a swimming day! I changed into a swimming suite and hopped right into the ice cold water, whereas Daniel was still nursing his wound, so he only went in a knee deep. We both felt refreshed, however.
Next stop was a small, but well preserved (or well restored?) Roman temple. It was amusing to see that only some of the basis of the temple was there, the rest was marked by a chalk line on the asphalt, and one of the columns that used to be at the corner of the compound ended up in someone’s front yard!
We finished our day at a small town called Dillingen, with the unavoidable ending “an der Donau” (on the Danube). It turned out to be a nice little town, however, as we rode through its center, the GPS relentlessly pushed us forward, out of the center, along a busy road, and all the way to an industrial zone, where we finally located our hotel.
There was nobody at the reception, and we retrieved our key from a lock box. After resting for a bit after an eventful day (although only 52 km of riding) we started thinking about late lunch/early dinner. There was an option of a restaurant at the hotel, but we never choose the easy way, so we went back to the center – on foot. There we were in for a nasty surprise. Most of the restaurants were closed, and those that were open – including one in which an open air concert was about to begin – were packed. Looking at Google Maps, just one restaurant a bit aside from the center was left unexplored, a Greek taverna, and we decided to give it an unlikely chance. To our surprise, it was open, it had a table for us, and it had great food and lovely staff – I even attempted to speak a couple of Greek words to them. Kalispera, i filii!
It always amazes me that no matter where you’re staying, whether it’s in a center of a bustling city, or on the outskirts, somewhere near a highway in an industrial zone, a mere few minutes in the saddle – and you’re in the middle of nowhere, in a forest, or riding through the corn fields. And so it was. We had our breakfast in our hotel/restaurant next to the Mercedes dealership, started riding, and soon were lost in the fields of Bavaria. We had a busy day ahead of us: over 70 km, more than Daniel has ever ridden (and close to my record too).
A small note on the restaurants. Many of them were closed, probably fairly recently (given that they still appeared as open on Google Maps). Those that were closed were often at full capacity. We paid lip service to the pork-heavy local cuisine, but after that preferred Greek, Vietnamese and Indian restaurants, which were, for the most part, amazing. I mean, even the smallest town had its own genuine, authentic Greek taverna or two. Good job, Bavaria!
We continued our way through the towns and fields, sometimes getting close to the Danube, sometimes losing its sight, sometimes crossing it over a bridge or a dam, until we were on the outskirts of Donauworth, riding through the Airbus helicopter compound. The first break of the day was in fact planned for Donauworth. We landed in the first restaurant we saw once reaching the tiny island where the rivers Wornitz and its little brother Kleiner Wornitz part ways for a moment, and it was an Italian one – and a great one.
We then left our bikes and took a stroll in the city center. There was rain planned for the afternoon, so we were fatalistically inclined: there’s no escaping what can’t be escaped.
Having walked off some of that pasta, we rode again, shortly through the cobbled streets of Donauworth, and soon again through the countryside. A certain gentleman just happened to ride in the opposite direction, and we both took notice of him because he was a) wearing a buttoned pink shirt, b) wearing sandals and c) seemed in quite a hurry. After a while he overtook us. A bit later, as we rode on a battery along the Danube, he overtook us again. We thought nothing of it, until we arrived at a tiny village of Stepperg and saw a bunch of bicycles near an opened and inviting door of a restaurant – a sure sign that good things are being served to a good company. We dismounted and walked in. As we did so, we noticed that three tables were occupied: one by a group of bikers getting ready to go, another by a solitary older gentleman, and a third – by our pink shirted friend.
A conversation spontaneously broke out, during which we learned, that the pink shirt was biking with his family, but they decided to travel by train today, so he was catching up with them at a camping near Neuburg, and got lost on his way (so that explained his going back and forth, though nothing has explained the pink buttoned shirt). That the older gentleman was from the Netherlands, was travelling from the source of the Danube at Donaueschingen all the way to Vienna, and, as befits a true Hollander, he was doing it 100 km in a day, so today he planned to finish at the same city as us – in fact, at the same hotel – while having started some 30 km earlier than we did. The gentleman from the Netherlands also mentioned in passing, that the whole day tomorrow is going to rain (it didn’t, in fact), but that’s ok, because neither of us was likely to melt (we all laughed). We chatted for a while and agreed to meet at the breakfast next day (which we did) at which he departed, and soon we followed suite.
The weather has definitely changed while we were eating our ice cream and drinking our coffee. The clouds were racing through the skies and the wind had a newly acquired freshness to it. We started riding, but soon lost our way, and lost valuable time regaining our path. When we finally did, the first drops of the rain were falling. We rode on, and the rain was gradually increasing in force to the point when it was raining small domestic pet animals. At this point our path led us into a dark, menacing forest, with uncertain gravel tracks and steep inclines. It was also getting really dark, to a point where I could hardly see the GPS screen. Suddenly it dawned on me. I stopped, and changed my sun glasses to regular ones – suddenly the forest was dark no more. I then directed the crew to gear up. This, however, presented a challenge, since Daniel’s rain gear was plugging one of the many holes in his panniers, which, apparently, chose the beginning of our trip as a fitting time to give up the ghost. Luckily, I had two rain jackets for different strength of rain (OCD FTFW!) so we geared up and rode on. At this moment the rain realized we got him figured, and stopped. Soon we left the forest behind us, and the outskirts of Neuburg showed up before us, with the imposing silhouette of the Renaissance castle on the opposite bank of The River.
As we rode up to the hotel, we saw the sturdy Batavus of our Dutch friend already tied up near the entrance. We were soaking wet and cold, to the surprise of the locals, I think, so we quickly checked in, changed, and soon were walking the streets of the lovely Neuburg (an der Donau). Again, the contrast couldn’t be escaped: one moment you’re riding through a dark and rainy forest, like a crazed rider out of a Goethe’s ballad, and the next you are dry, warm, and walking through the streets of the lovely town, lit by the warm evening sun.
We marveled at the Renaissance castle, we pitied missing a classical music concert at a nearby hall, from which musicians were filtering out into a nearby bar, we walked all over the place, and finally headed towards a Vietnamese restaurant right across the hotel – which, alas, was closed. We settled then for a Mediterranean restaurant on the other side of the river, which strongly exceeded our expectations (which were, granted, low, due to our, Israeli idea of what a Med restaurant can possibly mean).
Day 3 of our tour was supposed to be the longest one, and the only one with an actual deadline: we were supposed to be at the door of the Weltenburg abbey no later than 18:40, because that is when the last ferry towards Kelheim was leaving, and the alternative to the ferry was a long and arduous climb on a busy road (but also missing the view of the Danube Gorge from the water, which, I’m jumping ahead, was gorgeous). But before that we had to buy Daniel a pair of new panniers – the old ones by this stage have half-desintegrated, and the bungee cords were no longer holding them together. We were at the door of Fahrrad Appel a couple of minutes before their opening time, but they beat us to the punch. We immediately zeroed down on a pair of panniers by Thule, and I also bought a map cover for my handlebar bag, that proved very useful as my Bikeline guide book fit there perfectly. We left what was left of Daniel’s old panniers at the hotel, and went riding. The rain promised by our Dutch road companion was first diminished to a drizzle ending at 10 am, and eventually even that failed to materialize, and we had, in fact, what I consider to be perfect weather that day, and for the rest of the trip too.
After an obligatory detour into a Lidl store (Daniel made a point of missing none, nor any of the Aldi chain) we rode past a lovely summer hunting house of the local duke, and soon were on our way to Ingolstadt, one of the bigger cities on our route. I don’t know what it was about this city, but neither of us liked it all that much, so we snacked on a panini in a cafe near the town hall (or the way I got used to referring to these building, Rathaus) and got out of it.
On we biked, well ahead of our cut off time of 18:40 at Weltenburg, but still, we made a couple of shortcuts, one of which ended up costing us in some additional time, with a single break for cake and tea. As we were getting closer, Daniel got into his head that he wants to take the ferry at 17:20, so third from the last one, and started sprinting ahead, with me barely keeping up with him. We took over most of the other bikers, except the elderly on electric bikes, and a couple of french guys on mountain bikes, who rode as if Robespierre was chasing after them with a guillotine. We ended up getting there at 17:21, and when I dismounted nearly hitting the wall of the ticket office, the lady within told me that the next ferry is at 18:00. I was quite content: this meant (and I told this to Daniel repeatedly while we were riding at break neck speed) that we have time for a dinner with beer at the Abbey. And we did. My only regret is that I didn’t buy any of the locally made waffles, which strongly remember those made in Karlovy Vary, my favorite desert.
40 minutes and half a liter of beer later we were on the ferry, gliding along the Danube past the magnificent vistas of the Danube Gorge, until after yet another bend of the river we noticed a small town on the left bank, and to the left of it – a rather pompous building reminiscent of a Roman temple, but amazingly well preserved, perched on top of the hill overlooking the town. The town was Kelheim, our destination for the day, and the building – the Befreiungshalle, or the “Hall of Liberation”, a creation of two co-conspirators, the Bavarian king Ludwig the first, who provided inspiration and money, and Leo von Klenze, who did the actual work. The building was placed there in commemoration of the victory over Napoleon, 50 years earlier, which may well be the longest period of time between an event and its monumental commemoration by a fake temple on a steep hill.
By the time we disembarked I was able to ride again without half a liter of Weltenburg Weißbier affecting my steering, but we didn’t have much to ride: our hotel was practically next door from the peer. It was one of the DORMERO network, and to our eyes at least, its building took up about 50% of the old city of Kelheim. We dropped our stuff in the room and went a-climbing, attempting to get to the top of the Befreiungshalle’s hill before the sunset. As we were coming back down, suddenly we heard the sounds of an organ, coming from a nearby church. Not just an organ: it appears that a whole organ museum is located there, but alas, it was already closed. We finished our day with a cake and tea at a cafe on the main (and, probably, only) square of Kelheim.
Fourth day of our ride, and we’re taking it easy after two days of 70+: in a blink of an eye, and after a single stop for ice cream at a place called Bad Abbach, we’re in Regensburg, the largest city on our route so far. We make our way to a hotel via precariously steep narrow cobbled alleyways, and find it right next to a sex shop. Instead of running off at once and starting to explore, Daniel decides to stay at the hotel, and I go and do our laundry at a laundromat nearby. Somehow the city has a very different vibe than a slightly smaller Ingolstadt, and receives our stamp of approval. We walk into a cathedral, where organ is playing a mixture of 20th century progressive American music and somewhat more traditional baroque pieces, step into a bakery for a traditional cake and tea, and end up in a supermarket, where I find, to my sheer delight, these waffles that I missed in Weltenburg!
There’s a story about them. Growing up in Moscow, my choice of sweets was limited to the Soviet produce, which, while sometimes being of good quality, was not very varied. And then my mom took me to a Czech exposition at the VDNH – the expo center of Moscow, and there, she managed to get us into a Czech restaurant. I think they served some kind of beef, or maybe pork, but they also sold these Karlovy Vary Oblatky, waffles made in the spa city of Karlovy Vary. They were delicious! I ate them slowly, until there were no more, but I remembered the taste, and the texture, for years. Many years later me and my then not yet wife traveled to the Czech Republic, and we ended up in Karlovy Vary and found this treat being sold everywhere. I was so happy I could eat them all!
Fifth day of riding. Pretty early in the morning we made it to the other creation of Leo and Ludwig – the Walhalla. I kid you not, that’s what they called this Parthenon replica, perched on top of another hill overlooking the Danube. We weren’t sure how to approach it, so we left the trail following the river shortly before the hill, made it to a parking where another bunch of bicycles were already present, left ours there, and went up the stairs through the forest. It appears we had two other options of getting there: either riding up the hill, which is not horribly steep, or continuing with the river route, then leaving the bicycles directly beneath the Valhalla, and taking the trail from the river, from where the excursion boats from Regensburg moor. But the important thing is that we got there.
Once we got there, however, we were greeted with a rather lengthy line, stretching along the entrance side of the building, and most of the perpendicular side of the portico. So we waited, glad to be out of the drizzle that has just started. At times people walked by the line, so as to take a photo down on the river or something, but never came back. We each made our conclusions about them: Daniel – that they were cutting the line, me – that they were plunging to their death from the precipice.
Finally, we have filled our contact tracing questionnaire, paid our fee (4.50 for adults, and free for kids), and were in. Valhalla turned out to be a single large space, with the walls line with busts of various people. At first we thought these were famous Bavarians, but were soon confused to find Ekaterina the Second, the Tzarina of Russia, Field Marshal Radetzky of the Habsburg Empire, Beethoven, Van Eyck, Mahler and many others, some of whom might have been German by origin, but certainly not Bavarian, and some weren’t even German by any stretch of imagination. Finally, we’ve encountered the instantly recognizable Einstein, whose bust was made of some rather strange material: according to Daniel, it looked as if made of bubblegum.
I had a coffee at a nearby kiosk, while Daniel drank the tea he brought with him, and we were off again, on a rather uneventful, but invariably beautiful ride. According to our guide book, a town called Worth an der Donau was a promising place for a short visit, and indeed as we approached it, many signs aimed specifically at the riders greeted us, beseeching us to make a detour through the town, so we did. It was all for nothing: the whole town was closed, with small groups of deceived riders just like ourselves circling it in search for nourishment. We ended up congregating with the rest of the riders in the only open ice cream cafe in town, after which we continued our way to our destination – the city of Straubing.
Our hotel for the day was called “Hotel Asam”. Now if you’re travelling in Bavaria, and take the least interest in the history of the region, you’ll immediately recognize the name – Cosmas Damian Asam and Egid Quirin Asam are two brothers whose names are synonymous to that of Bavarian Baroque: the sculpted, painted and built half of what the guide book deems worth mentioning as far as the Baroque era goes. However, my hopes that we will be staying in a building designed by the famous brothers were dashed: this was clear before we even reached the hotel, by the fact that we rode through the center of the city, and kept riding for some time still. On the other hand, even though the hotel was *only* built in 1905, across the street of it was a spa complex, with free access for the hotel residents. And a wonderful spa it was, with 3 different saunas, a jacuzzi, an ice shower of sorts, and something called I think a quiet room, with water beds. Or at least I hope it was a quiet room. Whatever.
Daniel decided that biking all day is not enough exercise, so he decided he’ll go running, so we agreed to meet at the main square, with me walking there, like a regular human being, and he running, like an ape. Sadly, the Vietnamese restaurant we were aiming for was closed, but an Indian one we went to instead was excellent too.
Next morning was less than 72 hours before our flight back to Israel. The significance of this has to do with the COVID regulations in Israel: a negative test, taken within 72 hours from the flight is required. So we signed up for such a test in Straubing – it is free, as it turns out, even for Ausländer (that is, foreigners). It was all very efficient. There was one person there, wearing a mask, but otherwise not protected, who told us which barcodes to scan, which forms to fill etc., another person inside a clothed booth, who gave us the test tube, and a third person, assisted by the first person, inside a boot and wearing 3 layers of gloves, who took the samples from behind a glass – we were very curious about the varying degrees of protection, but what do we know.
Right, on with riding. We had about 60 km to do this day, all the way to the town of Deggendorf. We were doing nicely, until that couple with a map. They stopped at the side of the path and were contemplating their map, which was surprising, since there was a clear sign ahead. Or was there? The sign towards Deggendorf that we expected to see was covered up with a plastic bag. We didn’t know what to make of it, so we took the turn indicated by the sign, and hoped for the best. Soon the worst happened: we ran into a roadblock, behind which we could clearly see construction work. So we took a left, and soon where back on the road towards Niederwinkling, and a rather long, convoluted detour followed, with us meeting that couple a few more times.
Eventually we made it to Deggendorf, and here a rather unpleasant surprise awaited us: the hotel, which I ordered at the last moment (actually, during the trip itself) turned out to be on the outskirts of the town, even further out than the one in Dillingen. However, the hotel itself at least was good: it belongs to that same network DORMERO we met already in Kelheim. It’s a brand new, recently opened hotel, and it had sauna, which I asked to use, and which was heated especially for me. We did go to the center for dinner though, but it was a lengthy walk home.
Ok, our last day on the bikes. Today we’re riding into Passau! Our friend the flying Dutchman is probably somewhere near Vienna by now. We’re riding past the fields and the villages, we get closer and farther from the river, knowing that this is the last time we’re experiencing this on this trip. A few couples, including the couple from the day earlier, are riding at about the same average speed, meaning that we pass each other frequently every time somebody makes a stop. Suddenly something strange can be seen near the path: a sign that says Neptune and has something written on it, and a block of stone, on which something resembling a chess pawn. A while later another such thing appears, this time it says Pluto. At this point I realize what it is: the pawns are the representations, in terms of size, of the corresponding planets, and their distances from a sun somewhere ahead of us are representative of the planets’ distance from the real sun. This guess proves to be right, and before long we witness the sun.
Uranus, Earth and the Moon, Sun.
We now ride near Vilshofen (an der Donau), the last city before our destination, meaning that the next sign shows the distance to Passau, for the first time. We ride past a gate made of beer crates, past a landing strip with its restaurant, we think of stopping there but decide eventually to continue to Windorf, the last town before Passau. Alas, everything in Windorf is closed, so we stop for a picnic with our own supplies, near a landing of a ferry. And there it is, no more Bavaria to ride, we switch to the right bank of the river, and we’re inside Passau, first the city park, then the modern living areas, and then we’re riding on an embankment with the long cruise ships moored to our left, and the cobble streets and the old buildings of the old city to our right. The ride is done.
Here’s our route on Komoot, the way it was planned, and the way it actually happened. I used the following resources while preparing it:
- Google Flights for choosing our flight.
- COVID restrictions in Germany.
- COVID restrictions while flying out and back into Israel.
- Bike rental in Munich.
- A site dedicated to the Danube bike route – extremely useful.
