EltonFrog
Legendary Member
On Saturday we flew to Vienna, embarking on a trip whose central premise is: take a train to Passau, then cycle all the way back like people who have voluntarily chosen discomfort as a hobby.
Sunday involved riding twelve miles from the airport hotel to Vienna Central Station in a toasty 39°, which is the sort of temperature normally used to keep food warm, not cyclists. Nevertheless, we arrived early, glowing gently like pastries fresh from the oven.
Monday was devoted to sightseeing in Passau — a restful interlude before today’s grand adventure along the cycle paths. These began beside a “busy‑ish” main road, the sort of traffic that makes you question your life choices, until the road was blessedly closed for resurfacing. The bike path, however, remained open, presumably because cyclists are considered expendable. Still, riding traffic‑free through quiet villages with the Danube sweeping dramatically alongside does make one feel almost heroic.
At Au the north‑bank path abruptly ends, as if the planners simply ran out of enthusiasm. A short ferry trip carries you downstream to where the route resumes, pretending nothing happened. We stopped for the night in Obermühl at a guest house with excellent food and absolutely no air conditioning — a combination that encourages one to eat heartily and then lie very still. It’s 26°, storms are expected tomorrow, and we await them with the optimism of people who have not yet cycled in a storm.
Approximately 30 miles.
Sunday involved riding twelve miles from the airport hotel to Vienna Central Station in a toasty 39°, which is the sort of temperature normally used to keep food warm, not cyclists. Nevertheless, we arrived early, glowing gently like pastries fresh from the oven.
Monday was devoted to sightseeing in Passau — a restful interlude before today’s grand adventure along the cycle paths. These began beside a “busy‑ish” main road, the sort of traffic that makes you question your life choices, until the road was blessedly closed for resurfacing. The bike path, however, remained open, presumably because cyclists are considered expendable. Still, riding traffic‑free through quiet villages with the Danube sweeping dramatically alongside does make one feel almost heroic.
At Au the north‑bank path abruptly ends, as if the planners simply ran out of enthusiasm. A short ferry trip carries you downstream to where the route resumes, pretending nothing happened. We stopped for the night in Obermühl at a guest house with excellent food and absolutely no air conditioning — a combination that encourages one to eat heartily and then lie very still. It’s 26°, storms are expected tomorrow, and we await them with the optimism of people who have not yet cycled in a storm.
Approximately 30 miles.
