Four days after my arrival in Nancy, I was back on the road and heading southeast towards Switzerland. Finding Couchsurfing hosts in this part of France had proven to be difficult, and so I was to be camping out again. Not that I’m complaining at all, the scenery had changed totally after Nancy and gone from plain to remarkably beautiful in no time at all.
On the first day of cycling I made it as far as Baccarat, passing chateaus, hills, and countless small towns.
Just as I was getting ready to start looking for camping spots I ran into some bike trouble again. I was cycling along calmly when I heard a faint ticking sound coming from the rear wheel. It didn’t sound like much and I suspected that it was a case of the brake pads rubbing on the rim slightly, but I decided not to take any chances and stopped to check it out. It turned out to indeed be a case of brake pads rubbing on something. The only problem was that what they were rubbing on wasn’t the rim. It wasn’t the tyre either, but the inner tube! An entire portion of the tyre had given way and ripped, allowing the tube to bubble right out. Not good news at all, especially considering that this wasn’t something I could fix. I’d need a new rear tyre – tape, bungee cords and straps wouldn’t do the job this time.
The new panniers had held up and were doing great, but meanwhile it seemed as though I was still bearing the brunt of the previous ones’ failure back in Belgium. What I suspect is that as they had come loose they’d brushed right into the tube, weakening it and causing it to later fail as it did.
I had covered the distance I’d planned to that day so having to get off the bike wasn’t such a big deal. Yet I’d need to find a replacement tyre before I could go any further. I was already a few kilometres out of Baccarat, and it was a Saturday evening. It was probably too late to track down an open bike shop, but I decided to start walking back towards the town nonetheless. I’d passed a supermarket just a few minutes previously, and thought that might at least be a good place to stop and ask. I reached it within a few minutes, only to find it not-too-surprisingly locked up and deserted. But then I noticed something. Just behind it was what looked like a hardware megastore. I hadn’t even seen it from the main road when cycling past earlier. It was past closing time there too, but at least there were signs of life. There was someone in what I assumed was the store’s uniform having a smoke outside, and I stopped for a chat. It’s a good thing I did, for that guy turned out to be the best.
Not only did he say that they indeed stocked 26in. tyres and that he could go inside and grab me one, but when he returned he’d also brought with him a spare tube, air compressor and some water. Honestly, what more could I have asked for? Not only did I end up back on the road with a fully-functional rear wheel within the hour, but the very closest shop to where the old tyre had failed turned out to have exactly what I needed. Incredible. Call it what you want, but luck was definitely on my side right there.
This guy.
To top off the day, I ended up finding the perfect camping spot in a forest, all to myself and with loads of dry wood around. Bonfire, anyone?
All I didn’t have was something substantial to eat, or at least so I thought. I discovered a plastic bag with some left-over couscous at the bottom of my panniers and also had a few dates which I’d been snacking on, so couscous with dates for dinner it was. An interesting combination, I must say, but I’m guessing that’s probably a staple in Tunisia anyway. Or maybe that’s just me stereotyping.
The following day, I made my way into the Vosges and hills started to give way to what felt more like mountains. They weren’t quite the Alps, but still, starting out at 200m and rising to 1000m+ they made for a good challenge.
Down the other side of the Vosges, I made my way into the town of Kaysersberg. It really was beautiful – the photos speak for themselves.
The night’s camping spot this time was amongst some vineyards sloping above Kaysersberg. It made for a nice change from forests, and the sunset from up there really was quite something. I again had nothing much to cook for dinner (it was Sunday and I hadn’t come across an open supermarket all day), but I did have half a packet of spaghetti left over and with some foraging was able to add to that a bagful of apples plus some prunes and grapes. I settled for some grapes for starters, spaghetti with apple and oregano sauce as the main course and prunes for dessert. An interesting combination again, but it worked.
The following day I covered the remaining kilometres to Colmar, and stopped there for a few hours. It’s an alright little city, even if it was already packed with tourists by 10am. In terms of quaintness, I quite preferred the less touristy and more authentic-feeling Kayserberg. Still, nice place and definitely worth the few hours I spent there.
After Colmar, things flattened out rather quickly. With that the scenery got quite bland again. I did pass a few interesting little towns with a few interesting billboards (this was right on the German border, and meanwhile everyone’s hopping over to the LIDL across the Rhine for cheaper groceries).
Otherwise, though, the day’s route was nothing special. I followed the Rhine for the final few hours into Basel, but instead of it being the beautiful river route I had imagined, I was met with abandoned fields and heavy industry. And before setting out everyone had suggested following the Rhine down all the way from Cologne? Definitely glad I didn’t.
As I was covering the last few kilometres towards Basel, it actually hit – within minutes I’d be in Switzerland! Switzerland! Another border – already the fifth country and fourteenth day of the trip! Time was flying by, but so much had happened already and every single day since leaving had been absolutely great, unplanned adventures and all.
This time, for a change, the border was evident. I was slightly disappointed at not being stopped and searched on my way into Switzerland, but it was probably for the better. Just a day later I realised that the only form of identification I had on me, my Maltese ID card, had expired a few days back.
To be continued in the next post with more on Switzerland!
