Bleckede to Tiessau
Sign summarizing our ride
“That mountain stage really knocked us around,” said Barry.
We were eating breakfast at “La Maison de la Marionette” in Tiessau, a tiny village just 6 kilometres out of Hitzacker. Barry sounded like the manager of an elite group of cyclists who had just struggled to the peak of Alp d’Huez in some gruelling battle of will.
It seemed steeper.
Unfortunately we didn’t feel elite at all. Especially two days before, when we had missed the riverbank path and had instead ridden through some gentle, undulating hills. They weren’t really mountains at all. But when you are not an elite athlete, even a hill feels like a mountain.
Through the forest
Barry was nursing his back and consequently climbed off his bike to walk up some hills.
I was nursing my whole body, so I walked up even more hills.
Sophie didn’t even notice the hills. She developed a habit of ringing her bell as she swept past me. Davey said she looked as though she was dancing on her pedals.
Fortified by his years of wearing lycra all over the place in Surrey Hills, Davey stayed resolutely on his bike, regardless of the gradient.
Patrick was at the front for the whole time. Although the hills (or as I prefer to call them, mountains) caused him no pain, he noticed them enough to say:
“So, Mum, are there any more mountains along this flat river bank?”
I hope not, Patrick, I really do.
Breakfast at Bleckede, with a little thermos for the…
…boiled egg
A bike as a garden ornament
Breakfast at Maison de la Marionette in Tiessau – photo by Barry
Out and about in Hitzacker
Barry riding home from Hitzacker to Tiessau in the twilight
