From the moment of his arrival late one evening in Lauenburg, Barry has lifted all our spirits. His sense of wonder is still intact; he never fails to appreciate the small pleasures and triumphs of the journey.
Barry riding along the Elbe dyke path
That’s why I felt sad today as we rode the last 23 kilometres under a grey and threatening sky into Wittenberge. We were finishing our cycling tour. We were relinquishing our faithful bikes. Worst of all, we were about to lose Barry.
At that moment he was well behind me, taking photographs. I seemed all alone on the bank of the Elbe River, with David, Patrick and Sophie far ahead. Then suddenly I heard a roar behind me. Barry was catching up.
“And he’s coming up from behind! I don’t believe it! He’s caught the peloton! I thought he was gone, but he’s back! Unbelievable!”
It was the voice of Phil Liggett on the Elbe River. But this was better than the Tour de France. This time I was in the tour myself.
Although by now I was way off the back of the peloton.
Barry has always been a gifted talker. Watching him with German-speaking people only serves to reinforce this impression. He often understands what people say, because he really listens to them, watches their gestures and studies their facial expressions. He has some words and phrases that work wonders in any situation:
“Ja!” (emphatic nod, wave of the hand)
“Nee…” (shake of the head, rueful or sympathetic smile)
“Nein!” (decisive shake)
“Super!” (happy grin)
“Kein Problem!”
He is so convincing that I assume he has understood the German speaker’s every word. And in fact, he often has grasped the main details, because he believes in himself and reads people’s expressions so well. He is simply a natural. His knowledge of Dutch helps too.
At breakfast with us in Bleckede
Barry plans his journeys meticulously, yet doesn’t stress when things don’t go to plan. He’d told us all, for instance, that he wanted to organize a competition for the night of the Eurovision Song Contest. He and Patrick figured out a scoring system. When we arrived at our pension, however, there were no televisions in the rooms. The one in the sitting room didn’t seem to work. At that stage, the chances of running this competition seemed remote. But the television was fixed and on the very next evening Baz gave out certificates and prizes. He had printed the certificates back in Australia. Yet when the whole idea had seemed doomed, Barry hadn’t been concerned at all.
Taking it easy
Barry never ceases to record the beauty around us and the amusing events of the travelling life. Yet he is not at all intrusive. The day after the Eurovision Song Contest, he made a film of our day, including scenes of us riding from Tiessau to Hitzacker and of Patrick and Sophie trying to make fire at the Archaeological Centre in Hitzacker. We had no idea that he was making the film, but we watched it that evening with the utmost pleasure. At the end of each day, when he showed us his photos, we realized that he was finding other angles and views of people and landscapes to record and to treasure. It was one of the pleasures of each evening meal.
Thank you, Barry, for discovering 200 kilometres of the Elbe with us.
Love from Ros
On our last night in Schnackenburg, rain began to pour down – drenching, merciless rain. The next morning Baz appeared in his full get-up for glacial exploration in Iceland. But it didn’t stay on for long…
Barry struck up a conversation with a young shepherd, Jenny, in Lenzen. Here he is with her puppy Stöpsel.
Sampling the beers of the Elbe valley
