Lost (def:) unable to find one's way; not knowing one's whereabouts. Reading about being lost is one thing, the experience itself is quite another.
Fall has fallen here, and Ron and I thought a ride in the countryside would be nice. We studied the map and realized that although we had completed most of the East to West bike path across Thüringia, we had not yet biked the section on the far western edge, from Eisenach to Gotha. Ron studied the elevations, and determined that the ride would be challenging in either direction, but that riding east to west would give us a little more downhill than uphill.
We took a late morning train to allow the sun to warm Gotha a bit. We found the bike trail without any issue.
The first five minutes of the ride would turn out to be the least stressful of the entire day! As soon as we were out of Gotha, we noticed that the bike signs had been spray painted, either covering up the arrows, or redrawing them. "Kids" I remarked. "Seventh Graders" Ron corrected me. Don't EVER get Ron started on seventh grade boys. The further along we got, the more spread out the signs were, until they disappeared altogether. Had we missed a turn? Were we even on the trail? We back tracked. We tried turning left instead of right. We back tracked again and went straight. We tried to load Google Maps on our phones. No internet. No data roaming. We couldn't even make an emergency call. We started navigating by the sun. It was already well past "high noon". We stopped for lunch in the graveyard of a pretty little church. Deserted as everything else, but still quite lovely and serene on this fall day.
Miles and miles later, we noticed horses, lots of horses. We stopped a few times to feed them the last of the fall apples we found on the ground. Then suddenly we came upon a beautiful horse track and training facility, with a beer garden and guest house and picnic tables, and lots of signs welcoming bicycles. But no horses, and no people.
We really had no idea where we were. We had been surrounded by farm land and cows for miles. Finally, up ahead we could see the outline of a small village. With renewed spirit, we pedaled on. But it wasn't a village - it was a farming complex, out in the middle of nowhere. Just like us.
I am not sure how we finally found a road, but we did. And we finally found the bike path again. Had we been on it all along?
It was late afternoon when we arrived in Eisenach. Cold. Tired. Grateful. Yes, grateful for the German I had learned; without it we might still be looking for the train station. Grateful for the efficiency of Germany's train system, where even in this out-of-the-way place, the train came as scheduled and stopped to pick up two weary travelers and their sturdy, faithful bikes. And VERY grateful for the can of chili waiting in the cupboard when we got home!
Bike Talk
Radweg #11 Gotha to Eisenach
29.2 Miles From Hell
47.0 km
7.7 mph average speed
24.8 max speed
3 hours, 45 minutes riding time
The lights of Erfurt: priceless.
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