Fig. 1: Jorge Klapproth
Bibliographic information of the German National Library:
The German National Library lists this publication in the German National Bibliography; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at www.dnb.de.
© 2022 Jorge Klapproth, CMC Eclipse Publishing
All rights, in particular the right of reproduction and distribution, as well as translation, are reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form (by photocopying, data transmission or other methods) or stored, processed, duplicated or distributed using electronic systems without written permission.
Cover design Ruth Klapproth, graphics and illustrations produced by the author unless otherwise stated.
Production and publisher: BoD - Books on Demand GmbH, Norderstedt
ISBN: 978-3-7562-5262-6
Available in German version
Also available as audio book in German language.
Fig. 1: Jorge Klapproth
Hello, I'm Jorge.
Aha, some of you might be thinking: "The man is of South American descent."
He might be thinking of the Cuban and androgynous TV judge of a German entertainment show known from television. No - unlike my namesake, dancing is not so much in my blood. My call sign is "Jörg" and I come from Gelsenkirchen. That's where I was born, anyway.
In the 1950s my father fled the then young German Democratic Republic (GDR) and ended up in the Ruhr area of Western Germany. There were relatives there. He became a miner in the coal mining industry, which was important at the time. My mother was born in Gelsenkirchen with East Prussian roots. They met, married and had three children: my two siblings - an older sister, a younger brother and me.
My father later became a road construction engineer and we moved to Düsseldorf, the capital of North Rhine-Westphalia. At the beginning of the 1970s, when I was just eleven years old, we moved into our own home in rural Korschenbroich, where my siblings and I went to school and grew up. At that time, mortgage interest rates were insanely high at ten to twelve percent, from today's perspective. That made it almost impossible for young families to build and finance a house. And those who did it anyway, especially with three growing children, had a very hard time. That's what happened to our family. Money was always scarce.
That had consequences: When I became a teenager, my schoolmates all had a moped. The first motorised vehicle. A symbol par excellence for the freedom of a young person, at least at that time. Kreidler, Zündapp, Hercules - synonyms for status, masculinity, independence, strength. They were absolutely suitable for the boys to impress the girls. I couldn't. I didn't have a moped and never got one. I had to make do with my second-hand bicycle until I finished school.
That was hard - and released longings.
Do you know what power lies in desires? It is an irrepressible force that determines your thoughts and actions.
"One day I will own a motorbike, a real motorbike. A big motorbike. That's what I swear!"
But there was still a long way to go. Over time, my friends' mopeds with a speed limit of 25 kilometres per hour became mokicks, so-called "open mopeds", with 50 cubic centimetres of engine capacity, a maximum of 6.25 hp and a top speed of 85 kilometres per hour. I was not one of them.
To get the girls' attention, I discovered a different "playground" than that of teenage, motorised impersonation: music.
I took the guitar that my parents had given me for my tenth birthday out from behind the cupboard and started practising. I soon realised that my guitar and singing skills went down well at parties and at small events organised by the German Life Saving Organisation DLRG, of which I was a member at the time and had been trained as a lifeguard. Especially with girls, that was good. I expanded my musical activities over the years, joined bands and founded my own. Music has never let me go and remains an essential part of my life. But that is another story. Back to the motorbike.
When I was 19, I had to get my driving licence. I had long saved the money I had earned from summer and part-time jobs delivering newspapers and as a construction helper. After finishing my school education, I started vocational training to become a radio and television technician. In the first year of my apprenticeship I earned 280 D-Marks. From that I was also able to put something aside for my driving licence.
Then, one day, my big moment had come: Without my parents' knowledge, I registered not only for my car driving licence, but also for the "big" motorbike licence. My parents were not very enthusiastic, to say the least.
I pushed through because I knew: "If you don't get your motorbike licence now, you might never get it! Even if you can't afford your own motorbike yet: Go for it!"
Fig. 2: Yamaha RD 250
That was the beginning of my "career" as a motorcyclist.
But it was to take another years before I had my own machine. To be more precise: another eleven years. First of all, the "music" virus had taken hold of me and accompanied me through all the stages of my life: I completed my vocational training, joined the German army, got married, moved to Munich and started studying communications engineering. I always played in bands, but at that time I never thought about a motorbike. But then, one day, the time had come: the opportunity to strike came through a fellow student during my studies in Munich. It was 1990. I remember that exactly. It was in June of that year, a few days after the birth of our first daughter. The child had just arrived, mother and daughter were well and still in the hospital in the so-called postpartum period.
Many motorcyclists give up the hobby because of starting a family and often with the birth of a child. With me, it was the other way round. My fellow student gave me his motorbike because he no longer wanted to ride. I have forgotten the reason. But how could I say no? I accepted the gift and "surprised" my wife with the "good" news.
"Hello darling, how are you and the child? By the way, I got a motorbike as a present." That's how it went back then, or something like that. I guess the joy about our daughter outweighed any particular anger I can remember. But I didn't do it like that every time. Anyway, when our second daughter was born, there was no other motorbike. I had my first motorbike! It was a metallic brown Yamaha RD 250, an air-cooled two-stroke with 250 cubic centimetres of displacement and 30 horsepower.
Fig. 3: Kawasaki GPZ 500
I still have this bike today. However, it is not ready to ride.
At some point, the engine and gearbox gave up the ghost and I switched to a Kawasaki GPZ 500 with 50 hp. It was a fully faired sports tourer that I also had to give up after a few years of faithful companionship due to engine damage and was then sold in parts.
It was a beautiful motorbike that gave me a lot of pleasure and looked damn good to me. I rode these two machines for quite a long time. They saw both the birth of my second daughter and the end of my marriage at the time. But in every new beginning, they say, there is also magic. This applies to relationships with people, with vocation, as well as with things. Sometimes you have to change something.
A lot has changed in this phase of my life: New relationship, change of job, new motorbike.
Fig. 4: BMW R 1100 RS
Sports tourers in general and full fairings in particular have always appealed to me. So logically, my next motorbike was a jump into the next higher tourer class. It was a used BMW R 1100 RS with 90 hp. This bike has remained faithful to me for many years. It has always been a reliable companion in everyday life and on short and medium tours. But there was one thing it was never allowed to do so far: go on a grand tour!
For a long time I cherished the dream of a big tour by motorbike. I dreamed of a trip through the taiga in Siberia or through Africa from the northern to the southern tip.
This dream has haunted me for a long time. I don't know how many years, but a long time. At some point I would break out. I would take my time and make a long journey. But when would that time come? And where would it go? It's interesting: once you have an idea in the back of your mind, that idea won't let you go. Until you either discard it or put it into practice. Anyway, I have found myself watching more and more motorbike travel films by long-term travellers on YouTube. It's crazy.
This once again strengthened my desire for my own journey. At some point, the right time seemed to have come and I ventured...
"Darling, you know how I've always wanted to take a long trip on a motorbike? "
"Yeah, sure."
"I want to do this before I'm too old for it. Who knows if I'll still have time, desire or strength for it later. Now seems like the right time...I don't want to wait until I'm retired...who knows what will happen by then..."
"I understand that. What do you have in mind?"
"I don't know - I could imagine going from the northern tip of Europe to the southern tip."
"Sounds interesting. How far is that?"
"I still have to research that..."
"When do you want to go?"
"You would be okay with that?"
"Of course - I know how long this thought has been bothering you.
Do it!"
It's a load off my mind. The first hurdle has been overcome. Because without the support of a partner, a project like this cannot be realised. My wife, Ruth, has ridden a motorbike herself for a long time and only recently gave it up for health reasons.
We went on many beautiful tours together. But she never wanted to ride with me as a pillion passenger. "That's not for me." So she had decided to get her own motorbike licence and ride herself. No sooner said than done.
We bought her a second-hand BMW F 650 ST, a bright red enduro that Ruth had fallen madly in love with.
Fig. 5: Ruth with her motorbike "Biene“
This single-cylinder engine had 48 hp, which gave the 189-kilogram machine tremendous thrust. It was really fun to ride. BMW also called this motorbike "Funduro". Ruth got her driving licence with it. From then on we rode together.
I give her a kiss and rush into my home study to start planning.
A thousand questions are running through my head: "Where are the northern tip and the southernmost point of Europe? How many kilometres does Europe have from the northern to the southern end? How long will such a journey take? How do I get to the starting point in the north with my motorbike and how do I get back from the south? How much does a trip like this cost? Should I travel alone or with mates? When is the best time to travel? How many countries will I cross? How much advance planning do I need?"
I am completely excited. These and many other questions occupy my mind over the next few days. It is autumn and thus it is absolutely clear that the trip would not take place until next year. Rather in summer than in spring or than next autumn. Besides my job as a self-employed crisis management and communication consultant, music continues to dominate my life.
With our band different image project we are about to start recording our new album "Freedom", which will be released in spring. Only then could the journey begin. So from now on I have three quarters of a year left for planning and preparing the motorbike trip.
I quickly find out that the northernmost navigable point in Europe is the North Cape in Norway. The southernmost point is a bit more difficult: Is the political southernmost point valid? That would mean that the Spanish Canary Islands mark the point.
Should I choose the southernmost mainland point in Europe? That would be the Spanish town of Tarifa in Andalusia.
Or do I opt for the southernmost point of continental Europe? Then Cape Tripiti on the small Greek island of Gavdos, just south of Crete, is the destination. That makes sense to me. I like that. That's what I'll choose.
5,800 kilometres. That's how far it is from the North Cape to Cape Tripiti on the island of Gavdos. Once completely across Europe in the longitudinal axis. That sounds great and exciting. I want to do that.
But how do I get to the starting point of the journey?
Is there a ferry that goes there?
I use the internet and research the possibilities of getting to the North Cape. There are a lot of reports about the North Cape as a place of longing for many motorcyclists.
No. A ferry doesn't go there. It quickly becomes clear: I'm going to ride my motorbike all the way to the North Cape. And with that, the entire route slowly takes shape. From my home in North Rhine-Westphalia to the North Cape. That is the first stage.
The second stage takes me from the North Cape to the southern tip of Europe on the small Greek island of Gavdos. And the third stage will take me along the Adriatic Sea, over the Alps and back home. An amazing tour! A triangle appears on the map of Europe.
How much time do you have to allow for such a journey?
That depends on the exact route. It's certainly faster if I use motorways. But I rule that out from the start. I decide to ride the majority of the route on country roads. After all, I want to see something of the landscape and not race through Europe.
I consult Google for an initial overview. It turns out that the total distance, including ferry crossings, will be about 13,000 kilometres. That's a lot. How long will it take me to cover this distance? What is the maximum amount of time I can spare? After all, for professional reasons alone, the time allotment is not inexhaustible.
I make a decision: I will take a month off. One month! A feeling of happiness flows through my body at this thought. Freedom on two wheels! Wow! So I have 30 days. Now I try my calculator: 13,000 kilometres divided by 30 days equals 433.33 daily kilometres. That would be the average daily mileage on the bike. Demanding, but doable, I think. If I now cover the distances within Germany on the motorway after all, I can still gain time. That way I can push the daily mileage to about 400 kilometres.
In the next few days and weeks, I will start fine-tuning the route. I get road maps from the German automobile club ADAC for the entire route. Then I form about 400-kilometre daily sections on the maps. Now I have an approximate overview of the sections of the journey. I plan on spending about 100 euros a day. That should be enough for petrol, accommodation, food, culture and other things.
With this, I have also set the framework. To save costs, I decide to take a tent with me. And wherever possible and permitted, I want to go wild camping. This is especially possible in Scandinavia. Because there, everyman's right applies and wild camping is allowed. In countries where it is not allowed, I would like to spend the night mainly on campsites. Speaking of countries. How many countries will this trip actually take me through? I'm counting.
There are 23 in total:
Germany,
Denmark,
Sweden,
Norway,
Finland,
Estonia,
Latvia,
Lithuania,
Poland,
Slovakia,
Hungary,
Romania,
Serbia,
Bulgaria,
Northern Macedonia,
Greece,
Albania,
Montenegro,
Bosnia & Herzegovina,
Croatia,
Slovenia,
Italy,
Austria.
Not all of them are members of the European Union. This requires special considerations, for example, with regard to the use of the smartphone. Because if I am only passing through these countries without a longer stay, the acquisition of a country-specific SimCard is not worthwhile. On the other hand, the regulated EU roaming tariff does not apply in these countries and would probably entail horrendous telephone costs. Then I'll probably have to switch the phone to airplane mode in the non-EU countries....
Phew, 23 countries and 13,000 kilometres in 30 days - that's a lot! Aren't I taking on a bit too much? How long do I have to sit on the saddle every day? Can I cope with the physical challenges?
OK - let's sort it out a bit: Let's assume an average speed of 50 kilometres per hour on rural roads. Then, for a distance of 400 kilometres, I would spend a net of eight hours on the bike. Roughly speaking, that's four hours in the morning and four in the afternoon. If I now include two hours of breaks, I arrive at about ten hours of riding time per day.
So if I leave at eight in the morning, I'm on the road until 6 pm every day. That theoretically leaves me 14 hours for self-organisation on site and overnight stays. That should be enough and could even be shortened if necessary. Somehow that seems feasible to me...
The question remains whether I can sit on the bike for eight to ten hours a day without breaking my back and without getting knee pain or headaches. I've sat on the bike for a whole day before - even three or four days in a row. But 30 days? I haven't had that experience yet. I guess the only way to find out is to "dare and try".
However, the general physical fitness should still be brought up to speed by then...
That still leaves the question of equipment: What do you actually take with you on a tour like this? What tent equipment do you need? I am a complete layman when it comes to camping. I imagine that when I'm tired in the evening and it's raining and the weather is generally bad, I might not feel like juggling tent poles and spending half an hour setting up the tent. It has to be quicker. And indeed, I find what I'm looking for on the internet: There is such a thing as quick-pitch tents, in which the poles are already pre-assembled and stretched out according to the umbrella principle. This is supposed to be done in a minute.
That sounds promising! I check what's on offer on the market and decide on a cheap, but waterproof 2-man tent in a dark colour. It has an inner tent that prevents condensation from dripping into the interior at night. I decide on the 2-man tent version so that I can easily stow my luggage, which I don't want to leave on the bike at night.
The dark exterior colour seems important to me when wild camping, so that I can't be seen immediately in the thicket.
Since I expect temperatures to be just above freezing at night in the summer at the North Cape, I'm ordering the tent now before wintertime so that I can also try it out in the garden when temperatures are low. The same goes for the base on which I intend to lay my surely tired head for the night. Here I opt for an insulating mat, which is partly self-inflating and offers very good insulation from the cold ground and some comfort thanks to the air cushion. As a sleeping bag, my old youth sleeping bag is enough for me, which, according to the print on the packing sleeve, is supposed to keep me warm down to freezing point. Since it has a zip, I can then use it as a blanket in warmer climes of southern Europe before I boil with heat inside.
YouTube Channel “Falcon Rey”: Preparing for a Motorbike Tour
I can hardly wait until the basic equipment reaches me by delivery service and I can put everything to the first test. In the meantime, I continue to research everything I need to know in preparation for a longer motorbike trip. This includes answers to questions about necessary documents, means of payment, camping equipment, choice of clothing for several climate zones, camera technology and power supply on the motorbike. Also traffic regulations in the individual countries through which my journey is to take me and, last but not least, a concrete date for the start of the adventure. For the question of the most suitable time to travel, I am guided by the following train of thought: In the cold north of Europe, August, generally the warmest month of the year, is certainly the most pleasant in terms of temperatures. For the North Cape, a climate table in August says daytime temperatures between seven and fifteen degrees Celsius and nighttime temperatures between three and five degrees. However, southern Greece is also the hottest in August, with average daily temperatures sometimes exceeding 35 degrees Celsius.
I therefore decide on July, with somewhat more moderate temperatures, especially in southern Europe. The pre-planning for this tour is already very exciting. What will the trip itself be like?
Fig. 6: Test tent in the garden
A few days after the first order for my equipment, I hold the tent and the sleeping mat in my hands. It is already cold outside at this time of year. The night temperatures now in late autumn are the same as I expect in summer at the North Cape: three to five degrees Celsius. The perfect time to try out my equipment. I say goodbye to Ruth for one night and move into the garden.
It's quite adventurous. As I'm not used to camping, it takes a while to get sorted in the tent. The night begins and with it comes rain and light wind. Great - that wants to be tested. It is difficult to fall asleep. There are too many new things to keep me busy. In addition, I hear many unfamiliar noises from the street and the neighborhood. The rain pelts the tent, the wind tugs at the side walls and it's too tight in my sleeping bag. To cut a long story short: I sleep badly that night - but the tent keeps tight and the sleeping bag reasonably warm. Not a drop of rain has found its way inside. With the first light of the day, I struggle out of the unfamiliar dwelling, stretch a little and creep into the warm house. The first test is done.
Ok - the tent is tight and I have survived the night. But quiet doubts arise in me: Do I really want to go through with camping?
I'll give myself a few more days to think about it.
Ruth and my close relatives support the travel plans and give me many useful little things for Christmas: From a torch to a tyre repair kit to an inflatable pillow. I'm all fired up - in fact, I want to leave right now. I use the quiet time "between the years" to prepare for my own adventure with films and travel reports from other motorbike travelers. I can hardly wait until it starts. During this phase, my thinking is pretty much determined by the big plan. But with the turn of the year, everyday life returns and the big tour takes a back seat. The weeks go by.
And suddenly everything is different! In China, far away, the first cases of a new kind of disease appear at the turn of the year. It is highly contagious and continues to spread. The first cases also appear in Europe at the end of January. A virus soon ravages the world and is called the COVID-19 virus by the World Health Organisation (WHO). On 11th of March, the WHO officially declares the outbreak of a pandemic of international proportions. Europe is severely affected. More and more countries close their borders. The free movement of people and goods is massively restricted. And with it the freedom to travel! This means for me and my travel plans: over, off the table, cancelled! The planned trip to Europe cannot take place! What a slap in the face.
Alongside the horror and concern for the health of their own families come economic worries. The German federal and state governments impose contact and curfew restrictions. This has not happened in Germany since the Second World War. There is a massive shutdown of the economy, Germany is in lockdown for the second quarter of the year. All wheels come to a standstill for a short time. Travel within Germany is also not possible for the time being, as there are restrictions on overnight stays due to a ban on accommodation.
The federal states regulate this differently. Most campsites are closed.
I come to terms with the situation. Under these circumstances, a carefree trip is out of the question anyway. But then the situation changes again. The strict measures of the second quarter gradually take effect.1
The number of infections decreases slightly with the warmer temperatures as summer approaches. Since the lockdown for the entire republic cannot be maintained indefinitely, the federal and state governments decide on travel facilitation measures to enable Germans to take holidays, preferably in their own country. The accommodation facilities are given strict conditions to reopen their operations. There is a ray of hope.
Should I switch to a plan B? What could that look like?
Why not look for and implement an alternative to a trip across Europe? Everyone in this country is talking about holidays in Germany at the moment. How about using the travel plans I made for the big European trip this year and turn them into a motorbike trip within Germany´s borders, doing a "test run", so to speak? That would be something. The advantages would be obvious: I could test the equipment and try out rooms, routes and riding times. In addition, I wouldn't have to completely abandon my travel plans.
Yes - that's what I'm doing! A test trip.
I coordinate with Ruth, shorten my trip to ten to twelve days and rearrange the previous planning to the new itinerary. That fits perfectly.
I decide to ride around Germany. Along the borders. All the way around. That's over 4,000 kilometres and roughly corresponds to the planned daily mileage for the European tour. I also want to take the tent with me and test it extensively.
Fig. 7: Circumnavigation of Germany
There is one Question I haven´t answered for myself yet - am I too old for camping? No. That can't be. "You are always as old as you feel," comes to mind. Camping is to become an essential part of the motorbike adventure - not only for cost reasons. I decide to camp for the whole trip.
Afterwards I will know for sure whether it is a good idea to spend the night in a tent on the European tour, which will surely take place. In Germany, wild camping is not allowed, so only campsite stays are an option for me. Of necessity, I have to plan the tour in advance for overnight stays because of the Corona restrictions.
This doesn't necessarily coincide with the feeling of freedom of a motorbike trip, because I would like to be able to ride as far and long as I feel like every day. But in these difficult times, I have no choice but to divide the route into daily sections with fixed overnight destinations. The exciting question now is: How do the different federal states deal with accommodation possibilities?
My enquiries with the campsites in question yield different results in the various federal states.
Some do not accept campers for one night only, others do not accept campers from other federal states, still others do not accept motorcyclists. The regulations vary widely. In some states, for example, camping is not allowed on some sites, but arriving by motorhome is allowed. It takes me quite a while to coordinate routes and overnight accommodation. After these hurdles have been overcome, I get the bike ready for the journey and look forward to July - because that's when it all starts. But before that, I give my bike its own name. It didn't have one until now. I think it's about time. It should be a name that has a meaning. It should contain the agility of a sport tourer as well as the feeling of setting out and discovering new territories.
YouTube Channel “Falcon Rey”: The Germany Tour
After much deliberation, I decide on a name combination: Falcon Rey. The Falcon stands for the agility and ferociousness of a sporty approach. The name part "Rey" is borrowed from the famous "Star Wars" film series, in which the fierce "Rey" stands for good and for the departure into new worlds. I think that fits. Because from now on I want to explore the world with Falcon Rey.
Time is advancing rapidly. The Corona regulations do not lead to any further change of plan. I therefore start the journey as planned.
Then, at the beginning of July, I am finally on tour!
Albeit somewhat differently than originally thought. But, as they say, postponed is not abandoned and I'm really looking forward to being on the road now.
My buddy Thomas doesn't miss the opportunity to accompany me with his BMW K 1200 LT on the first day's stage south to the Palatinate Forest. That makes me very happy. The rest of the trip will be a solo tour, as I have also planned for the Europe trip. We start in good weather conditions. As soon as we start rolling, a basic feeling of freedom sets in. Now it's finally time to go.
The journey takes us counterclockwise, initially through the Eifel along the Dutch and Belgian border to the south.
Fig. 8: Falcon Rey
We stop in the beautiful city of Trier and get a guided tour of the historic city centre with its Roman sites, the famous Porta Nigra and the birthplace of Karl Marx. After refreshments, we continue southwards, this time along the French border to the foothills of the Vosges.
In the Palatinate we pitch our tents on a nice campsite for the night and spend a nice evening with Palatinate onion tart and beer.
Then the time has come: the first night on tour in a tent! I still remember the tent experiment in the garden at home. It was five degrees Celsius and pretty miserable. Today it's pleasantly warm, so I'm looking forward to the night.
The next morning I wake up rested. Bones and limbs are not overly stiff. I got through the first night well.
Let's see how I feel after a few days.
After breakfast I say goodbye to Thomas and set off with Falcon towards the Black Forest. Today, a visit to my brother and his family south of Freiburg, just before the Swiss border, is on the agenda.
Map 1: South direction
The ride through the Black Forest from north to south is fantastic. 150 kilometres of pure pleasure. The weather cooperates and I don't miss a thing. I stay overnight with my brother. It's the only night inside a building on this trip. We spend a great evening with the family, barbecuing and chatting a lot.2
In the morning, we continue east along the Swiss border. It is raining. I put on my rain gear and let the sat nav guide me towards Lake Constance. First Falcon and I ride for some time through the Black Forest on small roads and paths. We hardly meet any other vehicles. The forest areas smell wonderfully intense due to the rain. I can hardly contain my joy, despite the rain. Before I reach Lake Constance, a visit to the famous Rhine Falls of Schaffhausen is a must.
I've always wanted to go there.
That's why we make a detour to Switzerland. The border crossing is unproblematic: there are no border controls. Great - the car park at the Rhine Falls is free of charge for motorbikes. The sun is shining and the temperatures are very pleasant at 20 degrees Celsius.
However, there is a big crowd here.
That's not for me. I take one or two glances at the falling masses of water from Father Rhine, find it beautiful and get back on my bike. Off I go in the direction of Constance. Here I cross the border back into Germany. The border post is not manned. Everything is easy.
After lunch on the market square in Constance, I take the ferry across Lake Constance towards Friedrichshafen. My destination for the day is a beautiful campsite right on the lake. As the site is pre-booked, checking in is no hurdle. I spend the evening with the swans on Lake Constance. The weather is fantastic. Wonderful.3
Map 2: Lake Constance (Bodensee)
In the morning I set off further east. Several highlights await me today: The first stopover is like a leap into my own past. I have always wanted to revisit the Bundeswehr training sites where I was trained as a young officer cadet to become a lone fighter and parachutist. These are near Schongau in Upper Bavaria.
What could be more natural than to make a detour there while I'm already in the vicinity?
Fig. 9: At the edge of the Alps in Upper Bavaria
After a wonderful ride through the foothills of the Allgäu Alps in glorious weather, fit for royalty, without a single cloud in the sky, I reach the Sauwaldhof. That is the real name of the military compound with its buildings. It has been a long time since I left blood, sweat and tears here with my comrades to meet the challenges in lone officer training as young officer cadets. In the end, it was worth it for many, but far from all. Some comrades had to give up for health reasons or were prematurely relieved from special training. I was one of the overjoyed ones and in the end was awarded with the lone fighter badge, which I was allowed to wear proudly on my uniform from then on.
During a walk across the grounds, which are still used by the Bundeswehr, I indulge in thoughts of times long past. I am undisturbed, there is no activity here today.
The second highlight of the day is supposed to be a visit to Neuschwanstein Castle. It is the most famous of Ludwig II's castles and has been built since 1869 for a couple of years. A 25-minute ride in the direction of the Alps and I reach the destination. My joyful anticipation quickly gives way to disillusionment: mass tourism! No wonder - the world-famous castle is visited by about 1.5 million tourists every year. No - that's not for me. I quickly take a souvenir photo of the car park with the motorbike and the castle and make sure I continue my journey towards Lake Chiemsee as quickly as possible. But not before I take another look at the Zugspitze!
So it's off to Garmisch-Partenkirchen and a few kilometres into Austria. Wow - suddenly I find myself in the middle of the mountains. The Zugspitze shines sublimely in the sunlight. I savour this experience to the full. It has become really warm in the meantime. There is not a cloud in the sky. These are ideal conditions for this excursion into the mountain world.
Now it's time to start the last stage of the day before darkness catches me. I have two good hours left to reach the campsite at Lake Chiemsee in daylight. I succeed in doing so.
Besides the ride through the wonderful Upper Bavarian landscape, I am rewarded with a unique evening atmosphere at the northern edge of the lake in Chieming. I really enjoy life on the tour. The night is quiet and the next morning greets me just as pleasantly as the evening had said goodbye. This has a positive effect on my mood. I already allow myself a first interim conclusion, even though I've only been on the road for a few days: It's awesome!
I am sure that the postponed European tour will be a fantastic experience. The bike rides well, I don't mind the long hours in the saddle and the nights in the tent are great. Hopefully the big tour can take place next year....
After breakfast, I pack my various things and get ready to leave. Today's destination: the Bavarian Forest. However, I definitely want to ride over the Rossfeld Road near Berchtesgaden beforehand. This is the wonderful Alpine panorama road on the border to Austria. A friend had recommended this detour to me. I do so in perfect weather and get fully rewarded. The weather gods smile on me today. The road climbs up to 1,570 metres above sea level. The five euro toll for a motorbike is well worth it. From here you have a sensational view of the Alps. Great! I have to detach myself, because I still have a good stretch of road ahead of me today.
Passing Passau, I now head towards the Bavarian Forest. In the evening I land in Viechtach at the Höllensteinsee. I am surprised at the low occupancy rate of the campsite and have free choice of site for my tent. Judging by the widespread panic about the "oh-so-necessary pre-booking", there is nothing going on here. Well - that's probably all due to the Corona situation. I don't mind and I am content with the world. 4
Map 3: East border of Germany
The next morning is a bit hazy. OK - that happens. And what if the weather changes altogether and only rain is forecast for the rest of the trip? Well - that's what I have my rain gear for. And the tyres? Hm. A quick check of the tread on my front wheel leaves me unsure. Will the tyres still be able to cope when it's pouring with rain and I take more passages through the low mountains? In the evening I will have covered about half the distance. Will the tread depth be sufficient for the remaining 2000 kilometres or so? I decide to play it safe and look for a garage that can fit me with a new tyre. Safety first!
I find them very close by on my route in Cham. I only get a used tyre, but it is supposed to last "another 5,000 kilometres". That's enough to get me home and to the next inspection. So take my money and hand me the tyre, I'm in for 60 euros. However, the action costs me a few hours of my precious travelling time. I have to make up for that in order to be able to use the agreed campsite south of Dresden at the Maltertalsperre. Otherwise it will be complicated in terms of overnight stays, as I have fixed dates for all the campsites.
We continue north along the Czech border. Past the Fichtelgebirge and Erzgebirge mountains towards Dresden. Unfortunately, because of the delay, I don't have time to consciously take in the beautiful landscape. Today, covering distance is the order of the day.
I reach the campsite before nightfall. Here the picture is the same as at Höllensteinsee: the grounds are empty. Only one lone tent can be seen on the meadow. But I am assigned a quadrant where I should settle down. So much for "Everyone is on holiday in Germany and the campsites are overcrowded".
But the joy of freedom on the campsite is short-lived. Shortly after I set up camp, a group of young people arrives, apparently getting ready to have a barbecue. More and more arrive. It gets noisy. I watch the hustle and bustle for a while and then take out the earplugs I had brought along especially for such occasions.
With the end of day six of my trip around Germany, a milestone is reached! I have completed half of the planned distance. I still have many beautiful days ahead of me. With this thought, I peacefully fall asleep.
After a good breakfast at the tent and the necessary coffee in the morning, I look at today's itinerary. Right at the beginning of the second half of my trip, I have again planned something special. I want to ride through Saxon Switzerland with the Elbe Sandstone Mountains. As it turns out, this is no easy undertaking. At first I can't find the right "entrance". But I don't give up.
After several passes through Bad Schandau and a few circumnavigations of the National Park, I finally succeed... The "right entrance" is called "Kirnitzschtal" - you have to find it... As I have already spent a lot of time in Saxon Switzerland, I unfortunately don't have enough time to make a stop in Görlitz - a pity. But I have to keep going if I want to reach my destination for the day.
Fig. 10: Idyll at the Oderbruch
After being directed by a friendly local resident, I arrive at Seecamp Oderbruch, north of Frankfurt (Oder), and am immediately assigned a tent site by the equally friendly campsite staff. Once again, there are no campers present except for me. Quite idyllic. All alone. Right on the water. Super! It is quite windy - will the tent hold? As a precaution, I put in a few extra pegs... The sunset shows me its most beautiful side. The wind dies down. The night is calm and I remain the only guest on the campsite.
Day Eight. Today we're going to the Baltic Sea. I am already very excited. Brushed teeth, shower - I wash my underwear at the same time. Breakfast, and then off I go.
Back on the saddle. The weather is great. By chance, after a few kilometres east of Berlin, I see the sign: "Gedenkstätte (Memorial) Seelower Höhen". That rings a bell... Yes, the battle for Berlin. The last battle for Berlin in the Second World War took place here. As is well known, the Soviet army took Berlin. I take a look at the site.
Unfortunately, the museum is closed. But I can visit the site with the Soviet memorial. Impressive.
Then it's off in the direction of the Baltic Sea.