Bank Holiday Irritations

We are still holed-up in Traben Trabach waiting for the bank holiday hordes to disappear, though in fairness, hordes is probably more than a little hyperbolic. By UK standards the place is hardly packed out. Some bank holiday rituals do cross borders however. The roads are full of German bikers attempting to overcome the male menopause by riding around in noisy gaggles, black leather clad and storm-trooper helmeted, attempting to look sinister. Basically they seem to display two distinct approaches to being a social nuisance. The first, the 'growlin' prowlin'' method involves slowly circling the narrow streets on bulky Harleys, BMWs and Kawasakis until the thunderous roar of their engines reverberates through the entire town. I think this is meant to be slightly menacing, whereas in fact it's just bloody annoying. The second group, riding smaller trail bikes, specialised in tearing down the riverside esplanade at breakneck speeds, revving-up their underpowered machines like annoyed wasps, then performing the occasional wheelie. I think these antics are meant to signify devil-me-care, carpe Diem moments, whereas, in fact they're just bloody annoying.

Talking of social nuisance and being bloody annoying, it being Pentecost, the ecclesiastical authorities have taken to having bell ringing wars. First, the Catholic church across the river in Trabach began with a slow. languorous peal, moments later the Lutheran church nearby opened up with a salvo of higher pitched and slightly perkier ding-dongs, then, not to be outdone, across here in Traben, some church or other added to the cacophony with an oddly irregular bass tolling. This went on for quarter of an hour or more, building to a crescendo as the racket echoed around the steep sided valley. Gill, whose views concerning religion make Richard Dawkins' seem nambypamby, was not at all impressed. It is no co-incidence that she has a preference for Trappist biere Belge, on the basis that if you do happen to be blighted by faith, then it's probably best to keep it quiet. I did not have the heart to tell her that Pentecost celebrates precisely the opposite.

In fact the entire day has been characterised by minor irritations. The main reason why we came to the Moselle, was to do some cycling on the famous Moselweg. The first problem, as I already mentioned, is due to the incompetence of the ebike shop in Stoke, Gill's lovely Dutch style sit-up-and- beg Wisper, is sat in the garage at home, and she is having to make do with riding about on a clapped out old mountain bike. 

The next frustration is that due to being stuck in one place we have not really managed to ride along as much of the trail as we had hoped. To add insult to injury my bike suffered a rear wheel puncture on the way to the supermarket. We had to wheel the bikes a mile or so back to the van, rear panniers stuffed with groceries.

However, no experience is entirely negative. What we learned is that German people are genuinely kindhearted. Unlike back home where minor mishaps tend to be greeted with an embarrassed look in the other direction, or a suppressed smirk, passers -by were genuinely sympathetic. As we passed a woman weeding the pavement outside her house, she stopped us, and wanted to help in any way she could. She explained where the local bike shops were, expressed concern that they may have just closed for lunch; she called her husband to ask him of they had a puncture repair kit, and when she  learned they did not, offered to lend me a bike so I could fetch ours kit from the van. In the end we concluded it was in fact quicker and easier to wheel my bike back to the stellplätz, especially as we had groceries that needed to be put in the fridge. Nevertheless, I found this spontaneous willingness to help a stranger almost overwhelming. It is these little moments that endear you to a place, and remind you that travel is as much about who you come across as where you have been.

I was somewhat concerned about being able to repair the puncture, as if I required the help of a bike shop they were closed now for the bank holiday until Tuesday. In effect that would put the kibosh on using the bikes more or less for the rest of the trip. As ever my best catastrophising tendencies kicked in: 

Would the puncture repair kit, bought in Halfords more than a decade ago, still work? Would the tyre levers have sufficient leverage to remove the chunkier tyres on an ebike? Even if I got the tyre off, would I be able to refit it. Never having repaired a puncture for10 years, perhaps I had forgotten how to do it anyway....

I got back to the van, turned my bike upside down, and within 15 minutes had fixed it, and unusually, without recourse to any Anglo Saxon inspire commentary whatsoever.

1. remove inner tube

2. crack open antique puncture repair kit,

3. stick on patch with 20th century rubber solution,

4. Grin inanely while commenting fatuously that packing the stirrup pump was not as daft idea as you first thought...

A brief moment of minor triumph... maybe. On the other hand the patch might come off, the offending object that caused the problem may still be trapped in the tyre, and a new puncture occur tomorrow...why be positive, when pessimism proffers more exiting possibilities?