The Road to Merzalben

Thursday 8th September 1983

Yesterday we wrote a batch of postcards and had a hearty meal consisting of vegetable soup followed by instant apple flakes (army rations – just add hot water). We also gorged on some pilfered bread. Then we went for a walk to the lakeside (real postcard scenery) until we were forced to flee by some disquieting noises in the darkness behind us. We walked into the nearest town and posted our cards. The next collection was due for “Jeudi” and we wracked our brains for the translation from French to an English day. We walked back and retired to bed after a cuppa (tea). We chatted to a reasonable Aussie and slept well despite screaming and shouting from the German kids in the next dorm.

This morning the valley was shrouded in mist and we steamed into the hostel breakfast as usual, changing tables to get extra grub. The mist was clearing as we left and after a brief photo session, we headed for Luxembourg City. The weather became warmer and the road wound through picturesque countryside. We stopped for a wander round in Luxembourg City and had a coffee before moving on to the Saarbrücken road. We stopped just before Merzig for coffee, to rest the bikes and to change money as we had just crossed the German Border. The sun was beaming. We bought a tin of stew each for the evening. The bikes performed faultlessly to Saarbrücken, though the scenery was becoming more of industrial interest than rural. Saarbrücken was a megatown where we were ripped off for about 50p for a coffee. We wandered about town and then moved out en route for Homberg.

Coming off the Mannheim road to head towards Karlsruhe disaster struck again. We were forced to ride right on the edge of the road to allow faster traffic to overtake on our left. The edge of the road was marked by solid plastic pillars and I looked back from my left wing mirror I notice with horror one of these pillars rapidly approaching my right hand. Too late to take any avoiding action I came a cropper and uprooted the post and broadsided along the road on my right side. The footrest was bent and my right arm, boot, panier bag and holdall were scuffed and grazed. Luckily the bike was O.K. and reluctantly restarted.

We got to the Youth Hostel at Homberg but the bastard was full. We were gaped at by about 50 wretched teenagers as we came and left in disgust. The nearest hostel was about 25 miles away at Merzalben, so with no other option we set off. It was now clouding over, and a few spots of rain were felt. We filled up with petrol and, as it got dimmer, I wondered if we would have to use our dubious headlights. We followed the Karlsruhe road until Merzalben was sign-posted. We found the Youth Hostel and were cooly received by the fruitcake of a warden (“nutty as a fruitcake”). Denied cooking facilities we ate the tinned stew cold.

Earlier this morning, just after leaving the hostel we both went on to reserve fuel, at about 140 miles since the last refuel. We have pushed the bikes hard today and they have responded marvellously. Depression has set in on us after a heavy day, aided by the gloom of dusk. After a shower and a read we hit the sack. We both slept well despite the menagerie sharing the hostel. The squealing and gibbering only abated between about midnight and 06:30 hrs. next morning.

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