reading

Johannes Reichert

Cycling to Santiago de Compostela after a severe heart attack The challenges and the experiences

Alone on a bicycle from Northern Bavaria through parts of Germany, Switzerland, France and Spain to Santiago de Compostela

Every heart attack is different. You should always consult your doctor before embarking on any large exercise project to ensure it is safe for you.

1^st English Edition 2012

Wiesenburg Verlag

Postfach 4410 · 97412 Schweinfurt, Germany

www.wiesenburgverlag.de

I dedicate this book

June 2007 – first stage

Schweinfurt – Kreuzberg/Rhön – Basel (Basle) (Switzerland) 452 miles (727 km) in 11 days

June 2008 – second stage

May/June 2009 – third stage

May 2010 – fourth stage

First stage 2007 – 452 miles (727 km)

June 2007 – first stage

Schweinfurt – Kreuzberg/Rhön – Basel (Switzerland) Thursday 21st June 2007 until Sunday 1st July 2007
452 miles (727 km) in 11 days (excluding return journey by train)

Thursday 21st June 2007

Today is the start of my pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. I read a few books about the Camino de Santiago (the Way of St James), became curious and decided to make the journey for myself one day, by bicycle, from my home town of Schweinfurt in Northern Bavaria.

My touring bicycle, so often my faithful companion on trips to the Alps, is ready to roll. Two paniers, one saddlebag and a rucksack and I'm ready to go. For this year I plan to spend two weeks reaching Basel as my first stage. For today, my target is the “Kreuzberg” Mountain in the Rhön area. Admittedly this will require, initially, a diversion to the North, but I have taken this into consideration. I am determined to begin my pilgrimage at the Kreuzberg, the Holy Mountain of Franconia.

The weather this morning is cloudy but dry. The sun is just rising. Two weeks of freedom lie before me. So far it has stayed dry, and for brief moments the sun has even poked through. Not a bad start at all! However, sadly, that was to change all too soon. I can already feel the first few drops and quickly ride on.

After a while I can already clearly see the Kreuzberg. Just before entering the mountains the Heavens gates are opened and I am drowned! I buy myself some headache tablets in a Chemist's and then start the climb up the Kreuzberg.

The rain gets even heavier and in a few minutes everything around me is grey and wet. It is raining buckets. I pedal hard and fight my way upwards through the cold, wet weather. I reach the saddle at about 2,300 feet, a further 500 feet separate me from my goal for today. My clothing is soaked through. This afternoon a local bike ride is ending here. I didn't know that. Will it even be possible to get a room, with all these crowds? Arriving at the Monastery, I get off the bike and ask at the gate whether it is possible to stay the night. I am given a room and get the first stamp in my pilgrim's pass (Credencial).

I quickly stash my luggage in the room, lock the bike up in the yard and pull on some dry clothes. Thank goodness my panniers and rucksack are waterproof.

I grab my camera and head outside. The peak of the Kreuzberg is covered in thick cloud, the landscape is hidden behind a curtain of haze. This is a new experience for me. On my previous trips up here the weather was practically always sunny and dry. Today, for the first time, it is completely different. I climb up to the three crosses, the landmark of this mountain. They seem almost mystical outlined against the mist. Even at the top, visibility is reduced to just a few feet, the cloud is so thick. Around me everything is quiet, grey and wet. In this weather, the place is deserted. The tendrils of mist drift silently past me.

This evening I eat a salad and drink half a litre of the delicious dark beer of the Monastery and go to bed early, since this first day's journey was somewhat challenging. At 10 pm the gates are closed. Anybody who is not in the building by then will, perhaps, have to spend the night outside. Tonight I feel safe and sound, 2,800 feet up, wrapped in thick fog and complete silence.

Short steps lead to the goal, large steps leave us breathless. Even in thick fog, it is still possible to think clearly.

Friday 22nd June 2007

This morning I skip breakfast. I get an early start and, later, I will buy myself the essentials at a bakery, en route. The rain has stopped and, as I leave, there is even a brilliant ray of sunshine, striking the Kreuzberg. I will now properly start my pilgrimage from here to Santiago de Campostela. Now my long journey to the North West of Spain truly begins.

It stays dry and a few glimpses of blue sky raise my hopes of better weather. The landscape is beautiful. The mountains of the Rhön are all around me and I am free as a bird, on the way to a new adventure. In every man there lurks somewhere a traveller, an adventurer, a tramp. In a village right by the border to Hessen (a federal “Land” in Germany) I stop at a bakery and buy myself something sweet and something savoury, a little breakfast menu, so to speak.

Onward goes the journey, across a small corner of Hessen, then back into Bavaria and down the Sinn valley to Rieneck. Here, sadly, the sky looks rather more foreboding. In the West, dark clouds are blowing up, high time to find a sheltered spot. In Rieneck I wait, in vain, under a gateway, for the deluge from above to ease; finally I give up and start the climb over to the Main valley. I really don't like the look of the weather, but I have no more time to waste. My target for today is the Mariabuchen Monastery near Lohr on the Main. On the ride down to the Main valley, even more black clouds blow up in the West and it begins to drizzle. Fortunately, I reach a small village in time and find shelter in a bus stop. I dismount and settle myself down to wait.

My patience is now sorely tested. It pours and pours and shows no sign of letting up. After half an hour there is still no glimmer of blue on the horizon. To continue would mean getting drenched again. I last out another 30 minutes and then my patience is at an end! I have waited a whole hour and there has been no improvement. I do not intend to grow roots here! I decide to continue, and get soaked again, but never mind. I had my first baptism on the route up the Kreuzberg yesterday, it can't now be any worse. I ride, (or practically swim!) alongside the Main to Lohr. The rain eases up, just a light drizzle remains. In Lohr I cross the river Main, heading Eastward, where, according to the map, I will find Mariabuchen. The road begins to climb, as expected. Monasteries, after all, are nearly always to be found on the tops of mountains. The downpour, regrettably, becomes heavier again and is soon nearly as bad as yesterday. Never mind, I will not dissolve! At last, Mariabuchen appears, a pilgrim's hostel, a monastery, a guest house and a few other buildings, scattered in the middle of a forest. It is pretty here and very peaceful. Thoroughly soaked I knock at the gate. A Sister opens the door and asks me to wait. A monk arrives, stamps my Credencial and offers me a camp bed in the skittle alley! This is how pilgrims spend the night here, he explains to me. Showering is a problem, though. My clothing is soaked, I'm cold and I desperately need a hot bath, or at least a shower. The monk has an idea. He offers to phone the guest house for me and negotiate a discount rate for pilgrims. He reaches for the phone and a few minutes later he has arranged a room, with a wonderful view of the surrounding woodland, for me. Excellent service. The shower and toilet are directly opposite the room, and since, apart from myself, the place is deserted, this is no problem.

After a hot shower the zest for life returns. Outside I am now greeted by bright sunshine and blue skies, one could almost think it was April. In the evening, the guest house provides a large portion of Spaghetti with a delicious cheese sauce and a fresh salad, for just a few Euros. Undoubtedly also a special price for Pilgrims, I think to myself, and settle down to enjoy it. After such a wet journey I feel I have really earned it! To accompany it I have a spicy dark beer and I draw closer to paradise on Earth! From my window I can see the clouds gently drifting, this time from the North, wrapping the dark woodland in their cotton-wool cover. An attractive and peaceful sight. The quietness of the surrounding countryside, the tiny church of the Pilgrimage amongst the grey tendrils of mist, present a picture of peace and tranquility.

Saturday 23rd June 2007

At 8 am, the bells ring, I have breakfast and depart. It is still dry. My bike quickly makes the descent to Lohr. I am staying on the Main valley cycle route, heading for Marktheidenfeld. I don't get very far, just 10 minutes beyond Lohr it starts to rain heavily yet again. Is there anywhere to shelter? Normally, there are sheltering points everywhere, but, of course, this is only when the sun is shining and they are not required. Now that I really could do with somewhere to shelter, there is, naturally, none to be found anywhere.

I travel on slowly and, reaching a Sports Centre, I see a wooden hut under some trees. This reveals itself to be a sportsequipment storage hut, but is, unfortunately, locked. There is a slight overhang to the roof, with just enough room for a man to stand under, if he is pressed hard against the wall. At least, here, one stays a little dryer than out in the pouring rain. It is just possible to squeeze the bike under the roof overhang, against the side wall, but it still gets damp. I stand on a bench at the front of the shed, underneath the overhang and wait for better times. My patience is once again stretched. The weather just will not improve. The sky is grey, it is pouring down and I am getting wet even standing under the roof. Half an hour passes, an hour passes, more time goes by and still it pours. Nowhere, I mean, absolutely nowhere, on the horizon is there the slightest hint of any improvement. It is hopeless.

After more than an hour I have had enough. No more standing around, no matter how bad the weather is, it is time to continue. Admittedly, the rain has lessened, but it is still coming down. I brave the onward journey. It is awful, everything around me is as grey as grey and wet, just horribly cold and wet.

The countryside around the Main valley is beautiful, when the weather is good, and, even now, it has its good points. At last, I can glimpse some patches of blue sky. I have reached Marktheidenfeld and, in front of me, there are still black clouds looming. Perhaps it would be better to go over the back of the mountain to Wertheim? This idea proves sound. Above the Main valley, the weather is at least dry and I am glad not to be down under the bad weather any more. However, on the road down to Wertheim, the bad weather does manage to catch up with me, it was too good to last!

I cross the Main, and, after the bridge, the path turns alongside the river, again heading for Miltenberg. After a while the sun even breaks through. At once the world looks a different place. It would be lovely if it stayed like this, but I can't quite believe it and my suspicions prove well-founded. For a while, everything goes well, I coast along in the sunshine and let my spirits soar. There is nothing to distract me and I let my thoughts wander, enjoy the scenery and stop when and where I wish.

About 12 miles before reaching Miltenberg, something is brewing up in the West. Typically, that is exactly the direction I need to head in, there is no way to avoid it. Around a bend and, suddenly, everything goes grey and I know I am in trouble again. I see no shelter and stamp on the pedals again, in the desperate hope that I may yet reach the next village in time. It doesn't work. Suddenly the heavens open again and I have just enough time to throw myself into the undergrowth. At least here the bike and luggage receive some slight shelter. As for myself, I am pressed against a tree-trunk where it is still relatively dry for the moment. As time passes though, the wet penetrates, even here.

Now the time of waiting begins again. Half an hour, an hour, and beyond. I wait on the bank of the Main and watch the millions of rain drops hitting the water. Yet again there is no spot of brightness in the sky, to bring hope of an end to the rain. Suddenly, a clap of thunder rings out. It is unwise to shelter under a tree in a thunderstorm, but venturing out, in the pouring rain, also does not seem a great idea at this time. Surely a pilgrim should be protected. I am sorely tried today. If this continues, I must surely be paying for a whole bundle of sins! Water from above and no end in sight, it is enough to drive you to distraction. Fortunately, my new jacket is completely water-proof. It wasn't cheap, but I don't begrudge a penny of it now. Penny-pinching is not always the most prudent! My paniers have also proven themselves to be fully waterproof.

After more than an hour, I, at last, set off again. It is still not properly dry, but the main downpour seems to have eased off. I reach Miltenberg. In the direction of Amorbach, dark clouds still linger and thin streaks of rain promise nothing good. I quickly change my plans and head for the Engelberg monastery, north of Miltenberg. The weather improves and soon the sun even comes out. Monasteries are usually at the tops of mountains and here, things are no different. The climb really stretches me again. However, I am rewarded by a tremendous view across the Main valley to the Odenwald (a large forest area to the South-East of Frankfurt) in the South. Over that way, black clouds are still hanging around, whilst on the river the sun is shining. An overnight stay on the Engelberg would suit me just fine. I am cold, my clothes are wet, I am tired and would like nothing better than to have a shower and get to bed. This turns out to be easier said than done!

At present there are only kitchen staff to attend the gate. “Can pilgrims stay here overnight?” Puzzlement and then a refusal: “We have no guest rooms here”. However, I am not to be so easily defeated! “I understood that pilgrims along the Camino de Santiago were always promised shelter at the monasteries along the route”. This makes an impression, at least the tone becomes friendlier. “Are you a priest?” My dark cycling gear may look a little like a priest's gown, but it is not the same. I continue to ask for accomodation, priest or not. More confusion. “Are there no monks here?” “They are all at church at present”. Right, well, patience is fast becoming an enforced habit!

The weather to the south is improving, the rainclouds have to some extent parted. After 15 minutes I return to the gate. There is a Monk present now, but he is having difficulty with some paperwork. My request for overnight accommodation seems to get on his nerves. Only the Abbot can make these decisions, he says, but he is not available at present. “When will he be available?” The Monk says he doesn't know and seems to be becoming increasingly impatient. Me too! I am tired and cold and could get sick, all I want is a warm shower and a bed. Despite my efforts, there is nothing to be done. This Monk cannot make the decision and the Abbot is not available. However, he at least appears a little more welcoming now and promises to make a search and craves my patience. So perhaps there is still hope.

A further 10 minutes elapse, then the Monk re-appears, but he has not been able to find the Abbot. He does, however, offer me a meal in their canteen. I have neither hunger nor thirst, but just want a room, so I can end this cold wet day in peace. It is not possible. The man is now showing some interest in my bicycle! “So this is your support on your way to Spain?” Yes, this is it, and it is wet, just like me, what do you think we can do about it? Puzzlement. Where on earth is the Abbot, who can shed light in this dark place? Nowhere to be found!

The weather, meanwhile has greatly improved. The sky is blue, and there is now no bad weather to bar me from the route to Amorbach. I have had enough of this discussion. It is time to go.

I let the bike coast back down the mountain, cross the Main and head towards the Odenwald, aiming for Amorbach. The sun is shining now and it warms me up. What a difference! Why couldn't it have been like this earlier, why wait until evening? Nature has it's own rythm. I wished for, and got, better weather, just not exactly when I wanted it.

There is supposed to be an abbey in Amorbach. Perhaps I will be permitted to lodge there for the night. Unfortunately I cannot raise anybody at the presbytery and so, I finally give up and look for a worldly room instead. I find one in a B&B. It is clean, quiet and the people are friendly. They straightaway offer me the room. Excellent!. I pay a last quick visit to the supermarket, to stock up, then, this day, also, reaches its conclusion. However bad it has been today, all's well that ends well.

Sunday 24th June 2007

The day begins with home-baked bread, cooked meat, cheese, an egg, marmalade and cherry cake, all the essential components of a good continental breakfast. I slept well and feel fit. This is not always the case, when you sleep in a different room every night. This is a nice place, I would be happy to return here.

Today's challenge will be the Odenwald. I have to ride right through the middle of it. The weather is superb, what a contrast from yesterday. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the wood green and verdant, everything is perfect – Thank you sun, you make all the difference.

I make good progress, enjoy the countryside, let my mind drift and step on the pedals. The road climbs slowly, but it is not too difficult. Then it becomes steeper, the middle of the Odenwald approaches. Once, one could find the Roman Limes here. Whenever the way becomes too steep, it is time to dismount from the bike and push. It provides a good break and helps to relax. I reach the summit. Here, once, stood the Roman Limes, which marked a boundary of the civilised world, as it was then. Endless woodland stretches away to the North. 2000 years ago, no doubt, this would have been a militarised zone. I am now crossing over into the old Roman Empire, arriving, so to speak, in civilisation. Yes, I can really feel the change.

From now on, it is downhill all the way. At the southern edge of the Odenwald, I reach the river Neckar, near Eberbach. I don't stop here long, though, because I can, once again, see black clouds forming in the East. I cross the Neckar and continue southward. According to the map, there should be a monastery in Lobenfeld near Meckesheim. Perhaps, I will be able to spend the night there, that is my aim for today.

Shortly after Eberbach, the road climbs up again. The mountains and woodland look the same, south of the Neckar, as they did in the Odenwald. I start to get hungry. I stop at a logging dump, sit myself down on the top of the logpile, look down on the road and watch the cars racing past, catching a brief glimpse of the faces of the people behind the steering wheels as they pass. They seem stressed, I, on the other hand, enjoy my inner peace, eat something and admire the beautiful landscape around me. How little it takes to achieve contentment.

In the early afternoon I reach Lobenfeld, and, to my disappointment, find that the Monastery is no more. What bad luck, what am I to do now? The sun is shining, the weather is good, so onward to Meckesheim. At each church I stop and look for a presbytery so I can get my stamp. This, however, proves not to be so simple. Either there is no presbytery or the church is closed. Even in Meckesheim, there is no sign of a manse. I carry on and find a modern church building, go all the way round it, but still no sign of a manse. As I return to the frontdoors, they suddenly open and the congregation spills out. There has just been a baptism here, so there must be a priest in the vicinity. I leave my bike and luggage by the door and go in search. The priest is very pleasant and is interested in my journey. The stamp, he says, is in the office, but that is just nearby. A few more minutes and the priest would have gone again and also this church would have been all locked up.

However, he was still there and so, together, we work out a solution. He informs me that a member of his congregation has many times made the journey to Spain, on foot. “You really must meet him”, he says. The church office is in that neighbourhood anyway, so I might as well accompany him there now. No sooner said than done. Bike and luggage are placed in the sacristy and we jump in the priest's car and drive to Mauer. On the way, he shows me the local sights. We reach a residential area, stop in front of a bungalow and are warmly greeted. A few moments later, I am sat on the terrace, with a group of people I have never met before and yet I feel like I have always known them. I am even treated to lunch. The pilgrim's wife brings me a large plate of meat, potatoes and vegetables and, to follow, an apple strudel. What wonderful hospitality! We chat about the Camino de Santiago, the man tells me about his walk to Santiago, and gives me a few tips. He proudly displays his Credencial, with the stamps from Spain, mine seems rather thin in comparison. Still, everybody starts somewhere.

After more than an hour we say our goodbyes and I express my gratitude for everything. In the meantime I have also had my pilgrim's pass stamped. This is the fourth entry, and a very special one. It will always remind me of these friendly folk. Finally, I ask the pilgrim, whether it is true that miracles sometimes happen on the way to Santiago, and whether he, himself, experienced any. He smiles and says “that is my secret”. He is right, it is nobody's business but his. Religion is, after all, a very personal experience and is best not gossiped about too much.

“That was really a lucky break arriving at the church at exactly the right moment, otherwise we would never have met”. The pilgrim smiles and says “was it really coincidence, who is to say what is accidental and what is intended?” These are, then, the things to be considered. I am really getting excited, now, about how this long trip to Spain will shape up. This is only the beginning, but already there are some interesting thoughts. To get my stamp, I have to meet people, and, from such beginnings, encounters like this can always occur, although this will not necessarily always be the case.

The journey continues south-westward. The sky is blue, the countryside beautiful and the sun is warm. What a glorious afternoon! Summer at last. Somehow my wish for better weather has been fulfilled, albeit delayed by a day.

Towards evening I reach the little town of Rotenberg and look around for a room. I see a notice, advertising vacancies, at a B&B. The house is modern and clean. I ask if I can stay the night and am quickly shown to a delightful one-person flat in the basement. My hosts are very pleasant, everywhere is neat and tidy and peaceful, just what a tired cyclist needs. I shower, put on some fresh casual clothes and go out to experience a glorious sunset.

Monday 25th June 2007

After a restful night I continue my journey. Sadly the weather has again deteriorated, the sky is cloudy and it looks suspiciously like rain again. Unfortunately, my fears are quickly realised. By the time I reach Rauenberg, it is already raining. This time, however, in the nick of time, I find a covered bench. Moments later, the sluice gates are opened and down it comes again. It is much more comfortable, sitting reading on a bench, under cover, than sheltering under trees.

Luckily the rain does not continue too long today. To wish for better weather, seems pointless this time, firstly, it looks unlikely, and secondly, these wishes seem to only be fulfilled later anyway! This time, however, my misgivings are groundless. The sun soon comes through and bright blue skies accompany me along the Rhine plain. The bridge over the Rhine near Speyer is exactly the same age as me, built 1956 it says on the plaque. What a good year, this bridge can clearly be crossed safely!

In front of me stands the cathedral of Speyer. Bright sunshine makes this sight even more impressive. A stamp from the cathedral would be a feather in my cap. However, in this, I am to be disappointed. The Cathedral office is closed and no matter how much I knock, nobody comes to open the door.

At the St. Magdalene convent, I fare better, a nun opens the door. I introduce myself as a pilgrim and ask for a stamp for my pilgrim’s pass. “It is in the office, not at the door” comes the answer. Perhaps you could fetch it for me? That is, unfortunately, not possible, the door must be watched. “Well, can I fetch it then?”. “Certainly not”, she exclaims, this is a convent and you are a man! What a nuisance, what is one to do? She at least opens the door and actually allows a man to cross the threshold of the ladies' domain. I ask for a glass of water, she leads me to a waiting room and takes away my pass. Then she is gone and has, after all, deserted her post at the door. It is quiet and peaceful here. A short while later, she reappears, smiles and seems alltogether more relaxed. My Credencial sports a new stamp. The nun suddenly becomes quite chatty and wants to know the reason for my Pilgrimage. I explain in a few short sentences. In parting, she tells me, her favourite angel will protect me. I forget the name, I am not so well up on the angels, it sounded quite exotic, but what does it matter. On a long journey any assistance and protection is surely all to the good, so I take it with me.

At a small shop, next to the monument to a pilgrim, near the cathedral, I also acquire the stamp of the local Camino de Santiago, but, sadly, not the one for the cathedral, the cathedral office is still closed.

I leave Speyer and travel along the left bank of the Rhine, heading south, towards France. In the Rhine valley, it is dry and sunny. It wouldn't be bad if it stayed like that. The weather holds and I become over-confident, thinking that, today, I am protected from the rain. It is not to be, ahead of me, trouble is brewing. Dark clouds are blowing up. I need to find shelter in Germersheim. However, there is nothing suitable and the sky is already starting to leak! I reach the University, ride under a gateway, prop my bicycle up, sit on a stone step and, immediately, the storm breaks. As though someone had pulled the plug out of the sky, the sheets of water plummet down on to the tarmac, in front of my gateway. I have something to eat and drink and feel relieved to have made it safely to shelter, where I can wait in the dry. After a quarter of an hour, the rain stops and the sun comes out again.

I ride on and, this evening, I take a room in a small country hotel in Rülzheim. At the nearby supermarket, I buy myself something for tea and a bottle of beer, which I am really looking forward to.

I lie awake and ponder. I have now been underway for five days, I feel calmer and more relaxed and the hectic hurly-burly of every day life is fading away. It always takes a little while, before you become aware of this and can start to enjoy the inner peace. My thoughts drift back to the fog at the Kreuzberg. In following the Camino de Santiago, one embarks also on a spiritual journey. Who am I, where do I come from and where will I end up? How do we recognise God? In the fog, one's sight is severely restricted. How will the journey proceed? What will my discoveries be, at the end of the first stage, and, more so, in a few years time, at the final end of my pilgrimage in Santiago, if I make it that far. I think back to the Engelberg monastery. The monk there obviously wanted to help me, but could not make the decision himself and the right person was not to be found. It just wasn't the right time.

Tuesday 26th June 2007

Onward to France. It is not exactly a gloriously bright summer's day, but at least it is not raining. In Wörth I take a wrong turning and find myself on a cycle path along the bank of the Rhine. After a short detour, this, fortunately, leads me back to the country road to Lauterbourg. I make better progress on this. It is true that cycle paths are generally pleasanter, but they are also usually further round. To reach your destination speedily, they are best left to one side. The sky is cloudy and it starts to drizzle. At the German-French border crossing at Laterbourg, apart from a few deserted customs buildings, there is nothing left to mark the boundary. There is no more passport control, here, for travellers. What a difference from earlier days. I place my bike directly on the boundary, the front-wheel is now in France, the back wheel still in Germany. Across the border, the countryside is the same, only the language has changed.

Table of Contents

I dedicate this book

June 2007 – first stage

June 2008 – second stage

May/​June 2009 – third stage

May 2010 – fourth stage

First stage 2007 – 452 miles (727 km)

June 2007 – first stage

Thursday 21st June 2007

Friday 22nd June 2007

Saturday 23rd June 2007

Sunday 24th June 2007

Monday 25th June 2007

Tuesday 26th June 2007

May/June 2009 – third stage