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I hadn't planned on going to Alsace during this trip, but when I looked at the map and saw that it was simply a matter of crossing a bridge and going north, of course I had to do it. It only took a little convincing at the morning's Planning Committee to change the day's route. Here's the Switzerland/France border crossing
It was a holiday weekend, so everything was going to be shut on Sunday and Monday. Remy had told me that if I saw an open shop, that I should take advantage and stock up on supplies since there would be very few opportunities for groceries till Tuesday. I passed an open boulangerie in France on Sunday morning and witnessed a complete mob scene; everyone knew that things were going to be shut.
Often it seems strange that the epitome of civilization, France, was the cause of such barbarism duing the Revolution. Well, I saw with my own eyes the birthplace of the French Terror. I can just see the scene back in the late 1700's Paris:
Man at boulangerie: Please my good sir, sell me a baguette.
Baker: I am sorry, but there is no bread today.
Man: I and my friends will now murder everyone.
There was a line 10 deep, out the door. Cars honking trying to get in and out of the parking lot. Scalpers selling places in line. A very nice man behind me in line struck up conversation. He was, of course, a bicyclist, and has had dreams of doing a trip similar to mine his whole life. My first impression of France was insanely positive: friendly people and fresh bread. Here's the Chump Steamroller, with a fresh baguette bungied to the back
My next impression was that the bike route signage was atrocious. I was constantly getting lost. Luckily, there was an enormous river pointing the way most of the time. Also, it was a gorgeous day, perfect for getting lost in the Alsatian countryside.
The second half of the day was in Germany, winging my way in and out of tiny little Black Forest hill towns. I got constantly lost there as well, but it was a much bigger deal, since the towns usually lay in valleys, and to get from town to town, you have to climb hills. I think I did about 1000 extra feet of ascent because I confused the towns of Dottingen and Dattingen, one of which was my destination and the other is rat bastard hilly son of a bitch.
These towns at the foothills of the Black Forest were just fantastic: you'd spend about 20 minutes riding through rural vineyards and then come to a small town where they were doing wine tastings from the same vineyards. The wine was good (that's as nuanced as my wine terminology goes) and every restaurant had half their menus filled with asparagus recipes (they're in season right now).
I came into my final destination of Freiburg, and it was like arriving in paradise: there's a grassy canal that runs down the center of the town, shaded by trees and dotted with beer and wine stands. Everybody in town was down there, luxuriating in the beautiful weather.
I did a bit of luxuriating myself before pushing the 5 or 6 miles to a suburb called Kirchzarten. It was a long day of riding, full of sun, wine, rivers, 3 countries and a slight Nutella accident (it gets fairly fluid in the heat). I actually passed out at 8 PM as soon as I got my tent set up.
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