Bloody liars.
Most of the less adventurous passengers are on the wharf to see us, 18 passengers and two crew members who are here to render assistance in the unlikely event it is required, head off on our journey.
As I struggle up the rise from the river bank to the road, I am starting to have second thoughts about the trip but, hey, we’ve only gone 200 metres and when we get onto the flat everything will be fantastic.
The roadway is indeed flat and easy and I am feeling good about our adventure. After all, how many Aussies get the opportunity of riding down the edge of this mighty river! I have a backpack on my back with lunch and snacks and a couple of bottles of water. Life is indeed good.
About 300 metres further, we round a bend. I note that the road starts to evidence an upward tangent. My bike has 10 gears so I drop it down a couple and marvel at the difference it makes.
Why is it, I wonder, that the rest of the team seems to be pulling ahead and are laughing and joking together as they glide forward. Maybe I got a crook bike. Luck of the draw I suppose. It’s not long before Harold, the Hotel Manager on the boat but now our group leader for the ride, pulls up and everyone follows suit. When I catch up, there are unkind remarks about there being only 29 and a half more kilometres to go.
As soon as I arrive, Harold turns and starts to ride up what appears to be a vertical track. It goes all the way to the top of a massive mountain. No! Surely not! He must be headed for a lookout where those willing to make the assault can capture a magnificent view of the river and the gorge it flows through. I elect to wait for them to return.
As I sit myself down to wait, tail-end Charlie (the second crew member who takes up a position at the back of the group) tells me I must keep going. “What!” I exclaim. “You don’t expect me to go rock climbing with this contraption do you?”
“Get on your bike!” he says.
I push my bike all the way to the summit and as I approach it, I find the rest of the group waiting. They have had plenty of time to recover from the climb and are now keen to be away. Without giving me time to catch my breath, they are. I mount up, a little unsteady, and follow suit.
As I move off I note that the road ahead actually heads downhill. I'm able to sit there and let momentum carry me along. I look down and see the road we have just come along below me. I'm on a bridge and as I look ahead I see it continues all the way across the river. The “mountain” I was forced to climb was actually the approach to the bridge. Well, it seemed like a mountain at the time, but looking back as I glide along, it doesn’t look all that high at all.
Maybe everything told me before we left will be true after all. When we get to the other end of the bridge the land will flatten or be slightly downhill. I’ll glide along with the wind in my hair, whatever there is of it anyway, without a care in the world. “Ha, ha. ha. I'm as free as the breeze ---”
I start to gather pace and actually have to apply a little pressure on the brakes. Not that I even look like catching up to the rest of the group but hey, if they keep peddling along like they are they'll soon tire and I'll take the lead. What a bonzer day; the sky is a brilliant blue, it’s about 25 degrees and I'm riding a tactical ride. (I almost said race but no, this is not a competition, just a day out.)
Harold told us before we left that the journey would take about three hours. I calculate we must be about a third of the way there but, when I look at my watch, we have only been going for about ten minutes. My watch must be playing up.
Eventually I catch up with the rest of the group who are stopped in a beautiful little rest area just finishing their lunches. Surely, I haven’t been that slow. However, the look on the face of tail-end Charlie seems to indicate he is not bubbling with joy. What I don’t understand is why we should stop for lunch when the end of the trip must be just around the next bend in the river.
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| I try to look happy but can't hide the grimace. Rob and some of the others think my predicament is funny. Hey! How blue is the Danube. |
I look at my watch and note we have been on the road for a little under an hour. Yes. It's definitely playing up.
Tail-end Charlie and I have just enough time to swallow a couple of sandwiches, eat a bit of fruit and take a swig of water before the rest of group mount up for the next leg.
I gaze upstream of where we are, hoping I might see our boat coming down. While we are riding, it will leave Melk and we will catch up with it at its next port of call, Durnstein. I can’t see it coming and don’t know if it is behind or ahead of us so I can’t hope to hitch a ride.
By this time, a few fellow riders, including Rob, must be tiring as I am able to assume a position about four or five ahead of the back of the pack. My strategy seems to be working.
Of course, this leg of the journey doesn’t actually follow the shoreline. We head uphill into an area that, in any other circumstances, I would have found spectacular. We ride through a couple of quaint little villages complete with cobblestones - bone jarring, rib rattling, bum pummelling, crack splitting, strips of boulders. Occasionally a cheery local driving on the wrong side of the road will pass us and wave and smile at my discomfort. Outside the villages are endless views of vineyards, ablaze with colour. Whereas vineyards in Oz usually have roses planted at the head of each row to protect them against pests, these have little shrines to the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus. Beautiful but hilly.
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| European vineyards |
As I manfully push along, trying to hold my position in the pack, I hear Rob calling me from behind. I stop and when she catches up she asks, “Where are your glasses?”
“What a silly question!” I think to myself, but as I feel for them I realise they are not where they should be. She holds them out to me and says, “You’re so lucky. I was pushing up that last rise looking down and almost ran over them. I couldn’t believe my eyes. You must have dropped them as you were struggling along.”
I really want to retort, “Powering along!” but take the better option of saying, “Thanks darl”. Actually they are not the exact words she used but I don't want to change your perception of her being my sweet, supportive, submissive little woman.
I am indeed very grateful that it was Rob who found them. Someone up there is obviously looking after me; however, I do wish whoever it is will pump some energy into my legs.
As grateful as I am, there's no time to waste. I'm off again, still with a small pack behind me. Alas, it isn’t long before I realise that those who are behind have stopped on several occasions to take photos of the magnificent scenery. As we come out of the vineyards, they peddle on and it is not long before I am back to my normal place, nineteenth, with only tail-end Charlie behind me.
Come the end of hour five (my stupid watch only shows two) the group stops for a snack and drink break, and are ready to go again by the time I get there. I have mine on the run. Rob waits for me and we ride along together.
For a torturous thirty minutes we battle on and finally catch up with the pack impatiently waiting to go into a little winery. Harold has organised a wine tasting so we might appreciate the nectar of the vineyards we have just travelled through.
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| The sweet, supportive, submissive little woman props me up while I grimace waiting for the waitress to look up the English translation dictionary. All I have asked for is a schooner of red!! |
My aim is to drink as much red as is humanly possible. That way I might ease the pain that has overcome me. Maybe it will obliterate from my mind all thoughts of the next 30 or so minutes till we reach Durnstein.
The medicinal stopover works to some degree. By the time we leave I don’t care how much further we have to go but I do know I need to go for it. I forget that Rob too is tiring and finding the going tough. I am totally focused on the finish line. I don’t realise that I am leaving her further and further behind. Not that I can do much about it. If I stop I'm gone.
Occasionally I come across tail-end Charlie who has just about given up on us. He rides ahead for awhile then pulls up and waits for us to catch up. Then, at last, I see it. Is it a mirage? No, I don’t think so. There, in the distance is our boat, tied up by the side of the river.
The site of of it is like an aphrodisiac. There are no riders between it and me. They are inside showering. I push on. With only about 200 metres to go I come to a weaving stop. I have to cross a pedestrian crossing. The light is red. Can I climb back and ride the last few metres, or do I walk it?
Pride decides for me. The light changes to green. I lift my leg over the bar and give myself one last feeble push. Can I cross the road before the light changes and I get cleaned up by the impatient traffic? With the last of my strength I peddle and --- I make it.
The rest of the bikes are all neatly placed ready for the staff to take them back on board. I drop mine on the ground and stagger over to a log to sit and wait for Rob. She turns up in a few moments and we slowly, proudly walk on board. We nod to tail-end Charlie who has been awaiting our arrival. He doesn't respond.
Maybe we are the last two to return but we have come seventeenth and eighteenth out of a total of 180 passengers.
Tonight is an Austrian dinner which we really enjoy. I top up the red wine. One thing's for sure; there's no kangaroo on the menu. Remember the tee shirts – “No Kangaroos in Austria”? Another thing for sure and for certain; I will never, ever, ever go on a 30 kilometre bike ride, ever, ever again. No matter what the sweet, supportive, submissive little woman says!!!
As we are too tired to go to bed, we stay up to watch the crew talent show.
(A couple more of Rob's photos follow just in case you don't believe me.)
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| Living along the Danube |
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| The outskirts of Durnstein. See the vineyards on the side of the hill. You thought I was kidding didn't you! |