Post #11

Two Flats and one Tumble: 09/26/25

After a two-day break, we hit the chilly road again, bound for our next stop: Linnich, Germany. Yep, Germany. It feels like we’ve been pedaling through Deutschland for an eternity, but fear not, tomorrow we’ll finally roll into the Netherlands and the Rurh river.

Let’s talk about today, though—a rollercoaster of a day with many ups and downs. We’d been cruising for about an hour when Sarah spoke up, “Uh, is the rear tire looking a bit… deflated?” We pulled over, and sure enough, our second flat of the trip stared back at us like a sulky teenager. Luckily, we could see a town off in the distance. I pumped some air into the tire, and we limped into town, where a conveniently placed bench in front of a church became our impromptu bike shop. In a swift 20 minutes, we unpacked the bike, swapped out the old tube for a new one, repacked the bike and were back in the saddle, feeling like Tour de France champs.

The weather was cold, overcast, with the sun teasing us by peeking out just enough to get our hopes up before ducking back behind the clouds. It was the kind of day that screamed, “Coffee break!” So, we rolled into Düren and found a cozy café. As we locked up our bike, an older couple inside the café watched us like we were the day’s entertainment. When we stepped inside, they launched into a lively chat in German. The husband was particularly curious about our journey, and we did our best to keep up, but let’s just say our German does not exist. Picture lots of hand gestures and awkward smiles.

After lunch, the couple headed out, but not before the man wanted to talk more about our bike. At one point, he asked Sarah how heavy it was and, in a moment of pure ambition, tried to lift it with a grunt. Spoiler: it didn’t budge. Sarah, ever the diplomat, asked if she could snap their picture. We all shook hands, wished each other a good life, and parted ways. All was good until until we hopped back on our bike and discovered, to our utter dismay, another rear flat. Ugh!

With no spare tubes left we hunted down a bike shop in Düren. Two new tubes later, we went through the whole rigmarole: unload the bike, remove the wheel, install the tube, reload the bike, and hit the road. 

Back on the road—again—we came to a sharp turn on a wide, paved path. Directly in front of us, I spotted a tempting dirt trail that shot straight under a low bridge, promising a shortcut. In a split-second burst of questionable judgment, I headed toward it, ignoring the tiny voice in my head whispering, “This is a bad idea.” 

As we neared the bridge, my brain’s measuring tape screamed, “Bike plus passengers equals too tall!” In a panic, I swerved back toward the paved path, but the front wheel caught in the grass, and off I went, flying like a stunt double in a low-budget action flick. I took a couple of rolls and landed with a thud. Sarah, meanwhile, stood there holding the bike, looking equal parts confused and concerned, asking, “Are you okay?" 

Tandems are cruel beasts—designed so the front rider always takes the fall. Maybe it’s a metaphor for life: lead the way, and you’re bound to eat pavement. Thankfully, only my pride was injured, so I dusted myself off, and we pedaled on, a little wiser hopefully.

We rolled into what we thought was a campground at 4:00 p.m., only to find a fully automated, city-run site with no reception, no toilets, no showers—just electric hookups. We made plans to stay and headed to a nearby grocery store to grab dinner supplies, only to return and learn the site was for RVs only. Talk about a plot twist! With daylight fading and options slim, we booked a room at the only hotel in town. You know the kind—where the charm is as thin as the walls.

The hotel staff suggested we park our bike on the street. Ha! Not on our watch. Instead, we unpacked the bike for the third time that day and heroically hauled it up three flights of stairs to our room. Call it a workout with a side of stubbornness. Like the hardcore campers we are, we cooked our dinner on the balcony of our low-budget palace, savoring the view and the absurdity of the day. It was a packed adventure, full of enough surprises to keep us interested for the final push into Amsterdam.

Rode 41 miles

Keep on rolling,

Scott and Sarah

Donuts, Rides and Raves: 09/27/25

We savored the luxury of a cozy bed and a warm room, which lured us into sleeping until the glorious hour of 8:00 AM. It was pure bliss, and it gave the chilly outside world a chance to thaw out just a smidge. But, as all good things must come to an end, we soon had to face reality and haul our gear—and our trusty bike—down three flights of stairs to greet the waiting world. Thankfully, an elevator the size of an old phone booth spared us from lugging everything down the stairs except our bike. As I entered the tiny cubicle I prayed it would survive one more journey.

First on the agenda: groceries. Our next stop was a farm-stay in the middle of nowhere, so stocking up was a non-negotiable. While I was browsing the bakery section, two enormous chocolate donuts jumped into my cart. They demanded to be eaten right there in the parking lot! Who were we to argue? These weren’t just any donuts—they were like the Hostess donuts of our childhood, but supersized, fresh, and downright heavenly.

We slowed down the pace on our ride since our destination wasn’t far. The route was a mix of gravel paths hugging the river, with occasional detours through farmland dotted with horses and cows. Naturally, we couldn’t resist another bakery stop for pastries and coffee; clearly, that has now become a habit.

As we neared our campground, we stumbled upon an ancient church and abbey, originally built in 1100 but tragically blown up in 1945 at the tail end of the war. We popped in for a visit, and the docent, a delightful local who’d grown up on the nearby farm, regaled us with stories for a solid hour. His tales wove together the history of the abbey with personal anecdotes about his family’s life during the German occupation. It was like stepping into a living history book.

Our campground, nestled on a family farm, boasted some surprisingly nice facilities. After dinner, with the evening air turning crisp, we snuggled into our tent, expecting a peaceful night under the stars. Oh, how wrong we were. Just as we started to drift off, the music began. At first, we blamed a nearby camper for the thumping bass, but as the night wore on, the true culprit revealed itself: an outdoor Rave somewhere in the near distance, pumping out beats like it was auditioning for the world’s loudest party. The bass didn’t quit until 4:00 AM, ensuring that sleep was but a distant dream. Note to self: always check for nearby Raves before pitching a tent.

Rode 30 miles

Keep on rolling,

Scott and Sarah

Another Pesky Flat: 09/28/25

Who needs sleep when you’re retired and living the dream? I managed a few winks after 4:00 AM when the Rave ended. But 7:00 AM came to soon  nudging us out of bed for a full day of cycling adventures in the Netherlands.

It was another picture-perfect day. The air was crisp, the sun was beaming, and the cows were serenading us with their finest moos. We even had a moment to drape our tent over a fence to dry—until we had to pack it up still damp, hoping for some sunny hours at the next campground to finish the job.

Cycling through the Dutch countryside is like riding through a postcard. Fields bursting with flowers, horses prancing, cows grazing, and goats probably plotting world domination brought pure joy to our souls. At one point, we spotted a majestic wooden windmill, a charming relic of Holland’s past, standing proudly just off the trail. If that windmill could talk, I bet it could tell some wonderful tales! So much more character than those sleek, modern wind turbines cluttering today’s landscapes.

Of course, no adventure is complete without a few hiccups. We spent most of the day crunching along gravel trails, which are slower than paved roads and demand a bit more grit. Naturally, we took breaks to refuel and soak in the scenery. Post-lunch, we treated ourselves to ice cream—because who can resist? We returned to our bike and found, you guessed it, another flat tire. We put on our last spare inner tube hoping it will last to our final destination.

We rolled into our campground in the late afternoon, greeted by enough sunshine to dry out our gear properly. Dinner was a freeze-dried meal we’d been lugging around since our last South American adventure. An emergency ration finally put to use—not exactly gourmet, but it filled the tank. The campground itself was on a farm with the Maas River on one side and a small lake on the other. The lake was a birdwatcher’s paradise, teeming with thousands of feathered friends providing free entertainment for hours.

This might be our last night under the stars for this trip, as tomorrow we head to Wim and Lydia’s house. In 12 days, we’ll decide whether to pedal into Amsterdam or take the easy route by car, depending on the weather’s mood.

Rode 59 miles

Keep on rolling,

Scott and Sarah

The Final Approach: 09/29/25

No one was waving a starter pistol at us to leap out of bed, so guess what? We lounged like royalty, savoring the slow morning. It was bittersweet knowing our Belgrade adventure was nearly wrapped up, but the thrill of a 10-day trip in Belgium awaits us. We have rented a camper van to do some sightseeing. 

With that exciting thought fueling us, we sipped our morning coffee and hit the road for the final 30-mile stretch to Ede. Along the way, we hopped a ferry and treated ourselves to a breakfast-lunch combo at a café in Grave. I ordered the Dutch take on a Philly sandwich It was no Philly cheese steak, but it was delicious.

Our friend Wim decided to pedal out to meet us halfway. In all honesty he probably rode way farther than planned! We finally linked up around 1:00 p.m., and Wim, our two-wheeled tour guide extraordinaire, led us on a Netherlands bike tour. At one point, he pulled over at a bench and whipped out a surprise: coffee and apple cake topped with whipped cream. We were in snack heaven!

Coffee and Apple Cake

The rest of the ride was a delightful blur of stops at picturesque sites, with Wim dropping fascinating tidbits about the area. When we finally rolled up to their house, Lydia greeted us like long-lost family—it was a heartwarming homecoming. Then, in a whirlwind of efficiency, we unpacked, tackled laundry, showered, and dashed out the door to grab some Greek food for dinner. It was fantastic to end the day in a big warm bed.

Rode 30 miles

Keep on rolling,

Scott and Sarah