Whilst the trip as far as this point goes was about striking east, Luxembourg was the first marker that we lay down as a place to explore. The world’s only remaining Grand-Duchy, it seems the marvel of Luxembourg has been hanging onto it’s own independent outlook as waves of invasions have swept it up. Frozen in it’s current state since the great divvying up of Europe following the battle of Waterloo, this was a place that we were curious to see.
A compact little city we once again turned to the wondrous Warm Showers app, where touring cyclists can seek or supply some assistance to those on the road. Reaching out, we found some shelter for the night with a fellow Englander, kindly helping us out and making possible some city exploring…With a place to stay, we pushed on and into the Franco-Germanic capital.
As we munched our way through the small distance between the border and the city, we were struck by the smoothest roads we had ridden so far. So effortless was the going that riding was akin to floating off…The bikes willing us onwards, we found ourselves in the city centre, sat outside a bar that just happened to also house the state’s Ministry for Media, we marvelled on the ground we’d made in just a week. Scribbling on the backs of a pair of postcards, we decided to make a line towards our night’s accommodation.
Luxembourg city…
Caught in a thunderous downpour, we arrived on Jamie’s doorstep looking to all extents and purposes as if we’d swam the major rivers to make it there. Ushering us in and covering our bikes from the deluge, we squelched up stairs and met his charming young family. Chatting over food about everything from the West country to life in Mongolia, we felt so warmly welcome and grateful to have the chance to get free of our now stagnating clothes and into some fresh cottons. Embarking on a fiendish round of Dobble (look it up folks), we bedded down for the night.
Waking early, we had the chance to meet the family’s youngest member. Bounding about and making trilingual declarations, it was quickly apparent that the two-year old before us was an infinitely more impressive linguist than all our studying had made us. Talking bike paths and future trips with Jamie, we made ourselves better acquainted with the lay of the land. After sipping on some real and imaginary teas, we packed up and moved on, rather more humble about the linguistic flexibility of the Luxemburgers.
A Dutchy…
Pedalling the steep gradients back into the centre of town, we took in the Pont d’Adolphe. Connecting the two sides of the steeply ravined city, this bridge is iconic not only for it’s elegant arches, but also for the rather stunning suspended bike path that runs underneath the carriageway. Looking down, across and out, we played about in this curious little spot before pushing off to admire something other than tarmacadam.
Pushing our bikes around the centre of town, we became well acquainted with the Luxembourgish police. Swarming around the Grand-Duke’s palace, something was surely array. A military band stomping their way into centre-ville, we couldn’t help but follow the piper’s music, and ended up witnessing a state visit. With the Dutch King and Queen also deciding to visit the city, we took in all the pomp and ceremony that only the history steeped nations of Europe could offer.
As the diplomatic cars dispersed, we thought it best to do the same. Retreating to a pizzeria near the Ministry for Finance, we reflected on just what a clean and curious little place Luxembourg was. Much of the city shares the same high-end brands and outlets as you might find in a London high street, but it’s labyrinthine centre occasionally offers glimpses of the old fortifications through which this small nation has somehow held onto sovereignty.
Freely Moving
Taking our queue, we headed for the border, or borders to be more precise. Only a 25km lay the city of Schengen. The place where freedom of movement sprang from, this town is far smaller than the expansive idea it’s name has come to symbolise. A simple meeting point between France, Luxembourg and Germany, this town sits on the Moselle river, and is banked by steep slopes covered with vines. Winemaking a big deal here, we were treated to not inconsiderable aeronautical displays on account of a helicopter dusting the crops.
Crossing into Germany to sample the delights of a Lidl in the motherland, we could now claim our fourth country, and duly stopped to take pictures on the bridge. Pedalling a simple 4 kilometers to Sierck-Les-Bains, we finished the day back in France, bedding down under lightning torn skies in our first paid campsite of the trip.
So torrential and blustering was the volley of rain that the storm brought, that we soon consulted Google what the risk assessment was for lightweight camping gear in such conditions. Without reading these aloud, we slept the night, wakened by an occasional drip from a little leaky tent.
A Rotten Little Day
Taking a great effort to get as much as possible dry, and packed. Hitting the road a shade after the weather blew through at midday, we made valley hopping our day’s objective. Soaring from the low lying river to the valley head, we took on 35 kms of steep and sheer ascents that took us across the Franco-German border, through a rainstorm, and finally landed us in Wallerfangen. Chased by more inclement weather, it became clear that the temporary repair on Will’s rear wheel was indeed, meant to be temporary. We found a bike shop willing to take on the task the following morning and took dinner in an alleyway, treated to more claps and flashes of lightning. Roads saturated, we were pedalling a short stretch to a campsite when a shoe sole shot off a pedal and landed Will and his darling Della on the floor.
Prognosis? The bike now needed a new handlebar as well as some wheel TLC. Will’s knees were a little knocked, but mostly the feeling was of anger. Now sorely in need of a real mechanic’s eyes and tools, we woke the next morning and walked the bike to the shop. Carsten, a mechanic at Heinz Ehl bikes in Wallerfangen did his level best, slotting us in quickly, but not without delay. And so, we found ourselves just outside of Saarlouis, for the first time, without a meter to pedal…
