Around Lake Konstanz, Germany
From Pedalpushers
Preamble
In 2000 I went to a conference in Konstanz, Germany, and was struck, not only by the beauty of the lake, but by the huge throng of people cycling along the lake shore. Lake Konstanz, or Constance , is a large body of water, practically an inland sea although not as big as some of the African lakes, and borders on southernmost Germany, Switzerland, and Austria. We discovered that there was a cycle route going all the way round, and made a mental note to come back sometime and try it out.
When we found ourselves with a spare week in June, we decided that there was no time like the present. Since I always try (but rarely succeed) to travel sustainably, we first thought we would see if we could get the train. However, it looked like it was going to be £600 each, 15 hours and numerous changes, so we scratched that one. We couldn’t possibly think of a reason why the cheap airlines would fly to this neck of the woods, so we disbelievingly tried to a few searches and to our amazement Ryanair had a flight from Stansted to Freidrichshaven which cost a penny, so putting aside our principals once again, out came the credit card. Of course things are never as they seem and once we had paid for the bikes (they travel as sports equipment and cost £20.00 each way) bags, taxes etc it worked out at £100 per person return – still not too bad. Of course it being Stansted you have to pay to get down there as well and the train fare is about £45 return per person.
We found a book about cycling in the area which I can only describe as smug, but it gave us enough information to feel confident about our journey
So here’s a day-by-day account of our travels.
Booking our journey:
Ryanair: Go online, book flight with bags and bikes, print off piece of paper with all confirmation details.5 minutes.
National Rail: Have to go to the station because there is no on-line booking facility for bikes. Wait in queue for 25 minutes, tell the clerk what I want, he has to go off and find a supervisor to help him. 30 minutes later end up with about 20 pieces of cardboard to take away including a ticket in a plastic bag with an elastic bag on it to stick on the bike. (The significance of this emerges below)
Day 1 – Sheffield Friedrichshaven
We set off in bad weather to get to Sheffield Station. Calling at the money exchange on the way. (Ilkeston Travel on Pinstone St does a very good rate) but only to find that Charles St is blocked up solid by building work, make our way to Howard St and
round the convoluted route that passes for a “Safe Route to the Station” at the moment.
Get onto the platform and wait for our train to Ely. Am dismayed to see that it is only a two-car train, and further dismayed to find giant four-wheel-drive baby buggy in the bike space. Shouts of “whose is this buggy?” elicit no response, so I hoik it out and jam our bikes into the space. Into the space also go our bags. By this time of course someone has sat in our reserved seats, not that there were any reservations cards on the seats anyway.
The owner of the four wheel drive SUV buggy has by this time emerged and got the guard to put it somewhere. The guard, who had obviously told aforesaid person to put the buggy in the bike space, not having bothered to check whether any bikes were booked on the service, comes along to us all hot and bothered and says “don’t you know you are supposed to reserve your bikes?” I retort “we did book our bikes and if you look at them you will see that they have got the bike reservation tickets in little plastic bags, attached to the handlebar by an elastic band” (see above)
However, I was not to get the better of this particular jobsworth. He comes back with “Well anyway the rules say you are only allowed to travel with one small bag and one suitcase, so I could throw you off if I wanted to. I’m only telling you because you probably won’t get on your connecting train at Ely” (These were prophetic words, but not for the reason he supposed.) Gob smacked at that one – panniers come in twos for reasons of balance, and we did also have a tent and our trusty Ozzy Bike Bags for carriage of cycles on planes & genuinely High Speed trains (see http://www.mikedyason.com) - I refrained from asking him why there were no seat reservations and decided to sympathise with the plainly very difficult job he was asked to do (consistently mainly of sitting in the rear cab watching the rails disappear in the distance, and occasionally coming out to make the passenger’s lives more difficult)
The train rumbled on - they always get quiet after Nottingham - and it was only when we got to Peterborough that it became plain that something was amiss. Our train filled up with disgruntled passengers and it transpired that there had been a signal box fire at Kings Cross, so everyone was being diverted via Cambridge to Liverpool St. We were expunged at Ely and waited with trepidation for our connecting train to Stinted. Sure enough when it will pulled in it was filled to the gunnels and there was no way we were going to be able to get on. We took advice from a sympathetic railman, got a local to Cambridge (which had come from Kings Lynn so wasn’t affected) and took another to Stansted, which apart from a slight altercation with a yuppie (which went “excuse me, that’s the bike space you’re standing in” ”yes but I’m standing here” “oh well I’ll just have to stand here in and get in the way of lots of other people because you won’t move then” – god there are a lot of dickheads in Cambridge - got us there with an hour to spare. Stansted was packed but we got on and were finally away.
Arrived in a very quiet-seeming, but warm Friedrichshaven – it took two taxis to get us and our bikes to the hotel. Patrice’s taxi got lost but I was able to guide him in using mobile phones. Checked out the local bars, which were very quiet - had a weissbeir which was bottled, warm and a bit unexciting but the barmaid was able to tell us about her aunt who lives in Bolton. So to bed.
Day 2 Friedrichshaven – Meersburg
In the morning we took time out to visit the Zeppelin museum - an amazing re-creation of the day of the giant airships. Zeppelins (see Guardian travel) - were made in Friedrichshaven, as they were able to roll them out of the hangar onto the lake for take-off, and they are now making the Zeppelin NT – a surreal sight as it pootles around the lake Maybe the future of flying is up there though.
Setting off from Friedrichshaven
Trying to leave Friedrichshaven, we got a bit lost and it took a bit of time getting used to the absolute priority cyclists enjoy over traffic in cycle lanes, to be cycling on what appears to be the pavement and have not only the car in a side road pull back to let you pass, but the car behind that one also reverse to allow the front one to do it, is a remarkable experience. There is a downside though – at one point I was cycling alongside Patrice and a man tutted and pointed at my bike. I thought he was pointing out a loose strap or something but it turned out my wheel was five centimetres over the line that separates the cycle route from the pavement. Must try that next time I’m on the Upper Hanover Way cycle route.
cyclists have total priority over other traffic - except for trains!
Our confusion lead to some harsh words and it turned out that I was smug (fitting in well with the local population then) and it was hardly surprising that no-one wanted to go on a cycle ride with me (as I had led 25 people on the Round Ride the previous week I thought that was a little harsh) However, we soon found ourselves heading in the right direction, and the wide cycle lane alongside the main road, that veered into the villages en route, had us on the road to Meersburg. After all the tram we thought it best to stop at a lakeside establishment to have a weissbeir and something to eat, which we duly did and, refreshed, rolled along the lakeshore into Meersburg. This medieval town is a wine centre and fulfilled all our requirements, so we completed the evening sitting out side a café and watching an amazing thunderstorm roll over the lake.
Day 3 Meersburg - Reichenau
Leaving Meersburg past the ferry port, more off-road cycling followed past the comfortable villas of the lake-dwellers, through Uberlingen and on to Ludwigshafen At this westernmost part of the lake we ran into rain, and of course it was just our luck that some of the next section was unpaved, so with our non-mud-guarded bikes we started to get a bit caked over. However, we found some good strawberries and were actually on the road for the first time for a while, climbing a hill, to cross the peninsular that juts into the lake at this point. Soon we lost the day trippers and were away up the hill, arriving at a small town where we tool lunch and some very good Weiss bier. This is set us up for the spin back down the other side and the run up to (Ohningen) a very picturesque town where the lady in the postcard shop informed us we were in Switzerland. Although we were tempted to linger we set off for the destination of the day, the island of Riechenau.
Ohningen
Reichenau is connected to the mainland by a causeway (which of course has its own dedicated cycleway – Lindisfarne please note) surrounded by reed beds, which are a major wildlife centre. It is also well populated with greenhouses. We headed for the camp site on the tip of the island, although this like other sites we visited was focused on caravanners with only basic camping facilities – no lush green grass to make your bed on here - decided to make use of the tent we had brought all the way with us. We headed for the site restaurant and bar to spend the evening watching the sun go down over the lake as the jolly German caravanners partied with plenty of Schnapps, before retiring. Our sleep was disturbed however by the continuing partying into the early hours only quelled by heavy rain and thunderstorms again. We decided to forgo camping from now on.
Day 4 Reichenau – Konstanz
Leaving Reichenau in the morning, the local grocery store looked tempting but I was convinced that food would be cheaper on the mainland- Patrice was\not so sure and this was a bit of bone of a contention .However, pedalling on, back in the German zone with the super-safe tarmac-ed cycle lane we were soon in a town with a small market, able to take coffee and cake and stock up for lunch.
We continued in light rain on into Switzerland, where the cycle route became more gravel and less tarmac, and stopped at a fishing hut for lunch, where we chatted with a lone rambler from Singapore who was walking round the lake, and was disappointed to find that the hut was not a café. Cyclists were noticeably less mollycoddled in Switzerland, and there were places where we even had to ride on main road (Shock, horror).
Soon enough, we dived under a motorway intersection, got waved through a border post and found ourselves in Konstanz – back on German soil. The logical place to stay seemed the Hotel Graf Von Zeppelin, and having done a tour of the town looking in vain for the perfect hotel with a view of the lake, this was where we ended up. This turned out to be fabulous, a grand old hotel that had been done up to boutique standards, and by chance we got what we thought must be the best room in the place. Coupled with some good Italian food (well Patrice thought it was anyway, and with a name like Panella she ought to know) and a stroll around the beautiful old city, this was one of the high points of the week.
Day 5 Konstanz - St Gallen, Appenzellen
In fact, having had such a good time the night before we enquired whether we could book another night at the Zep. This was not to be – it being Friday the only room available shared a bathroom, and this was not acceptable to Her Ladyship, so we packed our bags and off we pedalled. Being unsure of the direction out of town we headed back across the border we came over – this was a tactical error, for future reference head for the railway station, which has a German end and a Swiss end – pass through at the Swiss end and away you go.
Still, a few boring suburbs later we were back on the lakeside route and firmly in. Switzerland. This was however the industrial butt end of S. not that chocolate box side you see in the tourist ads. Our plan was to head for St Gallen which seemed like it might be an interesting place. We reached Rorscasch where strange ink-blots looked a bit like distorted eagles, our routes diverged and we said goodbye to the lake route. Soon we found we were in for some serious climbing, and the cycle routes became more like those are used to England, where there might be a bit of space reserved at the side of a very busy road if you are lucky. St Gallen when we arrived didn’t seem like a particularly interesting place, and there was worse to come – as there was a heavy metal concert taking place near the town all the hotels were full. I embarrassed myself by going into a Gasthof and asking whether there were any rooms – the North African staff were happy to offer me a room at an inflated price, but unwilling to show me the room, so I walked out. Later I realised that Gasthofs don’t offer rooms, they are only restaurants, so I had to accept having been mocked.
On the way to St Gallen – following the yellow cycle route signs
So, stuck in the butt-hole of Switzerland with nowhere to sleep - what to do? This was where Patricio shows her true worth. “Let’s go to Appenzellen” says she. Where? I’d never heard of it. Nevertheless, off we trot to the train station to see whether this place exists. On the way we pass the Tourist Information so we stop in for a chat. “We don’t suppose there’s anywhere to stay in St, Gallen” “ooh no” comes the response. Do you think there will be anywhere in Appenzellen? “We ask. Ooh yes Appenzellen is lovely and it will be no problem finding somewhere to stay” comes the response. So off we pedal to the train station. I am despatched to buy tickets. “Do you speak English” I ask the clerk. “a little” comes the response (this tends to mean”Rather better than you do actually”) I would like two tickets to Apenzellen with bicycles please” Now we have reached an impasse – for after all what does “with bicycles” actually mean? This is something I had not previously fully considered. The clerk & I decide that the best solution is to go to the Appenzeller bahn and see what happens, so we trot around the corner, far from where the sleek expresses wait to take you to Geneva or Zurich, and there sits a two car tram, similar in size to a Manchester Metrolink, and much smaller than a Sheffield one. “Does this train take bikes?” We ask a gentleman who is hanging around looking semi-official. “Oh yes. Pop round here and we’ll sell you a ticket” So I do so and soon the very same gent is helping us manhandle the fully laden bikes into a tiny compartment at one end of the train – straight off the tracks, none of this platform nonsense. It takes a bit of effort to sort out the bikes and ourselves but soon we are off (exactly on time of course –this is Switzerland) , and I note that the train ascends a one in ten gradient with ease almost as soon as it leaves the platform.
Appenzeller is soon reached, with many climb and curves, and we find ourselves in an exquisite alpine village. A nice room is to be had at the village inn, but only for one night – once again the weekend rush had caught us out. Still, food and drink were to be had, the village was very pleasant to walk around especially once the day tripoers had gone and the souvenir shops had closed, and tomorrow was to be another day. Appenzeller beer, by the way, isn’t that great, especially at Swiss prices.
Day 5 Apenzellen - Schwende
We awoke with Alpine air in our lungs (rather fresher than the diesel –tinged High Speed Train air I’m breathing as I write this) took breakfast and considered what to do next. Studying the brochure we had been given at the Tourist information back in
St G, there were a number of small hotels in the area (I almost wrote Gasthofs then) and plucking up my courage I rang one up (I’m not very good at that sort of thing). “Do you have a room for two people” I ask. “No we only have a single” is the reply, “Oh OK then, thanks, I say. Dismayed we sit and wonder what to do next. “What was wrong with that one” I ask. “Oh they only had a single” I say “What’s wrong with you? Ring them back and say we’ll take it” I had forgotten those days of sleeping together in a single bed, so I do. Of course they are very happy to give us the room at a single rate price, and even offer to put an extra bed in it. So, we’ve booked ourselves for a night at Schwende, just around the corner in the next valley.
We load up and pedal off around the shoulder of some substantial mountains. The attitude of the Swiss towards cyclists – get on the road and deal with the traffic – is quite refreshing after the over-protectiveness of the German cycling environment, and certainly makes for faster if more hazardous travelling.
The hostal in Schwende turns out to be run by the hardest working Heidi in showbiz. As soon as we have staggered up the 1-in-4 driveway, she is out to greet us and offer tea, then straight in to get the rooms ready as we have turned up well before normal check-in times, whilst her useless boyfriend turns out to unlock the garage un case we want to put our bikes in it later. Soon we have settled in and are ready to see what the Schwende valley has to offer. One thing that is immediately apparent is that it is a Mecca for hang-gliders – there are hundreds of the buggers hanging around against the background of the spectacular mountains of the valley head. The crack with is to pack your hang-glider into a Very Large Rucksack, get the cable car (which of course smugly integrates with the Appenzellerbahn, which, not content with getting you to Appenzeller with supreme efficiency, also has branches up each of the adjoining valleys – and this is a private company, run for profit, but fully integrated with the state-run Swiss Railways. God it makes you want to projectile vomit. Imagine if as well as the Hope Valley rail line, great as it is, there were branches to Castleton, Bakewell and Buxton, all carrying bikes of course, run for the benefit of the community but making money as well. Dream on. - as I write this my train from Sheffield to London is an hour late) - rebuild your hang-glider, Launch yourself, hang around in the most exquisite scenery in Europe with the best thermals until your senses explode, then gently glide down to the ground, pack up your glider, stroll down to the nearest bar, call your pals and relax with a beer until they turn up to pick you up. Even I could see the point of that. However, I digress, We pedal up to the top of the valley, decide that the next bit is just a leetle too steep, so we take the cable car (which even I found a bit scary, and I don’t get vertigo unlike Patrice) just so we can hang around in an Alpine meadow for a bit and watch the hang-gliders waft around us. Then we and head back down to re-group and decide what to do next.
At some point during the epic journey of the previous day –I’m not quite sure when now (hey – it’s December already, OK? I‘ve been too busy saving the planet to write this down before now) the front changer in my bike disintegrated. So I’d just like you to know that I am now cycling around – in Switzerland, remember? with only eight gears instead of the usual 24. Remind me to tell you about the time shortly after this when my rear clanger fell off in Buxton, not only in front of the Opera House but in full view of a troupe of Morris Dancers. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough I had to remove said offending clanger and piece of chain and then cycle back to my secret bunker at Litton pretending that my superb Vernon touring bike is in fact a Fixer - perhaps I need to get it maintained by a certain Mr. Robert Appenzeller) Mind you, you are reading an account by a man who has so little regard for the timing belt of his car that he allowed it to wear out and break, costing a cool £1,400 to have the top end of the engine rebuilt along with a new set of rear brakes.)
Anyway, given that your good self is now riding a crippled touring bike, herself decides that it’s time to go Mountain Biking What a great idea! Having bought the local cycle map in Appleyard (ooops) we can see an off-road route that is obviously going to be great fun so off we set round into the next valley. The road peters out into a forestry trail and we just keep going. The scenery is just so Swiss it’s not true = we can hear a Glockenspiel, a flugelhorn and distant yodelling echoing through the woods. The trail just keeps going up and up and up –imagine for example heading up to Stanage Pole, then doing it again, and again, and again… eventually it’s too much for me on rough ground with no crawler gear, and I give up before we get to the top of the grade. Patrice smugly carries on (for smugness has definitely become the theme of this trip) while I see how fast I can get back down the hill. There is a bar at the bottom and in true Swiss fashion there is a group of ramblers having a little sing-song before they set off in Alpine gear to go a-rambling. As they leave, a hang glider emerges from the woods, orders a beer, whips out his mobile and phones his friends to get them to pick him up. Surreal.
Before leaving there is one more valley to explore, but this offers little except a very large and quite modern church, so we head back to the B&B where hard-working Heidi is ready to offer us drinks before a three-course meal. Off we go to bed, and sure enough h-w-H is ready to offer us breakfast in the morning. Boyfriend is nowhere to be seen.
Day 6 Schwende - Bregenz
We hand over a king’s ransom in Swiss franks (Switzerland actually is no longer the fabulously expensive place it used to be, due I suppose to the strong pound and the weak Euro, or perhaps the Gnomes have been slacking) and forsaking the delights of the Appenzellerbahn, cycle off back towards the lake. The terrain is a bit like the Peak District, with roads and traffic to match, but although heavily laden and me lacking a crawler gear we made good progress until the epiphanic moment when you catch a glimpse of the lake and road down the hill towards it, only to find you have another giant hill to crawl up before the final downhill swoop, following an Italian meal in a small town overlooking the lake, even this one having it’s own bahn to get people up from the main line below.
Down on the lake we are on the delta where the Streneizer Ache empties out of the Swiss Alps into the lake, meandering across the flat lands until we cross another bridge and we are in Austria. Pity the poor Austrians – with no coastline, this small stretch of lakeshore about 10kms along is the nearest they have to the seaside. Needless to say it’s packed, and Bregenz has a perpetual traffic jam running through the town. Mostly it day-trippers though, and we are soon ensconced in a pleasingly run-down hotel in town, ready to face a wiener schnitzel and some fine Austrian beer.
Bregenz has one feature of interest to Sheffield cyclists – a cable-car that carries bikes. This takes you up to a view-point overlooking the town and the stunning Alpine scenery, and you can either cycle back down through the woods to town, or set off into the back-country.
The Pfanderband - bikes carried!
Day 7 - Bregenz - Friedrichshaven
Our last leg takes us back into Germany and a detour onto the isle of Lindau, jammed with traffic, but we were impressed by the size of the bike symbols on the trains:-
and of course the light-house – strange to think of the need for a light-house on a lake. We meandered on and soon were back in Friedrichshaven, conveniently the bike route ran past the street of our hotel, and soon we were washed and refreshed and ready for the delights of town. We made a point of following the bike route and seeing where we went wrong the first time – for future reference it’s easy, just hug the lake shore and the quiet route will emerge. A meal of lake perch and our last chance for some delicious weissenbeir, and we were ready to prepare ourselves for the ride up to the airport in the morning.
Day 8 - Friedrichshaven - Sheffield
This was a doddle, although the safe bike route of course ran out just where you most needed it, at the airport roundabout. Back in the UK, we thought it prudent to leave the bikes in their bags, and we had a hassle –free trip back to Sheffield. Having rebuilt our bikes, we set off from Sheffield station, and the shock of our lives - people driving at 30 mph and over - on residential streets! Germany may seem overly law-abiding to some, but their attitude to cycling has much to recommend it. A trip to Lake Konstanz has much to recommend it as well.
Relaxing on the City Link service, Stansted to Sheffield (change at Ely) Bikes are in the black bags.
