Day 6: Breisach, Germany to Strasbourg, France (70 km)
The day started off as usual - bright and early morning, pack up the bags, get up and go. We were on our way into France. Started trundling along, settling into a nice rhythm and cadence that would take us the 80km into Strasbourg.
WHIZZZZZZZZZ went the cyclist beside us.
"Hello! Are you traveling to Strasbourg? Don't go that way. It's rubbish. Follow me - I know a better way."
"Er," we stammered.
Oh what the hell, why not.
You know those moments where you do something and you don't quite know why? Those moments where there are no promises except ones of adventure? And if not adventure, then just something different?
That was in both our minds as we followed this man away from the marked trail, through several small empty villages, and onto a path next to a canal.
This canal was littered with old military lookout points leftover from numerous wars. Our neighborhood friendly cyclist resumed his role as tour guide, speaking to us in a mixture of French, English, and German to give us a history of the lands that lay before us. As our random group went forth, we picked up other cyclists along the way. It was weird and wonderful. A mini rally of sorts.
He eventually dropped us off at a fork in the road. Told us that his son was getting married next weekend, and that he, at the age of 65 years old, had ridden his bike every day since he was in his twenties. Told us another story about a time when he and his wife had ridden through the Alps before they had gotten married. She thought he was insane. They married each other anyway. Never looked back since.
If we are half as fit and happy at his age as he was, then we will have lived a good, decent, honest life.
