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The huts are gone, the rain clouds are here! There's no such thing! This morning we rolled through Upper Bavaria and saw haystacks, wooden huts, shelters everywhere - the landscape was full of them - and now, as dusk approaches and even worse: rain clouds darken the sky, all the huts are gone. We had imagined the first overnight stay on our gravel tour home to be so cosy: Rolling out our sleeping bags in the soft hay, the bikes like cowboy mustangs in front of the hut, a view of the countryside, a sip of red wine from the bottle before going to sleep. That's it. We roll through the hutless Allgäu and don't know where to go. The first raindrops burst on the tarmac and leave stains.
We are newbies!
I've never been on a gravel bike, but I have been on a road bike, of course. My first real dream bike was a Mars racing bike. Mars racing bikes were available from Quelle mail order in the 1970s. I got an orange-red ten-speed racing bike made of thin steel with two silver gear levers on the down tube for my 10th birthday. It cost DM 252, a high price for a bike at the time. Later, I was only interested in the mountain bikes that came into fashion at the end of the 1980s - and that remained the case until my brother recently announced that he wanted to ride a gravel bike from Munich, where we both live, home to mum in the Black Forest. Or as he called it: graveling. Three days in July, 450 kilometres, right across the south of Germany. Me: "When do you start?" - He: "Tomorrow!" Me: "I'll be there!"
Which bike?
Laurin and I are journalists for BIKE magazine. One advantage of the job is that we can test bikes as and when we feel like it and also help ourselves to bikes from our sister magazines. To borrow gravel bikes for the tour, we just have to go to our well-stocked test cellar. Laurin opts for the Ghost Asket. This gravel bike even has a suspension fork and a dropper seat post for even more comfortable descents. I opt for the lightweight Cervélo Áspero with carbon wheels. Since I know little about gravel bikes (apart from the fact that the handlebars are bent far outwards and this is called "flare"), my choice is determined by the look (chic carbon frame, white paint) and the comment from my colleagues that the Cervélo is something really classy. Now I just have to screw flat pedals onto the cranks (as a freerider, I want to ride in my comfortable shoes) and inflate the tyres - not too tight for sufficient damping, I pump in 2.8 bar.
Where to put the luggage?
Of course, my brother had more time to think about what he wanted to take with him and, more importantly, where to put all the stuff like sleeping bag, insulating mat, warm jacket, wind waistcoat, sun cream, muesli bar, mini tool, spare inner tube etc.? To store his equipment, Laurin got himself the bags that all Gravellers swear by for handlebars, frame triangle and, above all, saddle: the so-called "Arschrakete", a cylindrical object that is attached to the seat tube and protrudes to the rear. Advantage of the design: 1. a lot fits in there. 2. the biker can't see the clumsy thing himself. 3. the arse rocket becomes a mudguard in the rain. I, on the other hand, have to decide spontaneously and want to pack everything into a rucksack first, as I'm used to doing with mountain biking. Fortunately, my brother manages to change my mind and I stuff my sleeping bag and sleeping mat into a backpack as well and fit a frame bag for small bits and bobs such as my mobile phone, bars and inner tube. This makes my rucksack much lighter - a blessing as it turns out later.
The route
Simply setting off with just a map or mobile phone is rubbish, we know that. After all, the constant hitchhiking to get your bearings kills the flow. Smart technology is needed so that you don't have to ride on the road, but on small paths through beautiful countryside. Our solar-powered direction finder is called Coros Duraa small, flat block that I mount on the handlebars. Laurin has programmed a gravel route into it. A glance at the arrows on the display shows us where we need to go. Fun fact: the device warns us of inclines and gives the all-clear when the route turns horizontal again. We have to laugh every time the voice alerts us: "Caution: uphill!" It's 450 kilometres home. "Are you going to do this in one day?" asks our colleague Sandra Schuberth, curiosity sparkling in her bright eyes. Sandra specialises in extreme gravel missions. "Not on your life!" replies Laurin. No, we want to enjoy, not rush. Discover Germany, drink dark beer and eat roast pork, swim in the Danube - but don't set any records. We have three days to cover the distance; 150 kilometres a day already seems like a sporting challenge.
The GPX data for the gravel tour from Munich to Freiburg is available here:
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The feeling
Laurin is nervous, which I find funny. Because I'm full of anticipation. What could possibly go wrong? It's July, it's warm, the days are long - and we have a mission. It couldn't be clearer: from A to B. That means living in the now for three days, switching off, thinking nothing, being on the move, experiencing the landscape, sleeping somewhere - marvellous! Our tour is a wonderful contradiction to the diffuse everyday life full of multiple-tasking, "quick, quick, quick" and "I have to, I have to, I have to". I'm looking forward to the new perspective. I've driven this route countless times in the car: A96 to Lake Constance, dual carriageway towards Donaueschingen and then on the main road over the Black Forest down to Freiburg - eating up the kilometres, wanting to get there quickly. And now: riding where it's beautiful - on gravel paths through meadows and forests, which is exhilarating from the very first kilometre and opens up a whole new view of home, at least for us as gravel rookies. It's magical where the little box on my handlebars takes us: through oak forests in the south of Munich, through a gorge to Maisinger See near Starnberg, on towards Weilheim, the Alps before our eyes, then to the Lech near Schongau. Here we stop for refreshments, drink draught beer and eat grilled sausages with sauerkraut. We howl with delight at every hut and barn we see at the edge of the forest or on a green meadow. "Oh, that would be perfect!" - "Laurin, look at that one over there!" No, we would have no problems with the overnight stay, we agree - until we roll through the Allgäu behind Kempten and the first raindrops fall from the grey clouds. We had imagined bivouacking to be so romantic. In Kempten we bought bread, cheese and red wine for our snack, which is now heavy in my rucksack. Before Westenriet, I've had enough of searching. We stop at a farm and I ask the farmer in the cowshed. I have to shout inside to drown out the cows' mooing. The farmer hears me and comes shuffling along in heavy wellies, a stocky man with a boyish face and tousled hair, a pitchfork in his hand. He narrows his eyes when he sees me. "Yes?" (What does the racing bike fuzi want?) Me: "We're looking for a shelter where we can spend the night in our sleeping bags. We're on our way to the Black Forest". He: "I can't think of anything!" I look outside and see five barns on his property. "No, with the best will in the world," says the farmer, "you won't find any barns here."
Where to sleep?
In Westenried we discover a wooden bus shelter. We fit in there. I lie down to try it out, my head next to the rubbish bin. "I'm fine," I say to Laurin. I can't convince him; he stares at his mobile phone. "There's a Pension Schwarz here, not far away!" I look at him in amazement - isn't that a breach of Graveller honour? "Oh rubbish, we'll just sleep outside tomorrow." The landlady Resi Schwarz is a real gem, her grey hair braided, an apron tied around her hips, she speaks with a gentle voice and kind words - a landlady straight out of a local film. Resi scurries up the wooden staircase and prepares a room for us at this late hour. We also get a freshly tapped beer. We give Resi our red wine the next morning after breakfast with lots of coffee and fried eggs. It had rained during the night, and now the landscape is steaming as we roll out of the yard, heading for Lake Constance.
Spoilsport
Those beasts! It could have been so beautiful, but the mosquitoes put a spanner in the works of our outdoor plans. Waffle ice cream in Meersburg, swimming in the lake near Goldbach, pizza in Ludwigshafen, but as we turn off into the hinterland at dusk, mosquitoes pounce on us. I'm just inspecting a potential place to spend the night: a shed behind blackberry hedges with a low-hanging roof, where a tractor is standing on flat tyres, when the mosquitoes launch a full-scale attack. No chance, let's get out of here! We pedal and flee into the wind. But where to? No huts here either. In the dim light of dusk, a golf course appears on the left. It has to be used. Hopefully the greenkeeper is already off duty. Red wine from the bottle serves as mosquito protection. Laurin: "My mate Jan says the mosquitoes fuck off when it gets dark." Me: "Why? Do they have to go home to sleep?" - We laugh and clap our arms and legs. But when the light goes out, it actually gets better. Did they really fly home?
Final spurt
The last day takes us along the Danube cycle path. The area is particularly dreary from a motorist's perspective, but we cycle through an idyll. Cycle beer in Bräunlingen, Black Forest cherry cake at Titisee, instead of a snack in a mountain hut near Hinterzarten as I would like, Laurin insists on tomato and mozzarella in the Edeka mall and so, much to my annoyance, we sit on the ground leaning against a concrete wall, biting into sandwiches and drinking apple juice from PET bottles. Very rustic, Laurin - good choice! The last few kilometres are a downhill rush down to Freiburg. Chain right and Vmax. The landscape melts into a green stripe in the corner of our eyes and we realise: we'll soon be home! The feeling makes us pedal even harder. The destination in sight, almost home - that's nice, but there's also a sense of melancholy, as always when something beautiful comes to an end. At the sign for our home village, I step on the gas again and push my bike over the imaginary finish line in front of Laurin, throwing my arms up like a Tour de France winner. "Very funny!" says Laurin. Then we turn into Rosenweg together. Home!
The brothers opted for this equipment
The wheel
Dimitri: I (1.78 m) chose the Cervélo Áspero Rival XPLR AXS 1 (size 56, weight: 8.5 kilos, price: 5799 euros) made of carbon with carbon wheels and electric gears. "Fast glider" was the title of TOUR magazine's test of the Canadian gravel bike and it praised the successful mix of "comfortable and fast". The TOUR testers' verdict: "The best of all worlds" and an overall score of 1.7. Although I have to admit that I know very little about gravel bikes, I was extremely satisfied with the Cervélo on the tour. In addition to its looks, I was impressed by its easy handling and rapid acceleration.
On the wheel
Dimitri: I fitted a saddlebag (Camelbak Mule, 9 litres, 90 euros) and a bag in the frame triangle (2.3 litres, 80 euros). However, in order to store everything, such as sleeping bag, sleeping mat, warm jacket, rain jacket and small items such as mobile phone, spare inner tube, air pump, mini tool and muesli bar, I also had to carry a rucksack. That turned out to be a bit of a nuisance. But I wanted to do without the handlebar bag. Next time I won't be carrying a rucksack. We wanted to have the option of spending the night outside. Comfortable alternative: less luggage and planning nights in guesthouses from the outset.
On the man
Dimitri: Road bike hardliners may yelp, but I opted for my casual mountain bike outfit consisting of airy shorts and a loose shirt. Under the shorts I wore a liner short with a seat pad (SQlab One10). To be able to wear comfortable bike shoes (First Degree Flite XT) with a higher casual factor instead of clipless shoes, I fitted lightweight flat pedals from Syntace. This outfit worked well for me. Self-tinting sunglasses with a large lens protected me from the wind and gave me good vision in all light conditions (React Swiss Rev Ruby). My helmet (Alpina Mythos) is a classic: lightweight and very well ventilated. Tip: My "Alarm socks" from CEP are awesome. Super comfortable plus: with compression effect.
The wheel
Laurin: As a mountain biker, the Ghost Asket CF immediately caught my eye when I was looking for a suitable bike in the MYBIKE test cellar (size L, weight: 10.1 kilos, price: 6000 euros) Why? Because it has a suspension fork and dropper post. My realisation after our tour, however, was that I could do without both. At 1.78 metres tall, the L-frame was a little long. Due to the lack of comparison, I didn't mind the chubby weight. I liked the wide tyres (45 mm) and the wide cockpit. The TOUR colleagues' verdict was much harsher: "Not fish, not meat. The Asket CF 30 is struggling to find a place in the diverse off-road segment."
On the wheel
Laurin: Attentive readers will have already noticed the detail error: I had forgotten to mount the Camelbak bag on the frame during the studio shoot, Dimi (above) should have had the Specialized/Fjällräven bag on his bike. The handlebar bag from Camelbak was great: easy to fit, plenty of storage space (12 litres). The ass rocket from Specialized/Fjällräven fitted well on the saddle, but apart from my sleeping bag, nothing else fitted in. I like the idea of having everything with you. That way you can spend the night spontaneously if you find a nice place to sleep.
On the man
Laurin: As a mountain biker, I don't know what gravel bikers wear. That's why I chose comfortable MTB shorts, including a liner short with seat padding, a cotton shirt (doesn't stink so quickly) and flat pedal shoes, because 1. I don't own any racing bike click shoes and 2. I wanted comfortable shoes without click-clack noises. For example, when shopping or looking for a place to sleep. My MTB helmet (with visor!) from Specialized had to serve as my helmet. Plus my tried and tested Oakley Sutro, which also works in twilight with its slightly tinted Priszm lenses.
Dimitri Lehner
Editor
