Instead of continuing to tinker with a bike over in the workshop, Denny clicks through the Komoot routing programme for me. "He has to take the trail to Sophienhof!" shouts boss Silvio through the shop.
It's amazing how the guys from Eldorado Nordhausen look after me straight away. I wonder if they would have put the trail tip online. As Denny feeds my Garmin device with the GPS track, the front door chimes. "Hello Martin," greets Silvio. But Martin - full beard, early 40s and in work clothes - isn't looking for advice from his trusted dealer, he's looking for me. "You're Stefan, aren't you? I've been following your tour for days and have seen your bike outside the shop." We quickly exchange mobile phone numbers and arrange a meeting point for tomorrow. I had no way of knowing that my mobile phone would die before then.
Four days ago, at the start on the Bavarian border to Thuringia, everything was still running smoothly. Three days through the Thuringian Forest, what have I not experienced? On the very first day, Rennsteig veteran Frank packed the obligatory lucky stone in my rucksack, which, according to tradition, is fished out of the Saale to be dropped into the Werra at the finish: "If you don't make it past the Werra, throw it into the Elbe. That counts too," he said with a grin. Then the two huge reservoirs. On the trails along their banks, you feel like you're pedalling along some fjord in the middle of Norway. In between, I briefly had to think of Latsch. Because the trail down from the Hemmkoppe was so dusty, technical and fun that it could just as easily be in the South Tyrolean trail mecca. But it's not, it's in the middle of Thuringia.
On the second day, I turned into the Schwarzatal. Every Thuringian knows this area, but I had never heard of it. But there are plenty of bikers in the area, as you can see from the many tours online and comments on my Facebook post. Nevertheless, I was travelling alone. Maybe they all just know the ramps that you have to fight your way up with a lot of sweat and muscle power before you can hurtle down into the valley on forest trails. But at least I could rely on Thomas' track, which he had clicked together for me via GPSies. Zack, loaded into the app, and off I went into the labyrinth of trails. But of course I'd rather have riders accompanying me on their favourite trails than being remote-controlled.
I was finally lucky on my Rennsteig stage on the third day. Tim was suddenly standing in front of me. "I was following the live tracking and hoped that I could catch you," he greeted me. I could rely on the technology, but not on the weather that day. So in the afternoon, we huddled in front of the fireplace at the cake stop and tried to warm up our numb toes. Seven degrees. No wonder I was already dreaming of the next uphill on the descents. Only Sören, who joined us that day, wasn't much affected by the miserable weather. Either because of his few extra kilos on his ribs, or because he is simply used to the harsh climate on the Rennsteig. Like other riders, I had only contacted Sören shortly before the start of the tour. No problem thanks to Facebook. I quickly searched for his profile and sent him a short message. And bang, I got an immediate reply: I'm in. Sören made a name for himself in the bike scene as the initiator and organiser of the legendary downhill race in Tabarz. But those days are over, his bike shop in Tabarz keeps him busy enough. But he's always up for a bit of fun here.
And now the fourth day. "A Rostbrätel in a roll, please", orders my guide Dirk in the small country butcher's shop near Eisenach. We are still in Thuringia, but on our way towards the Harz Mountains. I forgo the Leberkäs and have a piece of grilled meat marinated with onions packed for me. Hearty food is apparently very popular in Thuringia. Whether it's solyanka at the hot food counter in the supermarket, smoked sausage rolls or grilled sausages twice a day.
My mobile phone beeps in the evening. A new Facebook comment on my live video. "My tip for tonight: the Brauhaus zum Löwen." Of course I try it out. I'm delighted to read on a board outside the pub: Oktoberfest weeks. Top! If I'm going to miss the Munich original because of the tour, then I'll miss the copy. It's just funny: the dumplings are called dumplings here.
Oh yes, I wanted to call Martin. Unfortunately, my mobile phone is buzzing like a tube TV with no signal. I can hear Martin, but he can't hear me. Luckily only the loudspeaker is broken. I quickly arrange a meeting point for tomorrow via the Internet.
Unthinkable 15 years ago, in times of 56k modems and without Facebook, WhatsApp & Co. Back then, the Saturday round with the cycling club was the weekly highlight. Nowadays, the WhatsApp group rings every day. Who has time? Digitalisation has also revolutionised life in the saddle in recent years. Instead of flicking through paper maps, we zoom in on digital maps in apps. Or simply trust the GPS track of a virtual friend. And so that our "followers" can also see how dashing we were on the road, everything is photographed, filmed and uploaded. Someone will watch the shaky 40-minute video on YouTube.
The next morning: with shaky fingers, I fumble the white headphone plug into my smartphone. Martin has brought it with him. In, out, in, out. "It was in some iPhone forum," I explain to him without believing it myself. Zack, one reboot later and the noise is history. The speaker is working again. That simple? That can't be true! How I had had to control myself the night before not to fire the thing into the corner. We live in a time when we are operated by robots and data flies around in clouds. And I'm repairing my mobile phone speaker with a headphone plug.
At least I can count on Martin, because he has brought two mates along for the ride up the Brocken. Although they are sitting on enduro bikes with plenty of suspension and their knees wrapped in foam protectors, my concerns disappear on the first trail through the dense spruce forests. The Brocken crossing goes like clockwork until a cluster of trainers slows us down just below the summit. In the middle of it all is a gaunt 85-year-old man. Who is that? "Brocken-Benno", says Martin.
He has been walking up almost every day since 1989, and today is the 8290th time. We even have to queue for the summit photo. It's crazy, it's like an anthill up here. Yet the bare peak with its crown of towers rises only a few metres higher into the sky than the Spitzingsee. After all, at 1142 metres, the Brocken is the highest mountain in northern Germany and the roof of my tour. I leave the Harz Mountains as a lone fighter. 45 kilometres later, I'm already singing pop choruses to distract myself: a new housing estate on the outskirts of Bad Salzdetfurth. Well-kept front gardens, ring roads and gleaming mid-range cars in the driveways. Dirk from the
Rapiro Racing Team invites me in, even though he's never seen me before. I can sleep at his place, dinner is served at half past seven. The long-distance specialist already has a route in mind for the journey to the Deister. On the run!
Next day: no network? Great, a dead zone! And where do we go to the Deister now? If satnavs lost their satellite connection as often as my mobile phone, traffic would collapse. Hamburg 145 kilometres in this direction. I wish I had a sign like that now. My GPS device fails miserably at this paltry routing task. Fortunately, I did find the way to Alex and his troop from the "Deisterfreunde". Boy, I almost missed out on a biking hotspot just outside Hanover! The mountain range may only be 405 metres high, but the trails are awesome. They are called "Farnweg" or "Ladies only". A mixture of natural trails and elaborately shovelled bike park pistes. But after the third descent, I have to stop Alex. "Sorry, but can we head north again?"
Since the Thuringian Forest, it's always been the same: we could take this with us, we still have to show you. Super nice. But, hey guys, I also want to arrive in Hamburg at some point.
Check your mobile phone:
"Left!"
"You could have come round to my house for a coffee ..."
"I had to hike there in third grade and write an essay about it."
"There's a swimming opportunity on the left!"
"Welcome to the flatlands! Be glad that the wind is currently holding back! Then the long straights are really fun." Entertaining. But I can't do anything with the comments on Facebook and the WhatsApp messages from my colleagues. But then Frank finally gets in touch. He wants me to follow the Heidschnuckenweg, but definitely take the detour through the Osterheide. And at the end, follow a hiking trail called "Heide Puzzle". It's working again. I cycle through the Lüneburg Heath for a total of two days. Mostly on straight, sandy tracks, which are interspersed with trails through the heathland. But it's flat here, madness. I don't feel quite right either. How could I, with all the military warning signs and volleys of gunfire that I keep hearing? Am I travelling through a military training area? But even worse: my hotel is at the top of the mountain. The online booking portal was probably more interested in the super saver price. It's not important to me right now - after 130 kilometres through the heather sand.
Wednesday morning, the finale: although Thies, an artist from Hamburg, is not on Facebook, I meet him at the Karlstein rock as agreed. A mate has told him about my arrival in the Harburg mountains. No problem, as he regularly goes biking on Wednesdays anyway. I'd already heard a lot about this bike spot on the outskirts of Hamburg. Like the Alps for me, the Harburg mountains are a forest playground for the people of Hamburg. And even on Wednesday mornings, the extensive network of trails doesn't belong to us alone. Just before the industrial areas on the banks of the Elbe suck us into another world, Thies adds one last heath trail. Even Matthias, my second companion - a Hamburg bike veteran - doesn't know it. Alone, I would have been lost in this trail labyrinth. A little later, with the bike in the traffic of the Hanseatic city, we sail the last few kilometres to the centre of Hamburg on the deck of a ferry thanks to Matthias. Over an Astra and a fish sandwich, I tell him about my ride through Germany. But the journey across the Elbe is nowhere near enough to tell the whole story.
"Bling". My mobile phone. A message. "Now he's even driving over water. Respect."
From 18 September it was time again! BIKE editor Stefan Loibl set off on the second part of his project "Germany Trail - On single trails through the Republic". From Mödlareuth (Thuringia), he continued through the north of Germany to the Baltic Sea. The route took the man from Lower Bavaria through Thuringia, Lower Saxony, Saxony-Anhalt, Hamburg and Schleswig-Holstein. The tour planner spit out a whopping 880 kilometres and more than 13,000 metres in altitude for the route through the low mountain ranges to the Baltic Sea. The route shown below was by no means fixed, it only served as a rough guide. It was adapted spontaneously depending on the riders and trail recommendations.
The first travellers from the Thuringian Forest, Hanover and Hamburg had already announced their arrival. They were there to accompany Stefan Loibl on the Rennsteig, around Ilmenau and Tabarz, across the Harz Mountains, in the Deister, from south to north through the Lüneburg Heath or just outside Hamburg through the Harburg Mountains! He was happy about every passenger, because he wouldn't find the most beautiful paths on his own. And how do you find him? GPS live tracking made it possible to find his current position in real time and intercept him.
