Travelling along the Rhine

I have made a decision, I'm going to alter my route and circumnavigate Frankfurt 

rejoining my planned route lower down. 

But I have to continue with the planned route for one more day a I was headed to Mainz for reasons which will soon become clear.

I reluctantly set off this morning thinking I was going to be in for the same tourist clad streatch of cycle paths. There is nothing wrong with this style of riding and I recognise how this must be a huge adventure for many but it isn't making me happy and I need to change it.  I guess I'm learning quite a lot on this journey.

Having made the decision it was as if by magic that the tourists begin to thin out and the cycle path became varied and adventurous. I should have realised that the tourist areas of Koln and Koblenz would be very different and not totally representative of the Rhine paths. I could almost get used to this.

I stopped in a small street in one if the beautiful medieval towns to have a cup of tea and something to eat.  A gentleman beckoned me over to join him so he could 'practise' his English.  This is not unfamiliar to me and his age and stature meant I was sure this was someone simply looking for conversation. Happy to oblige I too gained as he was a willing guide to the Rhineland and I found out about Koblenz being the word for corner and other such tit bits of interest along the Rhine. As he was discussing Mainz, he said that it wasn't up to much as it had been heavily bombed in the war but that the rest of the Rhine was ignored because 'they' didn't think it important.  I nodded politely and then realised, this was a bizarre turn around as the 'they' was 'us'.  Oh the irony of happenstance and two people drinking tea and how time passes and history becomes blurred at the edges. It certainly made me sit back and think. 

The irony was made far greater when I arrived at Mainz. My husband Charlie's grandfather, Bob Shelley, had been held as a prisoner of war in the castle at Mainz.  I said I'd look out to see if I could find it and I couldn't miss it as it was pretty much next door to the campsite I had in mind to stay at. 

The castle/prison had been eventually turned into a museum but now it would appear it's been left to go into decline. Various parts were apparently being used for bohemian apartments, indie clubs and music venues. I think I described it best to Charlie as like something you could imagine happening in the trendy backstreets of Dublin.  The whole building had open grounds and the people were wandering around the courtyards are entrances oblivious to their surroundings.  And why not...

In contrast however, I became the prisoner. The campsite was pretty grim and the greeting was just downright rude. "Passport!!!" was snarled at me. I bit my tongue (a hard thing for me to do at times but needs must I had to sleep) I was informed that the campsite gates would be closed at 10pm and "if you are in your in, if you are out you stay out" and "Was I ok with this?"  No option mate... no option!  This was a chain fenced compound where the grass dreamt of water and the campers jostled to lay claim to a bit of earth.  I was as you can probably tell pretty unhappy.  

Having pitched my tent I made to walk around the castle and take some pictures for Charlie. I felt very uneasy as the ripples through history could be felt under the feet.  Over dramatic? Possibly but sensitive is more likely.  

I will have no issues with leaving this place tomorrow.  The upside, yes there is one, the city appears to have a vibrant youthful expression that has little regard for the old things as they party in the park and make music in old buildings.  But if I wanted to join in with this scene I'd have to break out to do so.  Now that's irony. 

Adding to the crossing the road list, a spirited red squirrel with the most enormous bushy tail.