September 21–22
Moselle Valley

The day offers a relatively flat bike ride along the Moselle River, though there are a few uphill stretches. We set off after 8:30 a.m.—since the reception opens at 8:00—allowing time for a cup of coffee in the bistro first.

Grapes taste lovley

The weather is sunny and pleasantly warm with barely any headwind, and the route follows the designated cycle path all day. Along the way, we encounter many groups of day-trippers traveling between small towns, often on e-bikes and carrying light gear.

The route takes us through picturesque villages and towns along the banks of the Moselle, where vineyards stretch out in endless rows across the hillsides.

My first major stop is Cochem, about 45 km away, where we plan to stock up on supplies and grab a snack. The town is lively and straddles the river; a large bridge leads to the side where the grocery stores are located. After a bit of searching, I find two shops and buy bread, butter, cheese, and yogurt.

Bridge over Mosel in Cochem

After crossing back over the bridge, I look for a café before heading toward Senheim. Maps.Me suggests a route taking us higher up through the town, leading to a steep, nearly three-kilometer climb over the hill—a climb so grueling that my legs are still protesting!

Road from Cochem over the hill to Senheim

Senheim, Moselriver end Nehren down

This is followed by a scenic descent toward Senheim, Nehren, and the Moselle River, which winds its way through the valley and the vineyards.

Upon reaching Senheim, I decide to spend the night at the campsite after a quick tour of the village. I book a spot right by the river, with the bridge as our nearest neighbor.

Night camp at Senheim campingplace

After pitching the tent, I enjoy a cold beer at the campsite’s bar and pub. The evening concludes with food, coffee, and some research for tomorrow’s ride towards the border city of Trier.

September 18

Tough climbs to Fulda

I set my mobile alarm for 5:30 AM. It is pitch black outside, and I feel a few drops of drizzle falling, so I hurry to pack up.

I carefully make my way down the mountain, taking a different route than the one I climbed yesterday. Once at the base, I cycle to a Netto store, where the bakery and café are open. There, I order a coffee and a roll filled with something savory and meat-like.

Before cycling out of town, I change into rain gear; the drizzle has picked up a bit. Navigating out of town is easy, but cycling isn’t. A diabolically long hill—nearly 7 km—nearly breaks me.

Around ten o’clock, I pedal into Vacha, only to find my grand plan thwarted by a closed route. After some impromptu cartography, I roll into a large park, where a towering man in green—who, thankfully, is made of stone—stands frozen in eternal pride.

I need a break and a water refill; my legs are feeling worn out. The sun has come out now, though, so the rain gear goes back into the bag.
The climbs are relentless; I have to struggle up several tough hills, and on top of that, I’m facing a headwind.

As the clock nears 1:00 PM, I start planning a coffee break. Eiterfeld will be my stop; I choose a roadside café and bakery.

I just buy a coffee and sit outside at one of the three available tables. I take out my cooler bag and help myself to sandwiches and eggs. Before setting off, I pop into the café to charge my phone while using the restroom.

Just as I’m about to pedal away, the young woman at the bakery surprises me with two soft, jam-filled cookies—completely free of charge. Naturally, it’s a moment worth capturing in a photo.

By the time I finally ride off, it has started to cloud over, but it doesn’t look like rain, so my rain gear stays packed away.
Approaching Götzenhof, my GPS cheerfully guides me straight onto a highway like it’s the scenic route. The chorus of honking cars and trucks quickly clues me in that I might be the main act in today’s traffic comedy.

Just before the exit, a police car with flashing lights and blaring sirens makes a dramatic entrance. After a stern lecture about my unintended highway performance, I blame my overconfident GPS. Mercifully, I’m sent on my way without a ticket—just a bruised ego.

After a bit of maneuvering, I find the bike path, which leads me to Fulda. I arrived there just after 4:30 PM. I stop in the city center for a beer, sit for half an hour, and map out the route to the campsite I’ve picked out.
It is located about 5 km outside the city.

It’s a public area belonging to a residential neighborhood, featuring green spaces, barbecue spots, tables, chairs, swings, and climbing frames for the kids.
I find a good spot near some bushes and close to the tables. It’s a pretty perfect place to camp.

Looks like a sleeing bear

View over Fulda from Schzenberg, my tentcamp place

September 17
A tough bike ride to Eisenach

I wake up quite early, as usual, and linger in bed for a while. I decide to get up even though it’s only 6:00 a.m.; the sounds of the workmen moving about in the kitchen make it hard to stay put. Still, I suppose they have to move around—they have a job to do, after all.

I step into the shower and turn on the hot water; it feels wonderful and shakes off my morning grogginess. Then I prepare breakfast in the empty kitchen: muesli, yogurt, eggs, cheese sandwiches, and finally, coffee.

Just before 8:30 a.m., I’m on my bike, pedaling leisurely out of Erfurt. Seven kilometers later, I’ve left the city behind. I then enjoy a pleasant ride along a dedicated bike path—no pedestrians, dog walkers, or parents with strollers, just bicycles.

The ride to Gotha is rather dull—31 kilometers with not much to see. Six kilometers before Gotha, a completely flat, straight stretch lies ahead.

Shortly after 10:30 a.m., I cycle into Gotha; the weather is sunny, but it feels like autumn. I stop at the first outdoor café I come across—an “Asia Bistro”—and order a coffee while taking sandwiches out of my cooler bag.
There isn’t much to report about the day; the villages are mostly deserted and lack colorful houses to admire—they seem to lack soul.

I make several stops to rest and refill my water bottle. There are quite a few long, grueling, gradual climbs to tackle. Anyone claiming Germany is flat hasn’t cycled across the country—even though it is beautiful in many places.

I arrive in Eisenach around 2 p.m.; at first, I take a wrong turn and end up below the town center itself.

Cycling is prioritized much better in Germany than back home in Sweden.

I turn around and find my way into the middle of town. I frantically search for an outdoor café with a power outlet and finally find one.

I order a beer, followed by a cup of coffee. Then I sit and figure out the route to the campsite I’ve set my sights on. According to the map, it’s not a particularly long distance—just two or three kilometers. The first hundred meters are nothing special, but then…

First comes cobblestone and a steep climb through an area that, judging by the villas, seems exclusive.

The cobblestones end, but the hill continues; it just gets steeper and steeper. The GPS shows a gradient of 51 percent.
At first, I walk the bike for 25 meters before resting, but during the last hundred meters, I have to stop every ten meters.

Tougfh climbing up the hill

Finally, I reach the top, only to realize that the campsite I had pictured doesn’t actually exist; it was just a tip suggesting that camping was permitted up here.

Lsst hunderd meters I had to park my bicycle…- to steep

Naturally, I want to reach the very summit, but for the last hundred meters, I have to leave the bike behind and walk up on foot.

My tentcamp was OK and it was soft for my back

I make my way back down and walk the bike part of the way until I find a reasonably level spot to pitch my tent. The spot I’ve chosen is situated above some houses, but I’m fairly well sheltered by the beech forest.

I find a few concrete pillars, about half a meter high, that serve perfectly as a seat and a base for my camping stove. I eat dinner with a hearty appetite; the air around me is mild.

I fall asleep quite quickly, even though the podcast *USA-podden* is playing in my ears.

September 15–16
Erfurt and a rest day 

I slept well on my green sleeping pad; I pack up quickly and head off. The weather is a bit overcast, but it doesn’t look like rain for a while yet.

After a fairly demanding hill, things get a bit easier, though I can’t escape the crosswind. Germany is a major agricultural country; there are fields of crops, corn, and sunflowers everywhere. Incidentally, the sunflowers have finished blooming and are now more brown than yellow. It’s probably time for the harvest!

I arrive in Weimar and make my way through town using only bike paths; near the exit, I spot a café that looks organic. I make a U-turn and cycle over. I didn’t have breakfast this morning, and I’m craving a coffee.

I sit here enjoying my coffee and the fact that there isn’t far left to go to Erfurt and a rest day—just 25 km.

Before the trip, I had planned to stay at Hostel Opera upon arrival, and my GPS was set for it.

Unfortunately, they were fully booked for the day. I got a tip about a place 200 meters further along, but the room cost €120 a night, so I politely declined.

I checked other hotels along the way; the “hostels” seemed completely full, so that option appears to be exhausted. Prices seem to be the same: €100–130 per night.

Eventually, I enter the heart of Erfurt, passing through the old town districts to a large square with several outdoor cafés.
I sit down at an Italian one and order a simple pizza and a beer. I frantically check my phone and Google for cheap rooms.

After a diligent search, I find one that suits my taste; it’s more of an apartment-style hotel than a standard one, and it’s located just about 2 km from where I am right now…
The place is called Pension zum Ringelberg; I book online via Booking.com, and the price is just over half of what the other hotels were asking—€100 for two nights.

After a delicious pizza, I cycle through town using Maps.Me to reach Ludolfweg 6.

It’s situated in a quiet residential area; the owner greets me but says I have to wait 20 minutes because he’s still getting the room ready.

I sit outside on a sofa and wait; the sun is shining, and I’m longing for a shower. I receive an email notification saying I can now pick up the key using the code he sent.

The key is in a lockbox on the other side of the house. He meets me when I come in and shows me around.

There’s a small kitchen with a modern stovetop, a table along the wall with four chairs, and a fridge—small, but I think I can fit my cooler bag in if I do a bit of rearranging…!

The shower is shared with the two other rooms on the ground floor, and it looks clean and fresh. There’s also a coffee and soft drink vending machine on the second floor.

The room isn’t big, but it suits me well; the mattress is admittedly a bit too soft, but that’s something I’ll have to accept.

I bring in all my bags and get settled, then turn on the TV and look for CNN or BBC—I’m not interested in any of the other channels, as I barely understand a word of German. Brewing a cup of coffee, then hopping in the shower.

On the way here, I noticed—and heard—that the front mudguard was loose. A long screw passing through the lower part of the steering column is missing. I spotted a bike shop on the way, though, so I’ll stop by tomorrow and ask for a new, long one.
In the meantime, I’ve secured it with a narrow plastic zip tie, and it’s doing the job.

After changing, I catch some BBC news—stories about Trump and a woman, the nurse Lucy Letby, who murdered at least seven premature babies. This case is getting a lot of attention, as are reports of a NATO jet shooting down a drone over the Baltic region and a Russian vessel firing flares at a Danish military helicopter.

It’s past 6 PM now, so I’m heading to the nearest grocery store to stock up on supplies; it’s just a stone’s throw away.

Then I’m back to prepare tonight’s dinner: Indian-style curried rice, fried bacon, two sandwiches, and a beer. Afterward, coffee and palm-oil-free Digestive biscuits, finishing off with a “four” (a generous measure) of Steward’s Whisky.

I crawl into bed—on a mattress that’s far too soft for my liking—around 10 PM and watch some more BBC.

Talk to you tomorrow from a bike ride through central Erfurt.

 – Erfurt around by bike  –

I wake up early and hear guests in the neighboring rooms bustling about in the kitchen and shower. The people on the ground floor seem to be assembly workers—and early risers, too.

After breakfast, I cycle the nearly straight, 2.5 km route to the Fischmarkt, right near the center of Erfurt.

This beautiful building at Benediktsplatz is one of the oldest in Erfurt; the Krämerbrücken café on the ground floor is popular, and the prices are reasonable.

The Breitstrom—a tributary or stream feeding into the Gera River—also flows through Erfurt at this spot. Several buildings are constructed right over the stream.

The Fischmarkt is a somewhat small square, yet it is surrounded by beautiful, old, historic buildings. Trams curve through the square, and the outdoor seating areas are nearly full.
The sky is turning very dark, and my weather app is warning of a heavy downpour any minute now.

I had a view of this beautiful building—Haus Zum Breiten Herd—while I enjoyed my coffee. It was built around 1580.

While I’m having my coffee, the warning about the torrential downpour comes true. Those not sitting under the parasols have to rush inside the café. Luckily, my bike and I are sheltered under a large parasol.
There are plenty of tourists in Erfurt, even though it’s the middle of the week. I suppose the Germans have already started their holidays? In any case, it’s fun to walk or cycle amidst the bustling tourists.

This figure outside the Town Hall is popular, judging by the information provided; “Bernd das Brot”—or simply “The Bread”—is a character that has apparently achieved iconic status in Erfurt.

I believe he comes from a children’s TV channel or something similar.

Trams are a common sight in many German cities, and Erfurt is no exception. However, cycling on these streets can be a bit tricky and risky; getting your front wheel caught in one of the tracks leads to an immediate spill. It’s fine as long as the streets are relatively empty—like in the photo—and it hasn’t rained.

The second photo is from another popular square in Erfurt, Anger Square, with the Anger Fountain in the foreground.

I then head back, stopping at the bike shop I saw yesterday. I wheel my bike through the large store up to the counter and ask the guy behind it if he can find a larger screw, pointing to the front fender.

He goes over to some bins, picks out the right size, and brings back two tools. He fixes the fender in a minute or so, and when I ask about the cost, he says in German…

“Es kostet nichts, ich biete es an.”
I didn’t understand every word, but I gathered it was free. Then, it was back to Ludolfweg 6 and my room.

September 14

Heading for the next stop – Apolda

I have a bit of trouble getting out of the campsite and onto the route to my next destination, but after some maneuvering, I’m on the right track.

I pass a few small villages with nothing particularly noteworthy about them; the road is mostly flat, with only the occasional small hill.

At around nine o’clock, a yellow road sign comes into view, displaying a name well-known to us Swedes: Lützen. This is the site of a significant military battle that occurred 394 years ago—the Battle of Lützen.

I find a grocery store—NORMA—and buy bread, muesli, and yogurt. In the same building, there’s a combination café and butcher shop.

I order coffee and take out my cooler bag. I make a few sandwiches and eat some eggs along with the rest of yesterday’s yogurt.

My next destination is Weißenfels, just under 20 km away. During the ride, my mobile phone holder breaks first, followed shortly by the zipper on my small camera bag.

Weißenfels is an older town, similar in size to Örnsköldsvik, with a population of 35,000–39,000. Like many others in this region, it has an enormous town square.

Even though it’s a weekday, there are few people about; I cycle around a bit but decide to sit at an outdoor café and have a beer.

The ride out of Weißenfels is anything but flat—there’s a tough 1.5 km climb followed by several smaller hills, giving my legs a real workout.

As if the hills weren’t enough, the strap on my waist pack breaks, too. I’ll have to either try to fix it or buy a new one.

After nearly 20 grueling kilometers, I reach Naumburg, and at the town entrance, I spot a familiar name: Kaufland.

It’s a large shopping center that usually stocks just about everything, so I decide to pay it a visit. On the lower level, I find exactly what I’m looking for: a mobile phone holder made of Teflon-based rubber that fits my Xiaomi 12T Pro.

I still have just over 31 kilometers to go to reach Apolda—my planned destination for the day—and it promises to be a tough ride. To make matters worse, a strong headwind has taken a firm grip on me and my cycling.

I find joy in discovering charming cycling paths that meander through beech forests and trace the edges of gentle streams, offering breathtaking scenery at every turn.

I arrive in Apolda feeling quite worn out; as usual, I’ve picked out a campsite just outside town.
Upon reaching the main street, I stop at a café called “Himmlisch” and go inside. The main reason is that my phone battery is nearly dead—while I do have a powerful 27,000 mAh charger, I’m also craving a cold beer.

I sit there for half an hour and map out the route to my campsite—about 3.5 kilometers out of town—but there’s a brutal uphill climb to get there.

Just before the turn-off that leads out and up past a farm field, I spot a sign on my left: “Röde Camp, 500 m, Rechts” (Right).
I hesitate for a few seconds but decide to keep cycling uphill now. That way, I won’t have to tackle the climb tomorrow morning. I pass the 500-meter and 1-kilometer markers—still no sign of a campsite—but at least I’ve conquered that long hill.

Just outside Kleinromnstedt, I come across a large beech forest with a path leading in to the right. I decide without hesitation to just go for it; the tent is going up, and I’m tired.

Four hundred and fifty meters in, I find a decent spot to pitch the tent. First, I gather a number of small branches with large green leaves to use as a ground layer. It takes quite a few branches, let me tell you, but the resulting bed is soft—and GREEN.

The advantage of this kind of campsite is that you have some privacy; no one bothers you.

I drift off listening to a downloaded *Studio Ett* podcast, hearing animals moving about nearby outside. I’m simply too tired to check what kind they are.