When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. - Mark Twain
The earlier broken skewer reminded me that I must be mad to cycle solo and without backup, but then I enjoy the freedom of solo touring and I have long since reconciled myself to my own brand of madness and that does make life easier. There are disadvantages to solitary cycling and today as I stop for an early coffee I am in the mood for some company. Someone to compare notes with on the quality of our joint fatigue. I am also on the lookout for a bike shop to acquire another spare inner tube so I don't get caught out. Later today my accommodation pushes me over the border into the Netherlands where that country bulges south between Belgium and Germany. I will be cycling round the western edge of Maastricht the easterly part of my tour.
Leaving the town of Tongeren by the old gate; Tongeren is actually Belgium's oldest town.
Belgium has a network of well signed cycleways with what they call nodes at the junctions so you can create your own route by joining up nodes. This post shows I am heading towards node 114 and that I am still following the hilly route.
After 45km I cross the Albertkanaal which wraps around Maastricht and to tell the truth I am looking forward to a bit of flat. I have now briefly joined the MASSROUTE or Muese Route as it follows that river.
Okay, bad of me but I passed this cycle counter twice to watch the number of cyclists go up, I am responsible for 68 and 69.
The anticipated recovery days haven't really materialised so today I dig in and concentrate on navigation and my cycling. Cycling means use the gears to maintain constant cadence and easy pedal pressure so you can keep going and even get some recovery in - if only. Navigation means staying alert to the ever present signs and my Komoot voice instructions. Sometimes they don't agree and you need to make a choice; I usually go with Komoot unless there is a signed deviation.
I am actually on track today and stop for lunch which is unusual for me. My Dutch isn't good and I order something I don't know and receive a slice of bread adorned with ham, cheese and three perfect fried eggs with salad on the side; just what I needed. Sitting over lunch there is a constant stream of cyclists, retired couples, singles on carbon machines and the usual two old men in lycra.
I cleaned my chain earlier, lubricated the chain then wiped the excess lubricant off after a few kilometers when it had worked into the rollers where it does its work. Then I punctured on the rear again, a small flint that was hard to find during my initial scan of the tyre exterior.
A heavily laden bargain. Belgium's canals are wide as are the barges, combined with the flat landscape and limited requirement for locks Belgium still uses commercial barges.
A one euro river crossing into the Netherlands.
Luckily I came down these cobbles and will depart on the flat path.
At my accommodation I ask the usual question about the best place for my bike. After some thought and furrowing of brow I'm told to go out, right, up the steps, right, then through the green porte. I do this and the green door is locked so I reach over and loose the bolt to gain entry. Someone comes by and points me in the right direction further round to a third green porte.
I have now completed half of the anticipated distance and I see I have three genuine shorter days, each around 50km.
