Autobahn Frogger

Since I hadn’t gotten as far as I had wanted yesterday I figured I’d try to make up for it today, which meant riding the rest of the way through Germany and into Austria. The goal was to make it to Linz which is 440 or so miles from Siegburg.

It doesn’t seem like a lot but to put it into perspective the bike I have is a single cylinder model, and it only has five gears. To run at 70mph on the autobahn the engine spins at 4,600rpm, where the redline is 7,000rpm. So to make it to Linz I’d need to run the engine at the high end of it’s capacity constantly for over six hours. It wasn’t really designed for that when it was new far less now, but it managed it. It did take longer than six hours but that was more due to my rear going numb or needing to fuel up again rather than the pace.

Today was my first experience of an autobahn and I have to say it wasn’t that pleasant. The condition of the roads is fantastic, I think of the 400 mile stretch in Germany I encountered about six potholes all together in a 15 feet stretch, the rest of it was flawless. There were a lot of roadworks going on but that always seemed to be to expand the carriageway rather than resurfacing. However they do it in Germany we should be doing it back home.

The problem with the autobahn though is not the surface, it’s the speed. Like the UK the trucks are limited to 60mph or so, well unless you are overtaking them when they seem to have an extra 10mph or so just to make it fun. The posted speed limits that I could see for the rest of the lanes ranged from 50mph to 85mph. They were of course all in kmph but to save the mental arithmetic I’m converting them for you. Everything other than the trucks ignores the speed limits, and I do mean everything. The number of vans that passed me today is probably equal to the number that’s passed me in my 19 year driving career up until today.

Oh and the cars! It wasn’t just the fast German cars like the Audi’s and Merc’s, today I saw Skoda Fabia’s and Toyota Yaris move at speeds I thought they could only reach by being dropped out of a plane. The lane discipline was excellent in one respect in that as soon as cars had overtaken they pulled in a lane, but the tailgating was frightening. The faster cars must have been moving at 120mph or more, which meant that when you got bogged down behind a truck you may be pulling out into traffic moving twice as fast as you are. On a three lane road you have more of a chance but for long stretches it was only two lanes.

For a car moving at 120mph, it’s doing a mile every 30 seconds, if I’m moving at 60mph, even accelerating to pull out, if it’s a quarter of a mile away when I do that, it’ll still go through me in 15 seconds. By the time I’ve gone from checking my mirror, to looking ahead, indicating, pulling out, accelerating, checking my dashboard, the road ahead and back to my mirror I’d usually almost have a pillion passenger. Another thing with my bike is that due to the vibrations when running at that speed I can’t see a quarter of a mile away in my mirrors, maybe 100-200 metres tops. I got it wrong once, but my “lifesaver” look over my shoulder that the bike schools teach you saved me. I managed to cancel the manouvere before the Merc SL flattened me. He did sound his horn, which I assume he meant as an apology for doing over twice the speed limit at that point. On my CBF these roads could be a lot of fun, or even safer in a car surrounded by a steel cage and airbags, but on a bike that’s top speed is a boneshaking 90mph or so they are lethal.

It’s not an easy thing to relax into as you constantly have to be aware of what’s around you, complicated by the roadworks, because at that point the speed limit changes to 37mph. The trucks usually stick to this, which makes them dangerously slow on the huge gradients they have here, and then when there’s a junction at the same time it gets ridiculous with vehicles tripping over one another. It does get a bit fun though when the trucks pull out to overtake on the two lane parts in front of the fast cars. The car drivers know then that if they plow into the back of a truck it’ll barely ripple the drivers coffee.

Fortunately once I’d passed Nuremberg the traffic died down, with lots taking the other routes to Munich and Prague, rather than heading to Austria. Once in to Austria it was straight onto a toll road, which then led to about 10 miles of roadworks. If I had paid a toll like I think I was supposed to I’d have been mad about it. The roads here are not as good quality as in Germany, but fortunately the speed is less manic.

I made it to Linz about 6.30pm, but I wanted to find an internet café or a McDonalds with their free wifi so I could check my emails as a couple of guys I’ve known for maybe 8 years but never met live in Linz. What I usually do in these situations is dump the bike or car at the first suitable spot then wander around on foot until I find what I need. Naturally I never ask for directions, as that would be cheating and against my bushido code. I find a hotel first, expensive but handy so I make a note and continue to wander. On finding an internet café I check other hotel rates and find the first one is reasonable, but on the way back I come across a weird two seat enclosed bike thing. So I move the bike up to the first hotel, but by now it’s starting to get dark, so I get my cameras and go to photograph the two seater before I lose the light. On the way back I stop at the McDonalds for dinner and to check emails again on my netbook. When I come out it’s now bucketing and since I’ve left the bike jacket on the bike I get soaked going back to the hotel. To make it worse the receptionist now tells me that all the rooms have gone, but gives me a booklet with nearby hotels in it.

I set off for a nearby hotel but now that I’m getting annoyed I forget the first rule of map reading and don’t orient it properly before I set off in the wrong direction. I figure it out fairly quickly but I’m still soaked to the skin, well on the top half, the bike trousers are keeping the rain out on my bottom half, but with the thermal liner still in it’s the sweat from the inside that’s covering my legs.

I arrive at another hotel like a drowned rat, soaking reception. Fortunately they have a room and secure parking and it turns out to be cheaper than the first place. All I need to do now is go back and get the bike from the first hotel, ride it through the torrential rain, at night, where I can’t see the road markings, on the wrong side of the road, through a crazy one way system, and across what look like pedestrian only areas and I’m home for the night.

When I make it to the hotel, what seems to be the owner is waiting to guide me into the underground carpark. I take the panniers off to save me having to humph them back up and park the bike, while the manager moves my luggage inside. When I get back up to reception he’s there smiling, seeing me soaked through, but not mad about the storm I’ve dragged inside over his reception area. He looks at the GB sticker on my pannier and says “Rain, eh?”. I reply “Well if it stay’s like this I’ll never get homesick”. That gets me a big smile and I finally get to my room just after 10pm.