Italy Part 7 - Frustration and the Black Forest Part 2

Grindlewald to Todtmoos - 166 miles - 11^th July.

We had slept the sleep of contented men in the mountains, and woke up to a clear days sky reasonably early, and went down to breakfast which was just about right to set us fair for the day. I really think the Continental type breakfast of many small things of many types is superior to the Great British Fry Up, at least if you are riding a few miles. It doesn’t sit like a lead gumboot (welly for you British folk!) in yer guts. I have to say it was a wrench to leave Grindlewald; I could have soaked up the atmosphere forever, but our wallets could only stand so much of Swiss hospitality! There was a section of riding between the mountains which was great but eventually we managed to get tangled up in more and more urban riding which was not all that much fun.The low point was getting onto a Swiss motorway, when we did not posses the requisite carnet to ride on them. The fines are horrific. We did what we had to do, which was get off  at the first junction, no matter where it was. It turned out to be a town just off  the main motorway to and from Bern, and we stopped in a car park where the temperature was roasting. Water was taken on, and we set off on the B roads that parallel the motorways. I cant remember a thing about lunch, maybe we didn’t actually have any that day? What I do remember was late in the afternoon, of  a very tiring riding day, we rode past the same place twice as we had just done a big circle. I realised this as the exact same caravan was on the exact same flyover… We were both quite frazzled by then and finally we entered the Black Forest for the second time which was a relief. The search for a place to stay began and just as it was getting past late afternoon and into evening we came to Todtmoos - which the German I learned from Commando War Comics seemed to mean “Dead Mouse”. Petrol was bought and a few places rung up as we sort of had a signal. The Black Forest might be well settled with small villages everywhere, but its not fully hooked up to the 21^st century. On the hillsides were ski lifts, yet on such a warm day as it had been, this was hard to imagine as a ski area - it was too low in altitude. A dirt track was tried on the Breva - no problems - as it led to a ski hut, but the hut, or “hutte” was more of a large wooden chalet and closed for the summer. We had no luck getting a hotel room on the phone, so I suggested we just try the geusthouse back up the hill, that looked good. It was good news, they had a room and as it was late in the day, even better they could do us a meal as their restaurant opened at half past 7. Gersbacher-Hof  I can 100% recommend. I can’t remember much about the meal, apart from it was out of this world. No it wasn’t cheap, but it was 5, yes 5 courses! The beer was fine and the conversation with the owner was good. Maybe the Aussie Geordie buddy thing brings out the best in people? I’d like to think so. He said that sometimes business was good, sometimes not so good, and recently the whole ski resort thing had been a bit of a washout, due to the winters being too warm at this altitude (about 850m asl if I remember rightly). He also was quite clearly (I’m sure I remember this right) a Swiss chap, not German. As I said the borders get wiggly round here. And there. More beers were drunk and the evening passed in a most convivial fashion.