The unwelcome wake-up call
5 AM. Heavy rain hammering against my window like an impatient debt collector. This wasn’t in the optimistic forecast I’d checked last night. My alarm wasn’t set until 6:30, but sleep was now impossible with that relentless drumming overhead. When I finally dragged myself up, every fiber of my being wanted to crawl back under the covers and declare today a rest day.
But slowly, stubbornly, I packed my gear and checked the updated forecast. By 8 AM, the rain had eased to something merely miserable rather than apocalyptic. Time to go.
German efficiency… Sort of
My first stop came quickly, a small town just 15km down the road where I grabbed breakfast at Aldi (because nothing says “adventure” like supermarket pastries in the rain) and hunted down a bicycle shop for a helmet rain cover. I had a feeling I’d need it, and German pragmatism seemed like the right approach.
Here’s where I learned something interesting: German railway efficiency is apparently not very German efficient. The connections were weird and scarce, making public transport backup plans virtually useless. So much for Plan B, it was pedal or nothing.
Dancing with the weather gods
The rain seemed to have a twisted sense of humor. Every time I considered stopping, it would ease up, luring me back onto the wet, busy roads. The moment I committed to continuing, down it came again, accompanied by its dance partner, the wind. Together, they made sure I was thoroughly cold and miserable.
The worst part? Every stop made me colder. I’d pause, shivering, seriously doubting whether I could make any further progress, then force myself back onto the bike because standing still was somehow worse than moving through the elements.
An unexpected encounter
Between cities, I met someone who restored my faith in this crazy endeavor, a fellow cyclist, a Swedish woman heading in the opposite direction. She was coming back from very close to my destination: Dubrovnik! Even better, her journey had started from almost exactly where mine began, Malmö.
There’s something magical about these road encounters. Here we were, two cyclists who’d chosen the same route but in opposite directions, meeting somewhere in the middle of Germany in the rain. She had stories of what lay ahead; I had tales of what she’d already conquered. Perfect symmetry.
The decision point
Around 115km, having reached my second major city of the day, the rain returned with renewed vengeance. Message received, weather gods. I was already delayed enough, and pushing to my original endpoint would mean arriving dangerously late. Sometimes wisdom means knowing when to stop.
Pride before the fall (Literally)
Having decided to catch a train for the final stretch, I rushed toward the station as the rain sent its final regards, making the rails slick and treacherous. Not being careful enough in my haste to catch the train, I slipped and fell.
Nothing serious, thankfully, but I’ll be checking on my hip tomorrow. For now, only my pride is truly bruised, along with my bike’s handlebars, which earned their first small battle scar of the journey. A reminder that even when you think the day’s challenges are over, the road always has one more lesson to teach.
Tomorrow’s promise
The forecast finally shows mercy, sun returning, not immediately in the morning, but for most of the day. Even better, it looks like the wind might actually help for once, pushing me forward instead of fighting every pedal stroke.
Sometimes the road breaks you down just to build you back up stronger. Day 2: survived, scarred, but not defeated.
115km down, countless lessons learned (as always, none), and the sun waiting just around the corner.
Every kilometer, every fall, every small victory brings us closer to helping children in Croatia through SOS Children’s Villages. The journey continues, rain or shine. donate.wheres-marin.com
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