Not 12km south of Regensburg, our entourage of nine cyclists stopped to gaze up at a massive 19th-century monument to German heroes, Walhalla. “This is where warriors go when they die,” one of our German representatives stated, “especially Germans, especially me.” We were not dead, yet, and the only battle we were to experience would be between our arses and our saddles, but eventually we would all feel like heroes after riding 160km on the Tour de Baroque along the Danube between Regensburg and Passau in just two days.
My girlfriend and I began our journey the morning before at Prague’s main train station. We had reserved tickets for us and our bikes (about CZK 2,700 for a return trip) on the aptly named Munich-bound Franz Kafka express, which stops in Regensburg. Four hours and so many minutes later we arrived in the city that started as the Roman legionary fort Castra Regina. Regensburg has a long history, and all the usual central European sites can be found there: a large gothic cathedral, a stone bridge (over 200 years older than the Charles Bridge), winding medieval streets, etc. What sets it apart are the remnants of the Roman settlement (dating back to the first and second centuries), including part of the imperial gate, now enveloped in a more medieval building and the corresponding exhibit at the city museum, which houses many originals as well as some amazing replicas. “Simply plug in the numbers of the artefact or model and listen,” explained the concierge handing us headsets, which come in German, English, French and, most surprisingly, Czech (which made my girlfriend very happy). We were awed by the full-size reconstruction of an elite Roman’s house, bisected to show the central heating and other advanced-for-their-time amenities.
Excursions can be parching, and I knew exactly where to go – well, almost. Regensburg has three breweries and two brewpubs in very close proximity to one another. Kneitinger at Arnulfsplatz 3 is the original pub owned by the brewery with the same name, and the strong dark bockbier is delivered continually to expansive people-packed tables, along with reasonably priced food. The beer from the Thurn and Taxis brand is no longer brewed in Regensburg, except at the Fürstliches Brauhaus on Waffnergasse 6. But, as it was a summer day, the outdoors beckoned, so we headed across the Danube instead to the Spitalgarten (St Katharinenplatz 1) and enjoyed the view of the Steinerne bridge. We were overwhelmed by the amount of beers on offer. We decide to stay light with some hell-style beer (similar to Czech světlý) and potato salad, as we were not there to drink it up but cycle a good chunk of the Tour de Baroque.
Accommodation wasn’t a problem as my German friend allowed us to stay in his second flat, but, on a previous visit, we found many affordable options thanks to the very well-informed tourist information centre. Sleep was minimal at best, due the anticipation of the long ride ahead of us. We awoke the next morning around 8am, prepared a breakfast for our group and were on the trail by 9:30am.
As most things German are, the bike path is amazingly maintained, efficient and well-labelled. Its smooth asphalt and width were in complete contrast to the many hazardous (so-called Green Way) trails I have ridden in the Czech Republic. At times we could bike three abreast and still allow oncoming cyclists to pass. The fact that we could easily chat along the way was only slightly reassuring once the true distance of our first day was calculated. “It should be just under 100km to Deggendorf,” revealed one of the Czech women cycling with us. Originally we were told it should be no more than 60km. That was the motorway distance; the path stretches along the Danube, sometimes winding away from the banks, always bringing a new historical building into sight. From monuments and monasteries, to churches, town halls and castles, the route’s name delivered, the majority of the structures being of baroque architecture.
The town of Straubing was our lunchtime goal, but, as some of us ate very little for breakfast, an alternative was needed, which came in the form of very small village pub that offered a limited menu. Sorry Ruhrgebiet, but they serve some of the best currywurst I have ever had and the local hellesbier washed it down wonderfully. Back in the saddle, we eventually reached Straubing, where the centre is like one giant cafe patio. It seemed as if the whole town was out sipping espresso and wine in the square. With no time to stop, we continued. And continued. Averaging over 22km/h, we had little time to really absorb the surroundings. What started out with the baroque sounds of the fanciful harpsichord had soon become the haunting despair of a pipe organ’s deepest notes. After 80km many of us were starting to fade, our legs throbbed, and our asses were bruised, but we had a reservation in Deggendorf, and so we pushed on. Needless to say, we socialised very little that evening and slept like babies.
After a huge revitalising breakfast at our hotel, we packed up our gear and walked out to the bike holdings like a posse of weathered cowboys, bowlegged and all. Most hotels, pensions, and guesthouses in the area cater to the abundant bike tourists and offer safe places to store your two-wheelers. South of Deggendorf the geography changes from relatively flat countryside to rolling hills and wide valleys. These are the foothills of the mighty Alps. The oxbow lakes and dead river branches along this section of the Danube gave us the opportunity to see many strange species of birds. With the wind at our backs, a much smaller distance to go, and the rich flora and fauna, the mood of the group was wonderful. Even at the few busy intersections we had to cross, all of the Bavarians we encountered seemed to be very polite and have the utmost respect for bikers – though at least one cyclist was less-friendly when we stopped for refreshments. My girlfriend simply moved a road bike that was taking up the space of two in the rack, and, suddenly, aggressive but unintelligible German spat from a colourfully spandexed older man. He rushed over and snatched the bike, almost knocking her down. The Germans among us tried to explain that he was being inappropriate and that we hadn’t damaged his bike. The parrot, as one of our members called him (I preferred cock), grumbled about how expensive his precious cycle was and placed it elsewhere. Although I felt a surge of aggression rising in myself, in the end we let him have his childish way, since even his friends seemed embarrassed.
So close we could taste it – that was the feeling as we rode under the giant highway bridge over Schalding, just a few kilometres out of Passau. And taste it we did. After navigating a bit through the suburbs of the city, we ended our biking adventure at Passau’s Braurei Hacklberg beer garden. The weissbier and wurst piled high on our table and rapidly into our stomachs. I could’ve stayed there all day in the shade choosing among five different tapped beers and a plentiful buffet, but, alas, some of our group had to return home by train before it got too late. We escorted them to the central train station and waved our heavy arms goodbye.
My girlfriend and I, on the other hand, had another day to play with. We would mistakenly stay in the Rotel, which looked like hostel, smelled like a hostel but did not cost hostel prices. We paid goddamn EUR 50 for a plastic-walled closet with a bed. We were too tired to look elsewhere that night, but were later assured that there are many better options in Passau.
On Monday morning we hobbled on foot around this whimsical Italianesque town at the confluence of three rivers. The black, mineral-rich Ilz on the left and the brownish Danube in the middle mix with the green flow of the Inn coming down from the Alps on the right. This marbling can easily be seen from the Drei-Flüsse-Eck park at the tip of the old town. The waterways brought wealth in the form of “white gold” (salt), and Christianity brought prestige as the city became the largest diocese of the Holy Roman Empire for many years. Twists and turns through the old town brought us to the enormous baroque St Steven’s cathedral. Here it was no longer our muscles that vibrated but our very bones whilst listening to a 30-minute concert of the largest cathedral organ in the world, which contains almost 18,000 pipes. The Veste Oberhaus – the former fortress of the Bishop, which imposingly looks over the town from the ridge on the left bank – and the Kastell Boiotro, displaying a Roman fort that dates back to AD250, were the two other points of interest we wanted to visit, but it was Monday, and we all know what that means. We would settle for a late lunch instead at a decent Greek restaurant (tired of sausages as we were) and a train back to Regensburg and eventually to Prague.
We had done it. In two days we had ridden the middle third of the Tour de Baroque, which starts in Donauseschingen and ends in the baroque capital of Vienna. It was more than enough for amateur bikers such as us. In fact, I would suggest doing the trip in three days if you want time to actually visit the sites along the path – and a less-sore bottom. Unlike in Bohemia, the towns are spread far apart, so carry along some snacks and plenty of water and be aware that most shops are closed on Sundays in Germany. With the distance accomplished, the cramped muscles, the burnt skin and the epic amount of bier consumed, we surely deserve a mention in Walhalla, don’t we?
