30 Sept 2013
Boltenhagen to Scharbeutz
33 miles

I think we have arrived at the German Riviera. I don’t know if Germany has their own version of the Riviera but if they do, this has to be it, and if they don’t, this should be it. We have been pedaling mile after mile along the ocean promenade, or Baltic Sea promenade to be exact. It’s a bit like going to a beach in Washington and by that I mean windy, chilly, and perhaps a bit hostile for a two-piece bikini, but nevertheless, there are hardy Germans out in their wind blocker jackets and woolie hats enjoying the sunshine right alongside us.

It’s been a synchronicity kind of day, one of those ones where you say Ok, I guess we are right where we are supposed to be. Standing at the mouth of the bay at Travemunde, trying to decipher if we were at the right place to catch the ferry across (which we weren’t), Gina asked a fellow cycle tourist standing nearby if he spoke English. “English,” he said, “I am English”. Which of course we could tell as soon as he spoke his first word. We never got his name but we’ll call him Cycling Angel Number Seven, for he lead us to the proper ferry before we parted ways.

Then there was the 87 (Eighty-Seven! screams Helen of Toronto) year old woman with whom we shared our lunchtime bench. When she learned we were American, the first word out of her mouth was “Seattle.” What were the odds? Her son, we learned, had spent 6 months in school in Seattle. We learned this three times if one were counting but for being 87 and having “forgotten so much of my English”, I’d say she did a bang-up job of attempting bus-stop small talk. And her arrival at our bench happened right when we were discussing the German beach chairs that are everywhere along this Baltic coastline and recently imported for rent at Golden Gardens, which Gina learned all about one day this past summer when she walked down to the beach wearing her Deutschland t-shirt.

I’d say Not Too Shabby, being here where we’re supposed to be.