Moosegg

I spent some time last night studying the map. I had half a mind to go out on my own, after yesterday, and plotted a course to follow a nearby section of the Heart Route.

But I resolved to get over it (yesterday, that is) and be social, instead. This would be our last ride of the trip, and the finale for our host after some 20 years of leading tours like this. Some folks in our group had been on his earliest rides, some had been on more than they could count. My first trip was eight years ago, and I reflected on how these friends had met and aged together. Twelve years from now, will I still be touring?

I made sure I was planted in front of the hotel well before our announced departure time.

Our host mentioned that there might be some steep sections. [Indeed.] We all did some walking when the grade hit 13% (and topped out over 19%).

I turned to Google Translate to decipher this caution sign. “Wood envelope” was the answer. [Um, I don't think so.] Try “lumber yard” (right around the bend). We were in logging territory.

The ride was going smoothly until we arrived at the place where we expected to eat, the Hotel Moosegg, where they were apparently not serving (or perhaps not serving anyone other than their guests, as the tables were set with baskets of croissants). We backtracked to the patio garden of the Gastof Waldhäusern, which was well-placed and welcoming to cyclists.

The butterflies and bees in their garden were busy with the blue globe-thistle.

We found another steep section, this one with just two tracks of pavement; we walked up (and down).

When we reached a freshly paved downhill, I took off. There was a nice big tree at the bottom where we found some shade as we waited for the slower descenders to arrive. It had seemed obvious to head straight down to the main road, but apparently our host had wanted to take a right turn before that. I was surprised, because I didn't see anything that looked like an intersection along the way (or I would have stopped).

And that, perhaps, was the genesis of the confusion that sent us astray. We turned right on the main road, and kept riding. South. Through Signau, which was one of the towns along the route I'd drafted for myself the night before. What was the plan, today? Were we heading for a return-by-train?

When we stopped for a photo-op at this traditional farm building, our host clambered right up to the second level. Unthinkable, this would be, in the U.S. [Trespassing!]

I do prefer the countryside, but it was evident that we continued to travel away from, not toward, Burgdorf. It was another hot day; we stopped at a fountain to douse ourselves with water and refill our bottles.

Approaching mile 24, our host said something about ice cream in the next town. And then the group splintered. One of my Garmin-equipped friends turned north, and three of us followed. Six miles later, on the main road again, we passed that tree where I'd waited at the bottom of the hill. [The other two continued their misadventure with the leader.]

We were eager to get back to Burgdorf, but took a brief break to admire a (busy) covered bridge.

On the outskirts of town, Burgdorf Castle was a welcome sight! We covered 41 miles and about 2000 feet of climbing; the others ... had a longer ride.

We had ample time to disassemble and pack our bikes, get cleaned up, and share our stories over one last dinner together.

These trips have made good friendships and good memories, despite the mishaps; I will miss all of that.