[MrsC_772]

Day 3 - Monday 27 June

Vianden being only a mile from the border, it was not long before I entered Germany, and headed towards the Black Forest. The Navigatrix must have been on the weissbier last night as she had trouble telling left from right in Trier (I could hardly have borne right, what with the river in the way - while Wet Sussex had tested the amphibious potential of the 696, I didn't want to push my luck in the Moselle).

Made it uneventfully to Baden Baden to pick up the famous B500 through the Black Forest. Like the Black Mountain in Wales, a once great biking road, ruined by maliciously low speed limits - 50 kmph, seriously guys? Scenery ok, but less spectacular than I'd hoped - of course there was forest, but boring conifers. Decided while in the region I ought to sample the Black Forest gateau.

The first place I stopped was called Mummelsee - a hotel with a lake, tacky souvenir shops (some themed on witches, mermaids/men, and also cuckoo clocks) and a cafe. Took a few pictures but thought against trying the cake there - not sure that there is a scientific rule about the quality of food increasing with the distance from pedalo rental availability but it wouldn't surprise me! The whole vibe of the place was a German equivalent of the sort of odd/faded tourist attractions sought out by the protagonist of Neil Gaiman's brilliant "American Gods" or else could have featured in the episode of Grimm where Nick and Monroe go to the Black Forest in search of a powerful artifact (must be some "wesen lore" behind the souvenirs!)

Headed on and found a pretty little town with an open cake shop/cafe. Well, proper Schwarzwald kirschtorte is a revelation. The emphasis, compared with the abomination which passes by the same name in England, is different. Proper BFG is a cream cake, not a chocolate cake. Sure, there are a couple of slices of thin fine chocolate cake, as well as plain sponge, and a few chocolate shavings sprinkled on top, but the hero is the kirsch drenched cream, and a layer of tasty cherries.

Suitably refuelled, I headed on in the sunshine to the fantastic Hotel Waldblick in Schenkenzell. I studied French & Spanish at school, not German, so had attempted to learn a little on a Memrise app while stuck on hold to pension & insurance companies at work. The check in process went as follows: "ich habe ein zimmer reserviert", followed by hotel lady responding with more German than I could cope with, followed by me: "mein deutsch ist nicht gut, ich bin Englanderin" followed by her responding in English (to my relief & embarrassment). She showed me a secure area (behind gates) where my bike could be parked out of sight.

Hotel was more luxurious than I expected, with a spotlessly clean sauna "wellness" area - the nicest in any hotel I've visited, with a choice of cooling down method from normal shower, bucket with rope handle to drench in one go, and a mysterious hosepipe (whose purpose I daren't imagine!)

Knots removed from shoulders, I sat down for dinner. Having seen signs for trout fishing ponds in several places on the way I fancied a fish supper. I was not disappointed: a whole trout, with lots of almonds, both fried in a quantity of butter that would have made James Martin proud. I washed it down with a dark lager, while chatting to 3 English bikers (the Multistroodle owner having got the others lost earlier in the day).