A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood (Coffeeneuring Waypoint No. 5)

For my fifth coffeeneuring destination, I decided to head into the city of Heinsberg, which is the center of Kreis Heinsberg, or in American terms, Heinsberg County. There are plenty of restaurants and stores there, so I figured I would wander around and find a good place to get some coffee. The weather was especially nice in the afternoon with plenty of sunshine and very little wind.

It isn’t very difficult to get to Heinsberg from anywhere within the vicinity, because its tallest structure is the Gothic church of St. Gangolf (not to be confused with Gandalf who is a fictional wizard) whose green-patina copper steeple looms over the city. Since it is roughly the same color as the Statue of Liberty, the Mrs. and I often refer to it as such.

Coming from the northwest, you enter a roundabout which takes you either around the perimeter or into the heart of the city where many historical structures, including the Torbogenhaus  from the 16th century, reside. The archway in the picture below is two-way for bicycles and surprisingly, a one-way for automobiles, though I would not want to try and squeeze anything bigger than a Smart car through that.

Just before the archway, Cafe Samocca sits on the right. There is indoor seating and a cafe terrace with a nice view of St. Gangolf’s and the fortifications surrounding it. Opting to take in the sunshine (and because this is Europe, cigarette smoke) I sat outside next to a stone wall that served as parking for my bike.

The coffee menu was extensive, offering beans from all over the world and accompanying tasting notes. I went with the Yellow Bourbon which promised to be something along the lines of “bright” and “nutty”. And just in case you forgot what you ordered, atop the saucer is a little card reminding you of what you were drinking.

After enjoying my coffee, I rode around the city for a while getting to know where the different avenues lead and what infrastructure was in place for bicyclists. Like many old cities, there aren’t bike lanes so much as automobile-restricted areas which provide plenty of pedestrian and bicycle zones to get where you’re going without finding yourself in the middle of traffic. On one of the main avenues, lined with small shops and cafes, there was an e-bike charging station which is becoming a pretty common sight around here and in the Netherlands.

Since I started out on my ride in the afternoon, it wasn’t long before the sun began to set, so I decided to head back home before it got too dark. I chose a different route than the way I came, but again, if you know the general direction you need to go, it isn’t very difficult to find your way there… eventually.

It turns out the route I had chosen was a bit lengthier than I anticipated and it actually got pretty dark out before I got very far. Between villages, there are sometimes no streetlights and especially dark are the paths that lead through the woods. Add the seasonal fog to that and your vision is pretty well restricted. Luckily, the lights I had on the bike were bright enough to get me home.

I enjoyed Cafe Samocca (as I have most of the destinations I’ve coffeeneured to this year) and will probably return there with the Mrs. when she gets back. Though with the days getting shorter and the nights getting colder, I will be sure to leave a little bit earlier next time.

- Bicyclist Abroad

 

Coffeeneur Quick Stats:

Location:	Cafe Samocca High Street 19, 52525 Heinsberg, Germany [website]
Drink:	Coffee (Brazilian Yellow Bourbon)
Date:	Saturday, 01 November
Distance:	16.2 km/10 mi.

HAVE DOG | WILL TRAVEL

  

Life can be filled with many conflicts of interest, some more severe than others, but all inconvenient nonetheless. Oftentimes, you have to draw a line and pick one of the two entities at the expense of the other, but every once in a while you find a way to make both things work.

The Mrs. and I have a Border Collie who is one of the best dogs I’ve ever had the pleasure of spending time with, but for all his accolades he is absolutely lazy to no end. Every time I see a person on a bike with their dog proudly trotting alongside them, I feel just a bit envious. My dog will run for a minute or two before deciding a good lie in the grass is needed and will lock his legs in protest of any further activity.

So for the longest time, I was faced with splitting my time between riding my bike and doing something with my dog. Then one day, I saw someone ride by on their bike with their kid in tow, snugly tucked into a trailer that rolled along behind them. Interesting, I thought. I bet you could put a dog in there. An internet search showed that not only do people put dogs in child trailers, but they actually make dog trailers. So I wasn’t the only one with a lazy dog-- there is an entire industry devoted to them.

After browsing the selection Amazon had to offer, the Mrs and I decided to go ahead and order one, sized medium for our medium-sized dog. When it arrived, I hastily assembled it to take it for a test ride when, to my dissatisfaction, it turned out to be too cramped for our dog to fit comfortably. This did not stop me from coaxing him into it regardless, but I could tell he was not enjoying the confinement of his nylon dog RV. 

So just recently, I had an idea to take the existing trailer base and mount it to his airline kennel, which I know is spacious enough for him to fit in and lay down if he wants.

At first, I had the kennel separated into halves to make the installation easier, but then I realized that the top half really wasn’t necessary if he had a tether to keep him from exiting the trailer while in motion. Besides, he gets more air in his face, which is a thing that dogs universally love. Also, if for some reason we were expecting inclement weather, the top portion could be installed fairly quick with a few wingnut-style fasteners, no big deal.

Now, while I’m very pro-DIY, I’m not very good at DIY, so most oftentimes I employ the technique some people call “winging it”. Thankfully, this project was pretty straightforward so I couldn’t mess up too bad. I stripped the old trailer down to the frame and chassis and set in on top of the inverted kennel, then centered it as best as I could by alternating one eye closed then the other. Satisfied that it was mostly aligned, I marked the points on the kennel where a nut and bolt would connect the two, and removed the frame to do some drilling.

 

I drilled four holes that were slightly smaller than the bolts I had to run through them, and then kinda widened them a little but more. Then I installed the washers and nuts to secure them, and with everything tightened and secure, applied poor man’s loc-tite to the threads (acrylic nail polish, pick your favorite color).

The trailer body finished, I installed an old Shimano brake lever clamp  on the side to attach his dog harness to, and put a foam pad on the floor for a luxuriously cushioned ride. The trailer itself mounts to a proprietary attach point on your rear quick-release skewer, with some rubbery spring-coil contraption to allow you to turn the bike without tipping the trailer over (not 100% effective, but I’m learning to mitigate that result).

The test run did fairly well, with a lot of treats given for good behavior and one sincere apology for taking too tight a turn and dumping everything and everyone off of the bike. The next step will be taking the fur ball on an overnight camping trip, where I can utilize his new trailer for some additional cargo storage, and he can ride like the youngest child in the back of a over-packed station wagon.

- Bicyclist Abroad

The Promised Land

Possibly attributed to a sudden immersion into European life, the charm of this place is intoxicating. Even as a seasoned traveler, I’m surprised by just how much I feel that sense of wonder where everything is new and amazing. Typically, one’s expectations are tempered by a less desirable reality, but everything I hoped Germany to be is so, and more. The countryside, the architecture, the culture—even the bleakest facets have a certain appeal that I can’t quite describe.

Of course, one of the first things to delight me was the expansive network of bicycle paths. When they aren’t paralleling roadways,  they run from village to village and even from one country to another. In fact, they’re so prevalent that it is easy to get lost on one, taking a left at one intersection, a right on another, and all of a sudden you’re not sure whether you’re in Germany or the Netherlands (that happened to us this past weekend) nor quite certain how to get back.

Let me rewind a bit though and set up the scene. The Mrs. and I are still staying in a guest house while we look for a home for ourselves, and that process is mostly being facilitated by her co-worker who is driving us around in her car. The helplessness of not having a means of transportation ourselves however, is only exacerbated by the large number of people who cycle by on an hourly basis, merrily rolling on to their destinations. How nice would it be if we had our bicycles to get around? Walking anywhere has never felt so painfully slow until you’re forced to, by default. I had poked around some of the local German classifieds, but hadn’t really found anything either. Then, out of the blue, our hosts here at the guesthouse offered two bicycles for us to ride for the duration of our stay. It was an unexpected, but very welcome offer to which I accepted with much gratitude.

Despite being named ‘La Strada’, these bikes were definitely not built for the open road. Much like the Fuji I had checked out in Misawa, these are aluminum hybrid bikes with large diameter wheels and front suspension. I don’t want to linger too much on their shortcomings though, as any bike is better than none, and I am very grateful to use them. And use them we did.

Geilenkirchen is situated on the western border of Germany with the Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxembourg all being relatively nearby. While the NATO base here has some amenities, it does not have a commissary for buying all those American staples we can’t live without. (Actually, I think the Mrs. and I mostly wanted almond milk and sriracha chili sauce, respectively.) For that, the nearest commissary is across the Dutch border at the US Army Garrison at Schinnen, some 12 miles to the east. We decided to take our bicycles and backpacks, stock up on supplies, and pedal back on a maybe three hour round trip. Simple enough. Except it was not simple at all, and it took two tries to even get there, with miles of confusion in between.

Like most modern Americans, we rely on Google to solve all of our problems. Google Maps, in this instance, was both our champion and our downfall. We initially had written down the turn-by-turn directions from here to there, assuming the street names would correspond to the bicycle paths. Our confidence quickly dissipated as we found the bicycle paths don’t have names at all, they are numbered routes that Google does not annotate. So after making our way for about 15 minutes, we then had to return to our computers and try again.

On the second attempt, we made just a little bit further before we misinterpreted our own directions and took a completely wrong turn. (The fact that we had to dismount and walk our bikes up a hill through the woods should have been a strong indicator it was the wrong way). We rode across the Dutch border, through a few traffic circles, and… had absolutely no idea where we were. Thankfully, an ice cream parlor had WiFi available, so the Mrs. could use her iPod to figure out where we were. That, and the kind directions from the man that worked there, set us on the right track—or, at least in the correct compass heading.

Streets with names like Kneijkvileerweg, Vogelsvaldernweg, and Maastrichterweg made easy work of finding our way (I’m being sarcastic). Again, we got turned around, back tracked, and relied on the iPod’s mysterious GPS-less navigation abilities.

We did find Schinnen, eventually. It’s not a very big place, as far as military bases go, but it covered the basics, such as a commissary, post office, and bowling alley.  With two backpacks and a front basket’s worth of groceries, we plotted out our return and completed the trip with much more success.

The next course of action of course is to find a bicycle map, or fahrrad karte, and a fahrrad of our own to use until our bikes make the transatlantic trip to meet us here in a couple months. I think a vintage Dutch opafiet would suit me nicely, but we’ll see. In the meantime, I’m perfectly happy just to be here.

-Bicyclist Abroad