We do love a little adventure. After a nice relaxing morning I set off to Trier, confident that somewhere amongst the many bike shops there would be the pump that I needed.
I decided to take the quicker bus with the longer walk, so headed across the bridge into the next village (coincidently the village where the disaster occurred). Google had assured me the bus was leaving soon but o was sceptical as no such bus was on the time table. I was hopeful again when other passengers arrived but we waited in vain. As the next bus wasn't for an hour I had a coffee in the supermarket before heading back to the bus stop. I asked a very nice lady some pertinent questions - cash or card? do they do day tickets? exactly how do you pronounce Trier? She offered to speak for me but I'm beginning to think that for someone who spend so much time in Germany I should be more au fait with the language so I managed the ticket sale all by myself.
The bus was a fancy air conditioned number and arrived quickly. I thanked my guide, who pointed out where the return stop was before heading off, and set off to the bike shop. I had success with a replacement tube but no luck with the pump. Heading to shop two, my luck was in.
So then what to do? I wandered round the shops, got some more gas, got something for tea then decided to head back. I was trying not to worry - goodness knows I can change tubes - but I couldn't help imagining the worst.
The bus driver sped us back to Longuich and I wandered the kilometre back to the site.
Barely had my bag hit the ground before I whipped out that pump. The tyre was already off so I mounted the new tube and began the battle. I'd say the swearing was kept to a minimum and I won the war. In a short time my wheel was back in place, I was covered in oil and grease and Nordie was back on the road.




















