'Manure occurs', or 'Nuthin bedder ta-dew'.

We all slept incredibly well that night. Even I, that do not sleep well in foreign buildings (I am a tent person). I woke relatively early though, and tip-toed down to the garage to do some finishing touches to Nimmer, clean up the garage a bit, and breathe the early morning breeze. Miles was snoring and Lars-Inge looked like he had been clubbed, when I got out the door, so the tip-toeing was probably an unnecessary act of caution on my part, but hey – I am just a really swell kinda guy!


It is good to soft-tinker in the morning. The discrete clinks of the spanners, the morning light shyly padding in on the floor and morning sounds all around. People going to work. The morning train. All that. Good stuff. Eventually Bernie and Susan came by and asked if I wanted breakfast. I was in solidarity with my pals that brought me this Greek (well...) salad (hmmm..) and said that I should have that for breakfast. Bernie pshah-ed and told me the truth: THAT? That is not breakfast! And, you know, he was right.


Lars-Inge and Miles went to the welder with the baggage rack and the rear fender. Lars-Inge on a fender-less Nimrod and Miles on Nimbelle (that really has behaved very well since that incident with the coil that resulted in confinement in a slaughterhouse for her AND her Nimbus pals. She never really got over that. We might have been a tad harsh to her, creating a trauma that goes deep. When ever you mention 'slaughterhouse', Nimbelle seems to seep oil.. What ever have we done..?).

Anyhow: They were off and Bernie took me on a little tour to see parts of the castle and the castle chapel. The chapel was fresh and beautiful with frescos, wrought iron decorations and an altar with the skeleton of a person in a box with a glass front. The person in the box was S:t Severus. He was one of the early Christians in Rome and was brought to the castle from the catacombs of Rome at a later stage. Bernie said that the longer story is on the web and I have to look it up at the next convenience. At the right of the chapel was a chamber that looked like an underwater cave with shells imbedded in the walls, and also with a crypt, of sorts, below. The crypt has a curse attached to it, in that nobody that pulls open the ring equipped stone slabs and ventures down into the depth of the crypt, will live to see a full year go by. Bernie had never went down himself but confirmed that the curse is very much active since there were two workers who went down when the chapel was last renovated, and both died within the year. An other interesting feature with the crypt was the pyramid with the eye in the ceiling. Aha! A masonic symbol! - I hear you say. Well, yes and no. It is also the symbol for the supreme being. But be my guest. Build your own conspiracy theory. The little chapel sure was old enough and had enough unique features for you to do that.
When Bernie heard that I was an amateur watch maker, we went to his study to have a look at his grandfathers pocket watch. It was a pretty little Swiss silver watch with a cylinder movement. Beautiful multicolored face and in working condition. Swiss made and of bridge construction (the so called Wolfs Tooth Movement). I recommended Bernie to have it professionally serviced and enjoy the satisfaction of having a ticking time piece in his pocket to wind every evening. He would, if he could find a watch maker.

Miles and Lars-Inge returned and we had breakfast. Now THAT was a breakfast! The greek salad was smuggled away and I enjoyed a big cup of coffee with milk, rolls with ham and cheese and a fresh apricot. It does not get much better than that. The guys went off again and fetched the fender the welder had worked on. There were also newly made support struts that Miles designed (MAN - he is good!) and the baggage rack was also repaired (one of the supports had given in earlier during the trip), and now Nimrod surely could take the huge load without any stress on the rear fender. So, we packed, hugged Bernie and Susan good bye and thank you, and set off. Early. Frightfully early, to be us. We strolled down the landscape with revived motorcycles and it just felt so good. We eventually tried to stop at restaurants to have lunch, but they were closed. So we went on. And, as Miles put it: "That's fine. We got nothing better to do, anyway."

We inched towards Munich, avoiding the Autobahn at all costs. The sun was shining, the bikes ran great and we just cruised along, having nothing better to do. We figured that we should possibly fill up on oil, and did so at a (closed) restaurant. Cruised on a bit and then concluded that we might want to fill up on gas, and did that. 'Just a-strollin' down da road, havin' nuthin bedder ta-dew...'. Perfect for a tune. Somebody came up with the good idea of setting up camp really really early, so we asked for directions at a (closed) restaurant and car repair shop. The crew from the car repair shop came streaming out and admired the bikes. The senior in the bunch was born in 1934, the year of creation of Nimmer, and that was as amazing as this lazy day had become, so far. The lady who was to open the restaurant several hours later, was lounging in the sun and told us that there was a GREAT camping near Grunwald. So we decided to go there. She said that the best way to go there was on 'das Autobahn', but we decided to inch our way forward on the small roads, having nothing better to do. The day was long, the sun was shining, things were great. We were a little hungry, perhaps, but aside from that, well, what can I say.

So we missed the exit to Grunwald. Well, you know, manure occurs. What can I say? You loose a few, no big deal. We went off the road and asked for directions. We found out that we actually had to go back. Quite a while. And we did. Turned to Grunwald and found out that the sun did not shine that great anymore. But the bikes ran fine. Not a problem. In Grunwald they were all like living question marks. Camping? Here? Never heard of it. A young lady claimed that she had lived there for 14 years and never heard anything about a camping. But perhaps in the neighbor village? You just had to turn back for a couple of kilometers or so... We did that and both the weather and the team had a less and less sunny disposition. The lady in the bakery where we bought two huge cookies and a bun, said that we should go back to Grunwald, and turn right at the center and then asks for more detailed directions. So we did, after having consumed the purchase. Miles claimed afterwards that he felt as if he had consumed instant mashed potatoes powder and drank a lot of water on top of that, and it was a pretty accurate description. But the beautiful camp by the river, loomed in our imagination and we did a 180 back to Grunwald again, turned right and asked for directions. We were to go to the Zoo, turn left and go on a bit. Weather and spirits were getting tense. But we did EVENTUALLY, we did find the camping. It was not that much of a paradise, but it WAS a camp site.

Lars-Inge bought three beers in the cramped camp store with the ambitious name: 'SUPERMARKT'. It contained snacks, meat products alcoholic beverages, crisps, canned everything and the odd tooth brush plus the evil shop lady from hell... She looked, talked and behaved as if she had live babies for lunch and coughed and snored in a highly revolting manner. Friendly as a road accident with the female appeal of a bag of hardened concrete, patience of a hyper weasel and service minded as a meter maid.

Miles proposed that he would cook anything we bought in that store, but he had not been in there himself, so he could not have the competence to judge was he was saying. Anyway, Lars-Inge and I went forth and bought two packages of wieners, two bacon packets, some alien looking tomatoes, a bottle of 'Schatzlik' sauce that looked interesting, some brie cheese, rye bread, a bottle of wine to me and Miles and a few beers to Lars-Inge. Oh, and two packs of bier wurst that Miles alternatively called 'Camel intestines' and 'Raw Liver Product'. The whole purchase was highly representative of the stock that 'SUPERMARKT' carried. It is amazing that German campers can stay alive at all! NOTHING we had could have been beneficial for your organism! Miles did a heroic effort with all his powers and skills but the result, although vaguely edible, was not the astounding success he (and we) had hoped for. You got to have, at least SOME, working ingredients in order to cook. Don't feel bad about it Miles, you did a heroic effort and nobody could have done better during those circumstances.
The wind picked up quite a bit and Lars-Inge's outer tent blew off. We had to button down the hatches for the night and brought out the heavy artillery in the form of tent pegs, securing our dwellings to the ground. Firmly. Having nothing better to do, we hit the hay. And, since manure occurs, a heavy rain storm broke a little later. I woke up in the night by the call of nature, and went out in the rain to water a shrub (rather futile compared to what nature could do). I pulled out our pots and pans from beneath Nimmers side car in order to let said nature do the dishes too. I wondered how bad it would be tomorrow, and fell in an uneasy slumber.