Category Archives: VESLAM

Die Altmühl. 120,3 km in 3 Tagen.

Und dann war es plötzlich so weit: Es galt, die Altmühltour in 3 Tagen zu absolvieren. Das kann man schon machen, wenn man 2x zuvor diesen wunderbaren Fluss mit seinem attraktiven Tal langsam erkundet hat. Unser Plan war Gunzenhausen-Zimmern-Walting-Köttingworth plus vorab gebuchte feste Unterkünfte und er wurde auch ordnungsgemäß vollzogen.

“War das eigentlich meine Idee?”, war ich besorgt vor Beginn. “Ja,” nickte mein Mitherausgeforderter, “das alles wird deine Schuld sein.”

Großartige Schuld, soviel kann schon hier verraten werden.

Aber zunächst mal die Probleme:

Der Wasserpegel war zu tief und wir schrammten recht häufig an harten Sachen entlang – kein Problem für Glasfaser-Kanadier, ein Problem für vorsichtige Kunststoff-Bootshaut-Besitzer. Es ist zum Glück nix Schlimmes passiert, aber man stiert die ganze Zeit total gebannt aufs Wasser und lauscht dem Bootshaut-Geschleife ganz genau. Einige Male mussten wir einfach aussteigen und zu Fuß weiter gehen –  war total gut, weil man sich damit gut verdiente Erfrischung verpasst, wegen Hitze und wegen allgemein überforderter Sitzkörperflächen. Sah auch entsprechend witzig aus.

Man kümmert sich nicht genug um Bäume, die ins Wasser gefallen sind und über die ganze Flussbreite hinweg einfach faul rum liegen. Ein Hartboot kann sehr wohl über die Äste gleiten, bei einem Ally muss man schon diskutieren, probieren und bangen.

Ich muss uns UNBEDINGT BAROCKE Sitzpolster nähen.

Das Wunderbare an der Tour:

Die ganze Landschaft ist so zauberhaft wie eh und je. Man trifft interessante Menschen, manchmal liefert man sich spontane Geschwindigkeitswettkämpfe, die man IMMER gewinnt. Frau schläft wie erschlagen. Frau entdeckt Gin, den Mann spontan gekauft hat.
Die Menschen in dieser Region sind vom Schlage BITTE, UNBEDINGT MEHR DAVON und an sich unvergesslich.

Ach und der Geschmack von selbst gebackenen Cookies und alkoholfreiem Bier bei ca. Kilometer 30.

Und natürlich der Wellnesshotel-Aufenthalt im Markt Titting danach 😀






Sleepless In Denmark

“Remember having asked me about possible reasons for not doing this anymore?” he says suddenly, unexpectedly. “This would be one. But we can avoid that in the future.”

He is right, of course: while we have started our paddling tour in Denmark before the school holidays begin, we should still have expected larger campsites to attract youngsters of a certain kind at any time. Certain kind means being able to tow unbelievable quantities of beer crates to the campsite and at the same time unable to get very far by paddling on the river, which is where the cars come in, at some later point.

And did I mention the Soccer World Cup was to start soon?

Anyway, we did not get much sleep in our tent that night, but I chose not to grow the huge bags under my eyes without a fight. I shared my personal opinion about the partying youngsters with my restless husband and didn’t spare him any details: I was quite sure the Danes understood enough German to know what my problem was. They did. And were soon making fun of my “Scheiße!”. Which was when the i-word was used. But before things got any worse, the idiots stopped singing, yelling and talking and went to sleep, leaving us to try to do the same.

At that point, we had done quite some paddling and really needed some rest, and I would have preferred to end the day by going through the lovely pictures of the magnificent Gudenå in my head, but river fans cannot be choosers, so.

Our tour had started in Skanderborg, a day later than planned because the wind was trying so hard to blow away the gravity of the water, as it often does. What else to do but to go shopping instead: Aarhus offered its facilities and we said thank you, though we almost ended up buying nothing. That is: I bought 2 outdoor jackets for next to nothing and left them in the car for the rest of the paddling tour, because I wasn’t concentrating properly.

The next day we could finally cross the peaceful lake Mossø – it had apparently lost all the will to try to kill us that was on such a magnificent display the day before. I felt victorious, for no reason at all, and we entered the Gudenå system.

In this system of lakes, connected by the river Gudenå we spent another five days, which were even better than we had expected them to be, though our last long ride was full of rain, cold clouds, damp cows on moisty pastures and – singing, yelling and talking Danish youngsters at our destination. They had moved to our last campsite by cars and joined another group or two. That evening, Denmark won the soccer match against Peru. And we slept like two logs.

“We shall return,” he says a few days after the tour. “We will pack some ear plugs and avoid the high season and campsites in bigger places, but we will return. The river is magnificent.”

It is.

Altmühtal … and living is easy

I don’t need much time to state the obvious this time either: “I really love the Altmühl Valley. It feels so great to be here again. Let’s return in two years or so.”

He agrees. It is not only that we are proud of our daily proven paddling prowess :-), it is also that the Nature in the Altmühl Valley is wonderful and there are many great sights to see and things to do as we splish-splash downriver with our paddles, everything we need safely contained in our boat. Yes, even an alarm clock and a diary (You know, a small notebook with a pencil to write things in. A log, so to say.)

I am sure “Hiking in Kipfenberg Woods” does not make your heart beat faster, why should it, but I assure you this is one of the most beautiful places to sort of get lost in and just walk on, for hours. The soft, lush May everywhere, the strawberries, the birds … Wonderful.

“But your hollandaise is much better, even though this one is probably state of the art,” I mumble, my mouth full of asparagus. The next day, I will try to find out at this same restaurant, Der blaue Hecht, whether Bavarians can do vegan food. Yes, they can: my falafel was delicious AND they managed that without a hint of garlic 🙂

So when not sitting peacefully somewhere in Franken/Bavaria, walking around in the forests or paddling downriver like there was no tomorrow and waving to excited onlookers on the shores, we devoted our time to Roman relicts in the area, of which there are many to see. I especially loved the Roman thermae in Weißenburg and could imagine all the comforts to be had there. Not to forget the cleanliness!

Anyway, I know you are here for the photos, so here we go:

What have I done?

For a reason I cannot put my finger on, I said Yes. Yes, I can.

Attend a Christmas party of a client’s. Next month.

Now I can’t believe I actually said yes.

The thing is, I am very happy in my moosing cave and don’t really want to leave it for other people. On the other hand, I really want to get to know the people I am in daily e-mail contact with. It cannot hurt.

So before an endless inner war broke out, I said yes.

Now I have nothing to wear.

And what am I going to talk about – work?

And what about my hair?

And how do I get there?

How do I get home?

Why did I say yes?!?



Pointen zum Abwinken

“Guck mal, hier schreibt ein Forist über den Andreas, duweißtschon, Andreas Kümmert, der nicht am ESC teilnehmen will: “Wenigstens hat er Rückrad!”

😆 … 😆

“Ob das eine Art Rollator für feige Sänger ist?”

😆 …

“… und alle, die’s werden wollen!”

So früh am Morgen und schon so gut gelaunt. Passiert recht häufig; Das unverschämte Sprücheklopfen nach der Art “Mir-ist-Nix-heilig” haben wir in all diesen Jahren ganz gut vorangetrieben.

Und wir sind passionierte Titanicleser.

Mein lieber mitgackernder Mann kann die Lebensversüßungssprüche sogar im Büro erzählen.

Ich gebe mir meistens Mühe, das nicht zu tun. Nicht, weil ich allein im Büro bin.

Als Ausländerin muss ich zwar laufend Beweise erbringen, integriert zu sein, darf jedoch häufig genug nicht zeigen, dass ich zufällig mal bisschen mehr Integration drauf habe. Manchmal ist es viel nützlicher, dem eigens beauftragten Fachmann nicht mitzuteilen, welche Rechtschreibfehler er begangen hat, und auch nicht davon auszugehen, Muttersprachler seien bereit, mitzulachen oder zu diskutieren.

Dazu müsste man mich ja als eine der Ihresgleichen akzeptieren und das ist nicht dasselbe wie voll integriert, das weiß schließlich jeder.

Sei’s drum: Hauptsache nicht noch einmal ESC gewinnen.

Glaskogen: Lessons In Love.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

It took me whole 60 seconds to find that out and say it. In my head, exclusively, I do have some pride. Now what? Wisely, I excluded the confession act as a possibility and gave it another try instead. And another one. I still couldn’t do it, but I walked on. Nothing else to do: I had claimed a few weeks ago, loudly and comprehensively, that I should be able to do it, so now it was too late to find out I couldn’t. So I walked on. Just like I’d do in real life, nothing new there for me.

Just before we started packing our rucksacks for a 3-day hiking tour, the rain had decided now was the time to act out the attention whore part and stick to it for some time. Of course it would, this is Sweden, for ticks’ sake! I could only hope my brand new Dalsland tan wouldn’t get rinsed off or mouldy till we get home. Home. Where the bed is. And the shower. Walk on.

Gradually, my body stopped hating me for carrying such a huge load for so long in such a rain and we made 8 kilometers that day. At the end of which, we discovered our first palace: they hadn’t bothered with the red carpet but painted the whole house red instead and inside, there were beds. And an oven. That day, I may or may not have believed in heaven on Earth …

Oh, the rain? It was our devoted companion all along. Jep. One of the most beautiful hiking areas there ever was, admired as water color. With the exception of a few moments, that is. Beautiful moments.

We spent the next night in another red house saying “Germans go home” on one of its walls. Sorry to say we didn’t. We couldn’t. Not after 15 kilometers in the rain and half a ton on our backs. But thank you for the oven and all the wood.

– – –

“Where did you spend your holiday, if I may ask?” The repairman was nice and talkative, so I told him the truth: “In Sweden.” The tremor rattling his body could be seen: “Sweden? Isn’t it … cold and rainy up there?” He checked my chocolate tan again – it must have provoked his question in the first place – and decided to stick to his opinion: “And grey?”

“Yes, it is,” I lied (not wanting all the world and her wife to travel there next summer), “but then, at least there are no mosquitos when the weather’s bad. And it is still very beautiful, Sweden is.”

That’s true. While I was afraid I’d be missing Finland way too much, I found Glaskogen area to be quite similar to our beloved Finnish hiking grounds and that was enough. Oh, and: we had enough sun in Dalsland to enjoy a 5-day paddling tour in the first place.

Strange, though … this year no one exclaimed Spain’s gonna win as soon as they heard us talking German. At least I thought that was strange until I finally had a look at a comprehensible Swedish newspaper: it contained the words Spain, Chile and fiasco. I couldn’t believe it.

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I lost my heart in Dalsland. Again.


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Water’s Great, Really.


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A Quickie, if there ever was one

I don’t know: maybe some of you will remember the boat hull we had ordered back in April, because we wanted to go kayaking and not canoeing this summer?

Well, it arrived today. I’d love to spread some more irony about the timing and the speed of work in Poland, the problem is: it is simply magnificent. 😀

Beautiful, practical, looks robust and everything.

So, obviously, we need to go paddling next weekend, if only to find out whether the new hull will fit the old wooden construction. Common, Sun, it’s your turn to … turn it up a bit, too.

Čakajoč … čolnota

A ste tudi vi že kdaj podlegli mitu, da so Nemci zanesljivi? Pa si želite, da ne bi bili, da bi vam bilo lažje, kjer koli že ste? Ta zgodba je za vas.

– – –

Losuljin mož nekega zimsko-spomladanskega dne ugotovi, da ima masivna guma na kajaku razpoko. Tako kritično – če se zadeva odlomi, pritrjeno kovinsko krmilo lahko nenadoma odpluje, Losulja in njen mož pa v tem primeru morata dokazati, da znata veslati. Veslati in krmariti.

No, saj znava. Ma je prenaporno, na daljše razdalje. 😯

Gospod in gospa Losova sta resnična ljubitelja čolnov in svoj kajak obožujeta. Leseno ogrodje je menda preživelo drugo svetovno vojno, lupina ogrodja iz bombaža in gume pa je precej mlajša, vendar zdaj kot razpočnica povsem neuporabna. In nova precej draga. Mejt in Črmani.

Zato sva po spletu naročila cenejšo kopijo. Pisalo je, da dobava traja 40+ dni. OK. Za vsak slučaj naročiva še malce prezgodaj.

Gospod in gospa Losova še zdaj čakata na frdamani čoln in sploh ne vesta, ali ga bosta dobila pred odhodom na dopust.

Ja, točno tako, midva bi šla na VESLAŠKI dopust.

Podjetje svoje tulifonske ne razkriva, na prijazne dopise (“se pripeljem k vam in zadevo prevzamem osebno, če bo treba”) pa se tudi ne odzivajo.

Nič ne rečem, mogoče pa čoln bo. Zadnji dan pred dopustom. Tako kot moj klobuk iz Slovenije za glave z obiljem las 😆 (nisem omenila rogov, nočem jih strašiti, dovolj hudo je, da sem omenila PayPalo).

Itak imava še kanu, preveč vroče pa tudi ni, tako da lahko vzamem svoj lovsko zeleni, nepremočljivi klobuk z UV-zaščito. Slamnik ipak ni za vse. No, po tihem sem prepričana, da bodo tokrat slovenski izdelovalci klobukov prešišali nemške prodajalce čolnov.

(Tale zapis je nastal iz čiste vraževernosti: bolj bom šimfala čez vse živo, večja je verjetnost, da zadeve dobim Tik Pred Zajci. Dragi ameriški/britanski prjatli: help?)