Um Ulm

Three Sundays ago I had one of the most amazing bike trips since my visit to Reussenstein. On account of the +32 degC heat, it was also probably the closest I've yet come to killing myself on one of these outings. For the benefit of my mother, that last statement was meant mostly in jest - I managed (somehow) to keep hydrated, but it was pretty heavy going for the last couple of hours under the baking mid-afternoon sun.

For me the last German summer was sheer torture with sky-rocketing temperatures and tropical humidity. Although this year we've been spared most of these discomforts, we had a brief taste of this special hell on Sunday the 15th. It was in these less-than-ideal circumstances that I took the early-morning express train to the large town of Ulm which lies just on the border with the neighbouring state of Bavaria, also marking the eastern-most edge of the Schwaebisch Alb. Although my sister liked Ulm, I wasn't planning on spending much time there - as soon as I arrived at the train station, I saddled up and started off to the west, following the small river Blau.


The morning ride along the Blau would prove to be the most pleasant part of the day. The air was still cool, the blue of horizon not yet turned to summer haze, and the dew still fresh underfoot when I paused to take the panorama above. Unlike last time, there was very little traffic on the bike paths, so again I could feel that wonderful sense of freedom produced by the open road. After about an hour's cycle unmistakable signs that I was approaching the edge of the Alb began to appear: stout limestone pinnacles could be seen poking above the trees on either side of the valley, and also factories where quarried limestone is ground up to extract calcium, a basic chemical ingredient of cement. I was now very close to the source of the Blau itself, and the valley had considerably deepened and narrowed. Remembering Machiavelli's dictum that the mountain is the best place from which to observe the valley, I decided to climb up to the television tower standing at the top of the forested ridge some distance in front of me. The sun was burning more ferociously than when I had started out, so the cool of the forest offered a welcome relief from the valley.


Emerging from the forest at the end of my climb I was met by the view above, showing the golden-brown fields of wheat sweeping southwards down to the distant Donau. It was just at the beginning of harvest time, and the combine harvesters were starting to make their rounds of the many small fields. Avoiding these behemoths on the road, I eventually made it back to the forest and located the television tower - as well as an unexpected stone lookout (left), constructed as a monument to Schiller. The view across the Blau valley from this point is seen below.


At the left-hand side of the photo you can see the small village of Blaubeuren, which was my next stop and the primary purpose of my trip - to see the source of the Blau. Just at the northwestern edge of Blaubeuren the river emerges from an enourmous hole in the ground, the so-called Blautopf, which is connected to a subterranean river and cave system. It is also what gives the river it's name - the water in the hole is of a magnificent blue colour. This is due to the dissolved minerals from the limestone of the Alb: the rain that falls on the Alb soaks through the porous limestone, dissolving some of it as it goes, eventually coalescing into large underground rivers. The flow of water coming out of the Blautopf was quite remarkable, perhaps due to the heavy rains we had in June.

Despite the beauty of this spot, it wasn't overcrowded (people seemed more interested in the nearby swimming pool) and I spent some time peering into the crystal-clear water - one can see at least 10m down without difficulty. It was now past midday and I decided to press on for the nearby village of Schelklingen, but this proved a bit of a disappointment - what can you say about a town that lists a concrete factory as a major tourist attraction? Wanting to just find somewhere to sit down in the shade, I made for the nearby hamlet of Urspring, which my cycling map claimed had a cloister. It was a good decision - the village, such that it is, seemed to me to be a single complex, comprising of some old timbered houses, an impressive nunnery (?) and what appeared to be a series of modern school-buildings - all built around a small spring, which had the same beautiful blue waters as the Blautopf. It was at the secluded edge of the spring that I took my lunch.

The next leg of my trip took me towards Ehingen, and the Donau itself. I tacked a little detour through the forest onto my way, as I didn't fancy cycling past a series of cement factories. Although the forest roads were typically poorly marked, I'm beginning to develop some kind of intuition about reading the map, and I made without much difficulty the scenic view to the right, looking down to Ehingen and the Donau valley. Unfortunately my intuitive grasp of the German landscape does not yet extend to cities, and I spent a long time in Ehingen trying to work out precisely where I was meant to go in order to get to the river. After much head-scratching and cursing, I eventually reached (more by luck than design) the bike path running along a ridge just above the river, from where the panoramic shot below was taken.



I crossed the Donau shortly afterwards at the small village of Nasgenstadt, taking the above shot on the bridge. On the other side I stopped for a moment and went down to get a closer look at this famous river, washing my face in the clear waters and contemplating the schools of small fish darting in the shallows. The water dripping off my face tasted salty due to the evaporated sweat from my exertions in the heat. It was also at this time that I noticed that I was running low on water - and still 30km left to the train station in Ulm. Thankfully the road would be flat now that I was on the Donau floodplain. As I made my way back to Ulm I passed countless small nondescript villages each with a church with an onion-shaped dome on its steeple, as well as many man-made lakes siphoned off from the Donau, filled with waterlilies and attracting numerous anglers.

I got back to Ulm with plenty of time for the next train to Stuttgart, so I took a short wander into the city to see the magnificent cathedral there up close. This is a remarkable building, as the steeple is the highest in Europe, and for some time (before a certain Mr Eiffel) it was the tallest construction on the continent. Unfortunately I was too late to hike to the top like my sister, but I was suitably impressed nonetheless. I do sometimes regret not being able to spend more time in the towns I visit on my journeys and it is unfair of me to dismiss them all as "typically-pretty traditional old towns", but I nevertheless find them much less memorable than the natural beauty of this country; besides, I do not want to waste the best months of the year walking around a town when I could be out in the country feeling the wind in my hair. Maybe in winter I can return to see Ulm more closely.