Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
Rain was the steady beat throughout our day, from the time we first woke at dawn when water poured down on our tent along with a fierce wind. The storm had passed when we crawled out of our tent and we had a few hours of respite before the clouds and wet weather came back to chase us. This is not cycle touring at its most glamourous: cold and soggy.
For a while it was like being in a British panto play, where the audience yells at the main actor to let him know where the “bad guy” is (inevitably, the villan lurks just behind the star of the show).
“It’s behind you,” we shouted to each other jokingly, while we looked at the ominous dark skies closing in on us. If we stopped for a few minutes the rain soon caught up with us and we had to take shelter under bridges and buildings several times during the day.
During the breaks when it wasn’t raining, the scenery was quite pretty as we cycled through the Inn river valley. Mountains rose up all around us and the green fields on either side of the bike path were dotted with alpine huts. We stopped in amazement early in the afternoon to watch four people gathering hay by hand on an incredibly steep slope. Raking the grass seemed hard enough. We can’t imagine how they cut it in the first place.
Late in the afternoon we wished for a picnic table where we could put our tarp up and eat supper in a dry spot. Someone up there seemed to be listening because just over a little crest our wish appeared and we stopped to make a hot meal. No sooner had we eaten than the rain started up again and we decided there was no point in going any further. The picnic area has a flat spot, so we’ll take that for our tent and hope for blue skies tomorrow.