Danube River Bike Trail from Passau, Germany to Vienna, Austria - Post 2 of 2

The Danube River Bike Path is like jumping into a Brothers Grimm fairy-tale.

Hansel and Gretel live somewhere here in the forest.

Cottages built of gingerbread, cake and candy.

Another charming village along the river . . . I pinched myself, is this for real?

Wonderfully forested mountains on the left and the right . . .

And a ferry that takes my sister Vicki and me across the river to yet another village.

A leisurely stop for ice cream . . . .

The simple pleasures of a bike ride, multiplied by the nth-degree along the beautiful Danube River. One day, we stopped at a monastery for a break and then moved on.

Several riverboats pass us. The Danube River is a favorite European river for cruise vacations. 

The weather forecasts had been excellent for the upcoming week, but they were very wrong! The clouds get darker and it sprinkles, then it pours. 

The rain brings out many red slugs on the bike path. We’re careful not to run over them.

We sought shelter under a cantilevered roof in front of a grocery store in a small town. Eventually there was a biking crowd; we chatted with a family of five and a young couple that had all been biking for the past week. English fortunately is a common-denominator language.

But we were wasting time and needed to arrive at a farm-stay by sunset, so we pedaled about two hours in the solid rain. We pass by many swans on the river.

The farm is located high up on a steep rainy foggy hill, and we’re tired, wet, cold and walking our bikes uphill. Vicki is trembling with hypothermia. I look up to the misty fog-shrouded farm building and it’s huge, reminding me of the Bates Mansion. I ask Vicki, “So they didn’t reply to your email last week?” Hmm, maybe a hideous old witch is lying in wait, wanting to throw us in a cage and force-feed us, to fatten us up.

We enter the huge wooden double-doors that looks like we're entering a fort. We first meet the old witch’s daughter who’s milking the cows and feeding the lambs and goats. In the corner of my eye, I see an old man slink away quickly and we never saw him again. The old witch, a stout woman, is an obsessive talker, promising a good bed, hot tea and cookies, just like the evil witch in Hansel and Gretel’s adventures!

This farm complex is big enough for three dozen guests; lots of vacant rooms. I wanted to lock the bedroom door but there was no lock! The next morning, we left early and hurriedly, ignoring the old witch (photo below) who repeatedly yelled at the gate “Komm Zuruck!” We'd get breakfast somewhere else.

A forested oxbow in the river was a delightful six miles!

A castle here . . . .

An abbey there . . . . we visited this abbey in Melk.

Everywhere is a fairy-tale setting!

Vicki eventually buys a plastic poncho in Grein.

She’s a happy camper, singing "biking in the rain" instead of "singing in the rain". In the face of adversity, she's a dependable and constant morale booster.

Bill Murray the comedian once advised folks to travel together for three months to get to know each other thoroughly, and that's excellent advice. Vicki and I got to know each other much better. There's a deeper appreciation and respect for each other.

Photo above shows one of our nicer breakfasts at a boutique hotel along the river.

This is a city hall (above) I believe. These little itsy bitsy villages have so much character.

Along the path, we met a grandfather and his grandson who had been traveling for several days. That's Vicki biking behind them.

That harness is right out of a fifteenth century Brothers Grimm fairy-tale! The horses are wearing ear-mitts to keep annoying flies out of their ears. The grandfather's love for tradition and his horses is very evident.

Along the way, I had a flat tire, but a kind young man gave me and my bike a lift to town; twas fixed within an hour or so. Vicki meets me at the repair shop, and we move on.

We tour this complex along the way . . .

We board another ferry . . .

. . . and ride into a village called Spitz with vineyards to the left and to the right.

This is Durnstein . . . a wonderful little town with a castle in ruins up the hill, a place where Richard the Lionheart was imprisoned December 1192, held for a ransom (12 tons of silver) from England. Click here for that interesting story.

There’s the cutest humble-looking restaurant in this little village . . .

It serves a pumpkin soup like no other with heavy cream, pine nuts, and “what is that black stuff” I ask the waitress.

She tells me it is virgin pumpkin seed oil and my research tells me it’s an Austrian, German, Slovenia delicacy. I haven’t been without pumpkin seed oil ever since. I have three bottles of it in my house, as I write this post. It can be used as a salad dressing, a soup flavoring, an ice cream syrup, it’s very versatile (click here for ideas and suggestions). My first bottle of this must-have oil was confiscated by security at Albania’s Tirana airport. I’ll never forget nor forgive them. 

So we put up our bikes at a boutique hotel somewhere and we walk along this path to town to find a restaurant . . .

. . . everything is idyllic, so incredibly charming and ancient. I pinch myself again. 
     And yes, this sign (below photo) is necessary; we passed a couple dead hedgehogs on the path. 

After six days of biking in a fairy-tale land, we arrive back to Vienna safe and sound but alittle sad that our adventure is over.