Day 47 – at Saint-Quirin

My immediate neighbours at the municipal campground in Saint-Quirin were a German couple in a tent. Unlike most people who were visiting just for the Saturday, they were here for a few days, hiking and biking, and we soon got talking; they took a liking to the dog straight away.

Late yesterday evening though a solo travelling cyclist arrived and put his small tent between us.

I’m very conscious these days of being in my 5 star luxury when I see a bikepacker, and I remember the many times when that was me. I enquired of the cyclist if he could speak English, and wanted coffee. It turned out he was a young English guy living and working in Cologne, in a trip that would take him south and then across Austria. He was taking a rest day.

My hiking route was a circuit that took in the Roman ruins of a village about 5 kilometres away through the forest. It was pretty warm again, 26C, and the forest canopy keeps the paths pleasantly cool.

As often when I’m out I was struck by a brainstorm… I could use the unsuspecting young Englishman as test, a lab-rat or Guinea pig, for the outdoor oven, which I haven’t quite got the hang of yet. Fortunately, he was extremely keen.

I fired the oven up in mid-afternoon, and it seemed to work fine. Using wood pellets it gets to 500C in 15 minutes, perfect to cook pizza, or even chicken and vegetables.

A couple of months ago my physio, who works for Outward Bound, mentioned they were using them with the teenage groups. I was keen, and bumped in soon after to my neighbour, who is Rob’s boss at Outward Bound. She was able to source me one at a delightfully reduced price.

Though the oven worked fine, rolling out pizza dough needs some attention on my part, as well as a few other ingredients I didn’t have. But we made do, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought. And.. it will be better.

But it is a very social thing to do.

The campground was now almost empty, the weekenders having returned to their towns, leaving the German couple and two cyclists. By chance, another had arrived, a Dutch guy, Lars, riding from Basel back home, almost the same age as Harvey, the English guy, both 26. Similar is age yes, but that was all. The Dutchman was very sure of himself, and thought he knew everything about every topic broached. The English guy was likeably modest, and justifiably so, on a ten year old and very average non-descript bike, with under-inflated tyres, gear carried in a hap-hazard fashion, had filled up with ’no-potable’ water, and who ate cheese and baguette for every meal.

The three of us got on well, and sat with burnt pizza and a few beers well into the night. And the English guy said it was the best meal of his trip so far.