Monday morning we slept in. Then we woke up and felt ambitious. Ambition fuelled by guilt may be the strongest type there is. We were, therefore, determined to bike to Sinsheim. It won’t take long, we reasoned. It is, after all, only a 15 minute drive by car.
We found two bikes our size in Jonas’ parents’ garage, loaded up the saddle pack on one, and set off. The first 8 kilometres were enjoyable and familiar. I had biked this way once before, and Sharlie had even more. Flat and scenic, it was enjoyable and we took our time. We pedaled past corn fields, train tracks, lines of apple trees and rolling green and yellow hills. We made it to Waibstatt, a cute village with lots of flowers and fountains. In the village centre we found a bike sign pointing up a hill claiming Sinsheim was only 6.5 kilometres away. Piece of cake, we’d already come farther than that. We set off up the hill, only to find that the hill didn’t seem to ever end and it got steeper the further we travelled along it. Had we taken a wrong turn? Soon we saw the highway far beneath us. We were slowly climbing uphill parallel to it, while the cars stayed along the valley floor. How 
nonsensical! Eventually, we were rewarded for our hard work and made it to a beautiful forest cycle path. We travelled far along this path, enchanted by the beauty around us and the coolness of the trees. Then came the turn and a sudden hill. A beautiful, wonderful, fantastic, exhilaratingly steep downhill. So excited we were to finally find a downhill that we didn’t stop halfway down to check the next bike signs. Had we stopped, we would have seen we were supposed to turn right. As it was, we ended up at a highway entrance, thoroughly confused, refusing to go back up the hill we had just come down. We finally made it back to some more signs and crossed the highway, where we found our next set of directions knocked over and hidden in the long grass. So we hopped on the highway for a bit then hopped off only to get obscure directions from some construction workers. The rest of the ride was entirely downhill and involved a lot of sneaking through construction barricades until we finally made it to the town. Two and a half hours later and we had finally made it, too tired and hungry by this point to even remotely enjoy walking around the city.
nonsensical! Eventually, we were rewarded for our hard work and made it to a beautiful forest cycle path. We travelled far along this path, enchanted by the beauty around us and the coolness of the trees. Then came the turn and a sudden hill. A beautiful, wonderful, fantastic, exhilaratingly steep downhill. So excited we were to finally find a downhill that we didn’t stop halfway down to check the next bike signs. Had we stopped, we would have seen we were supposed to turn right. As it was, we ended up at a highway entrance, thoroughly confused, refusing to go back up the hill we had just come down. We finally made it back to some more signs and crossed the highway, where we found our next set of directions knocked over and hidden in the long grass. So we hopped on the highway for a bit then hopped off only to get obscure directions from some construction workers. The rest of the ride was entirely downhill and involved a lot of sneaking through construction barricades until we finally made it to the town. Two and a half hours later and we had finally made it, too tired and hungry by this point to even remotely enjoy walking around the city. Stubborn and persistent, we made it back home in an hour less than it took us to get there. Thirty kilometers later, I have to admit a new appreciation for the ‘land of rolling hills.’
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