After the Enduro – Training, the Vosges were my first destination. Completely green behind the ears I went off and gained a lot of experiences in that short time.

On the first day I met with Steven, I knew him from the Enduro Training. He had just taken the guided tour at Stehlin Motorradtraining, where we both had the training before. Steven led me to the B & B accommodation they also used on the guided tour. I left the luggage there and we were drove a short time together until Steven had to drive home. The search for paths was already laborious together. With Stevens Montana however somewhat easier than with my GPSMap62.  I was impressed by a farm dog which I had frightened when I came out of a dirt road. Not only that he forced me to stop, he also grabbed me faster than I realized he was no longer in front of my front wheel. Cordura can’t protect you from that.

The second day was something more exhausting because of the luggage. The self-made luggage plate worked but a simple lashing without fixed fastening points turned out quickly as a stupid idea. I always had to keep the luggage properly fixed. At the end of the day the campsite operator welcomed me with a wide grin “You have been in the woods”. Dirty as I was there was no chance to deny that. At the campsite I quickly learned the next lesson. Wet laundry in the tent is a stupid idea.

The third day was marked by a cultural program. “Der Lingenkopf” / “Le Linge” is a rather impressive and at the same time, a sad relic of German French history. Forcing me through the trenches knowing that the dangerous enemy’s trench is 3m close is already oppressive. If you also think about the fact that you can throw a handgranate with ease from the other ditch, an icy shiver runs down your spine. Along the “Route de Cinq Câteaux”, I have to take a look for new ideas. Unfortunately, I first notice the wet laundry of the day before. So hotel and everything is fine again.

On the fourth day, I’m in good spirit because the wet things are dry again. The search for a some beautiful field and forest paths, on which you at least not have to pass a prohibition sign, remains tricky. After my luggage slips so that it wraps a belt around the axle I am completely unnerved. At that moment a young family is passing by. Father and son help me with ardour while the mother is nagging in French “He is not allowed to drive here”. After that my motivation is exhausted and I went home via the Southern Black Forest.