It was the coldest May day in 30 years, some other shivering cyclist told us. I doubt it got further than 8 degrees, with a vicious wind chill factor.
We were very lucky, however. The icy wind was at our backs for most of the 50 or so kilometres we rode and the rain didn’t set in till we could watch it sweeping across the lake from our hotel window.
It was a day for riding on the Swiss side of Lake Constance, between fields and farms, rolling on the cycleway beside the railway line (putting the bikes on the train was always an option if things turned nasty), and passing through half-timbered villages. Continue reading