Unkel

Day Fifteen

Having packed up camp and set off - all still friends - we headed towards Koblenz. 3km into our days trip we entered into the town of Unkel to look for some food.

My knees having been giving me some trouble and the supports that I have been wearing have been pinching, leaving sores on the back of my legs. No major dramas, but Ellie valiently gave up her tubey-grip to see if it prevented the pinching. Unfortunately for her, it does.

Placing my bike upon the ground to put the tubey-grip on, the ominous twang rang out from my back wheel. Fuck. Another broken spoke. On a fucking Sunday where the whole of the fucking continent shuts down for Gods day of rest.



If you've ever watched the film Shrek, you will know the look upon our faces as a precession/parade thing marched past us with my kit sprawled all over the road, bike upside down, wheel off and covered in oil:



Rob began to sing "We are Unkel - we are open" after our embarresment had died down and the presession have left. Much to our amusement.

Upon seeing our struggle, a few of the locals stopped to offer their two-cents worth. In particular, a previous King with a Jam-Jar lid as a medalion and a Burger King hat as a crown.



And a woman named Ulla who had a friend who was a keen cyclist with the tools to fix my bike, but was currently in Belgium. Awesome.



This gets more bizarre - trust me.

Having butchered Jess (Dave's Bike) a few days previously I had a supply of spare spokes, which we managed to get fitted to the bike. The spoke tool on my multi-tool was cumbersome and useless. Forunately the King returned with a spoke tool and breifly played with my bike, improving the alignment of the wheel. Hearing music in the background the King had to leave us, giving us the spoke tool to further fix the bodge-job we had begun to get the bike on the road again.

After a while I had managed to get the spokes to the point of alignmewnt where the wheel would spin freely - and Ulla had stopped by to tell us that it was Saints Day in the town and there was a celebration commencing. We were invited to go and have a beer and wait for the, currently in Belgium cycling enthusiast, to return having agreed to check out my bike.

However, with the wheel in a fit state to cycle we decided to push on to Koblenz and get it sorted on the Monday. We decided we ought to stop by the party to say thank you to the King and have a beer anyway.

The celebration was set out similar to a typical fayre-ground in the UK, rides and food stalls with the exception of a marquee to the rear. As we entered an English speaking man noticed Ellie's SSAFA Forces Help vest and said "What, SSAFA? What are you doing for SSAFA?"

Ellie told the gentleman what we were doing and what had happened to my bike. The gentleman then introduced himself as Colonel Rex Stephenson of the Royal Signals, having servered from 1962-1991. He was very familiar with the great work that SSAFA does for ex-servicemen and their familes.

Having relocated to Unkel, at some point, and also been a previous King he offered us a deal - we publicise Unkel on our blog and he would try and help raise some money for our cause. We agreed. Col. Rex approached a table hosting the junior committee, filled with Kings and Queens of the town - told them our story and our cause and raised a generous 90 Euros on our behalf.



Col. Rex also introduced us to The Burgermiester. My immediate thoughts were the obvious - he cooks awesome burgers. As word began to spread of our adventure, a local journalist approached us for an interview and pictures.The Burgermiester having been positioned in the centre of the picture (he must really cook really, really good burgers) turns out is the Mayor of Unkel.



So, there we are - having our picture taken with the Mayor, interviewed by a journalist and begining to feel the affects of all the booze we are being given. Surreal to say the least.

Turns out the Kings are appointed after having won the yearly shooting competition, and the Queens are their wives. The greatest thing about the celebration, other than the fantastic hospitality of the locals and the gorgeous town of Unkel was the fact that they saw the humour within their traditions and embraced it. It was a deeply insightful and gracious thing to have experienced. Thank you very much to all those that stopped to help us.



For the town of Unkel it was a particularly special Saints Day, as they were also hosting the Flag-Waving championships. A local tradition of the area. During the 30 Year War, Potentional Officers would wave flags to communicate and as a source of amusement and thus began the tradition.

Flag-Waving consists of a contender standing with both feet in a circle no bigger than a foot in diametre, and must spin and wave the flag without dropping it or stepping outside of the drawn circle.



Having witnessed a few of the contenders, and very much feeling the effects of the alcohol, we decided it best to leave.

Once again, a huge huge thanks to all the residence of Unkel, Col. Rex Stephenson, the previous King, Ulla and the Aviation Journalist who sent us well on our way with his local knowledge and the further insight into the route to come. Think Mountains.

Strange morning!

Please please please check out: http://www.unkel.de/ for further information on the town and its history.