Day 6 – We meander alongside a meanderer . . .

Nature has its own way today. A reminder that keeps us in our place. We ride parallel. Together yet apart. In opposite directions. We up. Our winding partner down. Our journey, with an end. Its, seemingly endless.

Steyr shares a similarity with our hometown of Christchurch. It’s the point where ‘2 Riversmeet’. Home, the Stour and Avon. Here, the Steyr and Enns. Today Beastie joins hips with the Enns. Like locked Siamese twins. Wherever it goes, Beastie must go. One compromised by the other.

81K along the B115 sees us slowly meander up, yet quickly down. From a tepid 10C to 4C. A cool calm clamber. Virtually traffic free. Leave the tropical lowlands. Wiggle up into the snowline. By the time we pass through our highest point at the ski resort of Präbichl we say goodbye. Our tie cut by nature’s own surgeon. At Steyr the river Enns a wide rushing, gushing flow. Here, high up, its tributary almost a trickle. In places you could almost step across. Even so, it restricts. As much as the snow capped mountains either side. Becomes a ‘route barrée’. Offering no points to short circuit. Then suddenly it disappears. Is no more. As is the time spent together. We blink.

Up there, it’s goodbye from us . . .
‘Up there’ brings us a bird’s eye view of the tropical lowlands . . .
This is one Inn we’ll give a miss . . .
We can often be found parked up at lunchtime in a supermarket car park – this one’s outlook more stunning than most . . .

Our tumble down the other side a pre-amble. Until, Missy goes quiet. Like a sulking spoilt kid. Lips tightly shut. Wants her own way. It’s not our way. Always a bad sign. Discombobulation now the order of her day. She becomes disco-ordinated. Starts to develop an early version of Saturday Night Fever. Not quite frothing at the mouth. Leaves that to us. Now there’s three Beasties. Spins us around one way, then the other. There is something goin’ down We don’t panic – yet. We have a reliable back up – we think – Posh Pat-Nav. Seems she has other ideas too . . . must be on drugs, or something. Thinks she’s the Messiah. She’s certainly doing us no favours . . .

Posh Pat ignores our please and our pleas – thinks she can walk on water!

To top it all, when we do eventually arrive at our site, it’s closed. I didn’t read the small print. Opens Monday. Ooooooooops! Mrs S takes this surprise surprisingly calmly. Phew . . . .

A short time later Beastie can be seen relaxing. We join him.

A pleasing pitch and view – Camping Murinsel