Never count out the Germans

As the train finishes its northern journey from Amsterdam and pulls into Groningen station we assume this is the end of the line with nothing more to see further north.  We were wrong and the Germans had something to say about that but more on that later.

Truth be told this time yesterday I didn't know what a Groningen was... now we're top boys in this town.  What a town it is... full of young cool kids out for a good time on their bicycles.  Seriously they love a bicycle over here - apparently 70% of travel is completed by bicycle - this fact did come from someone from Winchester who is now a Dutch native so who knows but it certainly feels that way.    Think Tour de France just less helmets and lycra and more beer and deep fried snacks.

After Jimbos obligatory argument with Tourist Disinformation we settle into the a nice spot to take in the sights and unwind in the baking sun with some light refreshments.  Now as is tradition bar snacks are a neccesitty on tour given meals are few and far between and Steve's life or death protection of team treats mean that sustenance is lacking.  No-one told the Dutch this.  You've more chance of Stevie B being positive about a last minute change in plans than a salty beer snack being served over here.  We took matters into our own hands bringing chips and dips from a local vendor and are all but ejected from the boozer.

A quick meandour through town and we land at our hostel for the night.  After a brief exchange of pleasantries with the token Korean bunk bed buddy and Stevie falling asleep we head out to see what's what.  The answer is a cracking town.  Honestly it never ceases to amaze me how chilled various races of people in Europe are.  We find ourselves following the stream of handsome cyclists to a hotspot sat on a canal supping beer and eating yet again more deep fried snacks.  Back to the hostel for a quick change and to my astonishment Steve is again asleep quicker than the Korean dude can say Kon'nichiwa.

Now we're out into the evening the Gronigen locals are in full voice.  The only other voice that can heard is Stevies dulcet tones panicking about our lack of accommodation for tomorrow evening.  You see nice Steve may have replaced Agg-Steve (for now) but he still loves to stress about tour admin.  In a rare moment of leadership Steve gets us a booking out of nowhere in the poshest hotel in town.  Jimbo and I are astonished for all of 8 seconds as reality hits home that Steve has us booked for September - if anyone fancies cheap digs in Groningen later this year Steve is your man.  The evening ends in usual fashion of Steve's snoring and James farting interrupting out hostel goers sleep.

The next morning James announces that this is indeed the end of the road for the Dutch as far as the north is concerned but what we didn't consider was as usual the Germans coming to the rescue.  You see there is an island a short ferry ride away called Borkum which is part of lower Saxony.  It's sounds exotic doesn't it.... truth be told it's like many British sea side towns just they don't serve Fosters and instead tip top German tipple.  All told it's a cute little town but it's clear why we didn't see any old people in Groningen... they're all in Borkum!

It's been a nice jaunt across the sea to visit our German compatriots but now it's time to get back to the Netherlands and hit the streets with the cool kids.  If the party vibe on this ferry is anything to go by we're in for a good one regardless of when Stevies latest panick might arrive.

It's been a cracker of a tour so far and proves that you simply cannot plan what will be next...  You think you've got it sussed and then it all changes..... to Steve's dismay and my unrivalled joy.

Cheers Team... here's to a top close to the tour and the next 13 years.

Shauny G