Karlsruhe → Mediterranean

Here we are, still in Oslo. Yesterday we celebrated Mikkel's 18th birthday with him; tomorrow we fly to Frankfurt, and from there it's on to Karlsruhe, the starting point of our last big adventure tour, Mikkel's confirmation present. The plan is to cycle from Karlsruhe along the Rhine to Mulhouse, then on to the Rhône, and down to the Mediterranean. There we want to go for a swim and then cycle back. By tandem (as in 2014, from the North Cape to Oslo) with a trailer. Our biggest worry (besides not being in the best physical shape) is the heat. Hopefully it won't get too hot …

Yesterday we did the last bit of shopping, visited grandma and grandpa, had ice cream and relaxed, so there was sadly no time left for packing. So we had to take care of that first thing this morning, and it always takes longer than expected. At 1:30pm we leave Eiermann-Allee, not without taking a starting photo first. Over the Rhine bridge at Karlsruhe and then along the Rhine, we're already in France after 13 km. The wind blows straight into our faces, and quite strongly too. The lovely route – mostly running along or beside the Rhine levee, mainly on cycle paths, with the occasional cyclist or pedestrian, otherwise just forest and meadows – makes up for it.

Our late departure takes its toll, since we only have time for two short breaks near Selz. As we approach Strasbourg I'm running on empty and urgently need to refuel. A petrol station provides a Snickers and a cola. The last kilometres to the hotel drag on, and around 8pm we reach the destination of the first stage of our tour through France – our Tour de France.

The hotel is fairly basic; it does have a pool, but we're too exhausted to use it. Sadly there's no restaurant, so we have to make do with two ready-made pizzas – about as bad as a pizza can get, but hunger gets most of it down anyway. Afterwards we look forward to a night in a comfortable bed.

After breakfast – we've had better – we plan today's route, book the hotel for tonight, pack, and swap the saddle on the tandem. By the time we finally get back on the bike it's almost midday. The first half of today's route runs along the Rhine–Rhône Canal. It runs dead straight to the south, the only variety coming from the bridges crossing it every 2–5 km. The canal itself mostly carries fairly leisurely, broad recreational boats and the occasional cargo vessel. The surface of the cycle path along the canal varies between excellent asphalt (it feels freshly laid) and gravel (only rarely, and only for short stretches).

We have trouble finding somewhere to eat at midday. So there's nothing for it but to buy a potato salad, a sausage salad and a baguette at a supermarket and eat them in the supermarket car park (a small awning provides the only shade for miles around). I've had considerably better meals in far more romantic places, but the lunch does its job and fills our stomachs. It's getting warmer and we take frequent breaks. At one of the spots where we stop briefly, we hear a grunt from behind a hedge and a fence, and Mikkel discovers a wild boar. The French really do keep some odd pets …

With the poor food from last night's hotel still fresh in our minds, we don't want to make the same mistake today and decide to have dinner at a restaurant a few kilometres before our destination. At first the restaurant is empty, but gradually it fills up. Ordering turns out not to be easy, since the menu is only in French. Even Google Translate doesn't really help decode it. But we do get full …

After more than 100 kilometres in the saddle we arrive late at the hotel, and after checking in and showering Mikkel notices he's left one of his AirPods behind at the restaurant. We ask at reception whether we could get a taxi back, but once we hear the price we opt for the cheaper alternative: cycling back tomorrow morning after breakfast to fetch it. Well then, goodnight!

Yesterday we had dinner at a restaurant just before our destination for the day. The food was so-so, and to make matters worse Mikkel left one of his AirPods there. So after breakfast – without our luggage – we set off back there: 11 km extra. On the way there we had a great tailwind, which turned out to be the only one all day. Just before 11am we're back at the hotel, the luggage is in the trailer, the water bottles are filled, tonight's accommodation is booked, and the day's route is saved on the bike computer. Off we go.

Before long we're back along the Rhine–Rhône Canal, the cycle path sometimes to its left, sometimes to its right, free of cars, dead straight, and with headwind, headwind and more headwind. The first longer break is on a bench in a nice spot in the shade by the river; the second at a chip stand (the sausage barely deserved the name).

We carry on with headwind, headwind and more headwind. Luckily today's stage is fairly short (only 85 km including the AirPod detour), but 10 km before our destination we still need one last break and simply lie down on some wooden planks right by the river in the sun. Wonderful.

Shortly after 7pm we arrive at the hotel. The lady at reception is as friendly as she is sweet. When we ask about restaurants nearby, she hands us a whole list of a good 20 different places. The choice is almost overwhelming, and in the end we settle on an Italian place nearby. It's only a five-minute walk, and the food is superb: bruschetta to share as a starter. Mikkel chooses gnocchi in tomato sauce for his main, while I go for the traditional tagliatelle alla carbonara. Panna cotta with fruit sauce rounds off a great meal. Around 10pm we're back at the hotel, well fed, not quite as tired as the day before, but still looking forward to bed. Goodnight.

The night in the wonderful hotel beds in the air-conditioned room was heavenly. Nine hours of sleep does the body a world of good. Before breakfast I write a WhatsApp to Yannick, since I know he's driving from Karlsruhe to Lyon today to help Anna move house. I manage to talk the two of them into swinging by our hotel on the way to Lyon to pick up our by-now rather ripe cycling gear, wash it in Lyon, and hand it back to us fresh on their way home to Karlsruhe on Saturday. What luxury!

Breakfast is every bit as good as the wonderful hotel beds. The breakfast room, too, with its grand hanging chandelier, is just as befitting. We have little time left to pack, and just as we're getting the tandem ready to go, Anna and Yannick suddenly appear beside us.

We're delighted that the laundry handover worked out, and after a few photos and a quick chat the two of them drive on towards Lyon while we set off on the tandem towards Besançon.

Today too we cycle almost the entire route along the canal. It's properly hot, and at one point we spot a herd of grazing cows on the far bank, cooling off standing in the river. Very clever!

The terrain gets increasingly hilly, and shortly before our destination we catch sight of the fortress in Besançon, looming impressively above a cliff. We turn off our cycle path level with the fortress, and from there an unlit tunnel leads underneath it to the other side of the town. Since the tandem has no lights and the tunnel is quite long, Mikkel switches on his phone's torch and holds it over my shoulder. That way at least the oncoming pedestrians and cyclists can see us (even if it's not mutual, but we keep well to the right and eventually emerge safely at the other end of the tunnel).

The hotel is near the end of the tunnel; we park the tandem, shower, and then head out into the atmospheric old town for dinner. Mikkel has picked out a nice Italian place, whose authenticity is confirmed by the fact that all the waiters and most of the guests speak Italian – not just in words, but in lively style too. The food is delicious, and a fine panna cotta crowns the meal.

Today we have a long stage ahead of us. 125 km are on the cards; there simply weren't any hotels before that. To make things harder, check-in at tonight's accommodation closes at 7pm already, so we need to get a move on. After a hearty breakfast – Mikkel reckons it's the best so far – we linger in the room until, at 10:55, we realise checkout is already at 11:00. So today's packing gets done in five minutes flat.

By 11:15 we're on the road and making good progress. Breaks are sparse these days, since we've grown used to cycling by now. We take our first proper break after about 60 km; before that there's practically nothing along the route where we could have stopped. The restaurant where we have lunch is more of a last resort than an ideal choice. The service is rather unfriendly and – hard to believe it's 2024 – still unable to speak English. As we get back on the road we realise we'll have to cover almost the entire remaining 65 km without a break if we want to reach the hotel in time.

Mikkel pedals like a bull, and we fly past the river at 27 km/h. But it's properly hot, so from time to time we have to dunk our jerseys in the stream to cool off through the wetness. Mikkel has decided to cycle bare-chested. The only smaller break we allow ourselves is when we pass a pastry shop and simply can't resist.

At 7:15pm we actually make it to the accommodation, just 15 minutes late. No problem – after ringing the bell twice, a friendly Frenchman opens the door for us. We stow the tandem and walk past the swimming pool to our room. It's wonderfully luxurious, with a freestanding bathtub right in the middle of the room, which is furnished with a great deal of style throughout. After showering we collapse onto the bed, quite exhausted. But we still need dinner, so we walk into the village to the market square, where there's supposedly a restaurant. Sadly it's just closing, but the owner tells us where else we might find something to eat.

The restaurant looks closed from the outside, but when we poke our heads in an elderly owner welcomes us and shows us to a table. Mikkel goes for entrecôte, I order ravioli, which isn't entirely straightforward given the language barrier. It tastes great, though, and when we want to pay, the waiter tells us to be patient. Shortly after, he brings a shot of liqueur and two guest books, asking me to have Mikkel sign one of them for posterity. Earlier, when asked where we're from, Mikkel had answered 'Norway' – and today, all the way from Besançon, by bike! Both facts are probably fairly exotic to him. He also takes a photo of Mikkel while he signs the guestbook. When we come to pay, we realise the waiter is also selling the pear brandy he offered us earlier. We don't think twice and buy a bottle. It doesn't exactly have room in our luggage.

Before heading back to our hotel we take a photo with the waiter. The 400 m walk from the restaurant to the hotel does our legs good, which have grown quite heavy from today's cycling. At the hotel, the usual routine: plan tomorrow's route, book the next night's hotel, and write the blog. Hope you're enjoying reading! Goodnight.

Sadly the great accommodation only has a fan in the room, no air conditioning. So it turns into quite a warm night, and the sleep isn't the best! Breakfast is a relaxed affair under a parasol, where two French cyclists are already sitting at the table – also on a bike trip: he on a road bike, she on an e-bike. Nice people we chat with over breakfast, before I can't resist trying out the swimming pool: gloriously refreshing!

As usual, we're ready to leave shortly after eleven, and stop at the nearby pharmacy to stock up on sunscreen and a small tube of zinc cream for, well, sitting purposes. Today we're aiming for 95 km, heading to Mâcon, roughly the halfway point to Lyon. We take our first break after less than 10 km already, since it's very hot by now. At every opportunity we soak our jerseys, either in the river or in the toilet at whichever stop presents itself. The cooling effect is only ever temporary; after 4–5 km the jersey is dry again and the procedure has to be repeated.

Luckily we don't have to check in at a set time today, so we can take our time on the day's route. We notice all the anglers along the way, busy with an enormous amount of gear: tents, loungers, sleeping bags, generators, toilet tents, and a whole arsenal of fishing rods. At a kiosk by the path, where we stop briefly for a juice, our suspicion is confirmed: the anglers are taking part in a competition. It lasts four days and four nights, and the goal is to pull as many carp as possible out of the river.

Shortly before arriving in Mâcon I can't resist a little swim in the river. Mikkel prefers to buy an ice cream and a lottery ticket (€5) at the petrol station. He actually wins five euros with it and reinvests the winnings in a second ticket. He wins another five euros and again puts the winnings into a new ticket. He wins 5 euros yet again and puts it towards a fourth ticket, at which point his luck runs out.

We ride the last few kilometres to the hotel, check in, stow the tandem in the underground garage, and shower before heading out for food. Today Mikkel picks the restaurant, and finds a crêperie on TripAdvisor with very good reviews. After a five-minute walk we're there, and although the restaurant is about to close, we're still given a table.

Our crêpes as a main course (Mikkel goes for an Italian one, I choose one with fondue cheese and potatoes) and for dessert (I have one with chocolate sauce and coconut, Mikkel one with pineapple and homemade caramel sauce) are truly excellent. We'll definitely have to stop here again on the way back. Back at the hotel we watch the opening ceremony of the Paris Summer Olympics before finally crawling into bed just before midnight.

Today Mikkel just can't get out of bed, and it's not until 9:45 that he shows up in the breakfast room. Shortly after 10, Anna and Yannick stop by again and bring back our freshly washed cycling gear. What a luxury, having clean cycling shorts again for the next few days. After a quick catch-up they want to use the toilet before heading off, when they learn at reception that the whole hotel is without water. Apparently a hotel guest drove into the water pipe in the underground garage and burst it. So much for the planned shower, and even a trip to the toilet leaves an unpleasant residue. When we check out, we're at least compensated for the inconvenience with a free breakfast.

The day on the bike turns out like yesterday: hot. Luckily today's stage to Lyon, our destination for the day, is only 80 km. When we arrive and unload our luggage from the trailer, we finally realise just how much dust our bags and we ourselves have swallowed along the way. The hotel is lovely, the air conditioning works, so does the shower, and for dinner we head to a nearby shopping centre with an Asian restaurant that has pretty good reviews on TripAdvisor. Unfortunately the portions aren't the biggest, so after the meal Mikkel is still hungry enough to go to a second restaurant for dessert. Meanwhile I'm quite worn out and head the few metres back to the hotel. I plan the next day's route, book the hotel, and when Mikkel turns up a little later we hit the sack.

We get up as planned, have breakfast, pack, and are just about to swing onto the tandem when I spot two broken spokes on the rear wheel. Not exactly great news, and the question arises: what now? Today is Sunday, and presumably all the bike shops and repair workshops are closed. A search online gives us hope, showing a supposedly round-the-clock bike workshop quite close by. A phone call goes unanswered, so we decide to just ride over, only to find an ordinary residential building with no sign whatsoever of any bike-repair activity. As we're standing there, two passers-by ask if we're having trouble with our bike. When we say yes, they help us and try to find help online. They call 2–3 numbers of bike repair shops that are supposedly open today. All we get is voicemail everywhere, but they leave a message. As a last hope there's Bistro Vélo, which runs a bike workshop alongside a bistro. We ride the 4 km there, but sadly the workshop is closed. Shortly after, the three contacts we'd left messages with actually call back. One wants to sell us a whole new rear wheel, the other two offer to replace the spokes but want photos sent first. We do so, and the first one cancels straight away. The second doesn't respond at all.

We consider what to do. There are really only two options: either carry on with the broken spoke and try to make it to the next accommodation to have the bike repaired there, or spend the night in Lyon, repair the tandem tomorrow, and continue afterwards. The thought that another broken spoke might stop the rear wheel from turning altogether, possibly somewhere far from any town, isn't very appealing. So we reluctantly decide to take a rest day in Lyon, repair the tandem tomorrow, give our tired legs a break, and take the opportunity to catch up on the blog.

Mikkel finds a hotel very close by. We do have some trouble fitting the tandem into the small basement storage room, but the rooms are well air-conditioned and we stretch out on the beds.

We spend the rest of the day blogging, resting, looking for bike workshops, and figuring out how best to get the tandem back on the road. Towards evening, once hunger kicks in, we look for a nearby restaurant. We settle on one where almost every dish features Mikkel's favourite ingredient: mozzarella. A few metres down the pleasant shopping street where the restaurant is, there's also an ice cream parlour we'd spotted on the way there. It offers a suitably delicious dessert. We turn in earlier than usual, since tomorrow we want to get up early to have the tandem repaired.

The tandem is repaired, and today we covered almost 100 km further south in scorching heat. More later, too wiped out to blog.

Here's the somewhat longer version of the day: as I was falling asleep last night, I remembered Manuel, whom I met on Mallorca three years ago. Nobody I know knows more about bikes and their repair, and he's also an enthusiastic tandem rider himself. After waking up I call him, and after an hour I've gathered plenty of tips, from DIY repairs with twisted spokes, to swapping the whole rear wheel, to having it fixed at a workshop. I go for the last option, and shortly after 10:00 we drop our luggage off at hotel reception and set off (without the trailer – what a fantastic feeling to ride) for the workshop with the highest rating on Google.

When we reach the address after 20 minutes there's no workshop to be seen, just a door with a buzzer. Luckily another customer with a wheel is standing there and rings the bell, otherwise we'd probably have moved on to the next address. A young guy (looking every bit the typical mechanic) opens up and leads us past bike boxes and pillar drills into a larger, rather scruffy hall. Inside, 4–5 mechanics are at work with tools of the finest quality. The crowning glory is three electrically adjustable bike stands – something I'd only ever seen in car workshops before.

At the front desk sits the only woman there, and she takes charge of us. My first question, about a brand-new rear wheel, she meets with little hope of success and long order and delivery times. So instead she suggests a repair, after measuring the length of the spokes and finding the right size in her drawer. She reckons we can pick the wheel up again at 16:00. Perhaps swayed by my sorrowful look, she asks when we want to continue our journey. I answer dryly: yesterday. She takes the hint and offers to start work on the wheel right away, and to let us wait on-site for it to be finished if we like. Gratefully, we agree, and when we're even offered a glass of water, our hopes of continuing soon rise enormously.

A good hour later our rear wheel is neatly re-spoked, the gears adjusted and the stem tightened besides. For safety we also buy a cassette lockring tool, so that if another spoke breaks we can repair it ourselves. Not without expressing our gratitude with a generous tip, we leave the bike workshop. We ride back to the hotel to collect our luggage, and finally get properly on our way south.

Cycling through Lyon is no fun. The cycle paths are actually pretty well developed and separated from other traffic, but unfortunately not continuously. As we're almost through the city we experience a hairy moment when a van suddenly turns right into a petrol station without checking its right-hand mirror – otherwise it would have seen we were riding right beside it. I shout; the driver carries on regardless but stops at the station and opens the door apologetically. Drivers in France aren't all that different from those in Germany. Most are considerate, but there are complete idiots too. We experience that twice more in the coming hours. Once a car cuts us off, passing with half a metre to spare. When I shout after him he stops and winds down the window. I simply ride past, and when he catches up again from behind I signal that he should keep more distance.

A little later we're crossing a roundabout on the zebra crossing when a car comes screeching round the bend and has to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting us on the crossing. We're relieved once we leave the city traffic behind and are back on car-free cycle paths. Tonight's accommodation only allows check-in until 19:30, and after our late start in Lyon we really have to push the pedals to make it. By now it's brutally hot again, and we can't resist a brief cooling swim right by a waterfall, plus a refreshing drink break with crêpes at a nice garden bistro right next to the cycle path. But we let the accommodation know, and the host tells us it's no problem to arrive a little later. So we finally get there at 20:30, pretty exhausted, even though we had an unplanned rest day yesterday. After a quick shower we grab pizza and ice cream around the corner before hitting the sack.

Since the heat, especially between noon and 4pm, has become unbearable by now, we try a different strategy today: set off as early as possible, and ideally have most of the day's distance behind us by midday. We start our GPS at 9:22 – a record! In a pleasant 27°C we ride for over an hour on a cycle path lined with trees on both sides, comfortably shaded, and make good progress without overheating. Gradually the temperature climbs, the shade disappears, our pace slows and our drink and rest breaks get longer. We take one of these in a small village, where I go into a café to buy more water. The woman behind the counter is happy to sell me soft drinks, but not water. That, apparently, is only for café customers (which I'm not, since I'm not sitting down). Such unfriendliness – a café refusing to sell water to cyclists at over 35°C – is something I haven't encountered in any other country I've travelled in.

Our original plan was to cycle back the same way we came. But due to various circumstances we've decided, on the spot, to change our plan a little. Now we want to try to take the train to Paris by Sunday evening, cheer on Solveig, Mikkel's cousin, at her triathlon event at the Olympics on Monday, and then cycle from Paris back to Karlsruhe.

The biggest problem is likely to be that transporting tandems by train isn't really allowed. In France there are three types of train: TGVs, comparable to the German ICE; intercity trains; and regional trains. On the TGV, space for bikes is limited and it's not possible to get a tandem through the narrow corridors. Regional trains, by contrast, have plenty of room in the first and last carriages, which have dedicated bike spaces. Even so, transporting tandems is technically banned on regional trains too. We want to try anyway.

After sleeping in, we head to the nearby station to find out about travelling to Paris using only regional trains. Unfortunately the station is still closed at 10:00, so we head straight back to the hotel. There we pack up our things and check out, but leave our bike and luggage stored at the hotel for now. We walk to the nearby bakery and buy breakfast, which we then devour on a bench right by the harbour. We absolutely have to carry out our plan to swim in the Mediterranean before heading back to the station to continue on to Paris. The water is quite warm, almost like a bathtub, and after a few souvenir photos we trot back to the hotel, shower quickly, and cycle to the station with our tandem. Once there I buy tickets for today's journey to Nîmes, where we'll need to stay overnight before hopefully making it to Paris on Saturday with one change.

After buying the tickets, the woman at the counter hands me a leaflet that states unambiguously that transporting tandems and trailers is not permitted. We load both onto the train carriage anyway, where there's actually plenty of room. Before departure the conductor comes by and wants to know whose tandem it is. He says something in French, and we play dumb. He then types a message into his phone and has it translated for us: tandems aren't allowed on the train, but since the train isn't very full, he'll make an exception. Another kind Frenchman to add to our list. So the first of three legs is done. After an hour's train ride we arrive in Nîmes, and during the journey I book a hotel very close to the station.

We check in shortly after 14:00 and stretch out on our separate beds first. After a short nap it's blogging time, before hunger drives us into town in search of a restaurant. Mikkel has already scoped out his restaurant of choice, a burger place nearby. On the way there we pass an impressive amphitheatre and decide on the spot to take a closer look. We buy a combo ticket straight away, covering the amphitheatre and a Roman temple said to be one of the best preserved in existence.

Sadly we only have a good 90 minutes for the amphitheatre and the temple, but the visit is worthwhile all the same. Culturally refreshed, we pay our visit to the burger restaurant and catch some of the Olympics there. Mikkel isn't quite full after his giant burger, and we decide to keep an eye out for an ice cream parlour on the way home. As we leave the restaurant it starts to drizzle lightly, and we hear thunder and see lightning in the sky above us. Just before we reach the amphitheatre again we turn off into the old town, and as if led by our noses we end up right at a great ice cream parlour. The selection is enormous – they even have pepper ice cream! While we're placing our order, the rain starts getting heavier and heavier. So we take shelter in the ice cream parlour, happily finish our ice creams, and witness a downpour as heavy as I've rarely experienced. We stand there for a good half hour, waiting in vain for the rain to ease off. As the ice cream parlour staff gradually pack the ice cream away and clearly want to close up shop, we head off to sit in a bar a few metres further along and sip a mocktail. By then the rain has stopped completely, and we get back to the hotel dry. There we blog a bit more before finally crawling into bed.

We get up early to reach the station in good time, so we have enough time to load the tandem onto the train. When we arrive at the station, the departure board shows a small word next to our train: 'supprimé'. Google Translate renders that as 'cancelled'. Below it, the number of the bus apparently replacing the train. At the bus stops in front of the station, we're the first to wait, together with a woman. A little later a younger man joins us who speaks good English and explains: last night's storm was apparently so severe that fallen trees are blocking the tracks, so a bus is running instead of the train. However, it doesn't go all the way to Clermont-Ferrand (like the train we were supposed to take), but stops earlier in a small village. Nobody can tell us whether we'll be able to continue from there. When the bus finally arrives, we discover that the tandem simply won't fit in its luggage compartment. So, heavy-hearted, we let it leave without us and think about what to do. The last option seems to be a rental car big enough for us and our tandem. We actually manage to get one at Budget, right at the station. In the underground car park we take the tandem apart enough to fit it in sideways (both wheels off, both seat posts removed, and the fork taken out), and shortly after 10:00 we're on the road to Paris (720 km, about 7 hours).

The drive to Paris is like most motorway drives: dull. The only variety comes from the search for a hotel, which turns out to be quite tricky. Not because there are no free rooms left due to the Olympics, but because we don't know Paris at all, so have no idea where in this huge city we should actually stay, and because we're trying to satisfy several conditions at once: as central as possible (short distance to the events and sights), as logistically sensible as possible (we need to return the rental car by 9:30 the next day, a Sunday, when only a few Avis branches are open, and we don't want to drive across town through streets partly closed for events), as forward-looking as possible (in three days we'll be cycling on the tandem towards Karlsruhe again, i.e. eastwards, and don't want to have to cross the whole city by bike), and as reachable as possible (again: the city is partly closed off because of various events). We phone people who know Paris and finally book our hotel about an hour before arrival, at 19:00. Right down to the wire!

The drive to the hotel proves very complicated, since (for the third time) the city is partly closed off because of some event. Google Maps is hopelessly overwhelmed, and so we circle the hotel (2 minutes from the Louvre) for a good 45 minutes within about a 1 km radius, only to be redirected in yet another direction at the next junction by a police-manned roadblock, different from whatever Google was showing us. At some point we've had enough of the fun, park the car in a car park, and switch to plan B: Mikkel takes the tandem and luggage to the hotel on foot, while I take the car to a multi-storey car park. To do that we first have to reassemble the tandem and load the luggage. And just as we're getting out of the car to do so, of course it starts pouring (for the first time on the whole trip!). We do get wet, but the warm rain is also, in its own way, a welcome refreshment.

Mikkel sets off with the tandem and luggage towards the hotel, while I look for a car park. And lo and behold, by the time we've reassembled the tandem, the roadblocks have been cleared enough that I can now drive to the hotel too. Mikkel and I arrive there at the same time and check in. We're allowed to store the bike at the hotel – at least that's what we were promised on the phone when booking. I deliberately didn't mention it's a tandem, so instead of the designated storage room, it ends up parked in the breakfast room. But according to the friendly man at reception, 'no problem'.

Once everything is stowed in the hotel room, Mikkel finds a nearby restaurant where we have delicious pizza (top 5 pizza of our lives). No sooner has the pizza been served than a group of athletes and officials arrives and sits down at the table next to us. The mood is exuberant, with toasts, loud storytelling and lots of laughter. Judging by the accent, Australians. At some point one of them unzips his tracksuit jacket and pulls out a medal: gold! I don't hesitate, thinking of Peik, who happens to be in Australia at the moment, and ask if I can take a selfie: go ahead! I ask which sport, and get the answer: tennis … doubles. His doubles partner, also decked out in gold, sits across the table.

Later we google the athlete's name: J. Peers. Once again it becomes clear that behind every medal (and even without one) lies a tremendous individual achievement, which would never have been possible without a whole crew of supporters in all kinds of roles. It's all the nicer when all (or at least some) of these supporters get to celebrate so joyfully after a successful 'finish line'! Congratulations to EVERYONE!!!

After a good breakfast at the hotel, we head off to tourist attraction number one in Paris: the Eiffel Tower. After two security checks and about an hour queuing at the ticket office, we finally take the lift up to the second of three accessible floors (the wait for the third floor is another 90 minutes). From there we enjoy the view over Paris, take a few photos, and Mikkel buys himself a bottle of olive oil shaped like the Eiffel Tower, before heading down via the stairs, while I prefer to take the lift. Once down, it's time for a small snack before we take the metro towards the Opéra, where today's women's cycling road race passes by. To catch a glimpse of the spectacle we position ourselves along the barrier, hoping the riders will come by soon. We end up standing there for almost 45 minutes before the cyclists whizz past, some in groups, some alone. When you consider that you get about 3 seconds with the athletes and have to wait 45 minutes for it, it's really only the atmosphere among the crowd that makes being there in person worthwhile. Otherwise you'd probably see much more on TV.

Back at the hotel, we move our tandem, which had been standing in the breakfast room until now, down into the basement, and rest a little before setting off for round two of sightseeing. Our destination is the Arc de Triomphe and the adjoining Champs-Élysées. On the way there we make a short detour into the courtyard of the Louvre, where we photograph the glass pyramid in the sunset. A good meal at a sadly very loud Asian restaurant (both music and a neon sign on the screen that doubles as a table) rounds off the day.

The reason we're actually in Paris is to cheer on Mikkel's cousin Solveig, who's competing for Norway in the triathlon mixed relay. The triathlon event starts at 8:00, but the spots behind the barriers along the course fill up much earlier. To have a chance of a spot in the first or second row, we get up before 6:00 and meet the rest of the cheering squad around 6:30: Solveig's grandfather – who, by the way, cycled over 1000 km from Norway/Kiel to Paris! – as well as her siblings, mother, and one of her best friends. They'd already been there since 6:00 and are standing in the front row right at the barrier fence; we're right behind them and, thanks to our height, can see well over their heads.

Gradually more and more spectators arrive, and by the time the starting gun goes off at 8:00, there are a good eight rows of people behind the barriers, and even the low wall behind them is packed with people. We can only follow the swimming leg via the big screen set up at the other end of the Seine. But the excellent live commentator (thankfully mostly in English), whom we spectators can hear clearly over the loudspeakers set up everywhere, helps us keep good track of the race.

In the triathlon mixed relay, each country fields four athletes: man, woman, man, and finally another woman. Each swims 300 m, cycles 7 km and finally runs 1.8 km before tagging the next teammate; the last one runs to the finish. The biggest favourite at this year's Games is France, who had two athletes each in the top four of both the men's and women's individual events. Great Britain and Germany also always field strong teams, while Norway is more of an outsider (if everything goes perfectly, there might be talk of bronze).

The gun goes off and 17 athletes plunge into the Seine. Ahead of the Olympics, the river underwent an elaborate water-treatment upgrade to make it 'swimmable' in terms of water quality. Even so, there were repeated problems, especially after rainfall. Training sessions were cancelled and the men's event had to be postponed. The Belgian team doesn't compete at all, since one of their triathletes is being treated in hospital for an E. coli infection, presumably contracted during the individual race a few days earlier.

After the swim, the triathletes head out onto the 7 km bike leg, made up of two 3.5 km laps, in a fairly tight group. Unfortunately the French cyclist crashes quite early in the race and then has trouble getting the dropped chain back on, costing him a lot of time and dropping him to the back. That's a tough blow for the presumed favourites, even with such a strong team.

Even after the first run, the field is still fairly tightly bunched, but then gradually spreads out. Great Britain and Germany, running together, take the lead. For Norway, Lotte Miller swims, cycles and runs, before handing over to Kristian Blummenfelt. Kristian won individual gold in Tokyo three years ago and has been a national hero in Norway ever since. He runs strongly, but it gradually becomes clear that a medal isn't in the cards for Norway this year. At the front of the field, Germany and Great Britain continue running side by side. France, meanwhile, has fought its way up into the front midfield, and every time a French athlete cycles or runs past, the crowd cheers especially loudly – but will it be enough in the end?

Solveig now goes into the water as Norway's final athlete. Swimming is her weakest of the three disciplines. Even though it's only 300 m, the Seine's currents don't exactly offer ideal conditions.

The duel at the front turns into a three-way battle after the American triathlete manages to catch up with Germany and Great Britain during the bike leg. These three women also pass right in front of us together one last time, before turning off towards the finishing straight about 100 m further on. We have to follow the final sprint via the big screen and loudspeakers, but gold goes to Germany. Congratulations on a fantastic performance. For Solveig, in the end it's more about a solid finish – the Norwegians finish 11th. For us it was still a real highlight, getting to cheer on a family member at the Olympics, and for the triathletes the fantastic atmosphere along the course was surely a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

After the race, all the spectators stream away from the course, and we stay sitting in the shade for quite a while as the crowd gradually thins out. That way we get to witness the medal ceremony, complete with the German national anthem – for me, the first time experiencing that live, essentially 'in the stadium' of Paris. Brilliant.

We ride back to the hotel, stopping at a café along the way for breakfast (the usual early breakfast didn't happen today, since we set off so early). Afterwards we catch up on both sleep and blogging.

In the afternoon and evening we want to swing by Notre-Dame, before rounding off our last evening in Paris on Montmartre. Notre-Dame was badly damaged by a fire five years ago and is currently being extensively rebuilt. On the construction fence surrounding the site there's a great display documenting the individual craftsmen involved in the work. The cathedral is due to reopen in December 2024, five years after the fire. It's hard to believe, seeing the extent of the damage the fire caused, and considering that it took almost 200 years to build the structure back in the mid-12th century.

Before taking the metro up to Montmartre, we're lucky enough to get a free table near the entrance at a restaurant ranked number one on TripAdvisor. The atmosphere is great, the food good, but most surprising are the many police officers who gradually stream into the restaurant. At first we thought they were there because of some guest causing trouble or paying with a fake credit card. But when even 6–8 members of the Spanish Guardia Civil turn up, it becomes clear that this is the local haunt of the French police. We've never eaten anywhere quite so secure.

We arrive on Montmartre just in time to enjoy the setting sun. We only look at the Sacré-Cœur basilica from the outside, then wander on into the quarter where numerous street artists sketch portraits of willing passers-by, some more caricature-style, others very true to life. Mikkel is tempted but put off by the price. When a Japanese artist becomes free, and I'm willing to cover the cost (as a keepsake from the trip), he happily sits down.

The Japanese artist gets straight to work, starting with a few lines and circles; Mikkel sits patiently and expectantly in his chair, and I take a few photos of the emerging portrait. It takes longer and longer, and I feel like sitting down myself too, so I drift into a nearby café, where I order a mocktail, if only to justify my presence there. Next to me sits a young couple, and when I hear them speaking Norwegian my curiosity is piqued and I ask where they're from. After a short chat it turns out she's the sister of Lotte Miller, who competed with Solveig on the Norwegian triathlon team this morning. It's a small world!

The artist is nearing the end of his work, and once he's finished, Mikkel joins us at the table before we head off towards the hotel, but not before listening for a few minutes to the street musicians playing on the steps down into the city.

Back at the hotel it's off to bed, since tomorrow the rest days are over and we set off on the way back from Paris to Karlsruhe … by tandem!

Today it's time to get back on the tandem. Mikkel still insists on watching Titanic online with his girlfriend Coco until 0:45, so we get up late, have a late breakfast, pack late and set off late. By the time the tandem is finally ready to go, it's almost lunchtime. Our hotel had been very central, right next to the Louvre. Convenient over the last three days, of course, but now we have to cycle across half of Paris, which I'd been rather nervous about. It went much better than expected though, since for the first 3–4 km we ride on a cycle path separated from the car lanes. Then it's completely car-free along a canal. We ride like that until the last houses of Paris are behind us. Once we leave the canal, the climbing starts, and no small amount of it.

Compared to a solo bike, the tandem handles completely differently. You still have to pedal, of course, but the tandem is harder to steer. Add the trailer and the whole rig is over 4 m long and rather wobbly. Especially in corners, you really don't want to lean too far. With both of us riders plus luggage, the tandem weighs over 225 kg, and quick braking is out of the question too. Careful, forward-thinking riding is the order of the day. The big advantage, of course, is that despite differing fitness levels, you always stay together, can talk to each other, and benefit from lower wind resistance on the flat – the rear rider simply sits closer behind. If one of us wants to stand up while pedalling, the tandem gets quite unstable; both of us standing at once is basically impossible. So the climbs are hard work, and we have quite a few of those today.

We'd actually planned to get up at 8:00 so as not to always set off and arrive so late, but when the alarm rings we switch it off and treat ourselves to an extra hour. Oh well, we're on holiday after all! After breakfast (delicious) we pack up a small parcel of clothes we no longer need, which we'll post on the way to Karlsruhe. That makes our luggage 5 kg lighter – wonderful! Temperatures today are around 20°C, actually ideal for cycling. Unfortunately the cycle path is a disaster (gravel and grass track), so we decide to ride on the road instead. It carries little traffic, and the only downside is that it climbs before pretty much every tiny village and drops again on the other side. We pass through many small villages, which is quite exciting since we're now in Champagne, the part of France that gives its name to champagne. Rows of vines line the road on both sides, and the winegrowers are busy trimming excess leaves from the vines, some by hand, some with large machines driving between the rows. Some of the houses, too, show signs that the winegrowers earn good money.

After about 15 km we meet two cyclists from Stuttgart at a junction, on their way to Portugal over the next two months. Chapeau! Their bikes weigh about 10 kg without luggage and 20 kg with tent and all their gear. Secretly I don't envy them – mainly recalling the heat in southern Europe.

5 km later the cycle path is tarmac again and mostly runs flat along the river. Add a light tailwind, and it's a dream day.

Just as we're getting really hungry, as if summoned, we pass a small garden restaurant. There we get baguette with cheese and various kinds of ham and salami, exactly what's needed for a cycling break. The mocktails and the shaded spot complete our happiness, and the last 40 km fly by.

Tonight's accommodation isn't a hotel but a nicely furnished apartment. Luckily the owner also provides a washing machine, so we can wash our cycling shorts and jerseys. Fresh cycling shorts every day are a must, and each of us has 6–7 sets with us. With today's laundry we'll make it to the finish.

We take the tandem into town for dinner; today it's Indian. Then back to the apartment to blog and rest before we close our eyes for the night.

The night wasn't particularly restful, thanks to a noisy air conditioner, a small French double bed, and Mikkel repeatedly stealing the shared duvet. We pack up without breakfast and cycle to the bakery nearby instead. There we get pizza, properly unhealthy. We're slow to get going, and after a kilometre I want to readjust the gears on the tandem, since the chain isn't sitting cleanly on the largest chainring at the front. Adjusting the derailleur doesn't help at all, until I discover that the gear cable is kinked and no longer runs smoothly. We patch it up as a stopgap, and it gets us to the next village with a bike shop, 30 km away, where we buy a new gear cable. Proper repairs can wait.

No sooner are we back on the tandem than the previously excellent tarmac cycle path turns into a bumpy dirt track. We keep riding, hoping the situation will improve soon. After about 5 km we meet a father and son coming the other way, who tell us the next 40 km won't get any better. Mikkel and I quickly agree we'd rather switch to the road instead. A bit annoying, with cars racing past us at 90 km/h, but there are relatively few of them and we make good progress (even though the road is far hillier than the route along the canal).

Today's destination is the town of Bar-le-Duc. Shortly before the hotel we pass a war cemetery, and I get off to take some time to look at it more closely. The information sign explains that 3,600 French soldiers who fell in the First World War at the Battle of Verdun are buried here. There are also five resistance fighters buried here who were shot by the Nazis during the Second World War. A sad history, but considering that a hundred years later Germany and France maintain such a friendly, neighbourly relationship, it also gives cause for hope that the same could one day be possible for today's conflict zones.

A few kilometres further lies our accommodation, and after showering we eat at the neighbouring Asian restaurant. There's a huge buffet with lots of tasty things, similar to the Asian fast-food place we stopped at a few days ago on the way to the Côte d'Azur. The only difference is that this time the restaurant is almost completely empty. Since the buffet is still generously stocked regardless, we stuff ourselves before crawling into bed.

Today's stage will be the one with the most elevation gain on our entire Tour de France. Nearly 600 metres of climbing sounds like a walk in the park on a road bike, but with a tandem, trailer and lots of luggage it's not so simple. On flat ground and downhill, the tandem has the advantage of lower wind resistance, saving some effort. Uphill, though, it's only very experienced tandem riders who can both stand up and pedal at the same time – it puts a lot of strain on the whole bike. So we agree that at most one of us stands at a time. That happens both on the flat, mainly to give our backsides a rest, and on climbs, to generate extra push. Mikkel usually takes on the latter, for which I'm not ungrateful.

Lots of elevation gain is simply spread out over the route, and we barely notice it most of the time. Today, though, for once we have a climb on the agenda that even the Garmin bike computer flags as a 'Climb': 1.5 km at 3% gradient. In the end it goes faster than feared, and once at the top we take a short break and enjoy the cooling breeze and the view over the surrounding landscape.

Today, as on previous days, we pass very few places to stock up on food. I'd imagined that quite differently beforehand. Many of the small villages we pass through have neither a bakery nor a petrol station nor any other opportunity to buy anything. We'd have to make a detour of several kilometres off the route to find a shop. Given the day's schedule and the heat, that's naturally hard to justify. So most mornings we fill all our water bottles, including two or three spares, and hope to find a bakery along the way after all.

Today's destination is Ludres, a few kilometres south of Nancy, Karlsruhe's twin city. It's actually one of the oldest twin-town partnerships between France and Germany, dating back to 1955 with a school exchange. The hotel is no luxury but is clean; we're allowed to park the tandem in their conference room, and for dinner there are several restaurants right in the neighbourhood. The receptionist recommends one with a nice waiter and a delicious dessert. Tomorrow, refreshed, we tackle the last two days.

Today is our second-to-last day touring through France. After yesterday's constant up and down, our legs are heavy. Officially, 120 km are on the schedule for today, which combined with over 600 metres of climbing would make for a very strenuous day. So we quickly decide to ease the load by covering part of the route by train. After all, we're on holiday! After about 85 km, our planned cycling route brings us close to a small town with a train connection, where we'll end today's cycling stage and cover the remaining 35 km by train.

Since the repair of the double spoke break, we've had no major problems with the tandem. The chain does jump a bit more often when setting off, and there's the occasional creak and squeak, but apart from that it just keeps rolling. After one of our breaks we hear an odd noise again, and on closer inspection Mikkel discovers that the smallest of the front chainrings has come loose and is banging against the bottom bracket housing with every crank revolution. We stop and inspect the fastening: of the four bolts that normally connect the small chainring to the other two, only one remains; the other three are missing. Lacking spare bolts, we fix the chainring in place with a cable tie. It obviously can't be used that way, but at least it puts an end to the annoying noise caused by it banging against the bottom bracket housing.

We take our next break in an enchantingly beautiful nature reserve. By the roadside there stands a double fountain fed by a fairly strong, cold jet of water. After sticking my head under the water jet, I feel the urge to climb fully into one of the fountain basins. The only problem is that a woman is sitting nearby on her camping chair, reading a book. So for now we settle for cooling our drinks in the cold trough. At some point the woman retreats behind her car and is out of sight. Just as I'm about to slip into my swimming trunks, five German cycling tourists arrive, also cool off at the water jet, and take a break there too. That puts an end to any plans for a swim, but at least our jerseys get soaked before we get back on the tandem and ride on.

At 18:30 we finally reach the station in Sarrebourg, from where our train to Strasbourg is meant to depart. We buy a ticket and realise we still have almost an hour to spare. So we ride a few blocks further to a pub serving delicious flambéed baguette. On the platform we're once again curious whether we'll find a suitable spot for the tandem on the train. The train is almost empty, and after removing the tandem's front wheel and turning the handlebars sideways, the rear wheel no longer blocks the carriage exit either. We settle in calmly, and as the conductor walks past he doesn't say a word about our tandem – he doesn't even check our tickets. During the journey we quickly book a hotel near the station in Strasbourg, where we arrive around 21:00. We've already eaten, so after showering we treat ourselves to a mocktail and a round of billiards before sinking into bed for our last hotel night.

Shortly after 4am we're rudely woken up. A shrill alarm fills our hotel room. It takes me a while to become properly awake, and at first I think there's a fault with the air conditioning unit hanging right above the door. Still half asleep, I want to call reception but can't find the phone. So I put some clothes on and head down the stairs to the ground floor. As I open the door to our hotel room, the alarm gets louder, and only now does it dawn on me that it's a fire alarm. I tell Mikkel I'll quickly go down the stairs to see whether the fire alarm is real. On the way down, the alarm stops, and on the lowest steps I already meet the first hotel guests heading back up, confirming it was a false alarm. Getting back to sleep afterwards is difficult.

Shortly after nine we've arranged to meet Benedicto and his friend Luis, who are currently in Kehl, the town on the other side of the Rhine. Benedicto's family lived next door to us while we were in Karlsruhe from 2011 to 2013. Luis has been studying at the university in Strasbourg for five years but lives in Kiel, and Benedicto is visiting at the moment. Both are keen triathletes. The reunion is a warm one, and there's plenty to catch up on. I'd recommended a bike route through the southern Black Forest to them, starting in Freiburg up to the Schauinsland, past Bernau up to the Feldberg including the summit, and back to Freiburg. They actually rode that loop yesterday: nearly 140 km with over 3,000 metres of climbing! My deepest respect!!

By 10:30 breakfast is over and we only have 30 minutes left until checkout. So we say our goodbyes, and Mikkel and I head to our room to pack our things for the final stage of our Tour de France. It's been getting hotter and hotter these last few days, and by now the thermometer has comfortably passed the 30°C mark. Cycling through the city of Strasbourg is a bit of a slog, but as soon as we leave the last houses behind, we're back on EuroVelo 15, the route we've known since day one. On top of the heat comes a fairly fierce headwind, and after just 15 km we decide to stop at a roadside inn. A Wiener schnitzel for Mikkel and salmon in horseradish sauce for me give us the energy we need. The headwind keeps strengthening, and every now and then it feels like we're going backwards rather than forwards. We long for the finish line in Karlsruhe. Again and again we stop, either to stretch our tired bones or to soak our jerseys in a river or with a water bottle.

We finally reach Seltz, at a small kiosk I recognise from my bike rides around Karlsruhe. From here it's 25 km to go, and since it's already 6pm and the sun is lower in the sky, it's not quite as hot any more. I know the last few kilometres to the Rhine bridge and all the way home like the back of my hand, but I've never ridden this stretch so slowly before. At 19:19, after 1,529 kilometres of cycling, we finally arrive back at Egon-Eiermann-Allee 12. We ask a couple who happen to be coming out of the neighbouring building to take a photo of the two of us, put the tandem in the basement, and head straight for the shower, before refuelling at a Mexican restaurant in town. We drive there … no, not on the tandem … by car. A short visit to grandma and grandpa rounds off our arrival day, at the end of which we sink into bed, quite exhausted.