Story by Daniel Scott
Early afternoon, late European summer time. I'm cycling softly down an asphalt track. Below me, a barge is pushing upstream against a muddy green river. Beside me stand scrawny vines abundant with blackish grapes. Ahead, a moustachioed middle-aged man is peddling toward me.
"Grus Gott," comes his sing-song salutation as he slips swiftly by.
In spite of many similarities with southern France, I am actually in Austria. In fact, I am two-thirds of the way through a bicycle-borne journey from the German border to Vienna. The river whose banks I am riding along is the Danube and the location of those tantalising grapes, the prime wine-growing region of Austria: the Wachau.
Opened in the 1980s, the Danube cycle track follows in the hoofprints of horses, which for hundreds of years pulled barges upstream along these same riverside towpaths. Yet the path is still relatively undiscovered, other than by the Austrians themselves and some other Europeans.
What they have been keeping to themselves is one of the most user-friendly cycle routes around. It is excellently signposted and largely traffic-free, making it ideal for family holidays. Also, paradoxically for a country renowned for its Alpine skiing, the Danube cycle path is almost entirely flat. The only puffing up hills required is to reach the monasteries and castles which periodically overlook the river.
The route is well organised. It's possible to start the trip at any point by hiring a bike at train stations or hotels along the way. Since they also act as drop-off points, if you run out of steam you can cruise the remainder of the route by boat. The likelihood though is that you'll want to go all the way by bike.
Typically, the journey to Vienna begins in the border town of Schaerding (by the river inn) before joining the Danube at Passau in Germany. From Schaerding, it takes between five and 10 days to reach the Austrian capital.
My companion and I allow ourselves seven days to peddle the 300 kilometres or so. Most days, after a hefty breakfast, we are on the road by 9am and never cycle further than 70 kilometres in a day. We are usually at our destination, sipping a mug of beer in the square, by late afternoon.
There's so much to see along the way that it would be tragic to hurry. The starting point of Schaerding provides a good introduction to what is to come. Like much of the route, it is picturesque, historical and frighteningly quiet. Sitting in the town's main square, facing the "silver row" of narrow, exuberantly coloured Baroque facades (each colour denoting the type of shop housed therein, ie. blue for bakery) is like being in toytown.
The early part of the track is the most spectacular. Here the Danube carves its way through forested hills which create sheer cliffs on either side of the river. Linz, which we reach on our second day, is Austria's third biggest city. It's worth a visit for its impressive cathedral, its musical heritage (it was home to composer Anton Brueckner) and for a taste of its linzer torte, a sweet pie.
Of those that line the way, Grein, where we spend our third night, is my favourite Baroque village. It is probably the sight of it perched invitingly on a bend in the river at the end of our longest day's cycling which does it. But a stiff amble around its cobbled streets, taking in the castle and the medieval theatre installed in a former granary in the square, confirms my first impressions.
The following day we delve into Austria's Habsburg history at Artstetten Castle. The former country residence of Franz Ferdinand, this elegant, green-domed building has a palpable feel of the Emperor's life about it. One room details his assassination at Sarajevo in June 1914, which precipitated the First World War, including the blood-stained shirt he was wearing at the time.
Further along the route is the enormous Melk Abbey, high above the river. Walking into its gilt-adorned library actually causes me to draw breath and that still doesn't prepare me for the even greater splendour of the abbey's chapel and altar.
