Today was meant to be a relaxing 48 km ride from Mainz to Bacharach (the town, not the American composer!), allowing plenty of time to explore the charming towns along this stage of the Rhine. I had my fill of camping at Mainz-Kastel with no rain, which was a welcome change, but my morning started earlier than expected - Frankfurt airport operations kicked off at 5:00 am, and with my tent right under the flight path, sleep was over.

Despite the noisy start, I was eager to explore Mainz. Riding through the old part of town, I passed the magnificent Mainz Cathedral, St. Stephan's Church, and the Gutenberg Museum. The care taken in preserving these ornate buildings is truly impressive. One spot, Kirschgarten, with its decorative houses surrounding a quaint square, caught my attention. While I've been asked if I visit many tourist attractions, the truth is I’m more focused on the journey, the rhythm of cycling the Rhine, meeting people, and experiencing the villages and towns. It's more about the flow of the ride than ticking off museums and galleries, though I do stop when the mood strikes. Weird? Maybe. But it's my journey.

As I cycled along the Rhine through Schierstein, Niederwalluf, and Eltville, the path was in good condition and the towns, so close together, made for a picturesque ride. Niederwalluf, a detour due to bike path repairs, turned into a perfect excuse for my first ice cream stop - a decadent banana split, topped with all the embellishments. Cycling, I've discovered, allows for these indulgences without the weight gain!

After passing a stretch of gravel road alongside beautiful, grand old houses - likely owned by German aristocracy - I headed for Rudesheim, already planning my next treat: a famous Rudesheim coffee. Kathy and I visited this spot in 2019 with friends, and it was here that the idea of cycling the EuroVelo 15 took shape. Just as I was savouring these memories, disaster struck.

A loud “ping” echoed from my bike. A broken spoke. The wheel was now off-balance, rubbing, and I had no idea if or when another spoke might break. Thankfully, I was only 3 km from a bike shop. I arrived with just enough time for the owner to tell me he was off on a three-week holiday. “No worries,” he said, pointing me to another shop 4 km away. With cautious optimism I rode on, only to find that shop closed as well.

Now getting worried, I searched for more options. Two more bike shops were further ahead in Rudesheim, but no luck. The third shop looked promising, but they didn’t have the right spoke. However, they kindly pointed me to one more shop, 1.5 km up a hill. The catch? It wouldn’t reopen until 3:00 pm.

After lunch and another ice cream, I decided to walk the bike up the hill in the heat, hoping the owner would take pity and see me waiting outside. As luck would have it, I arrived only to find a sign - closed for holidays! Six more days. The unpredictability of travel strikes again.

With no more options for repair in sight, I realised I’d have to adapt. Nursing the bike another 20 km to Bacharach seemed risky, and Google confirmed no bike shops in the area. A 70 km ride to Koblenz on an unsteady wheel wasn’t safe either. One of the upsides of travel is that you plan for the unexpected. I had no one but myself to work this one out. Great for critical thinking skills ... not too good if you suffer from anxiety. I made the only choice I could: catch a train to Koblenz, get the bike fixed, then take the train back and continue the ride. Sometimes the only option is to improvise.

I arrived in Koblenz on the train and, after some good-natured teasing from the bike shop team about Australia’s infamous, and somewhat dangerous, wildlife, they agreed to fix the wheel. A few jokes and 30 minutes later, my bike was as good as new.

Tonight, I’m resting in Koblenz, but tomorrow I’ll be back on track. I’m taking the early train back to Rudesheim to pick up exactly where I left off. Yes, it would be easy to skip that 70 km stretch of the 1,400 km journey, but I won’t. My goal is clear: to ride the Rhine from source to sea, and every kilometre matters.