"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."
This old proverb implies that the first time a mistake is made, it's not necessarily your fault, that some outside influence has acted. However, if you make the same mistake again, you are now responsible for your actions. Today, we tried to apply what we learned yesterday to avoid getting caught by high camping fees and rain. In other words, not be fooled twice.
The rain of last night had the tent covered with beads of water. The inside was also covered in water, condensation accumulated during the night. I carefully exited the tent, avoiding the walls and the water that they deposited with each touch, and headed for the showers. Sally was still sleeping. The sky was crystal clear and the sun was beginning to warm and dry the landscape.
We are navigating, researching and communicating via iPhone. Next to our credit card and passport, it is our most important possession. Keeping it charged and in working order requires constant vigilance. I am carrying two auxiliary batteries to keep it fed, one will charge it 2 1/2 times, the other six times. Keeping the phone charged is easy, finding power to keep the batteries charged is the challenge. The batteries have an advantage. When in a public place such as a campground, I feel very uneasy leaving the iPhone plugged into an outlet in the restroom, whereas leaving a battery sitting on a random shelf is far less intimidating. Last night, I left my battery sitting on top of the dehumidifier in the community "drying room" to charge, and found it safe, sound and charged when I made my nightly trip to the john.
Hard boiled eggs and artisan bread with cheese for breakfast, squeegee the tent to remove 95% of the water, a quick packing job and we were on the road by 9:30 am.
The climb back to the highway was a poor prospect for the first thing in the morning. The lady at registration had pointed out we could ride a dirt road out the bottom of the campground and pick up the bike trail in a kilometer or two. We took this option.
Our guidebook gave two options from Disentis, take a series of back country roads and mountain bike paths or follow the highway. With our decision to leave the campground on the dirt road rather than the killer climb back to the highway, we had relegated ourselves to the backroads.
Within 20 minutes we knew this was a mistake. The route occasionally hit roads, but most of the time it was a steep, double track mountain bike path, climbing and descending. Too much for our second day out. Consulting the GPS, we found an escape route up to the highway, but not before Sally lacerated her calf on the chainwheel of her bike during a hurried dismount.
Once on the highway, things went much smoother. As it was Saturday, the traffic in this recreation oriented area of Switzerland, was heavy. But there were many bikes on the road and the drivers were respectful and gave us plenty of room.
The Swiss countryside was magnificent. How is it that every blade of grass is trimmed, right to the margins of the highways? The view, taken as a whole, is like looking at a massive golf course dotted with barns, picturesque homes and rail lines.
We arrived in Ilanz about 2:00 pm after many, many frequent stops to see sights, take in the views and enjoy the advantage of riding a bike rather than speeding along in a metal and glass enclosure, a car.
Determined to find cheaper accommodations for the night we consulted Yelp, our camping app, Zimmers, AirB&B and other resources, all to no avail. We asked people we met along the road where an inexpensive place to camp or stay was, again to no end.
Ilanz is a popular kayaking site, with weekend adventurers dotting the rivers in their brightly colored boats. Feeling dejected, and tired, we rode past three young men loading their kayaks onto their car. I stopped to ask if they knew of an inexpensive place to camp. They were full of fun, but warned us that Switzerland was strict about squatting on random properties without permission. After a few minutes of broken English/German discussion one of them brightened and said "Pitasch Mühle".
He described an old man in a old roadhouse/restaurant squeezed between a road and the river who let people camp behind his house down next to the river, for free. He and his friends debated on the distance, but settled on between 5 and 7 kilometers up the highway toward Vars.
Sally was waiting up on the road above the parking lot for the results of my inquiry. I described what I had learned. It was not a certainty, but free camping after our $45.00 night was a strong incentive. Sally was quite tired, but agreed to try it as long as it was gentle uphill or level. She was worried that if it did not pan out, she wouldn't have the strength to pedal back to town for a hotel. I scanned Apple maps for the likely location of "Pitasch Mühle" from the description I had received. The app said 3.7 miles.
At 3:15 pm we set out. A short, steep hill out of town had Sally off her bike and walking up. From there the road was forgiving, ever so slightly uphill or level for the first two miles. The grade increased for the last 1.7 miles, and just as described, the roadside inn came into view around the corner.
After parking our bikes, we walked in. A very happy, laughing and smiling woman greeted us in German. She knew no English. We asked about camping, but she did not understand. I showed her a picture of our tent in last night's camping spot and she brightened up and said, "Yah, sure!" and walked us out the door and around the house to point to the lower yard below. We asked how much and she understood enough to make a frowning face and say "Nin!"
We took a seat at one of the outside table and she served Sally a beer and me a Coke. We rested for an hour. During this time a man drove up in a car, parked, and went inside only to return a few minutes later with a cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle. He seated himself at a distant table and began working his puzzle.
We took a picture of the place, then Sally asked for a picture of him. He was as happy and boisterous as the woman and verbally sparred with us, although neither of us understood a word. We went inside to pay for our drinks. We found the woman crocheting a beautiful table runner, extremely intricate. We paid, tipped her and asked if we could take her picture with Sally, on the front porch. She consented, but first, giggling, ran over and threw her arms around the man, her husband, and posed for a photo, then returned for the picture in front of the front door.
We retired to the back yard, a field of unmowed grass with a nice tree and pitched the tent. I went to the river, stripped and bathed in the river, shielded from the house and road by thick trees. Sally took a rest in the tent, then did the same. About 8:00 pm the thunder began, with rain by 9:30 pm. I always enjoy the thunder, but tonight I fell asleep in the midst of the storm.
Score us plus two for the day. No shame on us for repeated mistakes. We were camped before the rain started. We found camping for free. But, we must take one away for pushing Sally to the point of exhaustion. She did well, and recovered well, but the last climb was pushing her limits.
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