The app of the German railways tells me I need to call them to book my ticket to Vienna. 40 minutes in the waiting queue follow. I manage to complete my morning hygiene and yoga in the meantime.
“Not possible” keeps an elderly male agent replying to any option I suggest. The reason are the strictly limited spaces for bikes. No holding place for the bike means no ticket for the bike owner. He tries his best for 20 minutes. But it looks like I must stay with my bike in Germany forever.

I call Lufthansa. Again, 40 minutes in the waiting loop again. Then an agent confirms I could take my bike as a baggage but she cannot answer how and where I can get the obligatory cardboard for it. “Just a moment” she says. After another 20 minutes of desperate waiting I got disconnected.

Feeling down I call my daughter while biking towards Cuxhaven. She starts searching, however all bike places on the trains are really taken. Then a little later, she double-checks again. Hooray, one reservation for a night train tomorrow has been apparently cancelled just a minute ago. She books it immediately. Thanks!

With peace in mind, I achieve three hours later my final goal – the estuary mouth of the Elbe into the North Sea.
Yes, I feel touched. A UK headhunter calls me in this very moment. To her “How are you“ I reply: “I have just fulfilled my big dream.” She understands and suggests to call me tomorrow. I keep happily sitting, watching the waves and meditating.

“Cycling in the pedestrian zone costs here 25 Euros” whispers to me another local cyclist who is pushing his bike. I dismount immediately. While walking together, I learn from him everything I wanted to know about Cuxhaven.

But to be fair, also the call agent of the German railways showed his human touch.
When we finished our long and completely futile discussion, he forgot to hang up before sighing out loudly:
“Oh, this biking shit!”
(German verbatim: Oh, diese Fahrrad-Scheiße!)

I liked him immediately more.