We join the Rhine in Germany at Dusseldorf, one of a cluster of seven enormous cities (and a couple of smaller ones) closely grouped together. Every bit of the ride there is ugly, and we would normally avoid this kind of thing, but we desperately want a groundsheet for our tent, and can’t find it anywhere else in the area. We stay on the outskirts of the city, and find ourselves an incredible diner serving huge portions of classic German food. I’m not usually a fan of chips, but the currywurst with fries tasted like it was made in heaven.

Groundsheet now in our possession, we set off along the river, gritting our teeth for this section which will take us through another couple of the behemoths in Germany’s industrial heartland. This area is not just important in Germany, but is one of the world’s largest economic regions. Though the next city of Cologne falls into this, heavy industry is not what it’s known for. After waiting for a Communist Party rally to finish blocking the road, we take a detour off the river path to at least see the outside of Cologne’s famous cathedral. It is the most visited site in Germany, which at first surprised me, but on the other hand I can’t really think of one particular tourist attraction here, except perhaps the Brandenburg Gate. The square in front of the cathedral is packed, it smells of wee, and the building itself could do with a wash.

Bonn seems the nicest of the cities we pass, though from the very limited perspective of a cyclist beside the river and not actually going into the city.

The Rhine starts to become picturesque in places, but it’s interspersed with factories and shipping container ports on an enormous scale.

Our crossroads is in Koblenz, a pretty city at the juncture of the Rhine and Mosel rivers. We are a bit rudderless now we’ve binned the idea of going to the Baltics, and are just casting around for somewhere to go and something to aim for. We’ve never been along the Mosel, and it has a convenient bike path, so we head west along that. Richard’s very excited to hear that this area is an internationally renowned wine region, but his enthusiasm is extinguished when he finds out it’s overwhelmingly of the white variety.

The bike path is staggeringly beautiful from the very first hour we cycle along it. The river has cut a spectacular deep valley, with the vineyards growing on impossibly steep slopes, and the towns along it are gorgeous. If you shut your eyes and dream up fairytale Germany, the one that the Pied Piper led rats and kids through, this is it. Timber-framed buildings, castles on hills, cobbled streets. Cochem is the most impressive of these towns, but the whole area is just glorious.

We find ourselves a guesthouse on the last night, so that I can watch Eurovision. My trial VPN gets rumbled almost immediately, so I’m left without Graham Norton and instead watch on a tiny telly with German commentary. Richard can’t stay awake.

German breakfast is the best in the world for me, and guesthouses here always provide it, so the following morning is a dream come true of liver pate, dense bread, stinky cheese and salami. Thankfully Richard doesn’t eat any of those things, so I get his share too.

The terrain has levelled out more now, so our last morning on the Mosel in Germany is less impressive than the others. But Richard has always, for some reason, had a hankering to go to Luxembourg, and since the river here now forms the border between there and Germany, we get to make his dreams come true as well, by cycling on that side of it until it becomes the Moselle in France.

I’ve always loved Germany, but we’re both quite happy to be in France again. The supermarkets are better (I can get tubs of rillettes) and the campsite prices are much nicer. We also say goodbye to the swarms of electric bikes which attack German bike paths in their great hordes.

We arrive at our campsite destination while it is still closed (they always shut for lunch and into mid/late afternoon here,) but we happen to get there as someone is leaving through the gate, which they hold open for us. There’s a seating area outside reception, so we sit down to wait. A French guy is sitting at another table, and strikes up a conversation. He is mysterious about how he’s travelling; when I ask if he’s also on a bike his reply is “Kind of, but you’ll see.”

Half an hour later a car pulls through the electric gate and alongside us, and a women gets out and speaks angrily at us. Once she realises we don’t understand, she switches to English and her tirade goes: “Why are you here? How are you here? You are not supposed to be inside the gate. The gate is locked. You should be outside the gate, but you are in here.” We apologise. Not good enough. “You are sorry, but sorry does not put you back outside. You are in here and now you are my responsibility.” She storms off into reception and locks the door behind her. We feel like a teacher has just told us off. Richard doesn’t want to stay here anymore, but I think it’s kind of funny and I’m not going to let it put me off. In fact I want to stay two nights. I’m really tired, it’s an otherwise lovely spot, and we have lots of chores to do. In our division of labour, it’s Richard who is supposed to do the checking in at campsites, but I know he’s going to be rude and moody about it, so when she unlocks the door we both go in. Now she’s let off steam, she’s friendly and very helpful.

The guy we were talking to earlier has his tent across the way from us and laughs as we walk over asking “Did you get told off?” He has a version of an electric bike that he has converted himself to solar power. It has a huge panel across a trailer attached to the rear of the bike, and he is planning to ride to Nordkapp on it. I feel a bit of a pang, since Scandinavia had been where we were heading until we bailed due to the cold. I later look what the temperature is in western Poland, which is about where we’d be now. Eleven degrees maximum and raining for the next week. I have no regrets.

A playlist for the ride: