When I crossed into Germany from The Netherlands I didn't know it because there is nothing, not even a sign. At least I didn't see one. I think the canal may have continued for a kilometer or so into Germany, but what really let me know that I was now in Germany was the dissapearance of the bike paths which are completely separate from the road. In the Netherlands the bike paths follow their own route, often so far from the automobile road that you don't even know where the cars are. In Germany the bike paths are always right next to the road, and in very bad shape because of all the tree roots that push three or four inch ridges of asphalt that run perpindicularly to your direction of travel. This is a major nuasance for someone who is used to the smooth roads in The Netherlands, and ended up spelling destruction to my rear axel the next day and bike frame a few days after that. It was so bad that I was tempted to ride on the road with the cars, but I knew that I would have been honked at, and I was still getting into riding shape and wasn't quite yet interested in riding as hard as I could.

I wasn't in Germany long until seven thirty came around, which was my que to start looking for a camp site. Finding a camp site is easier in Germany than it is in The Netherlands because it's less populated. The Netherlands is so populated, in fact, that you can ride for hours and not find a totally secure place to camp. The Netherland, according to your average Americans standards, is pretty much one giant city.