She flicked the lever and the gear ratio changed, the sound of the sideways chain movement almost lost behind the competing 'rip' of the tyres on the tarmac and the slight quickening of her breathing. At seventeen, she'd been riding bikes for a good dozen years, racing the things for half of that, with some success it has to be said. But the high octane world of training and racing hadn't, at least so far, dulled her enjoyment of just going out for a ride.

The road continued its rise up from the Rhein/Main plain, not steeply but with enough grade that even someone of her fitness was starting to feel its effects. When her Dad nigh on insisted she bring a bike along on the tour she'd argued against it but she was glad he'd won that argument now as the endorphins kicked in. She stood on the pedals to keep on top of the gear, watching as her shadow barely moved on the tarmac, only the slight sway of the bike bearing testament to her forward effort.

The Taunus countryside slipped past, a familiar looking landscape to its northern neighbour, the Westerwald but here, the hills are neither as steep or as high, the whole feeling more open, less oppresive. Its not a region that she knew, well a couple of races north of Frankfurt barely count do they, so she was riding blind on new roads. Well okay, not exactly blind, the ADAC Reiseatlas of Germany she'd picked up when they stopped in Wiesbaden yesterday meant she'd been able to plot a loop through Taunnustein, the aforemention Wiesbaden and back up to Idstein, a pocket map provided by her Handy's camera.

Idstein, Idstein, Idstein. She hadn't really been paying too much attention when the whole Tour thing was being planned, still high from the Bonn concert she'd have agreed to anywhere. To actually be part of this whole thing was a real buzz, up on stage each night, strutting her stuff, belting out the group's sometimes eclectic repertoir – well who wouldn't want to be part of that?

Of course, reality has a way of dampening our dreams and in this case it was at their first stop, Boppard. The Stadthalle Boppard is nice but the Rheinhalle its not. On the other hand, they were the 'headline' act, fans of the two local bands playing support had helped fill the hall nearly to its thousand seat capacity, plenty of people had paid good money to see them play.

Last night it had been Rock für Wiesbaden, a venue specialising in, as you might guess, rock music, a smaller venue, a more hardcore audience. They'd done a good set, the crowd very vocal and the usual rendition of 'Luftballons' turned into a full on singalong. The issue as far as she was concerned, was that being more intimate it got very hot and sweaty, well I guess five hundred or so jumping, singing bodies are apt to do that.