The summer solstice, marking the longest day of the year, has long been a symbolic occasion for cyclists—a day to stretch limits, chase new distances, or simply revel in the luxury of riding from sunrise to sunset. This year, I set my sights on a spontaneous round trip: from Solingen to the Dutch town of Roermond, onward to Venlo, and finally up to the transmitter station in Langenberg—affectionately nicknamed among local riders as the “Col du Sender”. Covering 236 kilometers, it wasn’t the longest ride I’d ever planned, but it promised a worthy challenge.
The forecast left little room for doubt: scorching heat, cloudless skies, and temperatures hovering around 30 degrees Celsius. My bike stood ready against the wall, the route uploaded to my computer. A second tool bag carried extra bars and a couple of emergency gels—insurance against the inevitable calorie debt a ride like this brings.
What made this solstice ride especially exciting was the company. I asked my local cycling club (the OCC) to join me, and Tobias—one of my companions from our Mallorca training camp earlier in the year—was quick to accept. With his experience, I knew we could settle into a demanding rhythm straight away.
Just after 7 a.m., we rolled out of Solingen, following our well-worn path toward Düsseldorf (routes I jokingly refer to as “Standard Instrument Departures”).
The city was unusually calm, reminding me of my earlier ride to Hoek van Holland. Even at that hour, the banks of the Rhine were alive only with a few runners, cyclists, and dog walkers enjoying the soft morning light. We paced steadily along the river before crossing into Neuss, threading the town’s quiet streets, and heading onto open roads bound for the Dutch border.
The wind was not what I had expected. Typically, a westerly breeze drifts in from the ocean, promising a headwind on the way out and a tailwind on the way back. Instead, a gentle easterly nudged us forward, pushing our average speed toward the 30 km/h mark without much effort. We soon passed through Mönchengladbach and continued into a scatter of villages, the border growing closer with every turn.
An old British airfield appeared on our left—a place I had hoped might offer the chance for a few aviation-themed photos of the bike. But the fences were unyielding, and we rolled on.
A short descent carried us into a broad, immaculate cycle path. Around us, the former customs houses had been repurposed as restaurants: the unmistakable sign that we had crossed into the Netherlands. Almost immediately, the infrastructure transformed. Wide paths, seamless junctions, and clear markings reminded me once again that here, bicycles are treated as first-class citizens. Germany, I thought, could still learn a great deal.
Our first target was Roermond, where we found a charming café-lined street beside an old church. With our average speed holding steady just shy of 30 km/h, we felt no need to rush. Coffee, pastries, and the luxury of off-bike conversation gave us a welcome reset before pressing on.
The road followed the Maas northward, offering views of well-kept houses, tidy gardens, and locals already out in the sun with their morning coffees. Soon enough, we reached Venlo.
Here, we detoured to the old harbor and decided lunch was in order. Neither of us fancied subsisting on gels and muesli bars all day. While waiting for our food, I remembered that an old colleague lived nearby—someone I hadn’t seen in more than a decade. A quick message later, I learned he was also out riding and could meet us at the border. By the time we regrouped near Nettetal, our duo had become a trio, spinning back toward Düsseldorf together.
With three riders sharing the work and conversation flowing, the kilometers slipped past. About 20 km before Düsseldorf, my former colleague peeled away, but not before extracting a promise that our next meeting wouldn’t wait another twelve years. Back to our original pair, we carried on under blue skies, pausing briefly at a service station for cold drinks before tackling the final phase of the day.
Crossing the bridge near Düsseldorf Airport, we faced a choice: turn right for the flat, easy way home along the Rhine, or stay committed to the original plan. The decision was almost instant—“continue.” Ahead lay the ride’s defining test: the climb to the Langenberg transmitter station, or “Col du Sender.”
With sunny 200 kilometers already in our legs, the ascent from the Rhine valley became a noticeable effort. On a fresh Sunday ride, it might have been easy; today, it felt “manageable”. Our styles differed—my steady endurance climbing versus a sprinting power-centric rider —so we kept the pace measured, ensuring enough in reserve for the final push. The antenna masts rose on the horizon like silent sentinels taunting us, and within fifteen minutes we were on their slopes, pushing upward.
At the summit, the intensity dissolved into quiet satisfaction. We stopped briefly, exchanging a knowing glance: the last hurdle of the solstice ride was behind us. From here, it was all downhill to Solingen.
It was the kind of ride that lingers—long miles, camaraderie, challenges met head-on, and the joy of finishing stronger than you expected. A fitting tribute to the solstice, and the perfect way to welcome summer.
Keep on riding!
