Despite the unsettled weather, I took a motorcycle ride up into the Black Forest in search of smoked trout and was not disappointed. The Wurzbachtal Forellenzucht in Calmbach served me up a whole smoked trout and some crisp white wine and I noshed away while reading the New Yorker and listened to the babbling stream just behind my table. Baby trout jumped randomly out of a small pond, sometimes literally - an evening meal for a waschbear (raccoon) or the family cat.
This was followed by a relaxing and hypnotic ride down the Klein Enztal, flowing around corners like water in the river below. On the ride back, I drifted in and out of a rainstorm heading my way back to Stuttgart. By the time I got to Herrenberg on the last leg home, I was slightly soggy and anxious for some relaxation.
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