My stomach was grumbling almost as much as the Cerb’s v8 as we pulled into the car park of the Geroldsauer Mühle. This was to be our lunch stop. The boys headed inside the impressive alpine-styled restaurant and shop as I had a look around the car park. We were in good company with a number of classic Porsches and other motor legends. Baden-Baden was compared to Bath when I spoke to a few people, so Geroldsauer Mühle was either the place for well to do residents, or those heading into the Black Forest like us.

After spending far too long taking photos, I headed inside. The boys had already got me lunch, a sandwich. This was a sandwich like no other.

The finest, freshest bread, smoked Bavarian cheese and some salad thrown in.

It would be a floppy cheese buttie from Sainsbury’s in the UK, but in Baden-Baden, it was fit for a last meal.

A load of the other TVRs were also here, including Ben Coombs, so we chatted for a bit and had our coffees.

The dignified ambient silence was shattered by Mark starting up the Sagris outside. And it drew quite a crowd, whether from genuine car lovers or the locals thinking NATO had started manoeuvres for the Fulda Gap, I’ll never know, but there were now more people in the car park than in the shop, much to the staff’s amusement.

We also took this as our signal to leave and returned to the cars. I swapped with J so he was driving and I was photographing and we headed out into the Black Forest… well sort of. We had to stop for petrol first so only managed 300m up the road. That done, off we went.

The Black Forest can be described as all the best forest roads in North Wales in an area the size of North Wales. And no speed cameras. The tarmac is is pristine, the road is varied and it’s simply beautiful.

A lot of the area appears to be used for skiing as well in the winter months judging by the ski lifts and there’s plenty of ski lodged you can stop off at for a coffee, food or comfort break.

We carried on for hours in a blur of green, thunderous engine noise and tight hairpin bends and found ourselves at the world’s largest cuckoo clock. Now you’ll notice I haven’t taken a picture of it, mainly because I was so annoyed their cafe was closed and they charged me for a pee.

After a short wait around, we jumped back in the cars. At the junction to the main road, I asked J why D had pulled up next to us. Turns out he’d forgotten he was in Germany and had approached the junction on the wrong side. Quickly realising his mistake and much to our amusement he rapidly reversed and joined us in convoy.

There was some distance still to go to the hotel, so we managed one more stop for coffee and cake on the way, this time meeting up with Richie and Rob. Much gateaux was eaten, and then we raced to the next stop over as it got dark and we followed the shores of Lake Constance.

On arriving at our destination, the car park was rammed. Barely squeezing into a space, we unloaded and got into the foyer. Half the group were getting pissed, the other half seemed to be in a pitched battle with the reception desk. Some of the room cards were malfunctioning the girl behind the desk looked close to tears.

Thankfully, our keys worked fine, and after a shower and beer, we headed to the nearest restaurant.

I was a bit worried at first as Google maps was taking us deeper into an industrial estate. We then popped out into a plaza next to a bunch of flats and at the end, in the darkness a beacon of light. It was the place we were looking for. As we entered we spotted a the familiar Richie and Rob and grabbed a seat next to them.

Like all the food I’d had so far, it was fantastic, I opted for the healthy pizza, chips and a coffee. We finished up and headed back to the hotel. I grabbed a biscuit tea and, much to the amusement of the waitress, asked for a cup of hot water as I had my own teabag. She was one of the good ‘uns and didn’t charge me for the water.

After my tea I big farewell to the group and headed to do some of the accounts, still not exactly sure on how to do the maths to split it all up. I’d work it out later, the biggest pain in the backside was keeping track of all the receipts.

Some beers may have been consumed in the making of that photograph at the Restaurant Heuschober.

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