Egészségedre

After Bratislava I had no clear destination in mind, just follow the trail down river. Györ, Hungary could have been good, but it lies 80 kms away and by the time I finished the job interview, had lunch with the people from the NGO, changed into cycling clothes and repacked my bicycle it was 1500. While sitting at lunch the wind was so strong that we had to change tables and go inside the restaurant. I did take note of its direction….sailors and cyclists have the wind in mind. Normally I don’t even bother to consider it but on certain occasions its importance grows. Also, a few years ago when I was in a sailing school I quickly fell into the habit of automatically observing the wind strength and direction. It was coming hard from the West and once I managed to clear the city and set up on the trail heading east, I was more flying than riding. There was nobody about, no towns and only the now extremely wide Danube and this amazing wind to accompany me I put the bike in the highest gear and put the hammer down. I was probably holding 25 km/h for two hours in top gear, in relative silence because the wind was right behind me. Any time the path curved so that the wind would arrive from the side I would shift down to spinning mode in order to spare my knees, then when again in perfect alignment with the wind upshift to top gear and fly. The pedals rotate quite slowly in that mode, making a whump-whump thumping kind of rhythm. With the bags, the tent and sleeping bag, me and my rucksack the whole package has the aerodynamics of a brick, which in most cases is negative but in this perfect situation was ideal. The wind was even causing white-caps on the river next to me.

While taking a break Chris stopped next to me for a chat. A young kid from Kent, perhaps 25 or 26 on an old beaten-up bike with ratty old gear. He was on his way to Istanbul. We shared some info and then he was off, not wanting to break too long while this wind was offering its services. We met again later and had a longer talk. He had recently been ill and in the hospital for 9 months. I did not ask what it was. He then said that his physicians told him that the chances are high that the illness will return in 5 or 6 years. I assume it must be cancer in remission. He told me he wants to live these years fully while he can and this is his motivation for his tour. By the appearance of his equipment it seems that he does not have much money but he does have courage and I applaud him. It would be great to meet him again, but his is bloody fast and I think I won’t catch up to him.

Well, with that wind I did make it to the point in Slovakia at which I could turn to Györ, 10 kms away. That means I did about 70 kms in 3.5 hours, including breaks. Since I will soon be in Hungary for a week I decided to stay on the Slovak side of the Danube tonight.

The villages here are small and I did not think that the shops would close early. The few small grocery stores had all closed at 18 and I could not find any food to buy. Stopped in a bar and bought a bottle of beer and a bag of nuts, then carried on down the road to find a place to sleep. I came across a type of community house along the trail and looked around for someone to ask. Soon five men came out of the woods and I asked them about sleeping on the grounds. They were very interested in my bike setup and in the idea of traveling by bicycle to the Ukraine. Interested is one way of putting it, on the other hand one could say that they thought I was a little crazy. They welcomed me to sleep on their grounds and made a great effort to speak in German, which they did quite well actually. 

Route Planning

It was a beautiful night and I decided against the tent, just to sleep on the ground in my sleeping bag. Since I had no food I tucked into my beer and nuts but within moments one of the hunters came to me and said “nicht viel essen, machen Feuer, dann viel Essen, verstehe?” He was telling me not to eat too much because they were going to build a big fire, grill food and then there would be a lot to eat. Again, kindness in excess. Later they brought food over to me at my campsite. I thought they would invite me to them, which I am sure they would have if I spoke their language or if I spoke better Russian (I must work on that), but as it was communication would have been difficult. This worked out better because as a vegetarian I would have had to turn down their grilled meats, which would have been a little awkward. They brought me grilled corn, bread, salad and meat. When they were away I discretely put the meat aside and happily ate the rest. 

sunt un pic preocupat de cainii din Romania

The weather has improved and it seems that the next days will be friendly. I have not seen a weather report, but this is my feeling. Today was a day of very strong head-winds and I made very little forward progress. I also managed to lose the trail at one point and rode a half-dozen kilometers in the wrong direction. This mistake did however allow me to cross paths with a German man on his way back from Constanza. He told of his unpleasant experience in Romania, mostly being repeatedly attacked by wild dogs. I can easily imagine the situation. Having worked in that area for years, I have also had my rabid-Dacian-dog experiences. When one is on foot though, they are apparently not as aggressive as they are toward cyclists. He had a device on his bike that emits high frequency sound waves and also, when entering every town, held the pepper spray at the ready in his right hand and was thus able to continue riding while half-turning to fire the spray behind him. With both these countermeasures he was able to make it through that already treacherous-enough area of the world without being bitten, though on one occasion the dogs did manage to take a bite out of one of his rear panniers. I should add that he is a Siebenbürgen Deutscher and not some dandy from Düsseldorf or Eppendorf, so if he says it was bad then one should take heed. As an an old-hand at the pitfalls of that very confused and very challenging country I have nothing to prove in that regard and if it should be avoided, then there is no loss of pride. In the next days I will consider alternatives to the Donau route through Romania. These include riding through Bulgaria or taking the northern route through Maramures, Siebenbürgen and Moldavia into the Republic of Moldavia and then into the Ukraine. There is time enough to consider these options. I still have about 700 kms to go just to reach Novy Sat.

I slept again in my tent on a wonderful farm just beside a tree full of ripe apricots. Dinner was again Spätzle, green beens, salad and of course apricots. Slept like a stone and woke early and was on the road by 7.30. After 4 kms arrived at the wonderful town of Melk. Underway I came across a large grave and memorial to 300 Russian prisoner-of-war who died in 1805 when the place in which they were being held caught fire and they were captured inside. They had been taken prisoner by the French at the battle of Austerlitz.

In Melk I sat in a café for an hour, washed of course, and wrote some of this blog. Later I met a crazy Frenchman from Riems who walked with two donkeys from Riems to the Polish-Ukrainian border. He was not permitted to enter the Ukraine with his donkeys so turned back and is now on his way home. He was not all there (manca un venerdì, come si dice in italiano) and he did not want to talk very much. Interesting nonetheless.

In Melk I had the first feelings that the trip was going to soon become more interesting. In Switzerland, Germany and Austria all is completely calm, organized, controlled. Once in the East, many things would become more challenging and interesting. As I am informed, the trail is not nearly as well marked, I don’t speak any Hungarian or Serbo-Croatian though can decipher some of the language in its written form from my very limited Russian. I do believe that communication will be possible using a mix of German, Russian, English and Romanian, but it won’t be the same as I probably won’t be as easily welcomed in the East. We will see. On the other hand, there are advantages: Pilsner Urquell in Slovakia, Silva Black in Romania and the various new piwos I am sure to taste in Serbia and Croatia.  

After Melk I continued on the bike. After a few kilometers I stopped on the bike route to take a photo of Schloss Schönbühel and started talking with Helmut, who is a perma-camper in nice camp site overlooking the Donau and the Schloss. He offered me a beer and we sat and talked while watching the ships pass on the river. It was a magnificent spot and I could have sat there with him all day, but on Thursday I should arrive in Pressburg (Bratislava) and since there is still a long stretch ahead and I want to make Thursday a half-rest day, I rode on.  




About 20.00 the wind was picking up and I was worried about a storm. In order to find a farm I left the river and road inland about 2 kms. Looking around a small village I saw nobody but did hear a motor running in the distance and thought that surely I would find a person there. I interrupted the farmer while working on his tractor and asked about sleeping in the barn in order to be out of the rain. He did not say yes or no but started talking about the weather. Then I proposed that if he did not want me in the barn I could put my tent somewhere protected outside. Again he did not say yes or no but brought up something else. Either he was one or could have made a good politician. I did not know what was going on. 

Anyway, he invited me into the Hof and offered me a drink of homemade wine. Could not say no to that, though I still did not know if after the wine I would have to ride off to find another place to sleep. Nonetheless, when on the road one takes it all one step at a time. Wine now and then think later about accommodation. Then his wife came and I was offered dinner and more wine. We had a nice time and nice talk and then they gave me a room inside the Hof that is used for large festivals. The house is set up in a rectangle with living quarters, working area and barn all along the outsides of the rectangle. Once inside it is like a little castle, completely closed to outside invaders. It felt like the Austrian version of what I imagine an 18^th century Spanish hacienda in Mexico was like. 

We retired early and woke before 6 for breakfast of home-made preserves and strong coffee and I was on the road by 7. It was a great stay and knowing that Karl and Elisabeth are following the blog: “Vielen Dank für die Gastfreundschaft, es hat mir bei Euch sehr gefallen.”

в дикое восток

Having started out very early today I managed to arrive in Vienna by late morning. Having already been in Vienna a number of times in the past for both pleasure and business, I decided to bypass the historical centre and stay on the bike trail that passes through the new city and carries on directly to Preßburg . The historical centre is a marvel and the new city is its modern, heinous and disturbing counterpart. I don’t know the specifics but it seems to be one of those planned residential-commercial-business agglomerations of the 60s or 70s, such as Barbican or Brasilia. At this point I have been on the bike nearly two weeks and been surrounded for those two weeks by constant beauty. The sheer ugliness of this crime in concrete and steel is having a psychological effect on me and when I am out of it after an hour I can begin to breathe again. There is so much construction from history that we still marvel today, the historic centre of Vienna or the Piazza Volta in Como for example. I often wonder what it is that we have constructed in the modern era that will be so treasured in hundreds of years in the future. Not much comes to mind.

Mid-afternoon I am in the last town in Austria before crossing the border to Slovakia. It would have been interesting to see how the life was in these “frontier towns” during the period of the cold war – how it was to be on the edge of the Western world. It would have been even more interesting to experience how life was for those in the last towns on the edge of the eastern world. If you look at a map you can see that the border passes directly behind a number of small towns. The people there were probably able to see across the border and witness the changes taking place in the west, being so close and yet so far away. Anyway, tempi passati. Everything is as one now and whether that is good or bad can be intensely debated.

Crossing to the East is quite exciting. Things will change; the journey will become more challenging and probably even more interesting. There is a little apprehension as I cross into Slovakia.

Two years ago I had volunteered legal services to an NGO based in Bratislava and though that never materialized, this spring I was contacted by it because it was looking for a general counsel for European and Asian operations and asked me if I wanted to apply. Tomorrow we have an informal meeting in its offices about this and so that I don’t turn up completely disheveled, I have reserved a room in a hostel for tonight. By 1700 I am checked in. I must still shower, shave, wash clothes in the little bathroom sink, wash my plates and cooking equipment, find the office for the meeting, find food and look around the old town. The thing is that I can hardly move. 

Later in the evening I manage to get myself together and visit the old town. In 2005 I had spent a day there and remember it being very small and indeed, in one hour I had seen the old town, which is splendid, and then found some wonderful food and local beer.

Preßburg  has a fascinating history. Most of the world today calls it Bratislava, as it was officially named in 1919 when the country of Czechoslovakia was created. At that time it was made up of 42% Germans, 41% Hungarians and 15% Slovaks. For centuries the city was part of Hungary, having been integrated into the Kingdom of Hungary in the 10^th century and holding an important position as a key economic and administrative centre on the kingdom's frontier. In 1526 the Kingdom of Hungary was defeated by Ottoman Turks, who besieged but did not conquer Preßburg. Because most of Hungary remained under Ottoman control, in 1536 Preßburg was designated the new capital of Hungary. It thus became the seat of kings and nobility and between 1536 and 1830 eleven Hungarian kings and queens were crowned there.

During the 18^th century it developed into the largest and most important town in Hungary. Later however, as the union between Austria and Hungary strengthened the city lost relevance as power shifted to Vienna and Budapest. After World War I Czechoslovakia was created and this included Preßburg. The German and Hungarian people of the city were not too pleased about that and tried to have it declared a free and independent city. This was not accepted and they then moved to protesting Czechoslovak occupation. It is said that Czechoslovak forces opened fire on the demonstrators and put down the protests. In 1919, without any protection many Hungarians and Germans fled or were expelled. In the course of World War II the city was occupied by Soviet forces and later became part of the Eastern bloc. In 1968 an attempt by the people to liberalise the authoritarian regime was but down by Warsaw Pact countries and the city was occupied. In 1993, the city became the capital of the newly-formed Slovak Republic.

The next morning I went for coffee in the old town and then to the meeting. It went well and the people were very friendly and the job is quite interesting, but very badly paid. Remuneration is not at the top of my list as far as job requirements are concerned, but my major life goal is to buy a sailboat and sail around the world for 3 to 5 years and to do this I will need £££££, not loads, but some solid reserves. At the moment those reserves don’t exist, so once I begin to work again it must be in a capacity that pays well. 

Ich bin so auuuummm

The title of this blog is an expression that was often used by an Austrian colleague with whom I once worked. This is how it sounded in Austrian dialect. I use this title because today I pass into Austria, the third country on my tour. Late Sunday morning I arrived in Passau and took a walk around. The most interesting was the first sight of the large Danube river cruise liners at the quay. There was about a half dozen of them moored end to end. They are enormous beasts, probably 150 metres long, low – about two floors – so that they can pass under the bridges and narrow, so that two ships can pass each other even in the narrower portions of the river. The row of them seemed to stretch a kilometer. I checked out the roster of the boats visiting Passau that day and saw that they come from all over Europe – from Russia, Ukraine, Switzerland, Holland, Germany, Hungary, etc. Many of them look extremely luxurious with expansive decks, outdoor dining and cabins that have small balconies over the water. The exteriors are largely made of windows so that the passengers can view the scenery directly from their rooms.

The rest of Passau was quiet and I strolled through the streets. My initial idea was to stay there the afternoon, watch the Formula 1 in a bar and then hook up with the Hungarians at a cyclists camping area on the river Ilz. It was however too early to retire for the day and I decided to push on into Austria, which was another 20 kms or so down the path. In Austria the river enters a valley and the atmosphere changes. In Germany the Danube has its source and since it takes some time for it to build up steam into a major river and much of it in Germany is just a small stream meandering through the countryside and one is riding through the countryside and the Danube happens to be there as well. By the time it reaches Passau though, it is a major waterway and means of navigation and commerce. It therefore takes on different significance. One is riding with the Danube and it is the focus of attention. In the valley the bike path runs alongside the river the entire way and all the business and commerce in the area seems targeted toward holiday cyclists.  It seems that in Austria a cyclist could eat, drink or sleep every 200 meters, there is that much gastronomy, lodging and services offered to cycle tourists. Indeed, this is a common stretch for weekenders or short holiday makers: Passau to Vienna and then return by train or boat.

In the late evening I stopped at location on the river that was a guesthouse/restaurant and ferry boat station. The friendly woman running the operation offered me to put my tent on their meadow about 40 meters down the road. An idyllic location: directly on the river with the ferry boat station and on the other side of the river a small collection of guest houses and restaurants. On the gas stove I heated the food that I had not eaten from the night before. Because I had been riding in this valley most of the afternoon and had been relatively closed in, I had not really observed the sky and the weather. Only when pausing for dinner did I see that the clouds had completely closed the sky and were hanging very low.

With my computer in hand I walked over to the restaurant, ordered some ice cream and sat down to write this blog. My computer mobility is limited because with this old laptop I am dependent on electricity. The battery does not work at all and the new battery I bought last time cost half as much as a new computer and lasted only about 6 months. I must plug away with this dinosaur until I can buy a new one. German cyclists from Thüringen soon turned up and we fell into conversation. They were on the first day of a two week tour to Budapest. I returned to the writing of my travel log and they to their beer and wine. Later they invited me over for a drink and we exchanged cycling stories. The weather in the meantime had gone from threatening, to sunny and then back to ugly. We heard the thunder rolling in long before the first raindrops arrived. Eckhart and Kerstin also had planned to tent their way to Budapest but due to the questionable weather had taken a room in the guesthouse. With the first raindrops we moved under a large terrace with long wooden tables and benches. It wasn’t long before the storm really hit and the rain was coming down in torrents. We were warm and dry, but I was concerned about my tent, bike and gear. The lightning started coming closer and then the lights went out in the entire settlement. Across the river the same happened. We were sitting in complete darkness, interrupted by the lighting flashes and hammered by rain. When the people from the guesthouse brought out candles it was indeed a lovely atmosphere. The staff went home, leaving the three of us with wine, beer and candles under the terrace. We were having a good time.

Our view upstream was blocked by the guesthouse and we were taken by surprise when a huge river liner suddenly appeared right before us. Moving downstream they make no noise as they glide with the current so we did not hear it approaching and it was suddenly there, lit up like a Christmas tree against the completely darkened valley. It could not have been more than 40 meters away from us. We could clearly see passengers in the aft bar under golden lights, and I imagined them sipping evening whiskey or rum, talking of the day’s events, before retiring to their staterooms to sleep soundly as the big cruiser slipped downriver in the night.

About midnight the storm had moved on and we went to investigate my campsite. The bike was lying on its side, bags and gear strewn about. I found my camera on the grass, completely soaked. Fortunately my computer was with me on the terrace, otherwise it would have surely been ruined as well. Despite being staked in, the tent had blown 20 metres away and one of the poles was broken. It probably would have gone further but for the mass of water inside of it anchoring it down. It was too late and too dark to do anything about the situation then so I decided it would be best to sleep under the terrace of the guesthouse. We gathered the cushions from some of the tables and laid them on a bench. Eckhart gave me his sleeping bag and brought me a pillow from their room. On that bench I managed to get a very good and solid 6 hours of sleep, gypsy style.

Gypsy campsite

Drying out the next morning

The next day was slow going. Late in the morning the sun came through and the temperature went from wet and cool to extremely warm. I took a long break and spread everything out to dry. Later I arrived in Linz, found a great café with internet connection directly on the main square and managed to write and communicate with the world. 

Left in the late afternoon and rode until 20.00 when I met a farmer in a small village and asked his permission to place my tent on his grounds. Was a beautiful farm and I was happy to be there. Cooked green beans and spinat-spätzle and slept like a stone. 

Das Leben ist kein Honig lecken

That night I set the tent in a field, just outside of a small town directly on the Danube. I asked some of the locals if it would be alright to sleep there, and all said it would be fine. Initially I put the tent in the middle of the field, affording me a view of the river and the mountains. A fisherman soon turned up and advised me to move the tent near a cluster of trees for protection because a big storm was rolling in. It turned out to be good advice.

I had a collection of food in my pack – potatoes given to me by a farmer a few days before, spaghetti from Dieter, zucchini from the store – and it was all combined in the small pot to make a delicious dinner. 

Thereafter I sat by the river to watch the storm roll in. it approached quickly, dropping the temperature and sending the sweet smell of approaching rain along the river. The air felt heavy and fresh and imposing at the same time. The tent in which I was camping had failed gravely on one camping trip in the Alps two years prior. My father, nephew and I were motorbiking through the Alps and one night near Disentis the sky opened up in a downpour and the three of us in that tent could not have been wetter, had we jumped into a swimming pool fully dressed. Last year I waterproofed it but it had yet to prove itself in a real storm. Tonight would be the test. The cloud cover appeared as one big, think blanket of clouds but the lighting strikes in the far distance illuminated the distinct shapes of the individual clouds, making amazing light and dark patters in the sky. Although there was a good chance it would be a miserably wet night, the natural light show still made me smile.

The first raindrops sent me moving and I pulled a large plastic sheet out of one of the packs and pulled it over the bike and lashed it down. The storm had picked up strongly and the trees behind my tent were whipping around in the wind. Moments later I crawled into the tent and zipped the door. The lightning show continued on the roof of my tent. Since the batteries of my ipod and blackberry were out, this was my before-bed entertainment. I woke in the morning dry and rested. The storm had not bothered me at all.

When I woke it was still raining and I had no desire to pack my gear and tent in the rain, so while sitting inside the tent I set the camp stove just outside and heated the coffee the fisherman had given me the night before and which I had saved in a plastic bottle. Only a few hours later did the rain stop and I could begin spreading the gear out in the field to dry. All the time while doing so I had the feeling that someone would come from the village to either bring me coffee or to invite me for coffee. Somehow I knew it. Later a woman from the village came over and asked if I was alright. Apparently there had been talk in the village that some crazy bastard was sleeping in a tent during that horrendous storm. I had not even realized that it was that bad. Usually I have a very hard time sleeping through the night, but stormy nights seem to allow me to rest peacefully. Maybe the storms in my head that keep me up most nights are no match for Mother Nature, and my minds gives up tormenting me and lets me sleep peacefully.  

In any case, Marianne introduced herself and invited me in for coffee and breakfast. We sat down with her husband to a lovely, typical German breakfast. Marianne then actually did all my wash for me, dried and folded all my clothes. While my clothes were being brought back to human form after a week of sweating, I also was able to shower and even shave off my 8-day beard. Marianne and Ferdinand then made me a big picnic lunch to take with me, gave me their address, and I was on my way. Another case of exceptional and completely unexpected hospitality.

Today I spent only a few hours on the bike. About 30 kms into the ride I read a sign advertising Straubing as having the nicest old town in Bavaria. It lay 3.7 kms off the Danube trail but I was intrigued enough to make the detour. It was more than worth it, a truly amazing old town. If one were to remove the cars and some of the signs on the storefronts, it could be the 1600s. Since I was wrecked, needed to rest my muscles and also dedicate time to this blog, I took an inexpensive room in a bicycle-friendly hotel. The stay was great. I rested fully, wrote pages of this blog, explored the town and even went crazy on a dinner of Spätzle and dark Weizenbier. Rested and relaxed and with an overly stretched budget, I calculated the next day that I would have to make it to Bratislava on EUR 57.50.  

Next day I put in the kilometers and stopped late just short of Passau. I interrupted a woman working in the field and asked her if I could put a tent in the field. She offered me the barn, which I gladly accepted. It was a working barn, and thus dirty and full of flies (as I discovered later) but in case it rained, I would have greater protection, plus I would not have to pitch the tent. The town down the river, about 2 kms away, was putting on a summer festival with music and fireworks and from the barn I would have a perfect vantage point. She and I started talking and it turned out that one of her daughters and I both did master degrees at the same university at the same time. The daughter was in Business Communications and I was in the law faculty, so we did not know each other, but it was a surprising coincidence. We talked a lot and I thought for sure I was going to get another sleep-in-the-house offer, but no such luck. I was destined for the barn. The nice lady did bring me food, including a fresh salad and beer and I ate it while sitting on a rock and leaning against the outside of the barn and looking out over the wheat fields. It was a nice and memorable moment.

The music and firework show was good and I could see it very well form my temporary home. As it was concluding a natural light show started in the distance and quickly made its way down the river valley. When I fell asleep I had left the barn door wide open, as I was laying on the ground and watching the lightning flashes. At some point I was awoken by driving rain inside the barn and jumped up from my deep sleep to slide the barn door shut, then quickly back into my sleeping bag on the ground between the tractors. Again, the storm placated my worries and I slept very soundly until early morning.

As I prepared the bike for departure the nice lady came out and invited me to breakfast. We sat in her kitchen for at least an hour talking and drinking coffee. I also managed to eat a lot of the homemade preserves she had set out. She made me a lunch and I was on my way.  I wonder if I will find this kind of hospitality in other countries in which I don’t speak the language. Probably it will be harder. 

Change of transport

Woke to a light rain and quickly packed my gear. The Hungarians were still asleep in their enormous tent. The rain remained light and I was wearing rain gear and all the packs were covered, so it was not so bad. Was looking for a café but not finding anything. Usually I like to stop within the first hour for a coffee. It is nice to ride for a while then find a comfortable place to sit, read the paper or watch a small town come to life. The few towns I passed were not coming to life at all and had no cafes for that matter, so carried on down the road. A few hours into it I came to a small town with a very big monastery situated directly on the river. There was nothing going in the town and I was not expecting to find what I was looking for. The bike trail runs just between the wall of the monastery and the river and as I passed it seemed that all was quiet. Then I turned the corner into the courtyard of the monastery and found it full of people, other cyclists, a café and beer-garden. It was as if all the people I had not seen in the last two hours were here. Sat at a long table under an awning, ordered coffee and took a look around. 

There is a ferry boat service that comes from the next major town down the river to this monastery and that explains all the people. They had arrived by boat from downriver to visit the monastery and church and then to later return downriver by boat. I received advice that the next stretch of the river should be done by boat in order to experience the rock formations along the river. I sat back down to a beer brewed in the monastery and a pretzel and considered my options. In order to complete this trip I have set a tight budget and the beer, pretzel and ferry boat combination would ruin the budget for the next days. Nonetheless, in order experience all that is on offer, one does need to spend some money. The monks brew the beer here, so I had to try it, and a beer in Bavaria must be consumed with a pretzel, and then the boat journey also sounded good. I will blow the budget now and see how to manage later. An hour later I was disembarking from an indeed very nice, but short boat ride down the Danube.