Total distance for year: 6,325 miles/10,179km
Nobody wants to read a blow-by-blow breakdown of a full 12 months of cycling, and I am certainly not going to indulge myself to that extent. But casting an eye back over the previous year can reveal some interesting things. Annual mileage can be influenced by a host of different things, but I’ve learned that there is a threshold beyond which you will find yourself riding the bike primarily just to increase your total mileage. In other words, it becomes the driving force. The last couple of years have seen me come to recognise that threshold, pull back from it, and settle into what is a more comfortably managed limit, but which still surpasses the number of miles I drive by a substantial margin.
Separating out local mileage from adventure mileage, it’s no surprise to find that the bulk of my annual distance is still in the day-to-day riding within a 50 mile radius of my home (1,802 adventure miles v 4523 local miles). To get further afield on a morning/day ride, I am now not averse to broadening that radius and using public transport for part of the return journey. This has the benefit of opening up new terrain and new areas to explore. So, for instance, I took a train out to Norwich for a two day 125 mile summer solstice ride back home, with a generally supportive wind behind me.
The adventure miles last year were made up by my Biking the Baltic ride (crossing 8 countries and visiting 9 cities in the late summer), a week on the tandem in Holland in July (the hottest week in Dutch recorded history), a tandem rally in the Wye Valley, and the summer solstice ride. My local mileage is almost totally made up of solo-riding, but with the added benefit of meeting up with fellow cycling cronies at country tearooms to chew the fat. So today, as I write this, I have just come back from a 50 mile jaunt out to Fermyn Woods near Brigstock, where there is a café that amply serves the needs of hungry cyclists.
As I was reflecting on annual statistics, I decided to do a quick retrospective of my 11 years of retirement, and discovered (unsurprisingly) that I had accumulated a lot of miles, namely 90,467 miles/145,588km, about 25% of which were achieved on my many adventure trips around the world. As impressive as any of this may seem, it all pales into utter insignificance in the light of the lifetime mileage (1 million miles) achieved by Russ Mantle at the age of 82, much of it during his years of retirement. Very much a man of his generation, he would have spent most of his waking hours turning pedals.
So what of the coming 2020? Perhaps like many adventure cyclists, I will be trying to honour our collective need to add our grain of sand to saving the planet. Even though riding a bike is an ultra-green form of transport, getting to and from our destinations can be fraught with multiple flights. So for this purpose, I have added this little beast to my stable of bikes
The Tern Verge P10 is designed for long-distance, has ten ratios on a 1x gear set-up (ie. just one front chainring) and, most importantly, folds for transportation. This means I should be able to hop on and hop off trains and buses at will, and use non-aviation transport to get to some of my distant destinations.
Watch this space. I am currently looking at Flixbus that might take me down to the French Mediterranean in a few week’s time.
A veteran of several endurance cycling experiences, including French Revolutions, when he followed the course of the Tour de France, and Gironimo!, when he engaged with the route of the 1914 Giro d’Italia on a period bicycle, in The cyclist who went out in the cold, Moore takes on another seemingly ridiculous challenge, by riding the 8,500km Iron Curtain Trail on a communist East German shopping bike with only two gears, called a MIFA900. Moore is no amateur playing with risky possibilities. Even though his kit looks every inch unworthy of the job, the man who rides it knows how to survive long distances under trying conditions.
All that aside, what carries Moore’s narrative is his sense of humour (which is frequently over the top, and will be too much for many readers) and his ability to tease out fascinating bits of background history about the places he passes through. He is a consummate wordsmith, who conjures engaging narrative from long boring bits of travelling. Until you have spent 8-10 hours a day turning pedals, day after day for several weeks, you won’t understand how uneventful life can be on a bicycle. To convert all of that into an interesting flowing narrative takes a great deal of imagination and linguistic adroitness.
I frequently shy away from reading fully-texted narratives about long journeys on bicycles because, in the hands of many aspiring travel writers, the endurance nature of their travelling experience is translated directly into a feat of endurance for the reader. Very few writers can put together an engaging narrative and carry the reader for the full length of their journey. Tim Moore, however, successfully held my attention through the 8,500 gruelling kilometres, from Kirkenes in the north of Finland, to Tsarevo on the shores of the Black Sea.
A rare glimpse of a double shadow as the early winter sun meets the horizon….
After the pheasant, the badger is the second most killed animal on our roads but, unlike the pheasant, it doesn’t sport a pair of wings to make a quick escape. In fact, badgers can weigh as much as 12-14 kilos, big enough to do serious damage to your car, and you, if you are on a bike.
However, badgers do most of their foraging by night, so being caught in the glare of headlights is their biggest danger. Having no natural predators (because they are both tough to eat and tough opponents in a scrap), motor vehicles turn out to be their greatest predator…..thousands are killed every year across the UK.
But, the big question is: whenever you see a dead badger by the roadside, why do you never catch carrion feeders tucking into a free meal? Pheasants, rabbits and foxes will be scavenged in a couple of days, leaving no trace of the carcasses…but not badgers. Well, there’s a couple of reasons: first of all, badger hide is so tough that your average carrion eater wouldn’t be able to get to the meat; then there is what lies under the hide….tough flesh layered with a thick coating of fat; finally, most roadkill is damaged sufficiently to spill blood, providing the tantalising scent that will draw the scavengers. Badgers, on the other hand, are rarely injured to the point of bleeding, so tough is there hide. So you seldom see a truly squashed badger….just one that’s been shunted on to the verge by passing traffic.
But you might want to hang on to the endearing image of Kenneth Graham’s Badger who, when Mole and Rat paid him a first visit, he was in his dressing gown and slippers on his way to bed…..
If you cycle the miles, you will encounter roadkill in abundance along the country lanes. Wildlife that is frequently oblivious to the dangers of the asphalted road, but not all of course. Kites and crows, for instance, that live on carrion, have learned to negotiate the dangers of the road as they try to feed off the feast left behind by a passing vehicle. Pheasants, however, are not so fortunate. I have even had a few very close encounters on the bike. Their ability to assess the speed of approaching danger is limited, and many get caught and quickly become carrion for the crows.
However, one day I had one of those million-to-one experiences that involved a pheasant. Riding along a country lane one day, I could hear there was a ‘shoot’ going on in the distance. I heard a whoosh and then a thud, and there in front of me was a bleeding pheasant in its last throes. I pulled on the brakes, stood looking at the poor victim, then heard the dogs running in my direction, and decided to beat a hasty retreat before I was mistaken for the roadkill.
When I told a friend of this encounter, being an enthusiast for retrieving roadkill (and eating it), he told me I had the right to take ownership of the pheasant, given that it had landed on a public highway. So I did some research on how common roadkill is in people’s diets, and it is surprisingly common, particularly in the western world. So common, in fact, that there’s a popular ditty (sung to the tune of ‘Three blind mice’):
Tastes so good
Just like it should
First you go down to the motorway
You wait for the creature to meet its fate
You take it home and make it great
So now, altogether, one, two, three….
Around the world in 80 days by Mark Beaumont
I inhabit the world of adventure cycling, and have always felt a strong connection with other cycling adventurers who espouse the conviction that a true ‘adventure’ is essentially an unsupported, self-sufficient and self-propelled experience. Whatever happens on the journey, you take all the credit, and all the blame, for whatever transpires (allowing for ‘acts of God’, of course).
Two weeks before Mark Beaumont headed off to enter the Guinness Book of Records for cycling around the world in fewer than 80 days, I had the opportunity of meeting him. He was the keynote speaker at an adventure cycling weekend in the Lake District. He is an impressive figure in the world of long-distance cycling, and has ‘managed’ his place in that world with amazing dexterity. But when I learnt of the huge amounts of sponsorship, the size of his support team on all the continents, the sophistication of his transport links and the extent of expert advice on tap during his journey, I began to wonder why he was ever invited as the keynote speaker on an adventure cycling weekend. I liken his attempts on the RTW record to Chris Bonington’s assaults on Everest in the days before alpine methods of climbing really kicked in.
Beaumont had enjoyed the distinction in 2007 of being the first person ever to circumnavigate the world on a bike in under 200 days……but that was a largely self-supported effort, and he was quickly followed by several other aspirants who broke his record because, like him, all they needed was a bike, a tent and a huge amount of determination and courage. It was the ‘Everyman’s Everest’ of the world of adventure cycling. Anyone could have a go at it.
What Beaumont has achieved with his current record is in a completely different league, and should never feature as an adventure cycling feat. Without a doubt, it is truly impressive as a feat of endurance, and he deserves all the accolades fitting such an achievement, but let’s not confuse it with the record he had set 10 years earlier. No one with a bike and a tent, and a huge amount of determination and courage, will be following in his footsteps. He has effectively cornered this record for decades to come…..or until someone comes along who dreams even bigger than Beaumont, and can bring to the table an even more impressive bank of resources.
However, the book is definitely worth reading….if you haven’t done so already.
Having ridden across Europe on a unidirectional trip for 2,400km, it takes some adjustment to return to riding in circles…..but at least I won’t have a headwind for the entire ride…..
And getting back on the Litespeed Ti, weighing in at a mesgre 9kg, if I’m not hitting a good average pace, it drags me along begging to go faster. A bit like taking a young border collie for a walk…..
But I’ve just bought myself a new steed…..to add a new dimension to all this riding….and all will be revealed (one day)….
My routes over the last week have been enshrouded by the mellow fruitfulness of autumn, and the spectres of ghouls and scarecrows….somehow, the two go together.
In the shadow of the triple peaks of the Eildon Hills, the River Tweed carves its way from the Lowther Hills, through the Cheviots, reaching its estuary at Berwick some 160km later. I chose a mid route stretch from Galashiels to Inverleithen, covering some 50km on both sides of the valley, steep and challenging on the southern flank, fighting a strong westerly wind, but fast and undulating on the northern flank, ushered along by the very same strong westerly.
Stunningly beautiful in the autumn sunshine, I will let the photos tell their own story….
How often do you drop by, unannounced, just to say ‘hello’ to a friend? Is it ‘the done thing’ in your part of the world? Where I live, people don’t routinely drop by unannounced but, when it happens, it is invariably a pleasant surprise….unless, of course, you arrive at an inconvenient moment. To overcome that, it is usual to make prior contact and check before taking the plunge.
If you want to just drop by, your vehicle of transport can make a big difference. Caged inside our heated/air conditioned cars, when we pass, we are much less likely to just call by for a chat and a coffee. Someone might explain the psychology of that one day. Is it that our journeys by car are so much more purpose driven, that the journey itself is just a means to an end?
My journeys from home on the bike, however, have very little to do with destination and purpose, apart from the odd café and meeting with cronies of course. They are all about enjoying the journey, the widening of personal horizons and a sense of freedom. And my journeys take me through villages and communities where friends and former colleagues happen to live. For some reason, being on the bike (and not in the car) makes the unannounced visit seem so much more natural. “I was just passing through so I thought I’d drop by to say hello”. It’s natural, spontaneous, non-threatening, and it will only be a short visit…..long enough, perhaps, to share a coffee.
And that is what happened on this 52km route….
Every adventure has its highs and lows, joys and frustrations….but through personal endeavour, we get to savour the sweet taste of achievement. I no longer measure achievement primarily by distance. I’m beginning to grow up a little (well, just a little) and appreciate the value of much more than just ploughing a furrow.
This adventure was never intended to explore heady landscapes, scale mountain passes, carve my way through verdant valleys…..no, this was all about visiting a host of countries that I have never been to before, and using the bike to connect capital cities. Over the last 40 days, I have simply binged on a succession of city breaks, 9 in total to be precise, including Krakow in southern Poland.
And in each city I have paused for a couple of nights, locked up the bike, and walked the historic city centres, visiting some 30 museums and historic buildings, enjoying the buskers and street entertainers, sitting by fountains with a picnic, catching the odd city demonstration (usually about climate change)….and in most of the cities, being hosted by friendly, caring human beings who form part of the Warmshowers network.
So I can’t share photos of many wonderful land and seascapes, of mountain top panoramas, nor of glacial ravines with cascading waterfalls, but I have come away with a sense of deep satisfaction of having discovered something about 8 individual nations, about people of different linguistic and cultural backgrounds, about major historical events that have fashioned their history, and where they are now in their march towards the future.
For those who like statistics, here are a few to keep you interested:
Days travelling: 40
Days on the bike: 28
Distance covered: 2,308km
Average daily distance: 83km
Longest day: 115km
8 countries and their capitals:
Poland: Warsaw and Krakow
Camping: 14 nights
Warmshowers: 15 nights
Backpacker’s hostels: 10 nights
With a former student: 1 night
Rain while riding: 2-3 hours
Days of headwind: 18
Days of tailwind: 3
Best national food: Viennese
Best National Library: Helsinki
Best museum: Vasa Museum, Stockholm
Most beautiful historic city centre: Tallinn
Most scenic part of the journey: Tatra Mountains.
Most annoying moment: discovering I’d left my tent footprint drying in the previous campsite.
Second most annoying moment: discovering I’d had my power bank stolen in a backpacker’s hostel.
Greatest surprise: being seen from a distance by a former student in Stockholm, and then staying with him and his family in Turku, Finland. That’s a 10/10 on the serendipity scale.
Most uplifting moment: an eleventh hour offer of a bed (for three nights) in Vienna.
The most unusual camping spot: departure lounge at Heathrow airport, after a late arrival from Vienna.
If you followed me on at least some of my journey, thank you for your company. I hope it inspires you to embark on adventures of your own…..
The bubble of the illusion has burst. I fondly imagined that in Vienna I would breeze into the booking office at Central Station and book trains, there and then, right through to the Hook of Holland, from where I would catch the ferry to Harwich, and be back in England ‘in a trice’. Well, that was the plan…… but the bike thwarted the plan, given that these were inter-city trains. The most they could do was guarantee my arrival in either Munich or Düsseldorf, but beyond that, there was no provision for the bike. So I had to capitulate and book a flight with Austrian Airlines.
It would seem the only way to guarantee transit on multiple trains across Europe is to have a folding bike, which could be carried on as hand luggage. But how remarkable it is that when you are confronted with a need, a solution is sometimes put before you.
Stefan, my host during my time in Vienna and a multiple bike owner himself, offered to let me test ride his folding Dahon, a small-wheeled versatile bike which can be adapted for touring and carrying luggage. I’m already familiar with the Alex Moultons and Bike Fridays of the small-wheeled world, but Dahon are a bit of a mystery.
Then in the city centre I bumped into Andreas who was not only a proud owner of a Dahon, but had cleverly equipped it for the long distance stuff, and was a firm advocate for the nimble small-wheeled bicycle. With a quick flip of two levers, he folded it in seconds, and then demonstrated how he could detach the pedals with his fingers. As we parted company he shouted after me “Make sure you try out the Vitesse”. In fact, he was quite prepared there and then to let me test ride his own machine.
Staying with Stefan for a few days has brought me into contact with his other lodgers. He regularly hosts foreign exchange academics, and in this instance Kyoko is with him, a Japanese visiting fellow at Vienna university (whose mother Kaoro has come out to join her).
And Gudrun from Cologne, a university professor, who has recently co-authored a book about the rise of right wing populism in Europe,
came to Vienna to give a paper at a conference. I told her I hope one day to read her book in translation. “Well” she said “do you know anyone who might translate it for me?”. I’m afraid I can’t help you with that one, I said….now, if it were written in Spanish, we’d have a partnership…..
Stefan himself works in the offices of the Green Party in Vienna so, with so much political talent and involvement, there was a heavy bias in the conversation around the table…..and the table itself has been abundant with Japanese fare one evening, and Viennese another, amongst which was this delicious dessert called Kaisershmarm, anecdotally named after Kaiser Franz Joseph I, who was very fond of fluffy shredded pancake..
So tell me, what dish would you like named in your honour?
I’ve slept in a lot of strange places in the past, but never in a greenhouse. Erich, who runs a nursery garden business, decided to diversify, and converted one of his greenhouses into several AirB&B units….so his guests get to sleep in a glasshouse. But he kindly invited me, as a Warmshowers member, to stay as his guest, and my bedroom looked out onto the tomatoes, and I could lie in bed gazing up at the stars. My route to the bathroom was across a lawn on some stepping stones, and when I got up in the night, I jumped when the resident one-eyed cat scooted across my path, doing his security patrol.
The route to Vienna along the Danube fulfilled very few promises unfortunately. But I’ll let the pictures tell their own story….
The guy making me a coffee at his street bar said:”You don’t look like a normal tourist. You riding a bike?”. When I told him my story in one sentence, he said “You probably need a good strong coffee then. Going to Vienna after here? You’ll find us in Vienna too…look us up”.
Then I walked into an outlet advertising street food, and ordered myself a Morrocan tagine, to fuel the legs to climb the enormous hill to Hrad Castle where, amongst the many exhibits in the museum, was this….
…and I thought, what an interesting use of the term ‘portable’. But a couple of cabinets away was a display of the first Bratislava Cycling Club founded in 1888, all lined up for the start of a race, and if you look carefully you’ll probably recognise one of them as being Peter Sagan’s great great grandfather….
There are towers to climb in Bratislava too. To get to the top of the Castle tower, you need a special kind of steely determination, and the Town Hall tower will reward you with lofty views over squares….
….and interesting roofs whose pitches make them look like church steeples…
And when you see some poor fellow trying to crawl out of a street drain, it is very tempting to just stroke him on the head to comfort him (as everyone does). What was he doing down there anyway?
And when you are bored with museums and towers and men crawling out of drains, you can join the crowds to catch bubbles, and contribute to this young man’s beer fund
…..believe me, people openly ask for money for their beer fund….they know you know they will spend the euro you give them on the next can of beer. So why not be honest about it….
Tomorrow, it’s goodbye Bratislava, hello Vienna…..with 60km of the Danube trail in between.
As my final destination, Bratislava was always going to be my second choice (behind Prague), but a persistent headwind across Poland dictated terms and conditions, so here I am, at the notional end of my journey.
But wait a minute, Vienna is only 60km away along the Danube, on Eurovelo 6. Flat, scenic and designed for cyclists, the only drawback being that I would be going upstream….. OK, not because it goes imperceptibly uphill (probably by only 10-20 metres), but because the vast majority of the annual 38,000 cyclists that follow the route go downstream, which is bound to complicate my progress if I have to go against the flow. But still….
Quite apart from the attraction of bagging yet another country and capital city, Vienna is a bigger transport hub than Bratislava, thus making it an obvious finishing point, with a greater chance of getting home by train and boat. Going overland will be more expensive than flying, and certainly more time consuming, but then I could simply change my thinking about that and regard it as part of the journey….in other words an integral segment of the whole adventure.
Last night, in the town of Pezinok, I was welcomed by an enthusiastic Slovak couple, called Michal and Eva, who are expecting their first baby in December. Michal came out to meet me on a borrowed electric mountain bike, one that he had been testing in the local hills, to see if he might be interested in one for himself.
The conversation over supper ranged from riding bikes to politics, and amongst the many fascinating (and disturbing) things I learned about Slovakia was the surprising popularity of its up-and-coming far right party, the Kotleba People’s Party, which has a double cross insignia that was used by an old Slovak fascist party during the war.
Slovakia spent more than 50 years subjected to the brutality of, first, the German Nazis, then the Soviet system, but people are clearly forgetting all that. The People’s Party ideology is underpinned by extreme nationalism, fundamental Christianity, hate for the Roma people, and a total rejection of western liberal democracy. What does that remind you of?
Tomorrow will be a day for exploring Bratislava.
Now tell me, what do you know about Slovak wines…..never heard of them? If not, join the club. When did you last see a bottle of Slovak wine in your local supermarket? The reason why not is because the Slovaks keep it all for themselves. How selfish is that? But I’ve just discovered their dark little secret….in a wine museum in Pezinok, where I am spending the night.
For the ‘exorbitant’ fee of €3 (senior fee, of course), I was given a very informative audio guide to the excellent displays about the history and production of wine in Slovakia, and at the end I had a glass of the local Riesling thrust into my hand. Pity about the lack of pretzels….
The whole region, in fact, reminded me of the Alsace, and the vineyards growing along the slopes of the Vosges mountains. These vineyards grow on the slopes of the Little Carpathians, and the wines all have a similar character to the Alsatian wines…
I also learned about, and sampled, the first stage of production after the pressing, which produced what they translated into English as ‘the scrumpy’, a low alcohol beverage given to the vineyard workers as replacement for water….a bit like the small beer given to English farm workers in former times.
Last night, in Smolenice, I was hosted by an English family, resident in Slovakia for the last 6 years, and very happily settled. Mark and Suzanne’s 7 year old daughter, Zoe, was 1 when they arrived, so now has a native fluency in Slovak, and was proud to include their new kitten, Lily, in the photo.
No, not the piece by Mendelssohn, but an actual march by real people. As I approached the village of Chetelnica, I could hear a band playing in the distance, and just imagined it was rehearsal day for the local musicians. However, when I dropped steeply down into the village centre, I met this very colourful procession walking along the road,
and right in the middle were the bride and groom. Lots of them shouted comments in my direction, which were either disparaging of my appearance or were an invitation to join the party…I’d like to think it was the latter.
About half of today’s 80km route was one of my favourite kinds of road, peppered with steep climbs, commanding views over the countryside, and tyre-burning descents….better known as ‘lumpy’ in the cycling community.
It also happened to be a favourite with that other biking community, the motorcyclists. Hundreds passed me, oblivious of the many shrines to the memory of their fellow bikers who have lost their lives on this stretch. And invariably, they ‘hunt’ in packs….they always roar past in groups…
So here are a few things that Slovakia is famous for: Peter Sagan, one of the most talented of elite cyclists, and certainly the most entertaining; the Slovak language has given us two very common words, ‘robot‘ and ‘pistol‘. And its capital, Bratislava, stands on the border of two other independent nations, Hungary and Austria. And don’t confuse Slovakia with Slovenia (which, apparently, many do) and in case you still haven’t caught up with history, it’s been separated from the Czech Republic since 1993. Here endeth the lesson….
I was prepared for a long, fast descent….I knew it was on the menu for the day. However, Google maps couldn’t provide a cycling option in Slovakia, the only option that gives an elevation profile of the route ahead, so I used the ‘terrain’ format to help identify ascents and descents.
Before the continuous fast stuff started, there was a switching of valleys, which meant another horrendously steep climb up and over, but once that was out of the way, after a 15km fast descent, there was continuous gradual descending for the rest of the day.
After 110km, I got to Trencin an hour before dark, to find the only campsite had closed for the winter 4 days ago, and every hotel and hostel I contacted or visited was either full or closed. This created a predicament that required a bit of creative thinking and a strong coffee.
So I decided to wait for dark and do a stealth pitch of my tent, but then chanced by a service station, and went in to have a coffee and consider my options. The girl behind the counter spoke good English, so I enlisted her support…. Between serving customers and checking the internet, she kindly made a few calls for me and eventually found a vacancy in a penzión just three doors away.
What I ended up with (despite its unpromising name) was a suite of two bedrooms, a kitchenette and bathroom for a very reasonable €30…..and he let me sleep with my bicycle….🤩
Having dropped from the high Tatras, I am now in an entirely different climate zone. The layers came off gradually as I lost altitude, from a few degrees above freezing, I ended up in a relatively balmy 18C.
I am the luckiest guy in Slovakia (well, now that I’m here). As I began the long, arduous climb up to the border, there were several occasions when the weather threatened my progress. But, despite all the threats and icy cold showers, I persisted, climbed over the border (topping out at 700 metres, 2,300ft) and hurtled down the other side into the town of Cadca, when the heavens opened, and the temperature immediately dropped some 10 degrees….the day ended icily cold…..I mean icily cold. That’s why I am the luckiest guy…..I could easily have been caught by that at the highest point of the ride, totally exposed, no shelter…it simply doesn’t bear thinking about.
So I grabbed myself a 15 euro room, and have just munched my way through the biggest pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life…
But I will let the pictures of the day tell their own story…
Ah, hello dear friends! How I’ve missed you….
No not you, the mountains…. After nearly 1,900km of mostly flat, sometimes dispiriting, riding against a predictable headwind across 6 countries, I can’t begin to explain the sheer relief I felt at finding myself in the foothills of the Tatra Mountains (also known as the Little Carpathians). I’m currently only 50km from the border with Slovakia, my 7th country on this trip…..but more of that later.
Special mention must be made of my Warmshowers host over the last two nights in Krakow. Adam is a veteran of road and off-road riding, with many years of touring experience, covering some 10 countries in the Balkans, and cycling from Poland to Nordcapp, over 5000km, to the most northerly point of Norway (and Europe). These are just two of his many exploits, all of which have been recorded on film, and we spent several hours reliving those experiences. I was mesmerised by the quality of his filming and the landscapes he has travelled through. Click here to sample some of his offerings. Sit back and enjoy them, whether or not you are a cyclist. You will be carried along by the gentle quest to discover new landscapes.
Back to my own journey. As I cruised out of Krakow on dedicated cycle paths, and had begun to climb up from the valley of the River Vistula, I chanced by the oldest Benedictine monastery in Poland, sitting high above the river,
and enveloped in that sense of withdrawal from life that begs you to stay awhile. A Dutch lady I met at the entrance was an habitual visitor, drawn back to Poland year after year.
After 102km, in the late afternoon, I checked into a wayside room, just into the final climb of this segment…
and at some 400 metres above sea level, I decided the night time temperature would be way below the tolerance of my sleeping bag. So once again, the indulgence of a real bed and a chef-prepared meal…..what has happened to the spirit of austerity, you might ask.