A Very Modern Odyssey Continued
If you missed part 1 of the article you can read it here.
BY PERCY CLARKE
Another week and another couple of borders were crossed. Foolishly we left Vienna without a map and so found ourselves on the wrong side of the Danube without a bridge in sight. Consequently we had to follow a main road towards Bratislava, underestimated the time it would take to cycle between the cities, and had to camp for the night under the flight path of Vienna’s airport. Still, we made it in the end and had a pleasant afternoon in Bratislava the following day. We used the last of our German-bought alcohol fuel to fry some sausages on the Trangia and have had no luck replacing it in Eastern Europe despite repeated attempts in several camping stores. It has begun to get very cold at night in our tents. My sleeping bag just wasn’t keeping me warm, Rhys had the same problem with his so we have invested in enormous and warm new ones which should see us safely through the Carpathians and out blinking into the light of the Turkish plains.
Have finished ‘The Life and Times of Thunderbolt Kid‘ by Bill Bryson, fantastic read, highly recommended. I am now on to ‘A Spot of Bother‘, the new book from the Author of ‘The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time’, another great read. We have spent the afternoon in the bath house here in Pest with some new friends from the Hostel – so relaxing and welcome after cycling. Tomorrow (or perhaps the day after) we head south with our friend the Danube to Serbia. Health good and spirits running high.
We made it to Belgrade. Budapest was wonderful. If you are ever there I can highly recommend the Backpacker Hostel if you are looking to meet a lively crowd, have access to an extensive DVD collection, and gain the use of a homely kitchen. This was our base for a few days and from here we were able to rest and recuperate whilst absorbing as much of the city as our over-stimulated minds could take in. It truly is wonderful – the view from the Capital hill at night is breathtaking! I really feel that this journey could happily be spread over a year, two years, more, without it getting tired.
I bought a new odometer in an enormous Tesco of all places. They are all over the place in Hungary and put those back in Blighty to shame; were you that way inclined you could live in one for want of nothing but a reason to live. With the Tesco Value cycle computer strapped to my steed we set off for the border. It is set up in km now so converting distances is no longer a headache and the speed looks a lot faster! It took us three a
nd a half days to cover the distance of nigh on 400km between Budapest and Belgrade. We went wild camping in some fairly unusual places due to the lack of camping sites but, even if they were about, it’s more fun doing it this way. As a result we got the Trangia cooking down to a T. We frequently spent an hour over breakfast too; living in a field or forest really isn’t so bad if you are met in the morning with brilliant sunshine streaming through pine trees, or a clear blue sky, and can enjoy it all with hot tea, bacon and eggs.
We were now on larger roads. The traffic was more than bearable and the Serbs seem to be fairly considerate drivers. Of course you do get the occasional nutter tearing past you at 500mph in a truck designed by some dutiful communist but that was always going to be the case. The transition had been gradual but now the world is a very different place. Many of the cars in rural areas are older than me and are, much like my bicycle, held together with duct tape. Strangely enough it seems the roadkill has changed too. It is odd the things you notice when looking at acres of road flopping around in front of you but where, for example, German drivers enjoy running over squirrels and pheasants, we have seen at least three dead cats and two dead dogs on Serbian roads. Francis suggested we try cooking one. I hope he was joking.
Belgrade is a mysterious, chaotic, and beautiful city. We had a delicious meal in a nice restaurant overlooking the famous (or infamous) Hotel Moscow before struggling for what seemed like hours in the cold dark of the Serbian night to find a place to stay. We did, however, and it is proving to be a fine find. The hostel is called The 3 Black Catz and has a bath. Yes, that’s right, a bath!! Mmmm, nice. Needless to say that after said bath (one of the few things we decided not to share on this trip) we all went and got drunk on Rakije and beer in a bar with friendly staff.
We then had a successful last few days which has seen us from Belgrade to Sofia in good time. We left Belgrade with the knowledge that we would not be seeing a bed or shower until we reached the Bulgarian capital and this no doubt spurred us on somewhat. It has been a longwhile since we saw, let alone used, a campsite and so we’ve been forced to seek refuge in some unusual places; one such spot was atop a hill with an amazing panorama encompassing mountains on all sides and with a good view of the Serbian – Bulgarian border through which we had just passed. The view was impressive in the morning, to throw back the door of the tent to see beauty in the morning light, nice. It has begun to get oh so cold. We kept warm on our bikes due to the motion but hands and toes freeze. On a bike one’s toes rarely move so that when they get wet they just sit there with a chill wind on them growing ever further from your possession. Still, the sleeping bag does the trick and, after much drying, re-socking, and wiggling they rejoin bodily society.
And then we arrived in Sofia. A shambolic yet intriguing city in which I’d love to be able to spend more time. Our first night here saw us visiting a yummy Bulgarian restaurant to get a taste for the cuisine. We also used the opportunity to wash ourselves and our clothes, not sure which was in greater need but several countries have come and gone since the latter had a real going over. It is difficult to stay on top of these things from day to day when living in a tent but at least we only stand to offend each other and that isn’t likely to happen through the medium of smell. Our suspicion that it was cold was confirmed in the most blatant of ways when, whilst enjoying a beer in the capital, we looked outside to see big, fat snowflakes falling by on the street outside. This carried on for hours until all the cars had an inch of snow on them. It was rather fun but we were ever so glad not to be on the bikes in such a wintry offering. We are told it is just a spell and that the weather will improve shortly; I just hope the weather folk here are more reliable than those back in Blighty. We had about 700km left until reaching Istanbul. Exciting stuff to say the least.
Happy days. We had arrived! We pushed on fast from Sofia, all of us keen to arrive in Istanbul and enjoy some time out of the saddle. We passed through Plovdiv and Svilengrad making it to the Turkish border in two days. The roads were good and the wind occasionally in our favour so we were able to clock up average speeds of 25kmh over long days during which we covered an average of 140km. Our final border came and went without mishap and we passed through it with a Swiss cyclist also on his way to Istanbul. We were in Turkey, the sun was shining and the roads were well paved and reasonably quiet. We struck out and made it to within a day’s ride from our destination. Our final day started uniquely with us separated. We were cycling along with about 30mins between us when, on a difficult part of road, I noticed a 6ft long pitchfork a split second before my front wheel hit it at some speed. There was no time to react, my bike stopped instantly, the full weight of my loaded bike flipped over and I planted the ground with my arms and chin. Jumping up, furious with the bastard farmer who left it there, and myself for not noticing it, I saw that it had ripped my beautiful custom-made wheel to bits, 15 spokes snapped and the rim buckled beyond repair. The story has a happy ending which serves as a testament to the kindness of the Turks and the mercy of God, but dear readers you will have to wait another time for that; Istanbul awaits…
A Very Modern Odyssey
BY PERCY CLARKE
Recent graduates inspired by the writings of Dervla Murphy and Patrick Leigh Fermor, whose books ‘Full Tilt: Ireland to India with a Bicycle
Bikes and equipment ready and so far so good! We neared the end of our first week on the continent and, though tired and tanned, we made good progress. We left London early on Saturday morning heading for Harwich. Francis had been charged with planning our route out of London but due to self-inflicted time constraints he had only got as far as the edge of the city! Nevertheless we found the A12 and clung to it as far as Colchester where we had lunch. Made the ferry in plenty of time and celebrated the end of the first leg with a crate of Fosters. We awoke the next morning to the news that we had just arrived in the Hook of Holland. Happy to be on the move, we disembarked and found to our delight, a cycle route sign posted all the way to Rotterdam. We arrived in time for breakfast which, due to it being 10 am on a Sunday, I am sorry to say was taken in McDonald´s.
Our first night of camping went well in a small site just out of the city centre. Dumping our things we set off again to visit the enchanting van Beuningen museum of art before dinner. The next day we were rolling on again across The Netherlands. We found a campsite some 70 miles away in a little town called Kapel Avezaath which lay to the East along the Waal. Just managed to pitch our tents before the heavens opened and spent a cold but deservedly happy night that little bit closer to the German border.
The next day we pushed on, finding ourselves in Nijmegen for lunch. This charming medieval town with its obvious Germanic influences gave us a good meal and provided a platform for us to sweep onwards across the border. After a brief climb and gentle descent we were over the border, not so much as an ‘are your papers in order?’ to signify we were in Germany, so we continued on our way to find a spot to rest our heads. Arriving in Kleve with the sun rapidly setting and being refused a bed in the youth hostel due to our lack of hostel cards, we decided that it was about time we tested our wild-camping mettle. Initially we dragged our bikes into a wood but found the floor to be inches deep in mud and covered with thorns so cycled on for another kilometer and pitched our tents at the end of a field hidden by some maize. Here followed a beautifully clear but agonizingly cold night, I was glad for the Trangia and a cup of hot tea!
Next morning I awoke groggy, put my foot in my shoe and promptly withdrew it to find my penknife lying blade up and a piece of my toe missing. Cycled on for the day with a red patch slowing growing in my shoe. Alarming but only my foolishness to blame! A chilly morning ride to find a spot for breakfast.
Stopped in Kalkar, a pretty village with a lively courtyard even at half past eight in the morning. We have been on the Rhine ever since as we head South through Germany´s industrial heartland. The natural beauty of the valley coupled with the ingenuity of man´s industry makes for a very interesting backdrop to our adventure. Stopping at a hostel in Duisburg gave us the opportunity to relax and catch up with our diaries. Here we met another cycle tourist going the opposite direction who was kind enough to give us detailed maps of south Germany, great money saver but we still have to get there! We are now in K? With another well looked after campsite to rest in. I believe the well posted cycle routes and clean camp sites are lulling us into a false sense of security. Apparently there are no more routes east of Vienna and we will be competing for road space with lorries from then on.
We reached Mainz. Got off to a good start this morning but the day took a turn for the worse. Rhys had a little spill which left him with a bloody knee and elbow but, thankfully we were not on the main road so we bandaged him up and continued along our way. The cycle route we had been following deposited us in the middle of an industrial estate in Weisbaden (the other side of the river from Mainz). Tired, hungry and with Rhys bearing up well but a little disgruntled we sort refuge in the only nearby food spot…McDonald´s! With a little fuel in us we were able to find the trusty Rhine. Crossing it we arrived here in Mainz. As we had gone off the edge of our current map we found a bookshop to furnish us with another. Then the rain came. Cold and wet again! Not wanting to carry on in the deluge and needing to use the internet, plan our route etc. we´ve decided to rest here for the night in a nearby campsite.
A lot happened over the next week. We continued due south up The Rhine through Speyer with a brief look at its charming cathedral and crossed it for the last time by a town called Leimersheim. Having left our watery guide behind we continued to Karlsruhe. Unfortunately we did not have time to explore so, despite the sun shining and warm, we pushed on towards Pforzheim. Having begun to count the pennies a little more closely we decided to wild camp again. Finding a spot didn’t prove too tricky and before long we were boiling water for a cup of tea in the woods. I awoke after 1 am feeling a little peculiar, feeling as though i might throw up I leant forward in my tent and opened the mosquito mesh just in time to vomit, exorcist style, all over my panniers, sleeping bag, sleeping mat etc. With the sound of an annoyingly loud and close bird to accompany me, and the sleepy sympathy of Francis, I mopped up the staggering amount of liquid and did my best to get back to sleep. The next day, with me feeling understandably shakey, we continued on to Pforzheim. I am sorry to say that, due to the lack of campsites, and my kit smelling like the wrong side of a Mancunian weekend, we made the joint decision to take a train to Stuttgart. Although it was a very short train ride I feel the need to apologise! We promised not to do it again.
Stuttgart was lovely, we took a welcome day off so our legs could repair themselves and we could explore the city a little. We met an American by the name of Robbie, a Christian who was seeking healing from someone with a distinct but elusive name. He had previously been a junky but, having been clean for 8 years, was trying to distribute his childrens book about a racoon blessed by God. Interesting chap.
We headed out in the evening to a bar and met some young German skater types who were friendly and intrigued by our adventure. ‘Vom England mit Fahrrad?!!’ It is always fun to gauge people’s reactions and we aren’t even half way yet! Then, accidently we took a wanderweg and found ourselves in what looked like the set for Jurassic park, we had to scramble across the river with all our kit before winding up in a farm in the middle of nowhere. Eventually we found our position, then our intended destination. Wild camped again last night in a meadow surrounded by ants and mole hills. A damp and dewey (sp?) night followed but bright and warm in the morning. We were now in Donaueschingen, the start of the Danube trail which leads all the way to the Black sea. Writing that sends a shiver of excitement down my spine, we are going to watch it grow from a tiny flow into the width it is famous for. For those of you who are concerned about our eating McDonald’s please note that we eat local food all the time, it is only mentioned as an anomaly. Vienna was a far superior half way point than I could ever have imagined. Such friendly, fun-filled, alcohol-fueled frivolity has helped us to find the fresh legs we needed to cycle fast towards Bratislava and on to Istanbul. We arrived having pushed on from Passau on the German border through driving rain and cold, cold air. You reach a point at which you cannot possibly get any wetter, drips stream down the end of your nose, water hits you from every direction; flung up from the road and down from the sky such that even those areas seemingly secure are caught in the deluge. Still, at this point I find myself bellowing nonsense to imaginary people or cackling at all the fairweather cyclists hiding like mice under bus shelters as we fly past happy on our damp, traveling homes. I secretly enjoy it more than the dry days as the flat river can get a little repetitive.
So, we are still alive despite Rhys trying his best to fall off his bike at any given moment. I joke, he´s doing really well but had a bad day before we arrived in Vienna and came off his bike twice in the space of 30 mins landing on the same side each time. He is a tough lad and takes everything with good humour though, full credit to him. Francis’ tent poles have snapped leaving him with something of a saggy tent; we are going to hunt a new one down tomorrow before leaving for Bratislava. He has been reading Chekov recently, you frequently see him thumbing his well loved copy of ‘The Three Sisters
So, back to Vienna! Three all-nighters in a row with an ever changing group of great partiers composed of people from the world over. Some great Aussies with whom I watched the Aussie rules final at 6 in the morning. Some charming Slovenian girls who used me as a walking notepad; woke up the next morning with a comprehensive collection of Slovenian catchphrases scrawled on my arms. About 10 mildly inebriated blokes going to the ballet was certainly a highlight and we indulged ourselves with champagne and a dash of caviar, the tickets were only 2 Euros after all!! There was an Irishman in our dorm who was great fun to drink with, at one point all we needed was a Scot to complete the picture but there were none available.
At various points we encountered Austrians, Dutch, Germans, a Mongolian, Americans, Brazilians, Italians…There is something very cool about hearing a German converse in English with an Italian. One night when the madness flowed over well into the morning we had two very lovely American girls who had just moved into our dorm. Apparently we made a lot of noise all night all the while apologising profusely for making it in very eloquent but drunken speech. The next day when we eventually awoke we all got chatting, they forgave us and we had a wonderful couple of days together taking in the sites of this staggeringly beautiful capital. We were supposed to have left by now but the hostel we were staying in was like Hotel California; you can check out any time you like but you can never leave!
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