Day Two: The Czech countryside and a couple of gorgeous gorges…
“The night has passed, and the day lies open before us; let us pray with one heart and mind.”
I was expecting a difficult night of sleeplessly trying to get comfortable. I was expecting to start the day feeling exhausted and with movement limited by pain in my joints. So I was surprised to discover I had slept well, and upon waking, moved easily through the tent. Good sleep wasn’t simply because I was tired from yesterday’s cycling, it was more that I had an excellent combination of inflatable mat, sleeping bag, and pillow. I think it was the recent addition of the pillow that made the biggest difference: I’d brought a puffy-jacket that packs into its own pocket and doubles as a camping pillow – this made it possible for me to sleep on my back instead of my side.
I unzipped the front of the tent and as I boiled water on the Trangia, the sun rose above the trees. Pitching the tent facing east the previous evening meant that while I sipped my freshly filtered coffee, I was bathed in sunshine. I paused silently, then said, “As we rejoice in the gift of this new day, so may the light of your presence, O God, set our hearts on fire with love for you; now and for ever. Amen”. I find that the practice of Morning Prayer feeds my soul, connects me with other people of Christian faith around the world, and reminds me of God’s relationship with all of creation.
After breakfast and another filter coffee, I packed everything away. Clothes into one bag, sleeping and cooking equipment into the other, electronics into the handlebar bag, and the tent into a stuff sack, strapped to the top of the rear rack. As I finished, the rain began. Dean and I moved ourselves to the covered picnic area, unpacked the Trangia and made more coffee while thinking about where we would head next. It was warm, but the rain was quite steady and we were working out whether we need a jacket or not. As we left the campsite the first bit of road was steeply uphill and Dean shouted back over his shoulder, “Pavé!”
We cycled uphill away from Pikovice into Hradistko where we found Café Kandík for a mid-morning snack. The rain passed and we could pop our coats away. At first there was a novelty to the new-to-us landscape, huge fields of wheat and corn stretched away either side of the road. We were nearly 500m above sea-level, but could have been cycling through the Vale of York. The hills were not steep, but the road followed the gentle contours of the land so that we found ourselves slowly climbing more often than not. The view to the horizon was long, and there was a hint of bigger hills in the distance.
I was trying to decipher road signs too, with very limited success. I asked Dean what he thought ‘Slapy’ meant, as we’d passed signs that suggested there was a Slapy Hotel, Slapy Bar, Slapy Sports etc. Only later did the penny drop that Slapy was simply the name of the nearest town.
When we found a village with a shop, we’d refill water bottles. We saw nobody. The roads were empty, and perhaps this was my route – away from towns and villages – but we cycled almost car free for most of the day and if someone did pass, it was universally with plenty of space. The late August sunshine was beating down on us, and we occasionally had to take a break in bus-shelters or on benches beneath trees.
As I reflect on our time together, in the comfort of my study, I think the biggest difference between mine and Dean’s route planning technique is that I don’t think about intermediate stops. Dean was interested in going places, whereas I was interested in cycling between places. It’s only a subtle difference, but it has a big impact. One example was around lunchtime on stage two, when Dean spotted there was a little village ahead but my route zigzagged past it. He suggested we pop into the village to see what was there and I was very much in agreement, but in plotting the route I hadn’t taken this obvious thought into consideration. So, thanks to Dean, we found a delightful bakery and village shop in Křepenice.
We also noticed that almost all road junctions in the countryside had a little shrine, or crucifix, or prayer chapel nearby. I wondered if there was something symbolic in prayerfully trying to find the right way to go. I don’t mean that motorists stop at each junction and pray they’ll chose the correct turn, I just wondered if the symbolism arose from the sense of making choices. In addition to these crosses beside the road, there was also quite frequently a map with tourist information about the area we were passing through. This felt thoughtfully deliberate, and something that demonstrated how much local people cared about their country and their region.
Towards the end of the day, as we were looking for a campsite, we crossed both the Vltava and the Otava rivers near Zvíkovské Podhradí. Both rivers were running through deep gorges in the countryside, and we rode across a couple of high level bridges.
The campsite we’d chosen was closed. The staff were away on a team building exercise leaving only two people to manage security. The younger of them was able to work out we were tired cyclists with nowhere else to stay, and pointed us to a camping field on the promise we’d pay in the morning when the full team returned. We enjoyed cooking and eating with the setting sun bathing us in orange light.
Stage two: Pikovice to Zvíkovské Podhradí
