'Why In The Hell Are You Out Here, Grant?"

Stewart and I just had to pause and soak it all in. You can see why it's one of our favorite cycling trails.

The weather in Prague has been -- at it always is at this time of year and through April -- unbearably bleak.

It's cold and gray and cloudy, but the clouds are not distinguishable as clouds. The sky is one vast cloud the color of dirty dishwater, stretching from horizon to horizon. No light penetrates this bleak blanket. The sun is a pleasant memory, a summer dream.

The sky is so low that it feels like it's brushing the top of your head. It's oppressive and depressive.

It's also cold, a damp cold that slices through your skin and into your bones.

What better time, then, to go for a bike ride!

Stewart and I didn't have a lot of time, but we were itching to get out on the bikes. It had been awhile. Too long, in fact. I, for one, was hoping the ride would kick-start some endorphins, and make me forget about my hangover.

We made plans to meet at 9 a.m. at the world famous SPITW (Smallest Pub In The World) in Úholičky, about halfway between Stewart's house in Roztoky and my house in Černý Vůl.


Fall colors in Velké Přílepy.


It's fun to bike on roads when they're this pretty and this empty.

It was the first really cold ride of the autumn season, and I realized as I was well on my way that I had drastically underdressed. The sweat was freezing to my skin on the downhill into Velké Přílepy. It was around 3 degrees Celsius (37 Fahrenheit) when I left home, and the wind chill made it feel like I was wearing a skull cap made of ice. But I was too far into the ride to turn around.

I thought to myself, as I made my way to Uholicky, "Why in the hell are you out here, Grant? It's gray and miserable and you're freezing. It's not worth it."

But I pedaled on. Stewart was waiting.

(Of course, we've cycled in much colder weather than 3 Celsius, but I was dressed for it then.)


I admire this kind of architecture wherever it may be. This building could have easily been so boring.

Normally, we would have headed up the hill to Tursko and tooled around the roads and trails up that way, but we didn't have a lot of time on this day, so we chose to head back to Velké Přílepy and from there to Noutonice, and then down into Okoř and see what happened.

Passing through some backstreets of Velké Přílepy, we came across a funky, modernistic office building or school, newly built, and apparently paid for with money from the European Union. Quite a sight in such a humble little village. Very cool.

(You can find a map of our entire route by clicking here.)

We cycled to Noutonice, and then one of our favorite paths that leads from that tiny village down, down, down through the forest and then empties into the valley behind the castle at Okoř.

Along the way, we had to slam on the brakes to stop and appreciate a bit o' nature. The forest floor was upholstered with large yellow leaves. It was absolutely quiet, save for the sound of more leaves falling softly and coming to rest on top of their brethren.

We stopped, held our breaths, and soaked in the silence.

On the ridge above us, two deer walked slowly through the trees. I don't think they knew we were there.

We headed on down the hill and into Okoř through the back door.

Stewart's wife, Kathleen, had kindly packed us some hot, homemade lentil soup, so we stopped at a picnic table below the 14th-century castle ruins and warmed ourselves. What a treat.

Usually, we'd stop at the Family Hotel Okoř and have a beer or two (it also serves some of the finest steaks in Prague), but we just didn't have time. We had some family commitments looming. Sacrilege for this blog, I know.

We had a couple of coffees, instead, and warmed ourselves.

From Okoř, we cycled to the village of Lichoceves, then to Statenice, and then home for both of us.

But not before taking what turned out to be a dead-end trail through the forest above Statenice, forcing us to ride and walk our bikes through thick undergrowth and across a plowed farmer's field. Our tires were caked with mud, like we'd ridden through a vast batch of freshly baked brownies.


While we were sipping our coffees in Okoř, I noticed this sight at the table next to ours. A cat, I hope.

It wasn't a long ride, or particularly strenuous, but we accomplished what we set out to do. Get some exercise. And rid our bodies and minds -- however temporarily -- of Prague's dreaded winter blues.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 18 kilometers
Maximum speed: 34.9 kph
Average speed: 8.5 kph
Pivo Index: 0 (!)
Time on the bike: 2:05:12
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 652 kilometers


It was a dead end, but it didn't stop us.


Like riding through a huge batch of freshly baked brownies.

Mushroom Hill

This is indicative of the kinds of trails that crisscross the forest above Statenice. You can see why it's a cyclist's paradise.

Time to do a little housecleaning and confessing.

I strive in this blog to record something about every ride I take. I've found that to be difficult to achieve lately, what with recent trips to San Francisco and Amsterdam, and obligations at home and at work. I am only one man, people!

Plus, crazily enough, I have another blog, Gusto, that also beckons. (What was I thinking?!)

But I’m here today to play a little catch-up and keep my bike-blogging record secure.

Let me tell you about a fun little ride I went on back in late September.

I usually don’t ride alone. It’s just not as much fun, frankly. And I find companionship on the bike trails motivates me to tackle steeper hills and go on longer rides than I would by myself.

But it was a nice day, and I needed the exercise, so I braved the trails around my house in Černý Vůl solo.

I didn’t have a heckuva lot of time, so I decided to tackle one of the toughest climbs in my neighborhood.

I call it Mushroom Hill.

It's in the woods above the nearby village of Statenice. I’ve ridden around the forest there quite a few times, and it seems as if I always run into someone carrying a basket full of freshly picked mushrooms. (Mushrooming is a Czech obsession.)


Who da man? You da man! Or a bearded Elvis. I don't know what I was doing. I just had to do something silly with this arrow hanging from a tree trunk. Juxtaposed with another arrow pointing in the opposite direction. OK, I'll stop talking now.

It’s a steep, winding trail of dirt and rocks and roots. It snakes through some lovely forest, but you don’t have a lot of time to admire the views. You’re too busy trying to stay on your bike and not die of a heart attack. It’s not quite as bad as the dreaded Hill of Doom, but it has its moments.

It’s one of those hills that makes you think you’ve reached the top, but then presents you with another few hundred meters of tough slogging that you’d forgotten existed since your last visit.

But in an effort to motivate myself in the absence of a fellow rider, I was thinking to myself that once I got to the top of the hill, and rested at the Svata Juliana cross, that I would zip across the ridge to the village of Přední Kopanina and reward myself with a cold beer.

And that’s exactly what I did.

It was cold and it tasted crisp and it satisfied my thirst.


A beer still tastes good, even if you're sitting by yourself.

I decided against having a second, not wanting to negate all that hill climbing with another glass of delicious but dangerous carbs.

I set off from the pub and explored some previously unridden trails – almost all downhill at this point -- through the forest between Přední Kopanina and Statenice. I almost came off the bike a few times as I raced down the rocky, rooty path, my need for speed crowding out my better judgment.

I made a mental note to return to some of the many enticing paths I missed on this day.

And then I returned home.

Not a long ride, by any measure, but a good one. I’d broken a sweat, drank a beer, and explored a forest. Didn't see any mushrooms, though.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 12.5 kilometers
Average speed: 14.7 kph
Maximum speed: 33.1 kph
Time on the bike: 49.59
Pivo Index: 1
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 634 kilometers


A lovely grove of saplings somewhere deep in the woods near Mushroom Hill.

Hats Off To The Danes

My good friend (and occasional riding partner) Carlo sent this video to me, and I just had to share.

It shows police in Denmark stopping cyclists who aren't wearing helmet, hugging them, and then giving them a free helmet.

Amazing stuff.

A good friend of mine -- Brian Bourke, a fantastic music journalist and an avid cyclist -- was killed in the early 1990s after he was struck by a van while riding. He wasn't wearing a helmet, and it's rare that I don't think about him each time I put my own helmet on before a ride.

Hats off to the Danes.

Legend Of The Fall

None the worse for wear.

It's been a few days now, and I'm still shaking my head in astonishment. What a thing to have happened, and to have survived unscathed.

Unbelievable, really.

It was a gorgeous Indian summer's day, and Stewart, Mark and I were out for a ride along the banks of the Vltava. Stewart and I wanted to show Mark our new favorite ride, down the river to the Marina Vltava in the village of Nelahozeves, where we'd catch a few beers and then cycle back.

Our previous trips to Nelahozeves involved meeting up in Úholičky, and then riding some back roads down into Kralupy or Libčice nad Vltavou, where we'd pick up the trail on the west side of the river.


Crossing the Vltava with our bikes on the ferry at Roztoky.

This time, I thought it would be fun to ride up the east bank of the Vltava to Kralupy, cross the big bridge in that city, and then link up with the wonderful path that leads from Kralupy to Nelahozeves. So that's what we did. (For a map showing our exact route, click here.)

We caught the ferry in Roztoky, which took us across the river to Klecany, where we picked up the riverside trail to Kralupy. It's a wonderful ride, but a bit hairy in parts. Much of the path on the east side of the river runs right along the top of a wall that plunges four or five meters down into the river. The other side of the path is also tight, with trees and rocks and brush that also leaves little room for error.


The trail is lovely in spots ...


... and quite treacherous in others.


It's hard to tell from this photo, but the edge of the trail plunges about five meters straight down into the river.

Basically, it's a fantastically scenic ride, but you've got to keep your eyes on the trail at all times. One of our usual riding partners, James, once told us of an acquaintance of his who had fallen off the ledge and into the river on her bike. As I remember the story, his friend wasn't hurt, but it was a heck of a thing to fish her out of the river.

We always joke nervously that incident every time we're riding on this particular trail, and this day was no exception as the three of us headed north.

We pedaled past a pasture full of cute little piglets on our way to Kralupy, and showed Mark the soft, rolling trail from Kralupy to Nelahozeves, with its cool sandstone caves on one side and the river on the other.


A pig farm on the way from Klecany to Kralupy.


Taking a snooze in the sun.

We stopped at the Marina for what I believe ended up being three beers each for Stewart and myself, and two for Mark. We also had a deliciously spicy plate of goulash and dumplings, some of the best we've ever had in Prague, in fact.

After lunch, we cycled past the house where the Czech composer Antonin Dvorak was born and lived as a young man (that's his house in the photo below), before heading a bit further north to cross a cool old bridge back across to the east side of the river, near Veltrusy.

From there, we headed back home, winding our way through some village streets, always heading toward the river, until we linked up with the Vltava path that hugs the river all the way back to Prague.

Eventually, we arrived back at that stretch of the trail that clings precariously to the top of the river wall. We were cycling single file, as the trail demands. Mark was in the lead, I was behind him by 30 meters or so, and Stewart was following somewhere way in the rear.

Looking up the trail, I noticed in the distance that Mark had dismounted and was standing with his bike along the edge of the river wall. He was letting a group of riders coming down the river pass by safely.

That's when he disappeared.

One second he was there. The next second, he was, simply, gone.

It looked to me like he had, incredibly, fallen off the wall. In my mind, in that split second, I thought to myself: "The event that we've all joked about so many times has actually happened. Oh, shit!"

I knew it was a long way down to the riverbank and the water. This wasn't going to be pretty.,

"MARK!!! MARK!!!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT??!" I shouted as I cycled up to where I'd last seen Mark.

Much to my surprise, and relief, I could hear Mark laughing as he yelled, "Yes, I'm OK!"

How that could possibly be, I could not fathom.


Yes, Mark is down there somewhere in the shrubbery and river water.

As it turns out, as he stepped aside to let the other group pass, straddling his bike, Mark took one step too many and fell about four or five meters backwards off the wall, straight down, with his bike following closely behind.

The riverbank was choked with a dense growth of leafy brush. As he fell, the shrubbery cushioned his fall somewhat, as did the river itself, in which he ended up rear end down.

He wasn't hurt, but he couldn't move. His bike had landed on top of him. His ass was in the river. His legs were up in the air. And he was wedged in at an awkward angle.


That's Mark, stuck in place. His butt and backpack in the water. His bike on top of him. At an angle from which it's impossible to right himself.


Hauling Mark's bike back up the wall from whence he fell.

By the time I arrived on the scene, the group of guys who Mark had allowed to go by were already in rescue mode. I think they felt somewhat responsible for the accident, but to their credit, they wasted no time in jumping to Mark's rescue.

One guy grabbed another guy's hand, and he lowered himself down the face of the stone wall to where Mark lay stricken. He pulled Mark's bike off him, and then grabbed Mark's hand and pulled him upright.

I watched all of this from the top of the wall, incredulous. I simply couldn't believe it. MARK FELL OFF THE WALL!

The guys hoisted Mark's bike up the wall, while Mark himself found an easier way up by heading down the trail a bit, crossing under through a huge drain pipe, and walking casually up to where the rest of us stood, laughing all the way.

He was unscathed, save for a cut on the back of his leg. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for the expensive digital camera stored in his backpack, which spent one too many minutes immersed in the Vltava. Mark's iPhone somehow managed to escape destruction.

In all the excitement, I didn't think to film a little video of Mark's rescue, but I did have Mark recount his ordeal into my own iPhone as we stood there on the trail, just minutes after the incident:



We thanked the guys who helped pull Mark out of the drink, and they went on their way toward Kralupy. Never did get their names, but hat's off to them for immediately jumping to the rescue.

As for us, we hopped back on our bikes toward Prague, shaking our heads and laughing all the way, including Mark. Hats off to him for enduring something like that with such good humor.

We just couldn't believe what had happened, and that Mark hadn't seriously injured himself. Imagine if he'd fallen on a rock, or the wrong way on an upturned branch.

Wow.

That's all I can say about that ride.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 57 kilometers
Elevation Gain: 463 meters
Duration of the ride: 5:18:07
Average speed: 10.8 kph
Maximum speed: 37.9 kph
Pivo Index: 3
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 621.5 kilometers


This cool old bridge to Veltrusy was once used by cars, but it's closed now except for pedestrians and cyclists.


From the bridge, we watched this group of rafters about to launch themselves into the river.

The Canny Is Unresemblance

That's Marlo on the right.

During bullshit sessions while cycling with the subject of my last blog post, 73-year-old Californian Marlo Martin, his resemblance to Bolshevik leader Vladimir Lenin was noted.

In fact, as he mentioned at the time, he'd taken a picture of himself with a painting of Lenin during a visit to Budapest, I think it was.

He sent the photo along, and I thought I'd share it.

You be the judge!

What I Hope I Look Like 25 Years From Now

'
Marlo and me at Okoř castle on a beautiful late Indian summer afternoon.

I got a glimpse into my future the other day.

Or what I hope will be my future, if I’m lucky.

Let me explain.

I received an e-mail a few weeks ago from a guy out in California:

I've been reading your blog for the last few months since my wife and I decided to spend a couple weeks in Prague this fall. I ride a mountain bike (K2 hardtail) in the Berkeley hills and Marin county with some side trips to the Sierras up around Lake Tahoe in the summer. I'm thinking of renting a bike and taking a ride near Prague in a couple weeks, and will probably rely on your descriptions of trails and pubs... I like your style of riding, punctuated with a beer or two along the way (we don't have those kinds of nice outdoor pubs out here though). Your current blog reminds me of the T-shirt that says "Beer... So much more than just another breakfast drink!"

I liked the guy already. His name was Marlo Martin, and he was from Berkeley, California.

He said he’d been riding in the hills for the past eight years since having to give up trail running because of knee problems.

My normal training rides start with about a 1000 foot climb and are in the 20-30 km range. I'm also happy with smaller ups and downs and would really like to see some of the Czech countryside that you describe. I can't really get much of an idea of what the verticals are in your rides. Are the hills on the scale of 1000 feet or 200 feet or what? Less grueling climbs let me tolerate longer total distances than mentioned above. I really want to stay off busy roads as much as possible, but some of the ones you showed in photos look very appealing. Obviously, trails are most desirable, especially if they take me through interesting surroundings.

Now, regular readers of this blog know that I’m no fan of hills. I do them because around here there’s no other choice. They often get in the way of me and the nearest pub, so I do what I have to do.

So I asked for some advice on the local hills from my riding buddy Rob, who’s a masochist like Marlo and who’s studied the local terrain far more scientifically than I have:

As for riding around Prague, he won't have any trouble with our hills. The countryside around Prague is generally rolling with lots of ups and downs, but no really big climbs. Some of the very toughest hills here give you about 300 meters of climbing over 1-3 kilometers, I'd say. (There's a tough climb near a village called Klecany on the Vltava River that is something like that).


Rob and Marlo at the Roztoky overlook, with the Vltava River far below.

Marlo proposed that we ride together while he was in town:

I'm not very eager to sign up for a tourist bike ride at a bike shop, and most of my rides are solo anyway...

Oh, did I mention that Marlo is 73 years old?

“If you are planning a trip during the time I'm in Prague and would like to see how you'll be humping up the hills 25 years from now it could be a glimpse into your own future!”

We finally had a chance to link up earlier this week.


The video of the little carnival at Okoř castle.

Marlo met Rob at Dejvická metro station in Prague 6, and the both of them then rode over to my house in Černý Vůl, northwest of Prague.

They cycled up the bike path on Evropska, then headed into the park known as Divoká Šárka, which is criss-crossed by some lovely cycling and hiking paths.

I wanted Rob to take Marlo up the notorious Hill of Doom on the way, but he was too much of a gentleman.

Fifteen kilometers later, Marlo and Rob were at my house.

Let me just state the obvious. I hope to hell I look half as good as Marlo does when I’m 73. It cheered my soul to think that I possibly/maybe could look like that if I keep active.

Nice guy, to boot.

We headed from my house to Unetice on the wooded trail, then headed up the steep hill out of the village toward Roztoky. We were heading over to Stewart’s house. He’d invited us over to help him empty a bottle of burčák.

It was a lovely day, so we sat outside at Stewart’s and introduced Marlo to the joys of burčák, the young wine – the very young wine – that I’ve written about in this blog before. (Marlo at one point called it "grapeshot," which is a pretty accurate description, actually!)

It was a great chance to talk to find out more about Marlo, whom we found out runs a company that does foreign-language translation work. He also used to work as a physicist earlier in this career. He’s a smart guy.

Stewart decided to join us for the rest of our ride, so we headed down the hill from Roztoky to the fantastic cycling path that runs along the west side of the Vltava River toward Podmoran. In Podmoran, we climbed another, even tougher, hill up to Úholičky.

The Smallest Pub In The World in Úholičky was closed, and we were running out of time, and I wanted to show Marlo the cool castle at Okoř, so we skipped another uphill climb to Tursko and instead headed to Velké Přílepy and then Noutonice.

In Noutonice, we took one of our favorite routes into Okoř -- down a steep, partly paved, partly dirt path that leads into the valley behind the castle.

We had to slow up a bit, unfortunately, near the end of the downhill because of a horse on the trail, and we didn't want a repeat of a previous episode last December when our presence spooked a horse and threw the rider to the ground.

We also had a chance to show Marlo one of the most beautiful homes in the Czech Republic, which apparently belongs to the mayor of the nearby village of Lichoceves. As I've said before, it's like a vision from the Lake District of England.

In Okoř, we checked out the castle and the sad little kiddie carnival that seems to be in permanent residence in the field below the ramparts. The carnival both gives me the willies, and is also somehow oddly compelling.

And Rob pointed out a large model of what the castle once looked like, tucked away in a neighboring garden, which we had never noticed before, despite having visited Okoř about 234 times previously.

We sucked down some Pilsner at the amazing Family Hotel Okoř, lounging around in the grass in the golden glow of the setting sun.

If only we'd had time for two.

But Marlo had to get his rental bike back to the shop, I had to go pick up Emma, Stewart had a family barbecue to get cooking, and Rob had a going-away party to attend.


Stewart, Marlo and Rob kick back with a cold one in Okoř.

We saddled up and headed back to Velké Přílepy, where Stewart said his goodbyes. A few kilometers later, I said goodbye to Marlo and Rob as they headed back into the city.

A tip of my cycling helmet to Marlo, for being such an inspiration.

All the best, my friend. I hope we can link up during my upcoming business trip to San Francisco. Not sure if I'll have time to ride while I'm there, but I'll let you buy me a microbrew. Or two.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 30 kilometers
Average speed: 15.1 kph
Maximum speed: 42.5 kph
Time on the bike: 1.56.06
Pivo Index: 1
Burcak Index: 3 glasses
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 564.5 kilometers


The 14th-century castle ruin at Okor is one of our favorite cycling destinations, as regular readers no doubt already know.


Each of us has fallen in love with this house behind Okor castle. Beautiful house. Well-tended gardens. Whimsical sculptures.


The path from Roztoky to Podmoran along the river. It's a beauteous ride.

Not In Sheep Shape

We passed a couple of inquisitive sheep near Dolany.

I always seem to have close encounters with trains when I go out riding with Rob.

Regular readers may remember when we narrowly escaped getting flattened by a local commuter train as we crossed a railroad bridge with our bikes on a ride near Tuchoměřice a few months back.

On our latest ride, I found myself standing in a long, dark railroad tunnel near Nelahozeves, with a huge passenger train heading straight for me at high speed.

Fortunately, I had a quick exit, as I was standing in the mouth of what looked like a cave carved into the sandstone cliffs near the Vltava River, but which was actually an emergency entrance to the railroad tunnel.


Rob out ahead, somewhere between Tursko and Debrno.

I’d ventured into the “cave” many times on previous rides to Nelahozeves, and had always wanted to capture the moment of a train whooshing through with my video camera. But each time, I waited and waited and no train. Of course, as soon as I’d leave and head back on the bike trail, a train would appear, but by then it was too late.

Not this time.

It’s a pretty eerie feeling to stand in the darkened railroad tunnel, with just a speck of light on either end, knowing that a train could appear at any moment.

And when a train does pass through, stand back. The wind is pretty fierce, shooting out of the mouth of the cave with impressive force.



It was a thrill. I feel like a little kid in these situations, getting to stand so close to a speeding train, and no adult yelling at me to get back from the tracks.

Rob and I were out for a rare ride together. He wanted me to show him my new favorite route, from my home in Černý Vůl to Marina Vltava, a cool restaurant/pub on the banks of the Vltava near Nelahozeves, famous as the birthplace of Czech composer Antonin Dvorak.

Or should I say, used to be my new favorite route? I think I’ve changed my mind.

We set off on a crisp September morning, the sky blue, the clouds puffy and white, and Rob’s cycling jersey a bright bumblebee yellow.


Rob and I chill out at Marina Vltava, halfway through our ride.

From Černý Vůl, up the long climb to Velké Přílepy, to Úholičky, up the steep hill to Tursko, then through the countryside to Debrno , then down the wonderfully long descent into Dolany, connecting with the trail along the west side of the Vltava, up to Kralupy nad Vltavou, and then the final stretch into Nelahozeves.

In Dolany, Rob, who was riding behind me, yelled "Flat!" He'd suffered a puncture somehow in his rear tire, despite his Slime Liners. (We never did find the culprit in the tire or the tube, although Rob later found one of his rear spokes had snapped, which may have had something to do with why he had a flat.) Rob turned his bike upside down and changed the tube beside the trail. After 15 minutes or so, we were off again.

A few kilometers later, we were crossing the wide paved streets of some sort of old train depot or storage yard south of Kralupy. The trail ends along the river, so cyclists are forced to go through this old depot area to connect with Kralupy and pick up the trail again.

Rob was riding ahead when I noticed a car barreling at high speed right toward him. Some teenagers out for a joy ride, not expecting to find someone else sharing the road in this forgotten part of town.

Honestly, for a moment there, I thought Rob might be a goner. I wasn't sure if he'd seen the car's trajectory. He didn't seem to be moving. But then simultaneously the car swerved to avoid Rob, and Rob took evasive action. The car flew by.

I looked in the eyes of the driver and shouted and raised my arms incredulously, as if to say, "WTF?!"

I half expected him to slam on the brakes and come back for some sort of confrontation, but he didn't. I was prepared if he did. My blood was up. One of these days...

We continued along the trail to Nelahozeves. I pointed out the curvaceous sandstone cliffs to Rob, and we stopped to watch (and film) the passenger train passing through the tunnel.

I clambered up the slippery cliff face and managed to make my way into one of the caves. Very cool.

At Marina Vltava, we enjoyed a few half-liters of Gambrinus. I had liver dumpling soup, while Rob opted for a penne carb feast. (Perhaps I should have done the same, as I would soon learn.)

It's a lovely spot to ride to, especially when the weather is so nice. Water and boats and bikes and beer.

We set off for our return, backtracking for much of the way, but following the river trail farther south, to Libčice nad Vltavou.

I had been dreading the return home. I'm out of shape after my two months off for shoulder surgery, and in Libčice nad Vltavou begins a long, steep uphill slog back to Úholičky that never fails to whip my ass.

Rob disappeared for most of the climb. He was just that far ahead of me. I made it, but it took everything I had. My thighs burned like hellfire.

The only bright spot was passing by a tree laden with mirabelle plums. I reached out my hand and grabbed a few and popped them into my mouth. Perfectly ripe. Flavorful and juicy. I had to turn around and fill my pockets with a few more.

If that climb wasn't torture enough, there was another ascent to conquer in Velké Přílepy before I could collapse in a quivering heap in the comfort of my own home.

To my great good fortune, about three-quarters of the way up, a woman was selling bottles of "mošt," or home-pressed apple cider. I was hoping she'd be there.


Better than beer? Bottles of freshly pressed apple cider on sale at a roadside stand for around $1.75 each.

I've bought quite a few bottles of cider from her over the past two years. It is so delicious. Nectar of the gods. I love it. It reminds me of growing up in the northeastern United States, when the local cider mills were pressing cider and selling bushels of apples and trays full of caramel apples.

We stopped. I bought three bottles.

And then I limped home.

I was spent, my legs like soggy pasta.

Rob had another 10 kilometers or so before he was home, including a very challenging ascent on Route 240 to connect with Evropska.

He made it home, no problem. (Although he did say that he thought it was a tough ride overall, and that I shouldn't be so hard on myself.)

Rob's logged some 3,500 kilometers already this year.

Me? See below. Pitiful.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 44 kilometers
Average speed: 15.6 kph
Maximum speed: 51.9 kph
Pivo Index: 2
Time on the bike: 2.47.01
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 534.5 kilometers


The sandstone caves are like something out of Middle Earth. I just had to explore (below).




The view at Marina Vltava.

Breaking Out Of The Doldrums

Emma takes the lead.

I’d like to tell you about a lovely ride I took with the ladies the other day.

It was a beautiful day, and we were all feeling a bit lazy for some reason. So I suggested we hop on our bikes and take a ride down to Roztoky, get a beer and a bite to eat at Hospůdka Zvířátka, and cycle back.

Of course, like most bike rides in these parts, even simple rides have a way of accumulating a few adventures and interesting asides along the way.

The great thing about the route from our home village of Černý Vůl to Roztoky is that there are no cars for most of the route. It's a dirt and stone trail through the forest, and mostly flat, so it's a perfect path for a 9-year-old and a perfect path for the parents, who don't have to worry all the time about crazy Czech drivers.


Daisy and Emma climb on a favorite old tree along the route to Roztoky.

The path starts in Černý Vůl, and passes through Únětice, before emptying at the parking lot across from the late, great Koliba, our favorite cycling stopover, which burned to the ground earlier this year. (Read more about the tragedy here.)

We thought we might see some signs of rebuilding. But all we saw was a whole lot of nothing. There'd been no change since last we were there, except that maybe some of the trash and burned timbers had been taken away. The chimney still standing, and nothing else. The cute little carp pond out front was all covered in algae and scum.

How depressing.


The ferry arrives to take us across to Klecany.

Zvířátka is just down the street, and I thought we might stop there for some refreshment. But I had the sudden urge to continue on our way to the edge of Roztoky, and take the ferry across to Klecany, where we could also rehydrate. I thought Emma might enjoy the novelty of the little ferry boat filled with bikes, which leaves every half hour, more or less.

It cost all three of us 45 CZK (about $2.50) to cross, bikes included.


Once on the other side, we stopped at a kiosk for a few beers (20 CZK, or about $1.10, for a half liter of Gambrinus) and a snack.

I had the classic -- a fried sausage and a slice of brown bread on a paper plate with mustard and horseradish. It is what it is. No frills beer food. Although some are better than others, and this wasn't one of the best I've ever had.

Daisy opted for chicken nuggets and fries, thinking it was the healthier option in a place with not a lot of options. It took a long time to cook, and wasn't worth the wait, I don't think.

But the beer was good. So we had another, and sat in the sun and watched the river roll by and the cyclists come and go and the dogs barking and the kids playing on the riverside playground.

There are worse ways to spend a lazy afternoon.

We caught the ferry back across the river (where we noticed that Daisy had managed, in the rush to catch the ferry, to put her cycling helmet on backwards) and backtracked to Hospůdka Zvířátka.

I'd noticed on the way down that they had a sign out for burčák. Burčák is, well, young wine. Very young wine. Burčák is to wine as cake batter is to a Sacher torte. It looks like a watered down glass of Bailey's -- brown and watery and cloudy. And it's very sweet and fizzy and very easy to drink.

But it packs a surprising punch. (Read more about burčák in a previous post here.)

Burčák is a Czech tradition, signaling the start of wine season, and starts appearing in early September around these parts. It's usually poured from giant plastic jugs into smaller plastic soda bottles.

I ordered one liter-and-a-half bottle, for 98 crowns (about $5.50), and we sat at Hospůdka Zvířátka and had a few glasses before we set off on our merry (very merry) way again.

Just when you think Prague can't surprise you...

While I was pedaling through Únětice, I heard someone playing a harmonica. It turned out it was a young girl, maybe 9 or 10, standing in the street, with a black-and-white spotted cow piggybank in front of her.

I rode past and smiled to myself. Then though how charming that little scene was, and turned around, fished 10 crowns out of my pocket, and dropped it in her piggybank.

She was thrilled.


It's important to support your local musicians.

We got back home feeling that we'd done some things we don't normally do, seen some things we don't normally see, and dipped our toes a wee bit further into Prague country life. (We've lived out here for exactly two years now.)

We miss living in the city sometimes, so it's always a good thing to be reminded of why it's nice to live out in the boonies.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 16.5 kilometers
Average speed: 11.5 kph
Maximum speed: 26.1 kph
Pivo Index: 2, with burcak
Time on the bike: 1.25.06
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 490.5 kilometers


One of the cool things in Klecany is marveling at this municipal building. Yes, it's kinda cool looking. But more importantly, it features markers showing the water levels of historic Prague floods. Incredibly, the little white marker to the left of the left top window above shows the water level in the monster flood of August 2002. The markers below show piddling little floods closer to the road itself.




The empty space where the late, great Koliba once sated the cycling thirsty with cold half-liters of Budvar and the hungry with plates of barbecued chicken and fish.


We came across this old hollow tree near the Roztoky ferry crossing. Funny that there's a gate protecting the tree. Perhaps the empty bottles of cheap vodka neatly lined up in the grass at the base of the tree (below) explains the need for the gate?

Flats, Hills, Gingerbread & Pain

Beers before noon (or in this case, 10 a.m.) just somehow taste better.

I was looking for an excuse not to ride.

In the end, I was presented with many, but took none.

Stewart and I had tentatively agreed to meet at 9 at The Smallest Pub in the World in Úholičky.

Despite beautiful weather in the days leading up to the ride, the morning itself dawned cold and gray and threatened rain.

I texted Stewart:

Pretty blah out there. Hard to get excited by a ride. What do you think? Ride at 9? Wait a bit? Or cancel?

He was having none of it:

I'll be there at 9, dude. Lovely day!!!

Righty-o! I replied.

The ride was on.

I suited up, grabbed my gear, including a rain jacket, and prepared to hit the road.

It had started to drizzle.

Then the phone rang. It was Stewart.

He’d suffered a puncture almost as soon as he’d headed out to meet up with me.
Which was funny, because he’d woken up to find his front tire flat, and had just replaced the tube.

And now the new tube was flat.

I had a few extra tubes at home, so instead of calling off the ride (which is, funnily enough, kinda what I wanted to do in the first place), I offered to throw my bike and the extra tubes in my car and drive over to Stewart’s house in Roztoky.

Which I did.

Once he took off the front tire, for the second time that morning, he discovered a small thorn still sticking through the rubber. He’d changed the tube, but had forgotten to check the inside of the tire.

(I use these things called Slime Liners, which fit between the tube and the tire, and I'm sure it's helped me avoid many flats.)

We pulled out the thorn, replaced the tube, and set off.

We headed down to the trail on the west side of the Vltava River, below Roztoky, and headed north toward the village of Podmoráň, and then up the killer hill to Úholičky. (The river section of this ride is very pleasant, especially on a morning that’s not cold and damp and spitting rain.)

That hill is a killer for me anytime of the year, but it was particularly painful on this day, what with me being totally out of shape and fat and all.

But I did make it.

And then Stewart suggested we have a beer.

We’d gone about six kilometers so far, and it wasn’t even 10 a.m.

I said yes.

Sadly, TSPITW was still closed, but a pub with outdoor seating was serving across the road, so that’s where we went.

Beer tastes different before noontime. Better, somehow. Funny thing, that.


I thought the rusted metal sides of an old building near Kralupy (above and below) were quite beautiful, in their way. Like an abstract painting.



(In Croatia a few weeks ago, Stewart and I walked to a neighboring village to buy some fresh fish for that evening’s barbecue. By the time we’d gotten the fish and some veggies for dinner, it was about 8:30 a.m. or so. We sat down at a sidewalk café, ostensibly to have a coffee, but it was already warm and sunny, and we’d been walking, and found ourselves ordering a beer instead. And then another. Beer never tasted so good.)

We limited ourselves to one beer and hit the road again.

We decided to head toward Marina Vltava in Nelahozeves, grab a few more beers and maybe a bite. It’s become one of our favorite rides, as I wrote about a few months ago. It’s got everything – beautiful scenery, car-free trails, exhilarating downhills, painful uphills, and a very pleasant riverside pub at the end.

The ride to the marina was uneventful, but a lot of fun. I’d gotten over my disinclination to ride. The beer didn’t hurt.

We had a couple of 12-degre Pilsner Urquells at the marina, and two bowls each of some unusually tasty garlic soup, and then it was time to head home.


Hot garlic soup and a cold Pilsner or two.

The ride to the marina is very nice, but it should really be flipped around, with the hard bits in the first half of the cycling. Instead, after you’ve had a few beers, and your legs have had a good long chance to stiffen, you’re faced with the long, steep slog out of Libčice nad Vltavou toward Úholičky, which seems never to end.

I loathe that section of the ride.

Before that ascent, however, we passed an oddly depressing country carnival set up in a field along the river in Libčice. The carnival was sparsely attended, which only added to the overall sadness that seemed to permeate the grounds. It featured rides decorated with garishly colored paintings that seemed to date from the mid-1980s or so.

The whole thing was kind of sweet, but creepy, in my opinion.


I must admit to having felt a bit depressed at this fair in Libčice. This ride, called Break Dance, seems to date from the 1980s.


A kiosk selling "perník," or gingerbread hearts decorated with sweet words that boyfriends traditionally buy their girlfriends at such fairs. At least in the old days, I'm told, the gingerbread would often have a small mirror embedded in it, so the girlfriend could see her reflection.

We high-tailed it out of there, up the hill above Úholičky, near what we call Garbage Mountain, and then down through some overgrown forest trails back into Podmoráň.

We retraced our steps back to Stewart's house, me walking my bike part of the way up the very steep trail back into Roztoky. My thighs just couldn't take anymore punishment.

I was exhausted, frankly. We both were.

And then I had a stag party to go to that afternoon and evening.

I finally made it home after midnight that night, and slept the sleep of the Gods.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 46 kilometers
Average speed: 13.9 kph
Maximum speed: 51.1 kph
Time on the bike: 3.15.16
Pivo Index: 3
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 474 kilometers


River reflections near Kralupy.

Out Of Shape, But Back In The Saddle

I think these are plums. They looked like cherries, but had the flesh of a plum. Pretty tasty.

My thighs were burning. My lungs were heaving.

And I wasn’t even out of my driveway yet.

Yes, I’m back on the bike after three months off to nurse a reconstructed acromioclavicluar joint, the joint on the top of the shoulder.

I had surgery at Prague’s Motol Hospital in late May. Wires removed from my shoulder in July. Spent two weeks resting and recuperating in Croatia. And now I’m in physical therapy.

But that isn’t preventing me from getting back on my bike. Which I finally did on Saturday, my first ride since mid-May.

I actually felt a bit nervous, although I don’t know why, really.



I also felt out of shape, but I definitely know why that is. I haven’t really exercised for three months, save for my daily swimming in the Adriatic while I was in Croatia. Great for my shoulder. Not so great for my thighs and lungs and overall cycling stamina.

I figured I’d take it easy on my first ride, so on a gorgeously sunny, hot day, I met up with Stewart at the fabled (at least in our minds) Smallest Pub In The World in Úholičky.

The first hill climb out of my home village of Černý Vůl to Velké Přílepy was a real eye-opener. It’s not that difficult of a climb, for God’s sake. Not even close. But it almost killed me. Or at least my thighs.

I did spot a local orchard selling plastic bottles full of most, or home-pressed apple cider, and was tempted to stop and load up with a few (they were so delicious last year), but in the end I didn’t want to weigh myself down any more than I already was weighed down by my overindulgence in Croatia. I’d just stop on my way home.

I made it to the SPITW, met up with Stewart, and we decided just to tackle one of our usual routes – from Úholičky, up the hill (ugh!) to Tursko, and on the road toward Kozinec.

Near Kozinec, we decided to check if the mean potato-throwers of last year were harvesting any more of their spuds or vitriol, but the field in question was deserted.

Along the way, though, we did enjoy a cornucopia of what I like to call Road Fruit –- apples and pears and plums growing in massive quantities along the country roads. Found some strange miniature pears that were delicious (do they have a name?), as well as what I think were a variety of plum but which were shaped and sized like cherries.

We also found vast fields of poppy pods drying in the sun, which sounded like nature’s baby rattles when we shook them. We emptied a few out and ate some of the seeds, confident since we weren’t scheduled for any drug tests later in the day. (My favorite show, “Mythbusters,” proved that it is possible to eat poppy seed products and test positive for opiates.)


Stewart and I stopped to admire a vast field of dried poppy bulbs. Each beautiful bulb was filled with thousands of seeds.

We ended up in Holubice, and discovered that the archaelogical dig we’d marveled over last winter was completely covered over now, with a few houses built on top for good measure.

Then down toward Trněný Újezd, but turned just before the village, and headed up into some farmer’s field between Hole and Kovary.

We pedaled through some lovely Czech countryside, with commanding views over rolling hills that stretched into the distance.


Stewart and I head into the unknown. It's good to be back.

My shoulder didn’t really bother me, just a few twinges as we descended a particularly rocky path down into the valley behind Okoř, where we, naturally, stopped for a beer at the Family Hotel Okoř, perhaps the Greatest Place To Stop For A Beer While Cycling.

Hey, the village has a cool castle ruin and the hotel serves a fantastic half-liter of Pilsner Urquell or Gambrinus, and a killer steak. What’s not to like?

We had one beer. Then two. Then three. That was probably one too many, especially since I was heading out for a boozy dinner a few hours later. But it felt good, sitting in the sun after a sweaty run, back in the saddle after so many months away.



Leaving Okoř was excruciating, however. Not because it was hard to leave such a cozy watering hole, but because my muscles had totally seized up, and a fairly steep ascent is required just after leaving, heading back toward Velké Přílepy.

It was all I could do to limp back home.

To make matters worse, the lady selling the fresh apple cider was nowhere to be found. Drats.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 28 kilometers
Average speed: 13.8 kph
Maximum speed: 43.4 kph
Pivo Index: 3
Time on the bike: 2.00.31
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 428 kilometers (so sad!)


We had to stop to admire this field of wildflowers. Buttercups?


I love this house, which is in the valley behind Okoř. Someone told me that a famous opera singer lives here. It's called Novy Mlyn, or New Mill. You'd swear you were in the English countryside. Perfectly manicured lawn. Beautiful sculptures. Flowers. A house right out of the Lake District. So nice.