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.
' 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.
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).
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?
'
I liked the guy already. His name was Marlo Martin, and he was from Berkeley, California.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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...
It's a lovely spot to ride to, especially when the weather is so nice. Water and boats and bikes and beer.
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.
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. 
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.
