tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85980277692433802232024-03-18T06:03:53.482+03:00Grant's Prague Bike Blog"Too often I would hear men boast of the miles covered that day, rarely of what they had seen."
-- Louis L'AmourGrant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.comBlogger266125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-50147278788067953302017-01-22T15:13:00.003+02:002017-01-22T15:20:14.116+02:00Happy As Pigs In Sh*t<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
The ride deserves to be recorded.<br />
<br />
The ride happened in mid-April 2016. (Yes, I know. I'm not a very good bike blogger.)<br />
<br />
The ride included Stewart Moore, Brian Reagan, and myself. It was a bit of a birthday ride, as I recall. I was about to turn 55.<br />
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The ride started with Brian and I cycling from Prague 6, north along the Vltava River, to meet Stewart at the ferry crossing near Roztoky. From there, we rode along the path that hugs the river on its eastern side, and from which two of our comrades have plunged into the drink -- one with only his pride hurt, the other suffering fractured ribs and a broken collarbone, if I remember correctly. (Read more about that adventure <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2009/10/legend-of-fall.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>.)<br />
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The ride was a particularly boozy one. Perhaps because it was my birthday. Perhaps because we were just so pleased to be out on the bikes in such a glorious setting. Perhaps it was the company. Or perhaps it all felt just so right.<br />
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The ride took us up to Kralupy nad Vltavou and then to Marina Vltava, a restaurant on the river's western edge, where we had a few pints, then a bit farther north, and then across the river on the iron bridge, and then we decided to go for Baroque with a little side trip over to the gorgeous Veltrusy Chateau, where we enjoyed a few more pints at the ridiculously picturesque pub behind the chateau, and then from there back down the eastern shore, stopping for a few more pints at a cool little nondescript pub that Stewart had scoped out on a previous ride and which, on this day, featured some local musicians having a grand old time playing country and bluegrass tunes. (There's a video below.)<br />
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<b><i>The musicians were inside (below). We drank outside (above).</i></b><br />
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The ride then took us back to Kralupy, where we, because of our relaxed state and the waning daylight hours, decided to take the train back to Roztoky and Bubenec. They run once an hour or so, so we raced to the station, bought our tickets, and hightailed it to the platform. Only to see the train we wanted already in motion. We'd missed it, literally by seconds.<br />
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The ride was over, but the drinking was not. Since we had an hour to kill, we passed the time in the grungy, smoky train station pub. We had a few more pints and some shots of whiskey and shot the shit and also missed our next train. I seem to remember that Brian brought along three cans of pivo for the train ride. And somehow, some way, we all made it home.<br />
<br />
Yes, the ride deserved to be recorded.<br />
<br />
<b>THE RIDE STATS</b><br />
<b>Length of ride: Don't remember</b><br />
<b>Average speed: Can't recall</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: Not very fast</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: Off the charts</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2016: Who's counting?</b><br />
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<b><i>Some pigs along the way.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Some sort of massive gear on display along the river at Kralupy.</i></b><br />
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Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-48782962627057562932016-09-23T10:23:00.001+03:002016-09-23T10:33:07.389+03:00No Broken Legs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Looking out from inside a tunnel that leads to train tracks near Nelahozeves.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Cottages along the Vltava.</i></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>"I'm not worried about things that will injure me. Only
stuff that can kill me." -- Scott Bellefeuille</i><o:p></o:p></span>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I took
an actor friend of mine on a bike ride the other day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Scott Bellefeuille came
to Prague for the first time back in the early 1990s. He began performing on various
Prague stages pretty much right from the get-go. At least until a few years
ago, when he moved with his wife, Eva, to Arizona, where he runs his own business.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">But he was enticed to return to the boards to play the smooth-talking Lord Buckingham
in Prague Shakespeare Company’s production of “Richard III” -- part of the
Summer Shakespeare Festival outdoors at Prague Castle and for a one-night-only
show at the historic Estates Theatre.</span></div>
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<i><b>At some eerily carved sandstone cliffs near Nelahozeves.</b></i></div>
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<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I
had a small role as Richard III’s biker-gang thug Ratcliffe, which is how I
first ran into Scott. Turns out he is an avid mountain biker and a regular
reader of my blog. Of course, we had to go out for a ride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The
problem was, should I show Scott show of my favorite trails around Prague or vice
versa? We opted for the former. The latter will come on Scott’s next trip here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I
decided to take him on the route we call Baker’s Falls, one of my all-time favorite
rides, named in honor of our infrequent cycling buddy Mark Baker, who had the distinct
displeasure, in 2009, of falling backwards with his bike into the Vltava River from the
top of a high wall that the trail runs atop. He was, miraculously, unhurt. (Read
all about it in one of my most popular posts <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2009/10/legend-of-fall.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>.) Another cycling friend of
ours also fell from the wall, but he was unlucky enough to have broken a few
ribs in the process and had to be evacuated by river ambulance. Awful day, that was, and I wasn't even there.</span></div>
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<b><i>We call it the iron bridge. Not sure if it's really iron, but it is no longer open to car traffic and is a very cool way to get from the west side of the river to the east, just above Nelahozeves.</i></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s
a thrilling ride. I really love the tiny whiff of danger that comes with his trail
now, after these mishaps. Scott wasn’t intimidated. He says he’s used to riding
on trails in Arizona where rattlesnakes are a frequent hazard and on some
hair-raising clifftop paths in Moab, Utah.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Scott
and I had a great day. The weather was hot and sunny, the beer was cold and wet,
and, since it was a weekday, the trails were empty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I hadn’t ridden in quite some time (as you can tell from the pitiful posting that's happened on this blog as of late), and this was not a quickie (57
kilometers/35 miles). I was really dragging for the last 10 kilometers or so. And
I slept like a stone that night and could barely get out of bed the next
morning. My butt hurt real bad.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">But
I’m looking forward to hitting some new trails with Scott on his next trip
back, and riding more in general and posting here more. In fact, I’ve been
meaning to write about an epic trip that I took with Stewart and Brian back in
April. Yes, April.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">As usual, no excuses. Just busy, I guess. Stay tuned.</span></div>
<b><br /></b>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><u>RIDE STATS</u></b></div>
<b>Length of ride: 57 kilometers (35 miles)</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 16.2 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 35.1 kph</b><br />
<b>Time on the bike: 3:30:42</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: 4</b>
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<b><i>Road block on the trail to Klecany.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Serious tire chains.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Never get tired of these undulating sandstone cliffs.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Nelahozeves Castle, owned by the Lobkowicz family. The village also features the birth home of Antonin Dvorak.</i></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJT-FBXHeb388S3nfsStrEjORxoqbStptJlINcek8Go7KgEzQRxZ1QFQIq1cCps8WssdCW6ZfakNe7aPtPpEqEm2PwwL3W0GacQx3eJ9p32ATHAVvi4V024KVT-R1WDDMifMW7mPO2IvRV/s1600/IMG_2307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJT-FBXHeb388S3nfsStrEjORxoqbStptJlINcek8Go7KgEzQRxZ1QFQIq1cCps8WssdCW6ZfakNe7aPtPpEqEm2PwwL3W0GacQx3eJ9p32ATHAVvi4V024KVT-R1WDDMifMW7mPO2IvRV/s640/IMG_2307.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><i>No caption needed. Those delicious Pilsners were about $1.50 each, for those of you keeping score at home.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>We came across this old Cadillac in the village of Klecany. You never know what you're going to find when you head out on the trails in this country.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I wonder if she runs.</i></b></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='520' height='466' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dylG5-NhPc8FYYJO4FsA8QChOH7YvqW9Fgfk_yslBLeOkwdtETTyMhxcxiIIjnWCJiJ7em3wm5YC4-pUnuICQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<b><i>A small tunnel through a sandstone cliff near Nelahozeves leads to a train tunnel. It's always a thrill when you time it right and a speeding train whizzes past just a few meters away.</i></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rmuZHjMx-5SJ3Qj0PBBTLXnbJC3iN3t5RdIRc67jKtsRtoeXLGIaeEc5NuUU-mk5bRbis0TBspBTd_fhb8HLTYO5zntJkc-356xjpj-8bcLJGNv7r7yOjqwRD0KGEMsd3lZis8xBbgvD/s1600/IMG_2305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rmuZHjMx-5SJ3Qj0PBBTLXnbJC3iN3t5RdIRc67jKtsRtoeXLGIaeEc5NuUU-mk5bRbis0TBspBTd_fhb8HLTYO5zntJkc-356xjpj-8bcLJGNv7r7yOjqwRD0KGEMsd3lZis8xBbgvD/s640/IMG_2305.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><i>I picked up a few passengers along the way.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Scott and his bike and a weeping willow along the Vltava.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>We paused at the place where I believe Mark took his tumble into the river.</i></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkrspbpLN8tsF7C2bzJ9NDWnN5uKd0MDB54c1YVA4gytAWeMKA2MBR9irmXplinSffrFzsfiemzeQesvMrD_Qzm7_nR1jdMWdrcKYnJ64tSZ9dLHnZRIwYT9DJtxcCCI5BrnDgsnq4xYh/s1600/FullSizeRender-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVkrspbpLN8tsF7C2bzJ9NDWnN5uKd0MDB54c1YVA4gytAWeMKA2MBR9irmXplinSffrFzsfiemzeQesvMrD_Qzm7_nR1jdMWdrcKYnJ64tSZ9dLHnZRIwYT9DJtxcCCI5BrnDgsnq4xYh/s640/FullSizeRender-29.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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<b><i>Trail riding doesn't get much prettier than this.</i></b><br />
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Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-5345980316898501042016-03-13T12:17:00.002+02:002016-03-13T12:17:50.290+02:00Status Report<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8e2SgTH5IIJUaDdc0bFMVgA7VIFLfQaHwDM61u4cIyLohf-00aWkjZ56ZC-oVgyy0-AyYsEzglLIUQzOmgW6Ce031R8sH0xIre0L5ucmuJDztyuMGus6DpENuJmVtVnVXINrDwkVa80zc/s1600/IMG_0517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8e2SgTH5IIJUaDdc0bFMVgA7VIFLfQaHwDM61u4cIyLohf-00aWkjZ56ZC-oVgyy0-AyYsEzglLIUQzOmgW6Ce031R8sH0xIre0L5ucmuJDztyuMGus6DpENuJmVtVnVXINrDwkVa80zc/s640/IMG_0517.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Disappointed that U Lasiku was closed. Too early in the season.</i></b><br />
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<a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2016/01/a-new-year-renewed-effort.html" target="_blank"><b>When last we spoke</b></a>, two months ago, I was pledging to lose weight, get in shape, get my mojo back, and ride and blog more in this space.<br />
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I can report progress on almost all of those fronts.<br />
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Since January 4, I've lost more than 9 kilos (20 pounds). I've gained muscle mass, according to my nutritionist, and my visceral body fat percentage has plummeted. I'm taking the stairs whenever I can. I feel good. I wore a concert T-shirt yesterday that I had been embarrassed to wear for years, for fear of looking like Will Ferrell in the <a href="https://vimeo.com/55624839" target="_blank"><b>famous "More Cowbell" sketch</b></a>.<br />
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I'm wearing my Fitbit all the time, and walking regularly -- an average of 10,000 steps a day. Last week, I walked 35 miles (56 kilometers) and climbed 216 floors.<br />
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And I'm pleased to report that I went out on my first ride of the year on March 7 -- a bracing 22.5-kilometer jaunt from my apartment in Prague 6 to the village of Unetice. I had intended to grab a drink and maybe something to eat <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2011/06/best-little-wine-bar-in-place-youve.html" target="_blank"><b>at the charming U Lasiku</b></a>, but it was, sadly, shuttered, and there were no outdoor tables set up yet at the pivovar (and I'm not drinking beer at the moment anyway), so I just came back home.<br />
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It was a cold, windy, muddy ride, like I used to do so often, so I feel as if I finally, truly broke <b><a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/search?updated-max=2015-05-26T11:35:00%2B03:00&max-results=10" target="_blank">my new bike</a> </b>in, a year after buying it.<br />
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I've got about 5 pounds (2.5 kilos) to go to reach my interim goal of losing 25 pounds by my birthday on April 24. I've told myself that I'd reward myself with a new tattoo (subject matter to be determined). After that, I'll set another weight goal timed to when we head to Croatia again, in late July.<br />
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Keep reading, and keep riding.<br />
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<b>RIDE STATS</b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 22.5 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Max speed: 33.5 kph</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 15.0 kph</b><br />
<b>Time on the bike: 1:29:16</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2016: 22.5 kilometers</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kIn_CjHvJf0PBwZgGr8GdXxXvB217NcFHvUeWIRR6sDPzAZMjvnKKAyvtvLKEjaogrbVlav7zTpNe5a29D24nXw5gTdWPz-sYs2kn_L15JSKLxPhIfENxTqFCnz762j32_DsiBSfLTc1/s1600/IMG_0508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kIn_CjHvJf0PBwZgGr8GdXxXvB217NcFHvUeWIRR6sDPzAZMjvnKKAyvtvLKEjaogrbVlav7zTpNe5a29D24nXw5gTdWPz-sYs2kn_L15JSKLxPhIfENxTqFCnz762j32_DsiBSfLTc1/s640/IMG_0508.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><i>I had the trails all to myself.</i></b><br />
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<br />Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-10863774898811221082016-01-11T13:42:00.003+02:002016-01-11T16:49:48.864+02:00A New Year, A Renewed Effort<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gqhaRlE7TBxxuq_E51cSM2-Brk7YfBUOXjabXRzAPu3wDDEdRxG40iBYSqONO9Zodf1CPG_8qCwDrQdZ9KUh3ny9eW5CHLimLroLWE6XQqi0ub5GovDrluygcJFBkIj-_aCW5Dp0eJSI/s1600/FullSizeRender-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gqhaRlE7TBxxuq_E51cSM2-Brk7YfBUOXjabXRzAPu3wDDEdRxG40iBYSqONO9Zodf1CPG_8qCwDrQdZ9KUh3ny9eW5CHLimLroLWE6XQqi0ub5GovDrluygcJFBkIj-_aCW5Dp0eJSI/s640/FullSizeRender-14.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">L</span><span style="font-size: large;">ike almost everyone else in the galaxy, I've resolved to lose some weight and get in shape in 2016. I'm on Weight Watchers (which has worked successfully for me in the past), I've ordered a Fitbit Charge HR wristband, and I've got a weight goal tied to my birthday on April 24 and a reward for myself if I reach my goal (a new tattoo).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And as part of this effort, I hope to ride more in 2016 and blog more about it. (And I hope to post more on my other blog, <a href="http://www.gusto-blog.blogspot.cz/" target="_blank"><b>Gusto</b></a>, too.)<a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2015/05/a-ride-down-memory-lane.html" target="_blank"> <b>Even though I bought a new bike</b></a> early last year, I hardly rode at all last year. Pitiful, really.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's been cold and snowy and now gray and rainy for the past week or so here in Prague. So in the meantime, before I get back on the bike again, here are some photos from a ride I took in October or November of last year. I rode around Stromovka park and along the Vltava River and down toward Liben. That's always a great ride.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks for reading. I hope to post more rides and photos here soon. I hope the new year is a good one for you and your family.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Some black-and-white shots of the new bridge over the Vltava between Troja and Liben.</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">A little video of some kayakers negotiating the slalom between Troja and Liben.</span></i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-7569018801877706592015-07-08T00:02:00.003+03:002015-07-09T12:08:33.277+03:00Prague Joy Riding<br />
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<b><i>The suspension bridge near the Prague Zoo.</i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span><span style="font-size: large;">wanted to share some quick memories from four rides I took recently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-- I rode to work one morning from my flat in Prague 6 to my office in Prague 10, a ride of around 40 kilometers, if I remember correctly. (I somehow lost my notes on the trip.) I took the bike path on the east side of the river to Libeň, then across to Karlin, up the pedestrian tunnel to Žižkov, and then winding my way on some back streets to my job near the Želivského metro station. I was pleased to make this trip mostly on bike paths, although the last few kilometers were on busy roads, which was no fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-- I took a 34-kilometer ride with my pal Stewart and his two boy, Jules and Ronan, on the east side of the Vltava to one of our favorite haunts, Marina Vltava in Nelahozeves, just past Kralupy, for lunch. I ended up hopping on a train crowded with dozens of other cyclists and their bikes in Kralupy for the ride home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-- A solo ride of 25 kilometers along that same path but not nearly as far. I rode a few kilometers past Klecany and then turned around. It was more of an exercise ride than anything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">-- And a second solo exercise ride of 21 kilometers along the same path.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As always in Prague, each of these rides was filled with interesting sights, a few surprises, and a couple of cold beers.</span></div>
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<b><i>Another view of the suspension bridge near the Prague Zoo.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>This is part of the path on the east side of the Vltava toward Kralupy. For most of the trip, it's quite a nice, paved path. But then it turns slightly nasty -- and exciting -- for a few kilometers when it skirts the top of a wall with the Vltava far below. You can't tell it from this photo, but it's probably a six or seven meter drop to the river below, and as you can see, there's no guard rail to keep you from falling. In fact, two cycling pals have fallen into the river around this spot. One suffered some broken ribs and had to be evacuated by emergency medical boat. It's a dangerous strip, but I like it, perhaps for the adrenaline rush. But you do have to be careful, especially if you're riding with kids. (READ MORE ABOUT ONE OF THOSE FAMOUS FALLS <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2009/10/legend-of-fall.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>.)</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I've long admired these reliefs above apartment-building doors on a block of Malešická in Prague 10. Usually, I'm in a car. This time, I was on my bike, and decided to stop and take some photos. I don't know the story behind them. Perhaps someone out there does.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>On my way home from work, I met up with Andy (left) and Mike, two friends and work colleagues, for a couple of beers at Camp and Hostel Žižkov Prague, a very cool campground, beer garden, concert venue, and playground all wrapped up in one. Great place. And they even had live music on a Wednesday night. Thanks to Mike for the find.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>At Camp and Hostel Žižkov Prague.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>There's some sort of endangered snake that lives along the bike path near the Prague Zoo.</i></b><br />
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<b>Heading north toward Klecany.</b><br />
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<b><i>Ronan and Jules wanted to check out a big quarry along the path toward Kralupy.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Beautiful country house and ruin along the path toward Kralupy.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Modern industrial chic.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Ancient industrial chic.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>A classic Czech lunch at Marina Vltava -- fried Hermelín or Edam</i><span style="color: #6a6a6a; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"> </span></span></b><b><i>cheese with tartar sauce.</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-74693436052230897052015-05-26T11:35:00.001+03:002015-05-26T12:44:34.243+03:00A View From The Bridge<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span><span style="font-size: large;">t was always a bridge too far. Too far into the urban jungle of Prague's Prague 3 district. Too far from my house. Too far from where we usually wanted to ride.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I loved that bridge. I passed underneath it many times on my way to work, watching as runners and cyclists and walkers quickly crossed and then disappeared and I'd always wonder, "Where does that path begin, and where does it lead? And what's the view from up there?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>My usual view of The Bridge, from below, taken from my car on a rainy afternoon</i></b>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I celebrated my 54th birthday a few weeks back and, just by chance, I had the day off. I asked Stewart if he was up for a ride of urban exploration, instead of our usual off-road hijinks. The ride would certainly involve cars and traffic lights and busy streets, but hopefully it would make up for that by throwing a few pleasant surprises into our path.</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The Bridge, from up-top, at last</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Stewart met me at my flat in Prague 6, like a true gentleman a bottle of Grant's in his hand for my big day, and we set off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">First stop: the beer garden at Letna for a quick morning tipple, before crossing Štefánikův Most<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; white-space: nowrap;"> </span>and winding our way through the streets of Old Town to where I thought the path likely began: somewhere near the confluence of Husitská and Seifertova streets, not far from the main train station, Hlavní nádraží.</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The rather unassuming start of the paved city trail, at the top of the stairs</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We did find it, a decidedly unassuming start to what is actually a cool, paved cycling path that winds its way along what used to be an old train track beneath Vitkov Hill that runs parallel to Husitská and Konevova streets. (My cycling buddy David Murphy wrote in detail about this new path when it first opened in 2010. <b><a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2010/05/light-at-end-of-tunnel-for-prague.html" target="_blank">You can read that post here</a></b>.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The bridge crossing comes pretty quickly, and it felt great to finally be up there, looking down for once, from what must have once held the weight of locomotives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">(UPDATE: Thanks to reader Jakub Cikhart, I've discovered that the bridge is called Velká Hrabovka</span><span style="font-size: large;">. Read more about it </span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://technet.idnes.cz/zeleznicni-most-mala-hrabovka-sel-k-zemi-podivejte-se-na-demolici-phm-/tec_reportaze.aspx?c=A090509_174246_tec_reportaze_rja" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> in Czech.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We passed through a cool tunnel (the first of two on this trip) and discovered a fanciful pub, sadly not yet open, named U Vystřeleného oka (The Shot-Out Eye) (Note to Self: Make a return visit soon); stopped at Zahrádky Žižkov, a huge beer garden full of dozens and dozens of tents that seems as if it was built on an old abandoned lot, all overgrown and kinda shabby but also kinda cool, with a children's playground smack dab in the middle (only in Prague!); and then headed toward Vitkov Hill and the huge statue of the celebrated, one-eyed (hence the name of the aforementioned pub) Hussite General Jan Žižka atop a giant steed, at 22-meters high one of the largest equestrian statues in the world. It's an impressive bit of bronze, to say the least, and the site offers sweeping views across much of Prague.</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The bronze statue was unveiled in 1950 and was designed by Bohumil Kafka. The total weight of the statue is said to be 16.5 tons.</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(Read more about Žižka <a href="http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2014/04/jan-zizka-general-skin-turned-drum-2/" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>, including how it's said he had a drum fashioned from his own flesh so that he could lead his troops into battle even after he was dead.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">From there, we took the Žižkov-Karlín pedestrian tunnel down into Karlín, discovering (or should I say, rediscovering, since Stewart and I had had a beer here back in 2001 or so, as I remember) a wonderful pub called U Tunelu situated just at the bottom of the tunnel. Step inside and step back in time. The place is a dream of a pub, with Art Deco cabinetry above the bar and all sort of antique knick-knacks scattered about the interior. They even served our beer in mugs that had been chilling in an ice bath. Fantastic place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And two doors down is Peter's Burger Pub, where we sat outside and wolfed down a couple of tasty burgers (not the best in town, but pretty decent) and another beer or two.</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">At the Forgotten Sculpture Garden</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From there, our goal was to find the bike path that we knew existed that would connect us to Prague 8 and Libeň. We found it pretty quickly, a dusty trail on the other side of<span style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"> </span></span>Rohanské nábřeží that took us past the <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2007/09/costas-clear.html" target="_blank"><b>Forgotten Sculpture Garden</b></a>, after which we connected with the trails that took us back down the Vltava toward the Prague Zoo, Troja, Stromovka, another beer, and home to Prague 6.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks to Stewart for braving the streets with me. I actually find it quite exhilarating to ride in the city for some reason. There are few bike lanes in the city center, and the drivers here are notoriously hostile to cyclists, but I still like it. It's the sense of freedom, I guess, when everyone else is closed up in their cars, waiting at stop lights. And a declaration of sorts, I guess, that we have every right to share the road (as long as we obey the rules!). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, what a great trip. Happy birthday to me!</span></div>
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<b>RIDE STATS</b></span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Length of ride: 26 kilometers</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Average speed: 12.8 kph</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Maximum speed: 29.5 kph</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Time on the bike: 1:58:51</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Pivo Index: 6 (4.9 ppk)</span></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The start of the Žižkov-Karlín pedestrian tunnel</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">I've had a lot of beers in Prague, but this was the first pub I can remember visiting where they kept the mugs cool in a bath of ice water.</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">U Tunelu's interior</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Peter's Burger Pub</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The new bridge over the Vltava, between the zoo and Liben </span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"> Zahrádky Žižkov, a charming dump of a place</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Some amazing bas-reliefs on a giant door at the Vitkov monument</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Near the top of Vitkov Hill</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Inside the Žižkov-Karlín pedestrian tunnel</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The Shot-Out Eye</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">At the Shot-Out Eye</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Inside the train tunnel</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Sharing the path with a skateboarder</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">In Letna, overlooking the city, with the first beers of the day</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Thanks, Stewart!</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">A closeup of one of the bas-reliefs at Vitkov</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Karlin has really experienced a renaissance since the disastrous floods of 2002. Forum Karlin is a cool place to see a concert. I saw Jack White there last year. </span></i></b></div>
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Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-76206937553021558162015-05-12T11:24:00.000+03:002015-05-12T11:42:25.624+03:00A Ride Down Memory Lane<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Before, in 2007</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">After, in 2015</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">M</span><span style="font-size: large;">y butt hurts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Which is what happens, I guess, when you haven't ridden a bike in, well, forever. <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2015/01/a-tale-of-warm-weather-broken-bikes.html">At least since the beginning of January</a>, but even then, I don't remember my butt being so sore, and I'd been off the bike even longer before that ride.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Butt I digress.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Daisy and I had an American friend, Dale Bemis, visiting Prague from his home in London. <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2007/06/over-hill-with-dale.html">(We'd last ridden together here in Prague back in 2007.)</a> Dale is an avid biker, often traveling around England and to the continent to participate in races. In other words, he's a serious cyclist. So why he wanted to go out on a ride with the likes of us is a bit of a mystery.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dale said he wanted the full Grant's Prague Bike Blog experience, which is to say he wanted what is basically an old-fashioned pub crawl interrupted by brief interludes of peddling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We were more than happy to oblige.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dale and David Murphy met at my flat and we set off -- Dale riding Daisy's bike -- to meet Stewart at the ruins of the late, great Koliba in Roztoky. (Daisy decided to sit this one out.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As regular readers of this blog know, Koliba -- <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2009/03/it-felt-like-secret.html">until it burned down under mysterious circumstances in 2009</a> -- was a favorite haunt of ours back in the day. A more gorgeously situated restaurant you couldn't find -- a cute ivy smothered A-frame chalet with a big fireplace inside for those nippy winter rides and outside a charming little pond stocked with carp and surrounded by umbrella tables.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To sit outside and sip on a beer in the shade after a long ride while watching the fish noisily break the surface, feeding on insects, was heavenly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On one of those nippy winter mornings a few years back (<a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2007/10/much-in-way-of-foliage-to-be-endured.html">in 2007, to be exact</a>), Stewart and I and Mark Baker sat inside and had some soup and beer in front of the fireplace. We had the waiter take our photo, so cozy was it. Since the fireplace is the only thing remaining from the old Koliba, I had this idea awhile back of re-creating that photo today, amid the ruins of the restaurant, with Stewart, Mark, and I taking up our old positions. A kind of homage to our lost oasis.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mark wasn't with us on this ride, so we had Dale stand in for him. As if we weren't sad enough about Koliba's demise, this visceral juxtaposition of years makes the tragedy feel that much deeper.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We cycled from Roztoky along the wonderful forest path to </span><span style="font-size: large;">Únětice</span><span style="font-size: large;">, where we were obliged to stop at Únětický pivovar to allow Dale to sample a few pints of our local treasure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From there, on this sunny day, our plan was to ride to Tuchoměřice, to have a bite of lunch at the Belgian place, Auberge de Provence, which has a beautiful outdoor garden (and which I hoped was still in business). But wouldn't you know it, on our way, just a few kilometers outside Statenice, we discovered <a href="http://www.kopansky.cz/">Kopanský Mlýn</a>, a brand-new restaurant and riding stables, with outdoor seating next to a tiny, duck-speckled pond. Fabulous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'd noticed this area being under construction the last time we were through, but we had no idea that it was being turned into such a grand affair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The inside of the place is pretty spectacular, too, with dining tables overlooking a large covered riding arena, huge wooden beams arching over the sawdust floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We sat outside and ordered a few more beers and lunch. The roast duck and dumplings was superb. Definitely a find, this place, in the middle of the countryside, and perfectly situated for a mid-ride stop. We'll be back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We'd spent too much time drinking and talking and it was getting late, and a lot of us had wives and responsibilities to return to, so we headed back toward Prague.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Passing through Únětice, however, we couldn't help but stop for a quick one at <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2012/06/photography-buff.html">U Lasiku, one of our favorite local haunts</a>, an ancient wheelwrights that's been turned into a funky pub and restaurant by a local couple. And who should we run into but Robin Bond and his wife, Julie, <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2013/08/showing-way.html">who adopted one of our stray kittens, Maddy</a>, when we used to live up the road in Cerny Vul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Great to see those guys again, and to hear that Maddy is the love of their lives and doing great these many years later.</span></div>
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<b><i>My new ride</i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hey! I just figured out why my butt hurts so much. It's the new saddle on my new bike! My butt hasn't adjusted yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After eight years or so with <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2007/03/i-bought-mountain-bike.html">my old trusty 2006 GT Avalanche 2.0 26er</a>, and too many people telling me that my bike was too small for my rather large frame, I gave in and bought a 2015 Specialized Rockhopper Comp 29er, with a 21-inch frame and a Shimano 2X9 Alivio derailleur. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The new wheels feel great, and I apparently no longer look like a<a href="http://www.spearshoes.com/images/Gilligan/China01_350.jpg"> clown on one of those tiny circus bikes</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let's ride.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">RIDE STATS<br />Length of ride: 32 kilometers<br />Average speed: 16.1 kph<br />Maximum speed: 34 kph<br />Time on the bike: 1.59.30<br />Pivo Index: 7 (or 4.5 kpb -- kilometers per beer)</span></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Dale on the abandoned road just outside Roztoky.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">On the road again with Dale</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">We ran into this charming lady walking</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">her eight dogs near Koliba.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The duck at Kopanský Mlýn</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The indoor riding arena at Kopanský Mlýn</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">A local football match in Statenice</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">At Kopanský Mlýn</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Robin and Julie</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">A three-legged cat at Kopanský Mlýn</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">At the brewery in Únětice, with eight beers between us,</span></i></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>taste-testing to see whether </i></b><b><i>we liked the 10° or the 12° better.</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>The answer is lost in time.</i></b></span></div>
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Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-6116928478218319412015-01-16T22:11:00.002+02:002016-01-22T12:18:46.780+02:00Dog Doo Afternoon (Or A Tale Of Warm Weather, Broken Bikes, Flat Tires, A Crash, Beer, High Winds, And, Oh Yes, Poo)<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Brian navigates a cool BMX track near Bila Hora.</i></b></span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Shitenfreude (noun): A feeling of secret enjoyment that comes from seeing your cycling mates covered in feces shortly after they had made fun of you for the same.</i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was the best of rides. It was the worst of rides.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In other words, it was a ride that had everything. A broken bike. A flat tire. Beer. A head-over-handlebar crash. Beer. Gale-force winds. Unseasonably warm temperatures. Home-smoked sausages. Not to mention the aforementioned feces. Oh, and beer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My friend Brian Reagan and I met for a ride at the Starbucks in Prague 6 on Saturday morning. The weather forecast was for wind and cloudy skies, but -- get this -- a temperature of 54 degrees Fahrenheit (12 Celsius). I hadn't been on my bike since September and was (and still am) woefully out of shape, but I couldn't pass this chance up in good conscience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We were going to do a route that we call the Bakerloo Run, an urban but mostly car-free route that passes through the upscale villas of Střešovice, past what is commonly known as the Star House in Obora Hvězda, then snaking through the panelaks of Prague 17 and Prague 13, before hooking up with the park called Prokopské údolí, which empties into the Prague suburb of Hlubočepy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From there, we cross the Barrandovsky highway bridge (which has a protected bike lane), connecting with a bike path that hugs the east side of the Vltava River and takes you all the way back into Prague's Old Town.</span><br />
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">At the Star House in </span><span style="font-size: large;">Obora Hvězda.</span></b></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But no sooner had we cycled a kilometer or two into </span><span style="font-size: large;">Střešovice </span><span style="font-size: large;">when I noticed that I seemed to have no gears. A quick dismount revealed the cable that connected the gear shift on my handlebars to the derailleur on my rear wheel had rusted clean through. I was, for all intents and purposes, riding a fixed-gear bike. It wasn't stuck in the toughest gear, but it wasn't in a granny gear, either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Hard to see, but that's my busted gear cable hanging down.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Quite a few times, I almost decided to call it a day and get some lunch and head home. The gear problem meant I had to walk my bike up all the hills, but that was something I would likely have had to have done anyway, so out of shape am I. So I just kept going until it basically made no sense to turn around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The wind was a force to be reckoned with, to be sure, but it was warm, it was mid-January, for chrissakes, and it felt so good to be back in the saddle again, despite my crying quadriceps.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Somewhere amid the panelaks of Stodůlky, my phone rang. It was our cycling buddy Stewart Moore, who had said he wasn't feeling well and anyway had to pick his bike up from the shop and maybe could meet up with us later but likely wouldn't. Well, it turns out he did feel up to it and was just a few kilometers behind us on the Bakerloo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A few minutes later, Stewart came into view and suddenly we were three.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Stewart weighs in:</i></b></span></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">I thought I'd be over my cold by the time Saturday rolled up for our Bakerloo run. But it's of a strain that doesn't know when to quit. On Friday, I realized I was feeling pretty bad. Sweating, shivers, coughing, headaches. In addition, on my previous outing, I had fallen and broken my front derailleur, my back light, and very nearly my leg (or so it felt).</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">On that ride, Dave Murphy and I had set off from Klecany to Kralupy and on to Okoř for lunch. That was the plan anyway. But I wiped out in an icy puddle and was soaking wet on one side, it was minus 5 Celsius, and we very nearly halted at Kralupy. </span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">But we rode on after soup at the Marina Vltava in Kralupy. As we rode alongside the railway line near Budec, I discovered my gear issues. So I parted ways with Dave at </span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;">Okoř </span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;">and went home. Maybe 30 kilometers -- maybe -- all told. It certainly felt longer and likely made my cold into something worse.</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Saturday, Bakerloo Day, rolled around and I didn't think I could make it and very reluctantly made my excuses. I don't like backing out. In this case, I half believed I'd kill my cold with a good bit of cycling, but I felt awful. What to do?</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">I decided I'd walk over to Cyclo Adam, about six kilometers, and get my bike. It's a forest walk. Lovely. Plenty of hills to climb, too. By the time I arrived, I felt terrible, again.</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">I highly recommend the services of Cyclo Adam. They are good-natured and my bike always feels fantastic when I get it back from them. This time was different. It was better than fantastic. It flew. On our icy ride, Dave had advised me to switch to a lighter tire. He said it would likely make an incredible difference, and it did. The bike glides now. I've been on fat tires so long that I had come to feel that it was the norm to be sluggish. As Grant put it, "Your bike no longer sounds like a swarm of bees."</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">I need a sturdy tire because I prefer trails, but the Schwalbe's I switched to look almost the same as my old fatboys, only they are far lighter and so fast for it. I can honestly say I'm enjoying riding again.</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">I shot down the street and realized I also felt a lot better physically for some reason. Maybe I could do the Bakerloo after all. But I was now very late, maybe an hour behind Grant and Brian. I went through the route in my mind and guessed where they'd be and then I raced after them. I was in upper Suchdol and had a ways to go just to reach the starting point -- maybe seven kilometers.</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Only ... I rode straight to the metro at Hradčanská</span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;">. You can take your bike on the subway here and it's a great way to head to various starting points, parks, forests, without riding through the city itself. I changed to the yellow line and jumped off at Zli</span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;">č</span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;">in. I raced down and behind Ikea. I wanted to meet the boys on the bridge over the highway near there. Only, I got totally lost. It took 10 minutes to find the bridge, but by then they'd passed that point.</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">I called and Grant could hardly make me out because of the high winds at my end. He said they were at the panelaks (tower blocks) but couldn't tell me where.</span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;">I floored it. (Can you floor it on a bike?) Anyway, the 'Goose' complied and in no time I reached the lake in 'Central Park' in Stodůlky. I could see the boys racing away and in no time I was at their backs.</span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Centralni park -- I love the lake here and the buildings around it. They are well-kept tower blocks and I always think it would be a good place to live, unlike their equivalent in the U.K. or the U.S. -- an estate or the projects. But it can't be so easily compared. I don't know what happened to make what is essentially the same housing system so different here. </span></i></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">There is an optimistic feel about the place, as though those colorful architectural plans designed to sell the idea of a workers' paradise (that never seem to be truly realized off paper) actually panned out for once. The metro briefly breaks cover here and zooms above the lake in a rust red and glass tube. There is something a bit Fritz Lang in that, too, that I just love to see. A tongue-in-cheek brutalism that works in reality.</span> </i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And just as suddenly, I had a flat rear tire. First, no gears. Then, a flat. Great. Sure, I had a spare tube and all the tools, but I was in no mood to futz with a flat. But what are you gonna do?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We found a flat place to do the dirty work. Which turned out to be even dirtier than I had expected when a bunch of mud on my tire turned out to be dog crap. My hands were covered in dog doo. But what are you gonna do?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Tire fixed, we continued on the Bakerloo, down, down, downhill through the lovely </span><span style="font-size: large;">Prokopské údolí.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">At one point, we decided to take a detour through a cool tunnel carved into the cliffs. It was longer than we expected, and it was pitch dark in there. We were blind. I almost ran into Brian who was also walking his bike just a few centimeters ahead of me. When we exited from the other side, two things happened.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">First, Brian hit a rock with his front wheel and went head over heels over his handlebars. He'd been riding very slowly on a rough forest trail, so he didn't hurt himself, but still. Jeez.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Secondly, I noticed that Brian and Stewart's shoes and pants were covered in liquidy dog pooh, picked up in the tunnel, no doubt. Somehow, I'd escaped. At least we thought it was dog pooh, but on second thought, what kind of dog takes a dump in a pitch-black tunnel? I'm thinking now it was human, but let's hope not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">By that point, we needed a beer, and badly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our only hope was a place we called The Blues Shack, a decrepit shelter surrounded by discarded trash and three-legged chairs and piles of old lumber that looks like something straight out of "Deliverance" but which smokes its own sausages and serves cheap and good beer and always has a cat or two slinking around. The Blues Shack has made quite a few appearances in the blog. It's one of our favorite places.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjuYZanCXVBb7pRfio8eDn-5u1m0IaiE_FDhqt80VwkBOWx_hm35kqKyDjDZT_zDItrLi17-VcAgwvzAAmbpUV1J-JuPPrvSnVqj5aTHnoFIpeWyG9ih2KZ6QyGgtSevS55rxdmMax253/s700/IMG_6801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjuYZanCXVBb7pRfio8eDn-5u1m0IaiE_FDhqt80VwkBOWx_hm35kqKyDjDZT_zDItrLi17-VcAgwvzAAmbpUV1J-JuPPrvSnVqj5aTHnoFIpeWyG9ih2KZ6QyGgtSevS55rxdmMax253/s700/IMG_6801.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But would it be open? It was mid-January, after all.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We sat outside and drank three crisp half-liters of Hubertus and slurfed down a few juicy sausages slathered in mustard and horseradish, with fresh brown bread on the side. Nourishment fit for kings, it was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was getting dark by this time, we'd been out for much longer than I had anticipated, and there was a dog at home who needed walking. In other words, I needed to skedaddle. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We headed down toward the Vltava, but just before the Barrandovsky bridge, we encountered a few talented graffiti artists plying their trade on some concrete walls along the river. Stewart and Brian stopped to chat with them, but I had to get home, so left them there. Brian took some photos, and Stewart said he'd write up his chat with the artists.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I crossed the bridge solo and took the bike path north toward Prague 1, passing <i>under</i> the imposing ramparts of Vyšehrad and <i>by</i> architect Frank Gehry's famous Dancing House (below), with the dramatically lit Prague Castle looming ahead.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Truth be told, I hopped on the metro with my bike at Staroměstská and was soon home -- sore, tired, but glad to have gotten back on the bike, and pleased that I hadn't backed out when my gears gave out.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The ride reminded me why I ride.</span><br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Stewart again:</i></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Later, post-ride, post-poo, post-Blues (Booze?) Shack, we stopped to take a snap of a graffiti artist on the river. I asked his permission and agreed not to show his face.</i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Grant had to head off, he was needed elsewhere, so we parted here. As this was happening, another artist approached and Brian and I had quite a chat with the guy.</i></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Even though it was a "free wall," he also did not want to be identified. Fair enough. By "free wall," he meant the city had sanctioned the use of the wall as a canvas for graffiti art. What these guys were doing made colorful an otherwise massive blank concrete bridge and highway system. Good for them. I've always liked that bold wall and I'm pleased to see it's ever-changing graphics. Brutalism pimped, in this case. When I heard it was a free wall, I even considered buying spray cans myself.</i></span> </blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Finally, Brian and I stopped on the Nabrezi back in Prague and, within sight of the Manes building, we had a final pivo on the river. Brian struck up a conversation with a St. Petersburg couple bound for San Francisco and a new life working for Facebook, but that's another story.</i></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">It was an easy ride and it killed my cold and I felt much better. Brian went off to host an (American) football party and I jumped on a train at Maserykova Nadrazi for the final short ride home. Easy as pie, or poo, as the case may be.</span></i></blockquote>
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<i>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></i>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>RIDE STATS</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Length of ride: 37 kilometers</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Pivo Index: 3</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Distance ridden so far in 2015: 37 kilometers</b></span><br />
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Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-25784708443965067692014-09-14T13:07:00.001+03:002014-09-14T13:07:13.329+03:00Dark And Stormy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b><i>The merry crew.</i></b><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>ook a quick ride the other day over to Roztoky. My goals were three-fold.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>1. Get a bit of exercise.<br />2. Hang out with friends.<br />3. Drink some Guinness.</i></blockquote>
<br />
Not necessarily in that order.<br />
<br />
I'd gotten word that the <a href="http://cafebareiffel.webnode.cz/" target="_blank"><b>Cafe-Bar Eiffel</b></a>, near the football pitch in Roztoky, had undergone a bit of a rebirth, with some comfy picnic tables outside and some tasty beers on tap inside. It's part French cafe, part Irish pub.<br />
<br />
I rode over to Roztoky from my flat in Prague 6, getting caught in a pretty hard rainstorm just as I arrived in the village. I was able to take shelter in an underpass until it passed.<br />
<br />
Then I (admittedly) walked my bike up the very steep path into upper Roztoky, where I met up with James Gogarty and Stewart Moore, his two kids, Jules and Ronan, and his wife, Kathleen.<br />
<br />
(James was one of the first people I met through this blog, way back in 2007. Read that post <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2007/04/puncture-juncture-or-if-it-wasnt-for.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>. In fact, our meeting, so soon after I started writing, made me think that I'd constantly be hounded by my fans. In fact, that was the one and only time that ever happened! Silly me.)<br />
<br />
Indeed, there was Guinness on tap, and it was cheap -- 48 CZK ($2.25) for .4 liters. It wasn't the best-poured pint (or almost pint) of the black stuff I've ever had, but it's really hard to complain.<br />
<br />
I was in Dublin in May and a pint of Guinness is around 5.10 or 5.20 euros (or roughly 144 CZK).<br />
<br />
They also had a delicious Czech IPA on tap. Its name escapes me at the moment.<br />
<br />
We had a great time, chatting and telling stories and drinking.<br />
<br />
And I was able to accomplish all of my goals.<br />
<br />
<b>RIDE STATS</b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 18 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 17.5 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 38.5 kph</b><br />
<b>Time on the bike: 1 hour</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: Um, 5, I think?</b>
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<b><i>I'm not sure you should be able to see any light through a pint of Guinness. I see a faint trickle peeking through the bottom there. But heck, it's only 48 CZK.</i></b><b><br /></b>
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<b><i>Seeking shelter from the storm.</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-58252819147366416262014-08-31T11:50:00.000+03:002014-08-31T11:50:30.956+03:00No Excuses<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>The pedestrian suspension bridge linking Císařský Ostrov to the east side of the Vltava, where the Troja Chateau and Prague Zoo are located.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">
I</span>f you're reading this, and you haven't taken this bike ride, what are you waiting for?<br />
<br />
It's not hard, it's not long, but it's fun, it's flat, and it's fantastic.<br />
<br />
Grab your bike or rent a bike and head to Stromovka Park. Ride around the park for a bit. It's lovely. There are people walking and dogs running and kids playing, and every once in a while a train will whoosh past on the tracks that bisect the park.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span">From Stromovka, head towards the Vltava River, first crossing a side canal over a regular car bridge to Císařský Ostrov and then across a cool pedestrian suspension bridge that leads over the Prague Zoo. You're supposed to walk your bike across, but not everyone follows that rule, and I'll sometimes ride if there aren't too many people.</span><br />
<br />
Now you're at the Troja chateau, with the Prague Zoo a few hundred meters to the north.<br />
<br />
From here, you can either head north along the river bike path, past the zoo, and just keep going for many, many wonderful kilometers, all the way to Klecany and beyond. No cars. Just pure cycling pleasure, with quite a few little pubs along the way to stop for a cold one of whatever it is you're drinking.<br />
<br />
Or you can do what I and Emma did a few weeks ago (and which I did on my own a few days before that). That is, head upriver, toward Prague 8 and<b style="font-style: italic;"> </b>Libeň. It's also a bike path, and it passes lots of cool sites: a whitewater kayaking course, a giant Trojan horse that's now a funky pub and music venue, a stunning new bridge that's set to open in a couple of months, boats and barges, and if you're adventurous, an abandoned sculpture park.<br />
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<b><i>The Trojan Horse pub and gallery also hosts intimate concerts along the river.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
At the end of the bike path is a run-down looking pub that Emma and I discovered actually sells a pretty darn good (and pretty darn huge and pretty darn cheap) burger.<br />
<br />
You can turn around and head back, as we did, or continue on, along a bike path that runs toward Karlin or, again, if you're feeling adventurous, you can connect to <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2010/05/taking-ride-on-europes-most-expensive.html" target="_blank"><b>Europe's Most Expensive Cycling Path.</b></a><br />
<br />
There are no hills, no cars. No excuses, really. Ride.<br />
<br />
<b>RIDE STATS</b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 36 kilometers (all state combine two rides)</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 14.7 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 31.1 kph</b><br />
<b>Time on the bike: 2 hours, 24 minutes</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: 2</b><br />
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<b><i>The kayak and whitewater rafting course along the Vltava. As far as I can tell, groups can <a href="http://www.usk.kanoe.cz/en/" target="_blank">book rides here</a>.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>The <a href="http://www.milujuprahu.cz/2014/08/krasa-nad-vltavou-novy-trojsky-most-se-predstavuje/" target="_blank">new Troja bridge</a> across the Vltava, which is supposed to open to the public in October 2014, as far I can tell.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>An old boat moored along the Vltava, near Liben.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>One of the sports-related pieces still standing in the abandoned sculpture park, which I previously wrote about <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2007/06/full-of-surprises.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2007/09/costas-clear.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>A cold beer and a malinovka at Hospůdka U Žabáka in Libeň.
</i></b><br />
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<b><i>It's not gourmet, and it was pretty sloppy, but it was huge and tasty and cost 98 CZK ($4.65), as I remember.</i></b><br />
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Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-76951771269759287152014-06-17T18:43:00.000+03:002014-06-17T20:08:43.347+03:00The Perfect Bike Ride Redux<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>A man outstanding in his field. (Photo by Mark)</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">
A</span>s Stewart and I have often said, riding a bike as an adult instantly takes you back to being a kid again.<br />
<br />
Grabbing the handlebars changes your mindset. It changes your <i>direction</i>, in all meanings of that word.<br />
<br />
Instead of that guy sitting quietly in the metro, giving your seat up for old ladies and making sure the music in your earbuds isn't so loud as to bother other passengers, your bike turns you into that guy sitting on the back of a mysterious stone statue of a Sphinx that you pass along the trail.<br />
<br />
Instead of that guy standing patiently in a long line at the potraviny, all the while hoping that you have the coins you'll need to give the cashier the exact change so she doesn't roll her eyes at you and make a big fuss, your bike turns you into that guy zooming down a hill at full speed, more than a little recklessly, and not even wearing a helmet (see my last post, <a href="http://www.praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2014/06/the-joy-of-riding-without-helmet.html" target="_blank"><b>"The Joy of Riding Without a Helmet"</b></a>).<br />
<br />
Instead of that guy sitting in another boring meeting at work, nodding politely, pretending to be paying attention, your bike turns you into that guy scrambling up a slippery rock face so you can squeeze your fat ass into a cool cave scooped out of undulating sandstone.<br />
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<b><i>It's almost obligatory to take a shot at this bridge, with the Mělník castle in the background.</i></b><br />
<br />
We -- that is, I, Mark, Stewart, and a new acqaintance, Jonathan -- decided to meet up last Saturday for the classic ride to Mělník. I've described it on this blog before as <a href="http://www.praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2011/09/perfect-bike-ride-prague-to-melnik.html" target="_blank"><b>perhaps the perfect bike ride</b></a>, and once again, it didn't disappoint.<br />
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Mark, Jonathan, and I met at the train station in Bubeneč. We hoisted our bikes aboard, destination Kralupy, picking Stewart up along the way in Roztoky.<br />
<br />
From Kralupy, it's a wonderful ride along country roads and bike paths all the way to Mělník.<br />
<br />
We passed fields of rain-slicker-yellow rapeseed and green young hops, sucked down some cold glasses of Holba at U Hofmannů in the unfortunately named village of Dědibaby, found someone's phone in the middle of the road and tried to return it to its rightful owner, inhaled a few burgers and a steak and few more half-liters at U Císaře in Mělník, and tried not to melt under the incessant sun.<br />
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And then, as we made our way back to Kralupy, we remembered that there is one train per hour back home, and we were devilishly close to being able to make the 6:41 p.m. But we'd have to hustle, and there would be no more beers on the ride home.<br />
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<b><i>Getting our just desserts. (Photo by Mark)</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
At some point, Stewart and I -- flagging a bit, it must be said -- lost Mark and Jonathan somewhere up ahead. As we approached Kralupy, it didn't seem as if we had any chance in hell of making that train. Undoubtedly, we thought, Mark and Jonathan, far ahead, were already onboard.<br />
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We looked at our watches, and we pedaled, and we looked at our watches, and waited to cross a busy street, and we looked at our watches, and we raced through the back streets of Kralupy, and we looked at our watches, and we rode through the lobby of the train station (against the rules, I'm sure) and lifted our bikes up the stairs to the platform and onto the train with about 37 seconds to spare.<br />
<br />
The train started moving.<br />
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Mark and Jonathan had missed it, we learned by SMS. They hadn't known exactly how to get to the station. Or at least the fastest way. We'd overtaken them somehow in the backstreets.<br />
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That's what you get, guys, for breaking off the pack and leaving the so-called weaker riders behind to be devoured by the wolves.<br />
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Mark and Jonathan cooled their heels with a glass of wine or two at the train station while they waited for the next train.<br />
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Hard to feel too sorry for them, really.<br />
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<b>RIDE STATS</b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 65 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 15 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 47.4 kph</b><br />
<b>Time on the bike: 4 hours, 17 minutes</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: Six</b><br />
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<b><i> A little spelunking along the trail toward Nelahozeves.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>The chateau at Veltrusy.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Creamy, cold Holba at U Hofmannů in Dědibaby.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Discussing life's weightier issues at </i></b><b><i>U Hofmannů</i></b><b><i>.</i></b><br />
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<i><b>On top of the world in </b></i><b><i>Mělník.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>A burger at U Císaře in Mělník, our traditional watering hole.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>I just liked the old-fashioned feel and '60s-era sign at this flower shop in Kralupy.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Rapeseed on the road to Mělník.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Stewart had a puncture at this juncture.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Off the train in Kralupy, heading to the trails. (Photo by Mark)</i></b><br />
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<b><i>What it's all about. (Photo by Mark)</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Jonathan goes off-road (or off-rocker).</i></b><br />
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<br />
<b><i>Jonathan's panorama app accidentally produced this intriguing photo of Stewart contemplating a beer or three.</i></b><br />
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<br />
<b><i>Grant, meet Jonathan. Jonathan, Grant. (Photo by Mark)</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Hops. Bikes. No cars. A beer in sight. (Photo by Jonathan)</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I had to. I just had to. (Photo by Mark)</i></b><br />
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<b><i>A cute little holiday camp near Veltrusy. (Photo by Jonathan)</i></b><br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>Mělník castle. (Photo by Jonathan)</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-12348517541049200792014-06-15T10:30:00.003+03:002014-06-15T11:54:24.273+03:00The Joy Of Riding Without A Helmet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Tourist Shot #1.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I</span> took a ride a week or two ago down to the Pivo Na Naplavce beer festival along the Vltava River, just south of the Charles Bridge.<br />
<br />
My short ride was notable for a variety of reasons.<br />
<br />
1. The beer festival, which featured the work of dozens and dozens of small breweries from across the Czech Republic, was phenomenal. Wonderful beer, great atmosphere, perfect weather, good food. It was exactly what the Czech Beer Festival on Letna was not but desperately needs to be.<br />
<br />
2. My ride took me through some prime Prague tourist spots and I was able to appreciate the beauty of the city anew. Sometimes it's good to be a tourist in the place where you live.<br />
<br />
3. And, perhaps most significantly, I decided not to wear a helmet or even to take my backpack (with its spare tube and a tire pump) with me.<br />
<br />
As you may remember, <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2014/01/renting-bikes-in-amsterdam.html" target="_blank"><b>we took a ride in Amsterdam</b></a> back in October. Of course, no one wears a helmet in Amsterdam, and we didn't either. It was liberating. I felt like a kid. (We didn't know what a helmet was when I was growing up.) I experienced the true freedom of being on a bicycle, untethered. I wanted to feel that feeling again, and I did.<br />
<br />
Some may say that drinking beer and then riding through the city without a helmet on is crazy, stupid, maybe even against the law. I can't argue with that.<br />
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I also can't argue with how great it felt to just hop on my bike and take off.<br />
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<b><i>My bike was still wearing the residue of my last ride, <a href="http://www.praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2014/03/i-dont-like-mud-days.html" target="_blank">"I Don't Like Mud Days."</a></i></b><br />
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<b><i>Tourist Shot #2.</i></b><br />
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<br />
<b><i>Tourist Shot #3.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Munchies at the beer fest.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>One of my favorites.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Fried carp nuggets. Boneless and delicious.</i></b><br />
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<br />
<b><i>Pivo Na Naplavce was all that the Czech Beer Festival is not.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Grilled sardines, from the good folks at Nenasyta, </i></b><b><i>Food Adventure, the Prague 6 Slovenian restaurant.</i></b><br />
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<br />
<b><i>Four wheels can be good, too.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Behind the scenes of a blog post. (Photo by Mark Baker)</i></b><br />
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<b><i>A discerning palate. (Photo by Mark Baker) </i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-71742741618890517402014-06-01T11:03:00.001+03:002014-06-01T11:12:18.148+03:00What It Feels Like When They Steal Your Bike<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>The author at Letna with Bike No. 3.</i></b><br />
<br />
<b>By Mark Baker</b><br />
<br />
I saw a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/video/us/100000002896894/is-this-a-bait-bike.html?smid=fb-nytimes&WT.z_sma=VI_HTC_20140528&bicmp=AD&bicmlukp=WT.mc_id&bicmst=1388552400000&bicmet=1420088400000&_r=1" target="_blank"><b>great video</b></a> on bike theft recently on "The New York Times" website. According to the video, called "How to Catch a Bike Thief," police in San Francisco have formed a special unit to fight bike theft and employed some creative ideas to that end, including using "bait bikes" to lure thieves, hidden cameras, GPS devices, and social media.<br />
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For me, the most satisfying moment comes at the 1:20 mark, when through CCTV we see a thief make off with a bike, only to be wrestled to the ground seconds later by the police. The head of the bike-theft unit, officer Matt Friedman, chuckles while watching the thief go down hard. Sounds bad to say it, but I could probably watch that moment 50 times in a row and not get tired of it.<br />
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In the past decade or so living in Prague, I've lost at least six bikes to theft (to be fair, two bikes were stolen on trips to Poland, not in Prague). I long ago lost sympathy for anyone who would steal a bike for whatever reason, and would probably go to great lengths to try to catch a thief (even, perhaps, setting out a bait bike).<br />
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<b>Trail of Tears</b><br />
<br />
Many people don’t realize it, but finding that your bike has been stolen can set you off on an emotional roller-coaster ride. There’s the immediate surge of anger you feel toward the thief that actually seems good and healthy. That’s suddenly tamped down, though, by the realization that you’re never going to see the bike again. The prospect of recovering a stolen bike (here in Prague, and just about everywhere else) is nil. There’s no place for that anger to go and what felt like strength in the first moments, starts to feels more like impotent rage a couple minutes later.<br />
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There’s also the frustration (and boredom) of having to deal with the police and insurance company (if you’re lucky enough to have a policy) and all of the fruitless, pointless questions they ask. Make, model, color, serial number (who has that in their wallet?) This is just the start of the process. Where did you buy it? When did you buy it? Do you have the receipt? ("Yes, officer, right here in my pocket."). The police in Poland, on one occasion, even asked me to sketch out the bike on a piece of paper and<br />
identify the angle between the crossbar and the down tube (45°? 35°? 65°??) On that occasion, the police kept me at the station for four hours filing a report -- without the slightest expectation they would ever catch the thief.<br />
<br />
Then there are your friends -- your closest friends -- and their well meaning but maddening inability to understand your predicament.<br />
<br />
Tell someone your bike’s been stolen and instead of sympathy you often get a barrage of questions: "Was it locked?" "Where did you leave it?" "How good was the lock?" "How long did you leave the bike unattended?" It’s as if they’re working on behalf of the bike thief and trying to find holes in your story.<br />
<br />
(As a short aside, if you’re ever in the situation where a friend tells you his or her bike has been stolen, try hard not to make the first question, "Was it locked?" Of course it was locked. Simply say: "Sorry<br />
to hear it. That’s really bad news.")<br />
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Maybe the toughest – and most unwelcome -- emotion is somehow related to the above. It’s the inward shame and nagging feeling that maybe you really did do something to enable the theft. "Of course that lock wasn’t strong enough." "I should never have parked the bike there." "What was I thinking?"<br />
"What an idiot I was."<br />
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All these thoughts run through your mind over and over again, and inevitably lead you to the faulty, messed-up "realization" that somehow you’re complicit in the theft of your own bike.<br />
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<b>It’s Not The Bike Owner’s Fault</b><br />
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Writing all this out now has been therapeutic and helped me to understand why, perhaps, I appreciated that "New York Times" video so much. In the video, Officer Friedman’s moral clarity is rare and refreshing in a way that possibly only a person who has lost a bike can really understand.<br />
<br />
Simply by the way he talks and acts, you can see he knows that it’s NEVER the bike owner’s fault. It doesn’t matter where he or she parked the bike. It doesn’t matter if the lock was strong enough (or even possibly if the bike was locked at all). Theft is theft and honest people should be free to ride and park where they wish, without fear their bike will be stolen. It’s time to ditch the remorse and fight back.<br />
<br />
Hear hear! What a welcome reminder, and I wish him and the San Francisco police department all the success in the world. I only wish now the police in Prague would get the memo (or at least see the video).<br />
<br />
<i>Mark Baker is a Prague-based journalist and independent travel writer. He’s co-author of the "Lonely Planet Guide to Prague and the Czech Republic." He’s been riding bikes in Prague for more than 20 years.</i><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>MISSING IN ACTION</b><br />
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<b><i>Bike 1 (no photo)</i></b><br />
<b><i>White Trek MB</i></b><br />
<b><i>Last seen: Betlemska 1, Prague 1, in 2000</i></b><br />
<br />
<b><i>Bike 2 (no photo)</i></b><br />
<b><i>Black Cannondale MB</i></b><br />
<b><i>Last seen: Cechova 20, Prague 6, in 2002</i></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsB-bAVhc3oju-c173CsvjjKgn-GG2A6bM5fRJ5yd4-SOfdsCJeYHTceBjV6LjV62JxT3rvIOussOYeOeBVWVtufiQtIdGEuc9p6w6OJRkTdM90ttpXU8aLVFx5mm6WiK4qpfRCsqMT7qh/s700/Bike3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsB-bAVhc3oju-c173CsvjjKgn-GG2A6bM5fRJ5yd4-SOfdsCJeYHTceBjV6LjV62JxT3rvIOussOYeOeBVWVtufiQtIdGEuc9p6w6OJRkTdM90ttpXU8aLVFx5mm6WiK4qpfRCsqMT7qh/s700/Bike3.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Bike 3</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>White/Black Specialized MB</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Last seen: Lodz, Poland, in 2006</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVUYHJ-pOu8U-h7b_lZszClpm8TWGP6XVjojDMbNtaTkA-cFZ3regxwYLiWai-TZdHgM_-VJCj7AmPzajE7KaPCiQJzCmqj-vQKpDgOCgOBWDPDb5FejdzUBnOQyYtBhU2BTKCRlSHdqE8/s700/Bike4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVUYHJ-pOu8U-h7b_lZszClpm8TWGP6XVjojDMbNtaTkA-cFZ3regxwYLiWai-TZdHgM_-VJCj7AmPzajE7KaPCiQJzCmqj-vQKpDgOCgOBWDPDb5FejdzUBnOQyYtBhU2BTKCRlSHdqE8/s700/Bike4.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Bike 4</i></b><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Blue Scott MB</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Last seen: InterContinental Hotel, Prague 1, in 2007</i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhIlZiZB47bkR3e-rxV-bVPmu6MzFUjuNssZrIsx67xPt1LkoAT06zImn2baMXo2TgAvI8-vsmBWrBSt1g3aaYVOmwoLUGImZXbYNmvjdGUXrhFQraB2tb-xPpQcq8gRAsOS3yYj6s0yq/s700/Bike5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhIlZiZB47bkR3e-rxV-bVPmu6MzFUjuNssZrIsx67xPt1LkoAT06zImn2baMXo2TgAvI8-vsmBWrBSt1g3aaYVOmwoLUGImZXbYNmvjdGUXrhFQraB2tb-xPpQcq8gRAsOS3yYj6s0yq/s700/Bike5.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Bike 5</i></b><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Gold Kona Caldera MB</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Last seen: Ve struhach 22, Prague 6, in 2008</i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAMjOdvOd70m2WZUpfS4YbO0-f8-wE7NdRrbjyrRUWXk3TLTy1rWMd_kBhx5C7ZenHY_IFFPoXz9i3ZoanTDNtkuOXHB6fr3KCXp0Ci0gyvJi9HsmVvutDlYJvRAXp7Kqsf6EHnPEgGbx/s700/Bike6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAMjOdvOd70m2WZUpfS4YbO0-f8-wE7NdRrbjyrRUWXk3TLTy1rWMd_kBhx5C7ZenHY_IFFPoXz9i3ZoanTDNtkuOXHB6fr3KCXp0Ci0gyvJi9HsmVvutDlYJvRAXp7Kqsf6EHnPEgGbx/s700/Bike6.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Bike 6</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Black Kona Caldera MB</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Last seen: Plotsk, Poland, in 2011</i></b><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQe7vXUNsTtc7QBUL-S4_yKs29oAplyNZMlRO69HhnHha8-znoGVzztiB7zskM0BRY4jtb0RUItUyMIjAm0dLYQ_k9PrZdlg6k-ENTP9LV04l5jcxd7IZ6Xuv4CoocAplMQXprkefoiAAo/s700/Bike7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQe7vXUNsTtc7QBUL-S4_yKs29oAplyNZMlRO69HhnHha8-znoGVzztiB7zskM0BRY4jtb0RUItUyMIjAm0dLYQ_k9PrZdlg6k-ENTP9LV04l5jcxd7IZ6Xuv4CoocAplMQXprkefoiAAo/s700/Bike7.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Bike 7</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Blue Specialized Rockhopper MB</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><i>Still have it. For now.</i></b></div>
Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-46322797934290593082014-03-08T11:03:00.001+02:002014-03-08T11:16:12.183+02:00I Don't Like Mud Days *<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim81-QdyZT4nHOLL6iq8X2xVB5NEaMgJArpg6bIhh3RG5Stez5WVVWkH26KmLOMwH_rlDTamr707UWW63F6C65hfwZXb8Qrul3BLpupRpq2Vgw4xFkqlfe3IOGeOByH3TYvVG76tb3Wb6J/s700/IMG_4112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim81-QdyZT4nHOLL6iq8X2xVB5NEaMgJArpg6bIhh3RG5Stez5WVVWkH26KmLOMwH_rlDTamr707UWW63F6C65hfwZXb8Qrul3BLpupRpq2Vgw4xFkqlfe3IOGeOByH3TYvVG76tb3Wb6J/s700/IMG_4112.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>That's my camouflaged front tire.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
I know mud.<br />
<br />
There was the my <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2008/01/heres-mud-in-my-eye-and-everywhere-else.html" target="_blank"><b>2008 New Year's Day mudbath</b></a>.<br />
<br />
There was the 2009 post called <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2009/02/fog-nuts-puppies-and-beer.html" target="_blank"><b>"Fog, Nuts, Puppies, And Beer." </b></a><br />
<br />
There was the <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2010/09/boys-are-back-in-town.html" target="_blank"><b>mud that looked like brownie batter</b> </a>in 2010.<br />
<br />
There was <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2011/03/heres-mud-in-your-eye-and-everywhere.html" target="_blank"><b>"Here's Mud In Your Eye (And Everywhere Else)"</b></a> from 2011.<br />
<br />
And, of course, 2008's infamous <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2008/01/apes-mud-rants-raves.html" target="_blank"><b>"Rendezvous With A Gorilla,"</b></a> in which I lost my patience, my temper, and any ability to rotate the wheels on my bike.<br />
<br />
But until my most recent ride, with my usual mud-loving companion, Stewart Moore, I'd always been able to use a stick or my fingers or something to dislodge enough mud to get my bike moving again.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago, though, on a dirt road through a farmer's field above Okoř, a road we'd cycled many times before (meaning we should have known better), sticks and fingers just would not work.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Tq2V14x5VW9jB-rHXCtT_BJVrmHPq9cCDt6LJ8vSVD8wmhbtheWwXPCeCXtfRQQbk1ewBXe-th3Dwxq4qtgmQu3OvUadoQQlULQYkFSRTCVYPDsOLyraiHo7VmJCjEgkjDLglz9V-86y/s700/IMG_4117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Tq2V14x5VW9jB-rHXCtT_BJVrmHPq9cCDt6LJ8vSVD8wmhbtheWwXPCeCXtfRQQbk1ewBXe-th3Dwxq4qtgmQu3OvUadoQQlULQYkFSRTCVYPDsOLyraiHo7VmJCjEgkjDLglz9V-86y/s700/IMG_4117.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC1frETmMEH-95Da5hxeNXrebUW4Sk3O7mTrWBV0rDxMgbua7PHYzrv7Hy3CD1_b6X8Bl9sFnctUkY9Vjd42BOEJlGTg_VU25MpCos4_R6np9hH3iRs0nAAt5xuV5gAXex6Ou1399n3fBZ/s700/IMG_4118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC1frETmMEH-95Da5hxeNXrebUW4Sk3O7mTrWBV0rDxMgbua7PHYzrv7Hy3CD1_b6X8Bl9sFnctUkY9Vjd42BOEJlGTg_VU25MpCos4_R6np9hH3iRs0nAAt5xuV5gAXex6Ou1399n3fBZ/s700/IMG_4118.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
I had to actually remove my front tire to dislodge the paralyzing clay/mud that had jammed itself between the tire and my fender. Actually, I had to remove my front tire<i> twice</i> in the space of about 10 minutes. My tires simply wouldn't budge. I couldn't roll forward. I was stuck, grounded, frozen, paralyzed.<br />
<br />
This time, rather that cursing my predicament, or cursing Stewart (as I'd done in the "Gorilla" post), I found myself laughing out loud. I'd suggested the route this time. It was my fault. Stewart, whose bike has no fenders, had an easier time of it and was way ahead, waiting for me.<br />
<br />
My bike was too heavy with mud to carry, and I could go neither backwards nor forwards. I was stuck, and all I could do was take my tires off and hope.<br />
<br />
Well, once I managed to remove my front tire, I <i>was</i> able to scrape enough mud off to get me rolling again. My back tire was just as bad, really, but it finally yielded to the gravity of me riding downhill with a clean front tire.<br />
<br />
I can safely say that that was the worst mud (more like clay, really) that I've ever cycled through.<br />
<br />
Stewart and I had decided to meet at the late, great, burned-to-the-ground Koliba (whose ruins are still hard to look at after all these years), and cycle to Okoř. It used to be our go-to bike run, when we both lived in Prague 6. A good length, a good beer or two waiting in Okoř, with its picturesque castle ruin, some country roads with little traffic, mixed with a few trails.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2h9y5zWhHFGxwYW7orIcqfJEHx0LjpGER6rjsFwqEZCl52hWV7HhlWC3zxqvPrES_dQ-A21ytfofvZLz74Lab49LQHbMtQQLMjZK7sqUiCP7efe3XbVvSMQ31VHNHjnBii2lvtiPSGWuS/s700/IMG_4089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2h9y5zWhHFGxwYW7orIcqfJEHx0LjpGER6rjsFwqEZCl52hWV7HhlWC3zxqvPrES_dQ-A21ytfofvZLz74Lab49LQHbMtQQLMjZK7sqUiCP7efe3XbVvSMQ31VHNHjnBii2lvtiPSGWuS/s700/IMG_4089.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Koliba now ...</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMff3PmEcunmmF7BoH7hpaxx_2kQhAR5sw8oVFlSvakF4c5Ul670g7v1ex4tL_uMlpZUMPi7fg3z4hdfza4uQYpwa7egu9c9bpNA8b-FewGqTSdeAZ7offvAggCCy2ML8dRsqDKQ5h4Czi/s700/koliba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMff3PmEcunmmF7BoH7hpaxx_2kQhAR5sw8oVFlSvakF4c5Ul670g7v1ex4tL_uMlpZUMPi7fg3z4hdfza4uQYpwa7egu9c9bpNA8b-FewGqTSdeAZ7offvAggCCy2ML8dRsqDKQ5h4Czi/s700/koliba.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>... and the paradise it used to be.</i></b><br />
<br />
I'm now back to living in Prague 6 after venturing out of the city for a few years, and Stewart's in Roztoky, but I have a feeling we'll be revisiting this run again in future.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUFSGwB6Tv1q3ox8wIJ_yGIuy1EWu4pLgOA2IyBOkT4MFeAFcjVfZ5FpY6OJstCLLNcUJPjg6PF9tsZYUQ9-CR4mq1CUayGrNdAQC_oOdnSCU6C7QuHPGob7yxY9dsIaApi3HjW91kSYV/s700/IMG_4092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUFSGwB6Tv1q3ox8wIJ_yGIuy1EWu4pLgOA2IyBOkT4MFeAFcjVfZ5FpY6OJstCLLNcUJPjg6PF9tsZYUQ9-CR4mq1CUayGrNdAQC_oOdnSCU6C7QuHPGob7yxY9dsIaApi3HjW91kSYV/s700/IMG_4092.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>At U Lasiku</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEMDK7M4t56Y7eBhUMd_Un3nCGZrf5aR-ZXY-c-31_3HYISXjOdvyFoaaMwqfABDpdOpQwl-t-OPrY_KTTl1fHZ0oEsf_ouH10oY3TQtGQQqurR34orzUigmHhs9eFfoU9YX9aDVKIcSN5/s700/IMG_4100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEMDK7M4t56Y7eBhUMd_Un3nCGZrf5aR-ZXY-c-31_3HYISXjOdvyFoaaMwqfABDpdOpQwl-t-OPrY_KTTl1fHZ0oEsf_ouH10oY3TQtGQQqurR34orzUigmHhs9eFfoU9YX9aDVKIcSN5/s700/IMG_4100.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>The homemade quiches and tarts at U Lasiku</i></b><br />
<br />
We stopped in Únětice, at the always charming <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2011/06/best-little-wine-bar-in-place-youve.html" target="_blank"><b>U Lasiku</b></a>, for a few half-liters of the locally brewed Únětice pivo and some German Weizenbier and some of the most delicious savory and sweet homemade quiches and tarts you will ever shove into your mouth hole. We sat outside in the sun on beat-up old furniture as dozens of other cyclists and walkers also stopped in to hydrate and we felt like there was no reason to ever really leave our cozy spot.<br />
<br />
But we did.<br />
<br />
We headed to Statenice and then to Tuchoměřice, and then on the farmer's road that proved to be our downfall. Once we extricated ourselves from that quagmire, it was on to the Family Hotel Okoř for a few more half-liters.<br />
<br />
It was fantastic to be riding in February. Fantastic to be out on the trails again with Stewart, the mud notwithstanding.<br />
<br />
Now I've got to figure out how to clean the dried brownie batter off my bike now that I live in an apartment in the city.<br />
<br />
<i>* Stewart's brilliant idea for a blog post title</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i></i>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><b>RIDE STATS</b></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><b>Length of ride: 41 kilometers</b></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><b>Pivo Index: 4</b></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><b>Distance ridden so far in 2014: 41 kilometers</b></i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14zHT7Qk5twbTVU1Utge1WA-rWy5A_2MP66BqIvT3CqxWQIBg_FxITkMmvn5xJO4wBXuVc6juRiKMGv7ZptvZQ09IXRi1q2hqaEz9i9tvtNE3yoUYSYl16asKnNI6rpB2lYSZXiKUIKSb/s700/IMG_4098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14zHT7Qk5twbTVU1Utge1WA-rWy5A_2MP66BqIvT3CqxWQIBg_FxITkMmvn5xJO4wBXuVc6juRiKMGv7ZptvZQ09IXRi1q2hqaEz9i9tvtNE3yoUYSYl16asKnNI6rpB2lYSZXiKUIKSb/s700/IMG_4098.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>At U Lasiku</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2SSIMfpferayrmAijJgxSZ4Ba76k3tlmAEiTA-g8FMwmms36ZIJ05ZWxjNKIdv_F-eNLUqnIn1zsBGVTKyR4bnSEiU8XWTaaGT6M0doeLaGeyTPUuJ_VYMlo-S4PiU0uah0wkbKV_Ppu/s700/IMG_4101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2SSIMfpferayrmAijJgxSZ4Ba76k3tlmAEiTA-g8FMwmms36ZIJ05ZWxjNKIdv_F-eNLUqnIn1zsBGVTKyR4bnSEiU8XWTaaGT6M0doeLaGeyTPUuJ_VYMlo-S4PiU0uah0wkbKV_Ppu/s700/IMG_4101.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>It's very difficult to leave U Lasiku once you've sat down.</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBDS9l6jr0GnJ7uon04EenyGEGnmusUtKs2XsVmW-HaBVHrRMEWdGdzHB7lsctS29KE9_-1y6TznVbo66ynqE1d3RgHpFsFeCVSs934eA-paNaz6Nk8ZHkFCTCzrAJINr1zauJvjAG3xq/s700/IMG_4110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBDS9l6jr0GnJ7uon04EenyGEGnmusUtKs2XsVmW-HaBVHrRMEWdGdzHB7lsctS29KE9_-1y6TznVbo66ynqE1d3RgHpFsFeCVSs934eA-paNaz6Nk8ZHkFCTCzrAJINr1zauJvjAG3xq/s700/IMG_4110.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i><b>I thought it was a good time, in the middle of our mud bath, to break out a flask of medovina, aka mead, that I'd squirreled away in my backpack.</b></i><br />
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Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-33657296365443526442014-01-03T18:34:00.005+02:002014-01-05T00:52:56.627+02:00Renting Bikes In Amsterdam<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Yes, we're tourists. But we're having fun.</i></b><br />
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We love Amsterdam, and we love cycling, but until recently we'd never combined the two, and this in a city where the bike truly is the king of the road, taking precedence not only over cars but even pedestrians. As you know if you've been, if you're walking in Amsterdam, you'd better look both ways with almost every step you take, and not for cars.<br />
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We booked a tour through <a href="http://www.mikesbiketoursamsterdam.com/" target="_blank"><b>Mike's Bike Rentals</b></a>, only because Mike's came up first on a Google search and it seemed to have a lot of happy customers on TripAdvisor. We're glad we did. We had a great time and an entertaining (if slightly overenthusiastic) tour guide, Karl Schilling. (Turns out it was his last day as a bike guide in Amsterdam. Think he said he was heading to Australia. He's also a musician and street performer. Check out some of his work <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=baQvY1_wv8c" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>.)<br />
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We decided to book Mike's Countryside Tour (24 euros per person). A ride through the congested streets of the city just did not appeal.<br />
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The Countryside Tour included a ride along the Amstel River and visits to what they described as one of the last remaining authentic windmills, as well as <a href="http://www.rembrandthoeveamsterdam.nl/" target="_blank"><b>Rembrandt Hoeve</b></a>, a small family run farm outside the city that makes it own cheese and carves its own clogs. Perfect. The total tour was 3.5 hours and around 25 kilometers in total.<br />
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<b><i>Daisy is (almost) persuaded to buy a pair of wooden shoes at Rembrandt Hoeve.</i></b><br />
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And let me tell you, it was the easiest, most pleasurable 25 kilometers I have ever cycled. We never encountered anything that could remotely be called a hill, only what can only be called a few gentle bumps over bridges. It was paradise, but not exactly a workout. I was wearing a smile, not a sweatband, the entire ride. It was so much fun not to have to worry about a steep climb up ahead or about cars zooming too close for comfort. It was possible to simply enjoy the simple pleasure of riding a bicycle. Heaven.<br />
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Karl told us that if there is an accident involving a car and a cyclist in The Netherlands, the driver of the car is <i>always </i>at fault. If that's true, that's pretty cool. And, in fact, we did witness an accident, in which the driver of a delivery fan hit a well-dressed cyclist, knocking her and her shopping bags to the street and flattening the entire front of her bike. Thankfully, she was not injured, just shaken up a bit, but her bike was totaled. The cops were on the scene within seconds.<br />
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<b><i>"The Bike Watch"</i></b><br />
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According to <a href="http://netherlandsbynumbers.com/2013/08/31/10-questions-about-the-dutch-and-their-bikes/" target="_blank"><b>The Netherlands By Numbers</b></a>, there are 18 million bikes in the country. That's more than one per inhabitant. And while there are dedicated cycling lanes everywhere, I was surprised to find that one-quarter of all traffic fatalities in The Netherlands involve cyclists -- 200 in 2011.<br />
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But interestingly, no one -- and I mean no one -- wears a helmet. The same website quotes the Dutch cyclists union as saying that helmets not only give cyclists a false sense of security but that 60 percent of those who cycle would not do so if helmets were made mandatory. <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/men/active/recreational-cycling/10259636/Should-cycle-helmets-be-made-compulsory.html" target="_blank"><b>This story from "The Telegraph"</b></a> cites statistics from Australia and New Zealand that would seem to back that theory up.<br />
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<b><i>Karl, our tour guide, actually wore these customized wooden shoes while he was riding. They are surprisingly light and sturdy. He swore by them.</i></b><br />
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I must say, cycling without a helmet is very liberating indeed. And with so many cyclists and so many dedicated cycling lanes, you'd look and feel like a dork if you were wearing a helmet in Amsterdam. There are more cyclists wearing high heels than helmets in Amsterdam. But with so many aggressive drivers in the Czech Republic, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to give up my helmet in this country yet. But I think I might do so if I'm just pedaling around Stromovka or Sarka.<br />
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If you're going to Amsterdam, by all means rent a bike and take a ride. It's magical. And it'll probably make you wish, as it did us, that you lived in a city where cycling was safe, where it was supported by the authorities, and where you didn't feel like an exposed target for motorists who drive like the road is theirs.
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<b><i>At Rembrandt Hoeve.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Still in the city, but without a care in the world.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Along the River Amstel.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>At Rembrandt Hoeve.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>We passed the spectacularly weird ING House outside the city. It's nicknamed "The Shoe" or "The Dustbuster."</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Karl, our tour guide, with Daisy and Emma.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Houseboats along the Amstel.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>At Rembrandt Hoeve.</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-31737750302959161212013-11-03T19:25:00.002+03:002013-11-03T19:28:43.976+03:00Urban Bro-Cycling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b><i>Here's to us!</i></b><br />
<br />
Stewart and I decided to meet up for a little urban exploration a few weeks back. (OK, it was about two months ago now. Egads.)<br />
<br />
I wasn't into anything too strenuous, but I wanted to get out on the bike, get some air, drink a few beers, and shoot the shit.<br />
<br />
He lives in Roztoky, I live in Vokovice in Prague 6, so we decided to meet up near the zoo, at a pub that's a short ferry ride across the Vltava from Podbaba. He would take a different ferry at Roztoky to get to the eastern side of the river.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Me and my bike take the ferry from Podbaba across to the zoo. What's cool is that regular Prague transport tickets are also good for the ferry.</i></b><br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the ferry wasn't running as regularly as Stewart had hoped, so he was a few minutes late for our rendezvous, time which I was forced to fill by drinking a very delicious half-liter of Svijany for 25 CZK ($1.30). Or two.<br />
<br />
When he did arrive, he was not alone. His 13-year-old son Jules was also along. It was time for a real bro-cycle ride.<br />
<br />
We drank another pivo and then headed south, past the zoo, intending to head along the river toward Liben, perhaps have another drink at the Trojan Horse pub, which was recovering from some serious flood damage. However, the world championship was being held on the kayaking course on the river just past the zoo, preventing us from going any farther.<br />
<br />
So we headed up. Up a steep climb past Troja into a neighborhood full of cool, modern, expensive homes, until we eventually emerged on the edge of the Prague Botanical Gardens, which I knew were there but had never known were so beautiful or extensive. It was all fenced off, and there was an admission charge, and we had our bikes, so we didn't go in, but I'm definitely going to take the family there sometime for a nice walk.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Some sleek modernist construction in the neighborhood near Troja.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>Some sleek modernist construction in the neighborhood near Troja.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
By this point, we're high above Prague, in the area known as Bohnice. I'd always sort of written off Bohnice, having seen, and been not impressed, by its jagged skyline of raggedy old panelaks from afar.<br />
<br />
But it was actually very cool -- a mix of old communist-era high-rises, some cool new construction, and a crazy BMX course we happened to stumble upon. We even came across a game of women's fast-pitch softball being played on a baseball field near a school.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Bohnice.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Bohnice.</i></b><br />
<br />
And then I got to do something I'd been wanting to do for a long time -- stand on the high bluff at Bohnice that looks out over the Vltava, over the village of Suchdol, over Sedlec and the Riverside School, and over much of Prague 6.<br />
<br />
It's a sweeping view. Sadly, on this day, the clouds and spitting rain spoiled things a bit, but it was still a fantastic feeling to be up that high and know that we cycled up there, baby. (I admit, I had to walk my bike part of the way up the hill. Just too, too steep.)<br />
<br />
From there, it was down a fast mountain path until we emerged back along the bike path on the east side of the river. We headed back to our original meeting place, where we had a few more beers before parting ways.<br />
<br />
Sometimes it's cool just to stay in the city and explore.<br />
<br />
<b>RIDE STATS</b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 24.5 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 11.8 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 43.4 kph</b><br />
<b>Time on the bike: 2.03.56</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: 4</b><br />
<b>Paltry distance ridden so far in 2013: 182.5 kilometers (jeesh)</b><br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>The view from the Bohnice Bluff.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Savoring the view.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>We stumbled upon a game of women's fast-pitch softball.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Feeling safe, heading south on the bike trail along the Vltava.</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-10816813777865105982013-08-19T20:22:00.004+03:002013-08-19T20:26:43.566+03:00Missiles, Boar, Beers, And Bellyaches (Exploring An Abandoned Czech Missile Base)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b><i>Standing in what we thought was a missile blast chamber. We now know better.</i></b><br />
<br />
I should have known I was in trouble when some asshole
by the side of the road outside Černošice mocked me as I walked my bike up a
steep hill.<br />
<br />
"Want to put it in my car?" he asked, laughing.<br />
<br />
"Fuck
you, buddy," I thought to myself while contemplating a confrontation. I could feel my blood rising. That's a dangerous thing, when I feel my blood rising.<br />
<br />
My cycling buddies were far
ahead, much better climbers than I, a sometime-cyclist who hates hills
like (bad metaphor alert) Mario Andretti hates speed bumps. I thought the better of a fight and kept slogging. I hopped back on my bike and pedaled for a few more meters before hopping off again, my quadriceps on fire. It was just too steep. It wouldn't be the last time I'd be pushing my ride.<br />
<br />
When all was said and done, this day, this
ride, would qualify as one of the toughest I've ever taken. (The others would have to be <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2007/10/ride-for-centuries.html" target="_blank"><b>"A Ride For The Centuries,"</b></a>
<a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2008/05/boys-take-bike-trip-to-mlnk-kokonsk-dl.html" target="_blank"><b>"The Boys Take A Big Bike Trip To Mělník & Kokořínský Důl,"</b></a> and <b><a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2010/09/rock-in-hard-place.html" target="_blank">"A Rock In A Hard Place"</a>).</b><br />
<br />
I had suggested a bike ride to my pal Stewart Moore last week, who also mentioned it
to fellow cyclist David Murphy (and occasional "Grant's Prague Bike Blog" guest blogger, such as <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2010/05/light-at-end-of-tunnel-for-prague.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a> and <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2011/05/pleasures-of-biking-to-work.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>), who came up with the idea of trying to explore what he thought was a
decommissioned Czechoslovak missile base near Dobříš, some 30 kilometers
or so southwest of Prague.<br />
<br />
In a nutshell, we wanted to see some launch pads.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>On the train, and the journey has begun.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>The Berounka River in sleepy Černošice.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Stopping to take photos of flowers gives me a chance to rest my weary legs.</i></b><br />
<br />
It
sounded like a very cool idea, but it also sounded ambitious.<br />
<br />
I've either been on these types of rides before or heard about them later. The initial conversation goes something like this:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Them: "Such-and-such destination is only XX kilometers away. It'll be a piece of cake."</i><i><br /></i><i>Me: "But I don't want to be back too late. I can't afford to be gone the whole day. I've got things to do. Dinner with the family, etc."</i><i><br /></i><i>Them: "Don't worry. We'll be home by mid-afternoon. We'll take the train back."</i></blockquote>
<br />
<br />
In the end, I
left my apartment at 7:45 a.m. on Sunday, August 11. I returned to my apartment -- dirty, bleeding, slightly drunk, and totally exhausted -- almost 12 hours later.<br />
<br />
I
should have known better.<br />
<br />
<b>OUR ROUTE (I FORGOT TO TURN IT OFF ONCE WE BOARDED THE TRAIN BACK HOME):</b><br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="548" src="http://connect.garmin.com:80/activity/embed/361015732" width="465"></iframe><br />
<br />
We all met at Prague's main train station.
Dave's plan was to take the 8:54 a.m. train out of Prague to Branik or
Modřany to get ourselves out of the city, and then to meander our way
toward the military base along some cycling paths that he had scoped out ahead of time.<br />
<br />
Except
that when Stewart and I arrived at the train station a few minutes
before our train was scheduled to depart, Dave was nowhere in sight. And he wasn't answering his
phone.<br />
<br />
Stewart and I made the executive decision to buy tickets all the way to
Černošice, which we thought would not only get us and our bikes out of
the city but closer to the military base and, in the end, more quickly home. We
boarded the train, only to then receive a call from Dave, who was
somewhere in the station and looking for us.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR61h2uDvHIrw4xgpMIk9dDpG7ZvR-zYtusz87wBgIoD5ekB-U9_IbB4xKX9F2LhzAEORaGwABHTdxzhlMS_ryPuWTeBWA37vUJaG-fRR1d-_DEgKlBzkg5ocqLLa42VFX2kxWznetqyPn/s700/IMG_2909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR61h2uDvHIrw4xgpMIk9dDpG7ZvR-zYtusz87wBgIoD5ekB-U9_IbB4xKX9F2LhzAEORaGwABHTdxzhlMS_ryPuWTeBWA37vUJaG-fRR1d-_DEgKlBzkg5ocqLLa42VFX2kxWznetqyPn/s700/IMG_2909.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>The route may have been all uphill, but it was undeniably beautiful.</i></b><br />
<br />
Of course, we weren't on
the train Dave wanted us to be on, but by that point, we didn't give a
shit, frankly. We told him where we were and to hop on board if he
wanted to ride with us that day. He found us, and we were off.<br />
<br />
(Oh, it
turns out Dave had changed his mobile telephone number but had neglected
to tell anyone. Nice!)<br />
<br />
We disembarked in sleepy Černošice. And after crossing the Berounka River we headed, well, up.
And up. And up. Into the Brdska Highlands. I have never taken a bike
ride where the route only went uphill for about 50 kilometers. And I
never want to again.<br />
<br />
(According to my Garmin GPS gizmo, we ended up with 3,068 feet, or 935 meters, in elevation gain on the ride. That seems like a hell of a lot to me.)<br />
<br />
We passed through Jíloviště, where we
enjoyed our first cold beers of the day (including Guinness on tap for 60 CZK, or $3, a pint!) at the welcoming <a href="http://www.podlesem.eu/cs" target="_blank"><b>Restaurance Pod Lesem</b></a>, and
then slogged our way – yes, all uphill but on some gloriously
beautiful paths -- through forests to the village of Černolice.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXz7E5nACiuk2HvNGAeoVV6Xz-mMa5a7QA1NxKxzQg6_LHum4PE5YZoi4sbwllBkQH393WIv1kQqVXj7v-iW550f8kECkWhqW6L4W3YOrZNuQZk-DfK1WyuW0b3XkjfPUxpb7Ba-ZosBg/s700/IMG_2906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXz7E5nACiuk2HvNGAeoVV6Xz-mMa5a7QA1NxKxzQg6_LHum4PE5YZoi4sbwllBkQH393WIv1kQqVXj7v-iW550f8kECkWhqW6L4W3YOrZNuQZk-DfK1WyuW0b3XkjfPUxpb7Ba-ZosBg/s700/IMG_2906.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>And still the road went uphill.</i></b><br />
<br />
From
Černolice, a network of walking and cycling paths headed further uphill deep
into the vast forest that hid the missile base.<br />
<br />
Along
the way, we discovered a serene little spot known as<a href="http://cs.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skalka_(Mn%C3%AD%C5%A1ek_pod_Brdy)" target="_blank"> <b>Skalka</b></a>, on a bluff above the town of Mníšek pod Brdy. The site contains the
baroque church of St. Mary Magdalene and the Stations of the Cross, as
well as a lily pond, a rustic pub, and a few other ruins.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEktxNnMRCe03DTfCRah6DtOdzldvVghs3v-mdqinVXw4SsiF7RNdVp2b8eGEtBHGi9MqVodPucC7JKDVYF1Y8YWrI1FGMh4tmJmlZFPMc6qURx_b5TzgdfufyK8BPiIoQTrHXfnTOtjG/s700/DSCN8355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEktxNnMRCe03DTfCRah6DtOdzldvVghs3v-mdqinVXw4SsiF7RNdVp2b8eGEtBHGi9MqVodPucC7JKDVYF1Y8YWrI1FGMh4tmJmlZFPMc6qURx_b5TzgdfufyK8BPiIoQTrHXfnTOtjG/s700/DSCN8355.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>A blooming water lilly at Skalka.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>The baroque church of St. Mary Magdalene at Skalka.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>The beer garden at Skalka.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Stewart and Dave share a special moment above the lilly pond at Skalka.</i></b><br />
<br />
It was a delightful spot. Kids roasting hot
dogs over an open fire, chairs and benches hewn from logs, dogs running
around, beer flowing freely, biker and hikers galore, and the
occasional whiff of pot. We grabbed a few sausages for sustenance and a few more beers.<br />
<br />
Back on the bikes now, we were on the homestretch. The missile base was only about six or seven kilometers
away, along more forest paths.<br />
<br />
Now, let me be the first to admit
that, throughout this entire trip, I had been complaining. Loudly.
Annoyingly. Vociferously. Mostly I complained about the constant hill
climbs. I believe my laments were something along the lines of, "This is
the worst bike ride I've ever been on." Or words to that effect. And I meant it.<br />
<br />
I
also offered a prediction that we would never be rewarded for our constant, crappy climbing by
seeing any launch pads or missile silos because the base in question
would naturally be surrounded by razor wire or an impenetrable fence and
that we would simply have to be content with photographing some rusted
old sign hanging on the main gate. I would have bet a good chunk of money on that one.<br />
<br />
I was wrong. I admit it now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSBDRmF5q7KgWO7cOY-f2_YulG4ApdfYcbj7xgAF5mn9QX2D7KTSEE9nnxflHnz5Hd57cC2pJGtoWUW59QjTVHUpHODUnfUHkCRmFt3UZXAVZryY-o55lmqA2_KO60ylIsjVrqodQAW0O/s700/DSCN8396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSBDRmF5q7KgWO7cOY-f2_YulG4ApdfYcbj7xgAF5mn9QX2D7KTSEE9nnxflHnz5Hd57cC2pJGtoWUW59QjTVHUpHODUnfUHkCRmFt3UZXAVZryY-o55lmqA2_KO60ylIsjVrqodQAW0O/s700/DSCN8396.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Scaling the wall.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZoYnoFLT8DR_OCQr5HkveZJ0BTlXTXoZy6WrjC3xYfnDElvx86e3tvJuGFljY2l7GMG4rukumu6QB0xlCw5Vtp6SWNifhngz5tsVtDOOGI4o4_ZeHD4ovmMWBZxHxKct727j_6-RHRi0n/s700/DSCN8397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZoYnoFLT8DR_OCQr5HkveZJ0BTlXTXoZy6WrjC3xYfnDElvx86e3tvJuGFljY2l7GMG4rukumu6QB0xlCw5Vtp6SWNifhngz5tsVtDOOGI4o4_ZeHD4ovmMWBZxHxKct727j_6-RHRi0n/s700/DSCN8397.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Our bikes went over, too.</i></b><br />
<br />
Yes,
there was a four-meter-high fence surrounding the base on all sides, but we found a
place on the wall where others with the same urge to explore had left a sturdy homemade wooden ladder.<br />
<br />
We climbed the ladder, hoisted
our bikes over, too, and we were in.<br />
<br />
The base was big and overgrown
and crisscrossed by roads made of crumbling cement slabs. We rode
around rather aimlessly, exploring a few abandoned buildings and empty
bunkers, not a soul in sight, until...until…until we came across a
genuine launch pad, complete with rail tracks leading from a storage
bunker to what we surmised was a blast chamber for the missile's
exhaust.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SyXYrc68C8FTvvUppooT6ldPRkXt-8EDckK-GAiZCfrubBPm-qGIWpNEPJqfy7o6e6JDaL3kz8Irg954VNCchcCy9iiDpBFgfRg2ndkwmpHV11Y1LKFZXRvtMGeSQh_nfpX5TjTocWNx/s700/DSCN8375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SyXYrc68C8FTvvUppooT6ldPRkXt-8EDckK-GAiZCfrubBPm-qGIWpNEPJqfy7o6e6JDaL3kz8Irg954VNCchcCy9iiDpBFgfRg2ndkwmpHV11Y1LKFZXRvtMGeSQh_nfpX5TjTocWNx/s700/DSCN8375.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>The rail tracks that guided the missile to the launch pad.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkaTRSUENy3yu39eErvUJF9m5OqA9Mk16Z8PWpmIYsFeVfn9ogbsGlqxOqeIGPwFDrlLbFwKzUdDpSU1gDa40IXwPcoo_Gx_eLeqJT2kEOmSwAJP6sJ6RzBhNPz7ykKmsZVg0VdH_P7IQ/s700/DSCN8394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkaTRSUENy3yu39eErvUJF9m5OqA9Mk16Z8PWpmIYsFeVfn9ogbsGlqxOqeIGPwFDrlLbFwKzUdDpSU1gDa40IXwPcoo_Gx_eLeqJT2kEOmSwAJP6sJ6RzBhNPz7ykKmsZVg0VdH_P7IQ/s700/DSCN8394.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>One of the three large ramps that Dave had seen on Google Earth. They originally housed some sort of guidance system or radar.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9G7p-kWanpgiqet4D_PCp9f_QQWFHD4-fPnCEt4_jrrzH4kVyUjogB98bA-9hsHlfEHx77rIblsjmvVeIf8RzitJ6Yic9sKs9bNEP9QX-z6f4UBQ4-SWcvR4SBwZ2ZqsisMTKqxKsVUq/s700/DSCN8389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9G7p-kWanpgiqet4D_PCp9f_QQWFHD4-fPnCEt4_jrrzH4kVyUjogB98bA-9hsHlfEHx77rIblsjmvVeIf8RzitJ6Yic9sKs9bNEP9QX-z6f4UBQ4-SWcvR4SBwZ2ZqsisMTKqxKsVUq/s700/DSCN8389.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>At the top of the ramp, where the guidance system used to be.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>Coming down the ramp.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHWsRQ9909zmhdyNM1KuCRT8Kk1utkK2Xvp3JW4aqotDH1I78RUDWCDUrq7vEIWJdUtAHLpKD2X8g6hDrCD6T-TI8OrEaECqMqdE5LYlQKVXejjyp1ciBcaBhhM1AasCYAe-B4BXy3kPi/s700/DSCN8393.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHWsRQ9909zmhdyNM1KuCRT8Kk1utkK2Xvp3JW4aqotDH1I78RUDWCDUrq7vEIWJdUtAHLpKD2X8g6hDrCD6T-TI8OrEaECqMqdE5LYlQKVXejjyp1ciBcaBhhM1AasCYAe-B4BXy3kPi/s700/DSCN8393.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>At the base of the ramp: NO ENTRY. CAUTION. POSSIBILITY OF COLLAPSE.</i></b><br />
<br />
We were, as they say, chuffed. A real missile launch site! We felt like three excited kids. It's one of the wonderful things about cycling, that it can rekindle those feelings from childhood when you and your bike was all you needed to explore the world.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>An S-200 surface-to-air missile. Note the rail tracks leading to what we thought was a blast chamber but which contains the launch mechanism. This is the exact same configuration we found at the abandoned missile site.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7mvy0QgPlVaSIOv_4c1lJyF8D4YGqDMEViICSFpWhaMiPUe_U6EmDqHiqs7rPGyIEpJbVi8Mw5aDhRcleY_LIsmoLpLpuvTm6iFy5vTt5Ci9KLO7RzJUmNyqBG8I-afDdALNbP5B70nA/s700/radar2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7mvy0QgPlVaSIOv_4c1lJyF8D4YGqDMEViICSFpWhaMiPUe_U6EmDqHiqs7rPGyIEpJbVi8Mw5aDhRcleY_LIsmoLpLpuvTm6iFy5vTt5Ci9KLO7RzJUmNyqBG8I-afDdALNbP5B70nA/s700/radar2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>A closeup view of the guidance or radar system that was once housed at the top of the ramp.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx14nMlQPJx7f4F9MOkuAAgTmQ-CEJsfLl8b4jrmPWN0gTnNaxHX5BRnmLNUTE4p1MSTmtp93Fnd8gLGavo9wKvRevDNdLTLJ_m7vImaci4nb6XrXHN2JoUMKmqSZESaJvdMeq-tJiagvf/s700/radar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx14nMlQPJx7f4F9MOkuAAgTmQ-CEJsfLl8b4jrmPWN0gTnNaxHX5BRnmLNUTE4p1MSTmtp93Fnd8gLGavo9wKvRevDNdLTLJ_m7vImaci4nb6XrXHN2JoUMKmqSZESaJvdMeq-tJiagvf/s700/radar.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>An old photo I believe is of the exact same ramp we ascended, shown when it was still holding the guidance or radar system.</i></b><br />
<br />
Dave had seen, on satellite imagery, what looked like
three giant ramps somewhere on the base. After a further bit of wandering, we found one of the ramps. Ignoring the spray-painted
entreaties to stay off, we rode up the ramp and enjoyed sweeping
views over the old base. Could this be the launch pad for an ICBM, we
wondered? It was so much larger than the first site we'd found.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Some sort of storage bunker. Nothing inside. Everything picked clean. Still cool.</i></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rk2wmOHC_GQtHvCPS2rsuAFDogqrZ5XDBMUxmfidzooCF7im2zdcYKAVV0LRiNlRyxVm94E2Dc5HEMudMSn9dhbmJTYFtv-yV04EkFKmhei8DmoEc3pUTcg3kEsVytZOWWAUM_apzy6Z/s700/DSCN8368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rk2wmOHC_GQtHvCPS2rsuAFDogqrZ5XDBMUxmfidzooCF7im2zdcYKAVV0LRiNlRyxVm94E2Dc5HEMudMSn9dhbmJTYFtv-yV04EkFKmhei8DmoEc3pUTcg3kEsVytZOWWAUM_apzy6Z/s700/DSCN8368.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>These crumbling roads made of concrete slabs crisscrossed the entire base.</i></b><br />
<br />
To
make a long story short, after a bit of web surfing on all of our parts
on our return, we discovered a few facts about his abandoned base:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>That it was code-named Klondajk (although I have no idea why).</li>
<li>That it was never officially decommissioned, so the land is still owned by the Czech military.</li>
<li>That in its day the base housed Soviet-made S-200 surface-to-air missiles.</li>
<li>That what we thought was a missile blast chamber was intended to hold the mobile launcher for the missile.</li>
<li>And
that the huge ramp we ascended appears to have been designed not for an
ICBM but for some sort of guidance or radar system for the missiles.</li>
</ul>
<br />
Oh,
and I believe this is the site where the United States had intended to
install a new radar base as part of a controversial European
missile-defense system that would also have had a missile-interceptor
component in neighboring Poland. The Czech Republic <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/16/world/europe/16shield.html?_r=0" target="_blank"><b>withdrew its support</b> </a>for the
plan in 2011.<br />
<br />
Oh,
and did I mention that while we were riding around on the base, we
startled two deer, as well as one
very large boar, who snorted loudly after we surprised him (and he, us) as we rounded a
corner. I stopped to take a picture of the snarling beast, who was probably 10
meters away or so, and while I was taking his photo he started WALKING
TOWARD ME.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghNWJVUmH6BG_28LlBAuMCO8qwm91se2SX-pLXWpcrtSZa_KlSesg_vWUEYdDEzztkxWPeyFLv8gWcSrDmG-QPoGqz9iyoivsr9czHlcDse9Pz6o1yq6iMhrkjLrLQlht9b8cyR7JZMB2K/s700/DSCN8377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghNWJVUmH6BG_28LlBAuMCO8qwm91se2SX-pLXWpcrtSZa_KlSesg_vWUEYdDEzztkxWPeyFLv8gWcSrDmG-QPoGqz9iyoivsr9czHlcDse9Pz6o1yq6iMhrkjLrLQlht9b8cyR7JZMB2K/s700/DSCN8377.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>We surprised this very large wild boar (or should I say he surprised us?) on one of the base's roads. As I took this photo, he started walking toward me.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>We encountered a herd of about a dozen smaller boar a short time later.</i></b><br />
<br />
I'm used to wild animals being afraid of humans. We
hightailed it out of there, only to come across a herd of about 12
smaller boar a short time later. They, too, just walked toward us, unafraid.<br />
<br />
It was getting late, and we all had to be getting
home. We decided to take a train from the nearby town of Řevnice, which
Dave knew had direct connections to Prague's main station. Řevnice looked to be about seven or eight kilometers from the base. And you know
what? IT WAS ALL DOWNHILL!<br />
<br />
It was the longest, most
exhilarating downhill ride ever. It never seemed to
end. And when it did, we were in Řevnice. Magical.<br />
<br />
From Řevnice, it was
a short train ride back to Prague. But it ended, for me, at least, with another painful
slog, from Dejvická metro to my home in the Vokovice neighborhood of Prague 6. I hate riding up
Evropská. It's another five kilometers or so, it's all uphill, and it
never seems to end, coming as it always does after a long ride. I
despise it.<br />
<br />
But there I go, complaining again.<br />
<br />
<b>RIDE STATS</b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 58 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 11.7 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 61.2 kph</b><br />
<b>Time on the bike: 4.37.38</b><br />
<b>Pivo index: 6</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2013: 158 kilometers</b>
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3f1D1rsdP8Ia8J2vm5eqpHPDrdo7PRWtuvjrQKav_FCPPxX32ITJZWoku-fIl_JN6PhYAd7KRERcfuOce9xRTRQqv2izMGzDhO2OmtIepRQxJtEBKUkGACD_SVNiuOgg25ftMZMRLJnu/s700/DSCN8387.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3f1D1rsdP8Ia8J2vm5eqpHPDrdo7PRWtuvjrQKav_FCPPxX32ITJZWoku-fIl_JN6PhYAd7KRERcfuOce9xRTRQqv2izMGzDhO2OmtIepRQxJtEBKUkGACD_SVNiuOgg25ftMZMRLJnu/s700/DSCN8387.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>We found this working weather gauge lashed to a railing on top of the ramp. So obviously *someone* comes around the base every once in a while.</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-4417747635432950732013-08-17T18:48:00.000+03:002013-08-18T19:24:51.806+03:00Showing The Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE74XjuboC-X32YeBnrNmqsau908vRiYb2ngd9SlPFTtaugY6QRWMnDDiTSliUq6rgsG2yqB8o3njO72e1Shh5l4-iUvyFvgKkLrD6bC0Irl8QFyEjZg2-Z8hDaf0tvH3syLVTrbMrO96T/s700/momchils.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE74XjuboC-X32YeBnrNmqsau908vRiYb2ngd9SlPFTtaugY6QRWMnDDiTSliUq6rgsG2yqB8o3njO72e1Shh5l4-iUvyFvgKkLrD6bC0Irl8QFyEjZg2-Z8hDaf0tvH3syLVTrbMrO96T/s700/momchils.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Tanya and Momchil at U Lasiku.</i></b><br />
<br />
We've traveled to Croatia with them,<a href="http://gusto-blog.blogspot.cz/2009/05/bulgaria-inside-and-in-style.html" target="_blank"><b> to Bulgaria with them</b></a>,
to Germany, <a href="http://gusto-blog.blogspot.cz/2010/03/ski-trip-to-filzmoos-austria-2010.html" target="_blank"><b>Austria</b></a>, and the United States with them, but until a few weeks
ago, we'd never been on a humble bike ride in Prague with them.<o:p></o:p>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm speaking of our great good friends Momchil Blagoev and
Tanya Kancheva, Bulgarian natives, now American citizens, and two of the
loveliest people you will ever meet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tanya suggested we all go on a bike ride to Únětice a few
weeks ago. It was a splendid idea. The weather was fantastic, our kids were
away, and Daisy and I were free that day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And we'd get to show them the proper way from Prague 6 to Únětice,
along the river through Sedlec and Roztoky, and then along the forest path to Únětice.<br />
<br />
We'd show them a few of our favorite places: Tiché Údolí, one of the most
beautiful streets in all of Prague; <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2010/06/little-rides-lovely-ladies-big-fun.html" target="_blank"><b>Hospůdka Zvířátka</b></a>, a shady little pub on Tiché
Údolí that's home to rabbits and cats and birds and lots of thirsty cyclists; <b><a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2012/06/photography-buff.html" target="_blank">U Lasiku, a charming café/bar in Únětic</a>e</b> that is home to Únětická on tap, as well as tall half-liters of lemony Maisel's
Weisse and some of the most delicious home-baked tarts, both savory and sweet, you'll
ever taste; and of course <a href="http://www.unetickypivovar.cz/" target="_blank"><b>Únětický pivovar</b></a>, home of some of the Czech Republic's best beer.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKCK-PrVbtL2EqKulHdIurRE6PV2tx_oIINKQoU_IH7h_AqOKByJFba28TmaHaTXSxSYOosncC92L_64C3ySFtQkFQ9NGKPiw4OKXGFbFfKCU50HSe26PEJg5XPIoa4eJIfymVzkdUsyUP/s700/cakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKCK-PrVbtL2EqKulHdIurRE6PV2tx_oIINKQoU_IH7h_AqOKByJFba28TmaHaTXSxSYOosncC92L_64C3ySFtQkFQ9NGKPiw4OKXGFbFfKCU50HSe26PEJg5XPIoa4eJIfymVzkdUsyUP/s700/cakes.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Daisy, Tanya, and I and a few beers at U Lasiku in Únětice.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Daisy and I in </i></b><b><i>Únětice.</i></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmDdL9kIzwTwkfFejoGmMpJGcB97bDmS_Wfc0q5eSptW8du-bmyiB2c5HsR2wIUrjiRyRBcQAF2Y-tM0Gj2hZLyA-eTa9l_lKjxUUjpKYRgV_P2AWeSDnD6NBYBPsiGy-arxMZZwizL96W/s700/tracks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmDdL9kIzwTwkfFejoGmMpJGcB97bDmS_Wfc0q5eSptW8du-bmyiB2c5HsR2wIUrjiRyRBcQAF2Y-tM0Gj2hZLyA-eTa9l_lKjxUUjpKYRgV_P2AWeSDnD6NBYBPsiGy-arxMZZwizL96W/s700/tracks.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Carrying our bikes over the train tracks between Sedlec and Roztoky. We can see and hear the trains coming, and this gives us access to the abandoned road into Roztoky. No cars!</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Along the way, we met a few familiar faces.<br />
<br />
At the brewery,
we said hello to Robin Bond and his wife, Julie, whom we first met when
they adopted Maddy,<a href="http://gusto-blog.blogspot.cz/2010/06/pussy-galore.html" target="_blank"> <b>one of the many cats we found homes for</b></a><b> </b>when we lived in the nearby village of Černý Vůl.<br />
<br />
(We'd
placed an ad for Maddy on Expats.cz, never mentioning that we lived all the way out
in Černý Vůl, not wanting to discourage prospective takers, and who should
answer the ad but Robin and Julie, who lived about 500 meters away from us in the
village! Kismet! Maddy is doing great, by the way.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also had a chance to say hello, finally, to Max Bahnson,
the fabled "beer philosopher,"<a href="http://www.pivni-filosof.com/" target="_blank"><b> noted blogger</b></a>, and author of
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Prague-A-Pissheads-Pub-Guide/dp/1447593219/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376822342&sr=8-1&keywords=prague+pisshead" target="_blank"><b>"Prague: A Pisshead's Pub Guide,"</b></a> with whom I'd been communicating on
Twitter and Facebook for ages but had never actually met. He was having a few
pints with a friend at the brewery, which produces one of his favorite beers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a great ride, notable for its unusually high
pivo-to-kilometer index. Let's do it again soon. We'll bring the kids next
time.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<b>RIDE STATS</b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 31 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 14.2 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 37.3 kph</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: 5</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2013: 100 kilometers</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br />
<b><i>Maddy then...</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCQau_a3YfUB04ZvzOG0KHrC2cqPGECgY8rDnlXZUCmc5lxnEhKqrmutZaUXF4MSxLRjvx7JDWCeiqu_ESLKup5uNAZn2WD6Lm4fheKaNIHyMfN9-tCeBtqVEpi3IFVB-HmjhKnHYQePjr/s700/maddysleep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCQau_a3YfUB04ZvzOG0KHrC2cqPGECgY8rDnlXZUCmc5lxnEhKqrmutZaUXF4MSxLRjvx7JDWCeiqu_ESLKup5uNAZn2WD6Lm4fheKaNIHyMfN9-tCeBtqVEpi3IFVB-HmjhKnHYQePjr/s700/maddysleep.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>and Maddy now.</i></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br />
<b><i>Robin and Julie in a photo taken at U Lasiku in the fall of 2011, shortly after they took Maddy home.</i></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizr3h17gR5ha-dePrwsFVoNFaVJyHSQ98LPR7FCcrmZc7OrjmPe3961Zkbri-or9-mpG3FAcZHB-1JHeUbOtwLxbWzNHZ0uA-yMD3MKV-WwQ1Qi1NpcqqQwFUqAUjdb3IQwsRPn4lhAP7j/s700/cat1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizr3h17gR5ha-dePrwsFVoNFaVJyHSQ98LPR7FCcrmZc7OrjmPe3961Zkbri-or9-mpG3FAcZHB-1JHeUbOtwLxbWzNHZ0uA-yMD3MKV-WwQ1Qi1NpcqqQwFUqAUjdb3IQwsRPn4lhAP7j/s700/cat1.jpg" /></a></i></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<b><i>Feeding a cat under the table at the brewery. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some familial connection to Maddy.</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-20961350255115942322013-06-29T11:59:00.002+03:002013-06-29T15:07:35.769+03:00Bikes, Beer, Barley, A Bride, And Broken Pottery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
In many ways, it was a classic day of mountain biking.<br />
<br />
The weather was perfect, the trails were challenging but not insurmountable, the
beer was cold and crisp, and we encountered a few surprises along the trails.<br />
<br />
Stewart and I rendezvoused at the now-famous <a href="http://www.unetickypivovar.cz/" target="_blank"><b>Únětický pivovar</b></a> in the village of Únětice. It's something like halfway for both of us
from our respective homes in Roztoky and Prague 6. And because I have to climb
the long, sometimes steep, and always-never-ending-seeming Horoměřicka Hill, I feel as if I've deserved a beer by the time I get to the brewery.<br />
<br />
Models of restraints, we only had one before hopping back into the saddle.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlHTVHy9j7KzrhiIXNO5whxKFcX0UqduyuB2t0dfzy3oS4wu5rr71LCGqEgbrQmuvHWkOwYP3z29vOeM1mOWcMt_cO64mUgVTRNB2oc2LyB7DIUlNGSK92Ta87sS9fjLEj0_XUFeZLLB3/s700/DSCN8125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlHTVHy9j7KzrhiIXNO5whxKFcX0UqduyuB2t0dfzy3oS4wu5rr71LCGqEgbrQmuvHWkOwYP3z29vOeM1mOWcMt_cO64mUgVTRNB2oc2LyB7DIUlNGSK92Ta87sS9fjLEj0_XUFeZLLB3/s700/DSCN8125.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Únětický pivovar</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNrGet0MeYzCuGzglp6Z38JD9E3nN9irfCvhyphenhyphenIi2JBy9grQ5DrguVYVe05kpYRI_v7O4xJ0iZF6Lf3P5sSyLDEZggrv75vfeFlmpnb8VIjtbLAEDZsUJ1F_F1e7I9zKKyihNptBc3lF50t/s700/DSCN8132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNrGet0MeYzCuGzglp6Z38JD9E3nN9irfCvhyphenhyphenIi2JBy9grQ5DrguVYVe05kpYRI_v7O4xJ0iZF6Lf3P5sSyLDEZggrv75vfeFlmpnb8VIjtbLAEDZsUJ1F_F1e7I9zKKyihNptBc3lF50t/s700/DSCN8132.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>I like her style.</i></b><br />
<br />
But not before we witnessed a just-married
couple arriving at the pivovar for their reception, glasses of beer in hand, as
they enacted the Czech wedding tradition of breaking a plate on the ground and
then working together to sweep up the shards. It's supposed to signify a harmonious
marriage.<br />
<br />
From Únětice, we headed to Černý Vůl, where Daisy and I used to live, and then to
Statenice, and then up through a meandering, and sometimes very steep and
muddy trail to Přední Kopanina, where we had a couple of more beers and a
hearty lunch at U Housliček, a restaurant and beer garden in the village.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTq3_iB9aimITikw1ZQlmQGZJehve0wNAT5B9nyjXRW8wwIq2r_2RRmBa9yF-8tcFa9gsOLD3bDRpLdMpjAUuPy37WyYlbQXDFMEt_fRsYMdejNFzWtTTQWme2p-tEWr6LUK4hM0v-V0a7/s700/DSCN8140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTq3_iB9aimITikw1ZQlmQGZJehve0wNAT5B9nyjXRW8wwIq2r_2RRmBa9yF-8tcFa9gsOLD3bDRpLdMpjAUuPy37WyYlbQXDFMEt_fRsYMdejNFzWtTTQWme2p-tEWr6LUK4hM0v-V0a7/s700/DSCN8140.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>The beer garden at U Housliček</i></b> <b><i>in Přední Kopanina</i></b><br />
<br />
Stewart wanted to show me a large graffitied GRANT that
he'd noticed spray-painted on an overpass near the airport, so we headed in
that direction. I was curious about it, because Grant's an unusual name,
especially in these parts, and I had photographed another example of Giant Grant
Graffiti on a ride a few years ago (see it <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2013/04/baby-got-back-or-back-to-bakerloo-redux.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>).<br />
<br />
I wonder if both could have been done by
the same guy? Strange.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhidbcVNFbV-uRtl0yjsnmpZIM2HwKzWrvIgCq9j0jZRbjgAmvbLDn14e2YNLjeECVrSKiDzhM8UPhy_a8nHJSDYdm015ngjh72gyPSWn5rsd0LSlhjcLpPKXCh_2sGtYjHndifo1EUkqy2/s700/DSCN8143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhidbcVNFbV-uRtl0yjsnmpZIM2HwKzWrvIgCq9j0jZRbjgAmvbLDn14e2YNLjeECVrSKiDzhM8UPhy_a8nHJSDYdm015ngjh72gyPSWn5rsd0LSlhjcLpPKXCh_2sGtYjHndifo1EUkqy2/s700/DSCN8143.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Funny, and weird</i></b><br />
<br />
We headed into the lovely park known as Divoká Šárka (I can't remember the last time that Stewart and I cycled in Šárka together)<b> </b>from
there, an exhilarating downhill run that ended with a homemade dirt ramp that would
send the very brave or the very stupid hurtling across a little creek. We
decided against that route.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim8A5p3EaIMPojbXkFO0I9-TP5Mgh8h47Jzkl3MVFWpqutvZBvE_jTPf1NQPrKIOYWw59ROJKmMIsrR7iMAqo_8KFk3swriIB-L2eFPQVvPJi6bDGao015oeU7q2wFK1NiWPQzmUMCQkfm/s700/DSCN8144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim8A5p3EaIMPojbXkFO0I9-TP5Mgh8h47Jzkl3MVFWpqutvZBvE_jTPf1NQPrKIOYWw59ROJKmMIsrR7iMAqo_8KFk3swriIB-L2eFPQVvPJi6bDGao015oeU7q2wFK1NiWPQzmUMCQkfm/s700/DSCN8144.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Someone had built a dirt ramp to jump across the creek.</i></b><br />
<br />
We ended up at the beer garden in the middle of Šárka for
a lemony Svijanský Weizen<b>, </b>a 12° wheat beer on tap. My goodness, that is a good beer.<br />
<br />
It was a fun ride, it was a sweaty ride, it was a beery ride,
it was a perfect ride. <o:p></o:p>
<br />
<br />
<b><u>RIDE STATS</u></b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 28 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 14.1 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 44.9 kph</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: 4</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2013: 69 kilometers</b>
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjK90kyGJIh2SD40xc1YCqL5Rqe3oDTpYw1-KS6PggfstLsg7-wEik10gBjCMHlmuM6myr99jHTr98hbmvr8TXODMCiClC-tKZ1m8dpM-0L16lt8PfpApUVT74iRN5URCbah7zn6mfQAC/s700/DSCN8146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjK90kyGJIh2SD40xc1YCqL5Rqe3oDTpYw1-KS6PggfstLsg7-wEik10gBjCMHlmuM6myr99jHTr98hbmvr8TXODMCiClC-tKZ1m8dpM-0L16lt8PfpApUVT74iRN5URCbah7zn6mfQAC/s700/DSCN8146.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i><span id="rbcSystemIdentifierLogo">Koupaliště Divoká Šárka was packed on this day. If you don't know about </span>Koupaliště Divoká Šárka, it's a lovely oasis in the middle of the park that has two spring-fed swimming pools. One is Arctic, sub-freezing, painfully cold, the other is simply very, very, very cold. Lots of places to chill out on the grass and drink your beer and eat a sausage. Fantastic place.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b><i>A field of barley</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2cB1ND9GppmL4REJAGTlwek9_sgmZHnWvz9xkef28ynqB6ZRIOAm2KPdKyp934uVEKzzs8u_lODEWADjZugevpk2C-TnCYQV6YVndHgaTPG3tdMqso4BmVDqgdUzszhxfGKQUp0teroJ/s700/DSCN8135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2cB1ND9GppmL4REJAGTlwek9_sgmZHnWvz9xkef28ynqB6ZRIOAm2KPdKyp934uVEKzzs8u_lODEWADjZugevpk2C-TnCYQV6YVndHgaTPG3tdMqso4BmVDqgdUzszhxfGKQUp0teroJ/s700/DSCN8135.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Wide load</i></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5mjqdvG6NJxuBJ4w5bTubOo-p-h6N5UBs4HTi4dyXKpYw62muqxiynB4Tf4qnjFytpMv7GIEQN3F1oQ7gBVm7mlG0Rk2r2nQWuWjMCme0TKyUDqDH973QQhP6K6ejrfVK9Wm1VfzLV3vP/s700/DSCN8139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5mjqdvG6NJxuBJ4w5bTubOo-p-h6N5UBs4HTi4dyXKpYw62muqxiynB4Tf4qnjFytpMv7GIEQN3F1oQ7gBVm7mlG0Rk2r2nQWuWjMCme0TKyUDqDH973QQhP6K6ejrfVK9Wm1VfzLV3vP/s700/DSCN8139.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Pork steak, green beans, fries, and a tall Pilsner at U Housliček in Přední Kopanina</i></b>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHXwA6EqzuIDhRLE4kKHPUsWU8DihsFbvdLI9PAlYZoJAIgMdSQQzNlXRpkbOKIJKfg4wWcOhlXMnb-XQQ74PunCgh8D6ISuSZLjRWc4Ghfvvb7gIlTJvum6aSQJmKdabgfEM-vNtCHmV/s700/DSCN8142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHXwA6EqzuIDhRLE4kKHPUsWU8DihsFbvdLI9PAlYZoJAIgMdSQQzNlXRpkbOKIJKfg4wWcOhlXMnb-XQQ74PunCgh8D6ISuSZLjRWc4Ghfvvb7gIlTJvum6aSQJmKdabgfEM-vNtCHmV/s700/DSCN8142.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>Near Přední Kopanina</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-47662572215941728152013-06-26T20:12:00.000+03:002013-06-27T20:13:17.344+03:00Ladies First<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xDtAI1T-r6Q6KQmI5gMvu5ixfTphdrj2UNCk8DQIvAXyoJfMD94MFAcSFRTy4zYB1PfxBYYw0SlLfqe1BRNXfl0z80INMLYtrGfkEZ7XPZTTsetI5AH2mY301fwqtEXtj1GteHAvT0Kc/s700/IMG_2631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xDtAI1T-r6Q6KQmI5gMvu5ixfTphdrj2UNCk8DQIvAXyoJfMD94MFAcSFRTy4zYB1PfxBYYw0SlLfqe1BRNXfl0z80INMLYtrGfkEZ7XPZTTsetI5AH2mY301fwqtEXtj1GteHAvT0Kc/s700/IMG_2631.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Emma, Daisy,
and I went on a little family bike ride a few days ago, from our flat in
Vokovice through Divoká Šárka, up to the bluff that we call The Crag, and then
over to Nebušice for lunch at <a href="http://www.uady.cz/" target="_blank"><b>U Ady</b></a>.<br />
<br />
It was a
beautiful day, and we had a great time. There's no finer place to be on a bike
than on the paved trails in Šárka on a sunny day.<br />
<br />
And it's
always a treat to head out on the trails with my two favorite ladies.<br />
<br />
<b><u>RIDE STATS</u></b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 13 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 11.4 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 28.8 kph</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: 2</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2013: 41 kilometers (Is there any reason to keep this stat anymore? It's embarrassing.)</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9MBBN3ZkisiMB5cvTrt5mjBojuu6FR79OnTWupm1KhY4coPHHA6xvm2_4rH3KiUdKAnTvCsRvQEb9S7KKpxeL7Hq2UQcA4N64UKKkm3JZJ-w0jxzF87GGbREX9rFC39Laf52GyJymlP-P/s700/IMG_2634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9MBBN3ZkisiMB5cvTrt5mjBojuu6FR79OnTWupm1KhY4coPHHA6xvm2_4rH3KiUdKAnTvCsRvQEb9S7KKpxeL7Hq2UQcA4N64UKKkm3JZJ-w0jxzF87GGbREX9rFC39Laf52GyJymlP-P/s700/IMG_2634.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-50910376971191453762013-05-29T21:44:00.000+03:002013-05-30T14:26:57.087+03:00She-Nanigans<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDQ41U4JkcVdGpFmQMSWXTGyoCRc8sSiwP_9RZq1ZIwMNr1Dy9oJIRpMWOhrzOeKBawqAhjY6afAyLVA1dq1C-4ijbq8j1MhazHAmzSkFlC02506ZRkFdjBvjE7fFnuO_wOLZyjcg2MWb/s700/katydaisy.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDQ41U4JkcVdGpFmQMSWXTGyoCRc8sSiwP_9RZq1ZIwMNr1Dy9oJIRpMWOhrzOeKBawqAhjY6afAyLVA1dq1C-4ijbq8j1MhazHAmzSkFlC02506ZRkFdjBvjE7fFnuO_wOLZyjcg2MWb/s700/katydaisy.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>
Long-lost high-school buddies Daisy and Katy reunite for a day of biking in the Czech countryside. Would they survive?
</i></b><br />
<br />
When Katy and Daisy were in high school together, risk was rarely a concern. One of them once ran down the corridor of their junior high with their skirt accidentally tucked into the top of their pantyhose. Another one gave a speech with her jaw wired shut. And they both frequently jumped off the 10-meter platform at Penn State's outdoor pool. Penn State! In retrospect, we can all appreciate how dangerous this was for teenagers.<br />
<br />
So they were a little surprised at Grant's abundance of caution when they set out for a day's bike ride around the briefly non-rainy environs of Prague.<br />
<br />
"Be careful!" he said, possibly about 20 times. "Do you have your phones? The paths are really muddy, you know. Stay on the roads. And avoid traffic! The traffic that you might see on the roads that I told you to stay on!"<br />
<br />
Undaunted, they left. Almost immediately, they encountered a biker's worst fear: the dreaded drainage ditch.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7V3IR6wJnIcvDeO0q6UMxRH6cwcjUZUztukz_A7iusmbZAxCesCA5aw4RthmuxkWdg3ef5jRMIuoxiLGFzmb1YMinK1OgNGUWHsQfxv-oElD6YM_ghBAiqohoVgpCuI1A4owNOG9KVfRZ/s700/skill.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7V3IR6wJnIcvDeO0q6UMxRH6cwcjUZUztukz_A7iusmbZAxCesCA5aw4RthmuxkWdg3ef5jRMIuoxiLGFzmb1YMinK1OgNGUWHsQfxv-oElD6YM_ghBAiqohoVgpCuI1A4owNOG9KVfRZ/s700/skill.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>Able to leap random culverts in a single bound. Just not on camera. </i></b><br />
<br />
Not to be deterred, they made their way over not one but two perilous canals of death, the threat of a freak flash flood ever-present in their minds.
Emotionally drained, they thought it best to stop for sustenance.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILfk56R_zL88KI5RS4YCl9axh-PQ4jI9oimuBJ3FCkiuEgDgm7tqNegg4nfWnfS6yag0lZOZEs90EPmlYGmKpRiLWtpdFt5Ususlws2d7RcnH0QxyppwsQiNw1jOEyqWSKMMcM0hqI7lx/s700/lunch.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILfk56R_zL88KI5RS4YCl9axh-PQ4jI9oimuBJ3FCkiuEgDgm7tqNegg4nfWnfS6yag0lZOZEs90EPmlYGmKpRiLWtpdFt5Ususlws2d7RcnH0QxyppwsQiNw1jOEyqWSKMMcM0hqI7lx/s700/lunch.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>Enamored with Czech food, especially the beer</i></b><br />
<br />
As a reward for their perseverance, they chose Únětický Pivovar, a restaurant that offers the finest duck confit in all the land. Throwing caution to the winds, Katy boldly substituted her red cabbage, asking for potato salad instead. This had the rest of the clientele talking for hours.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDN-dGb8m6gVXM-7kSKObEcVFV45HCtTgGTay6l07Cr8cqVQNuYdhDWaJlBtqRUbsfNSfw9WTNkMkhivQOsu0ZwTpC7LL5rI9k9yAChtQiktAWs6YdSGHCa7pJy5S1Xtz_OdA8HWNlyhuE/s700/kavarna.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDN-dGb8m6gVXM-7kSKObEcVFV45HCtTgGTay6l07Cr8cqVQNuYdhDWaJlBtqRUbsfNSfw9WTNkMkhivQOsu0ZwTpC7LL5rI9k9yAChtQiktAWs6YdSGHCa7pJy5S1Xtz_OdA8HWNlyhuE/s700/kavarna.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>No time to stop for kava.</i></b><br />
<br />
Fully refueled, the duo immediately set out on the remainder of their journey.<br />
<br />
Instead of taking the long journey, they bravely decided to extend their pilgrimage even further and take the really, really, really long journey.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMofEahGyEnCxwG2qTbCHbaeYJFfewpjqXn15MFNNyiuYXeUY82_9B99MKvYRXg10ZQBKc8KdZq1YpXHET4w5D4QwXRRLJN0YLbVv3g1X2DkvXN37XlMtnSxJQ_pO8Gup8kYT_ZU96lURH/s700/canola.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMofEahGyEnCxwG2qTbCHbaeYJFfewpjqXn15MFNNyiuYXeUY82_9B99MKvYRXg10ZQBKc8KdZq1YpXHET4w5D4QwXRRLJN0YLbVv3g1X2DkvXN37XlMtnSxJQ_pO8Gup8kYT_ZU96lURH/s700/canola.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>Are there snakes in here? </i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
Plowaging (new word!) forward and trying to avoid the dangerous Czech truck drivers and roadside banana-peel kill, Daisy and Katy also faced the challenge of navigating a random canola field.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV5UwQJW-pCfXuxbgNPMcLPIjJyhA01AHy2LJFrvY59fAw_2B3CsC11lda8jxo0hTPkgV6FS4xoUs0pPKRafyC_TobVgNpcObhT2bqFiTFNrn0Ru7oeUVZpa3lgluAs7ZwtOw-x6rTpSn/s700/lost.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV5UwQJW-pCfXuxbgNPMcLPIjJyhA01AHy2LJFrvY59fAw_2B3CsC11lda8jxo0hTPkgV6FS4xoUs0pPKRafyC_TobVgNpcObhT2bqFiTFNrn0Ru7oeUVZpa3lgluAs7ZwtOw-x6rTpSn/s700/lost.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>Fiascoville. </i></b><br />
<br />
After surviving the threat of allergies, ticks, and random piles of POOP (eds: cq) in the canola field, they were thrown into yet another debacle -- the raging river of Divoká Šárka, and the loss of all navigational instincts.
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7YGFO9C_cORM7Cif66m6iW3Bto9V6X1nPRwc1YUZPG49HHA-XwC61bDV2f367QEbablMOLQRcsYxuTOi6kEkoLa4s2WQT47-KyGxWn3iY29I_LfQnWfm5i9UjI9UCTg2QlCYC0RYv1yGR/s700/circusgirl.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7YGFO9C_cORM7Cif66m6iW3Bto9V6X1nPRwc1YUZPG49HHA-XwC61bDV2f367QEbablMOLQRcsYxuTOi6kEkoLa4s2WQT47-KyGxWn3iY29I_LfQnWfm5i9UjI9UCTg2QlCYC0RYv1yGR/s700/circusgirl.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>"Help me."</i></b><br />
<br />
Having successfully pedaled their way upstream, they then encountered a sight so shocking they were stopped in their tracks.
A tiny girl in pink, CHAINED behind a fence, with only a flesh-eating rabbit as company.<br />
<br />
Soon they realized that she was just an ordinary girl with a pet rabbit named Fauda, who bit her once, mildly. The chain was just a hilarious prop. Everyone parted on good terms.<br />
<br />
In what was undoubtedly bad news for Fauda, Katy and Daisy rounded a corner only to encounter something even more interesting than a pet rabbit.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hcUnoTypUPBl5Oj7zCokVv3vArrkMatWY3NMt8q5sFgxXT3L_-W8Jy0_AGqGfWO5whQ4_wvXm6kgNhtNxP4rLxbFD4beRbAzTjf4E1_5bIhVP2LHyl-W1YQv8leqcdfwRXWXoahKfPjT/s700/goats.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hcUnoTypUPBl5Oj7zCokVv3vArrkMatWY3NMt8q5sFgxXT3L_-W8Jy0_AGqGfWO5whQ4_wvXm6kgNhtNxP4rLxbFD4beRbAzTjf4E1_5bIhVP2LHyl-W1YQv8leqcdfwRXWXoahKfPjT/s700/goats.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>Goats. </i></b><br />
<br />
Seeing these nimble alpine creature, nibbling contentedly on meadow grasses, Katy and Daisy knew it was time to go home and start blogging.<br />
<br />
See, Grant, there was nothing to be worried about!<br />
<br />
<b><u>RIDE STATS</u></b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 200 miles</b><br />
<b>Average speed: Faster than a speeding bullet</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: Even faster</b><br />
<b>Pivo index: 2.5 x 2 = 5, but it felt like more</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2013: Classified</b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-24928277554078430352013-05-25T16:58:00.002+03:002013-05-26T13:01:31.202+03:00A Mystery Memorial (UPDATED)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6q_oWgBTS6QjvdP9CuGMOn0Ks0f0HpC8ft4fTyVEo7vztShOyXTc-uNDIh6_ANiuT8T4szHUNZk1lM-21PuYRS598hc1yhCiPNmCOna2Anig1-dWFC79I7cFQpIFgWHM47DIzdgLjs_wW/s700/DSCN8077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6q_oWgBTS6QjvdP9CuGMOn0Ks0f0HpC8ft4fTyVEo7vztShOyXTc-uNDIh6_ANiuT8T4szHUNZk1lM-21PuYRS598hc1yhCiPNmCOna2Anig1-dWFC79I7cFQpIFgWHM47DIzdgLjs_wW/s700/DSCN8077.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>There were no notes or signs to give visitors any indication of what happened here.</i></b><br />
<br />
Call me Mr. Mojo Fallin'. Just can't seem to get up the enthusiasm for riding that I used to feel. And my thighs hurt like hell when I'm climbing, more than they should, I believe.<br />
<br />
In short, it's no fun no more.<br />
<br />
I've been taking some daily supplements of B complex and CoQ10 in an effort to help my thighs and energy levels, but it hasn't worked so far. Also taking Silymarin, or milk thistle, for my liver.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I went on a very short ride the other day through Divoka Sarka. Other than my total lack of energy and enthusiasm, the only other thing worth mentioning is a small memorial I happened to spot on the edge of the park, not that far from the park entrance near the McDonald's on Evropska.<br />
<br />
Beneath a tall cliff face was a small stepladder on which were placed some flowers and candles. A newly graveled path led to this makeshift memorial. There was no sign or markings of any kind.<br />
<br />
Obviously, something happened here. Probably something bad. But for the life of me, I can't find any information on what it might be. Perhaps someone out there can fill me in.<br />
<br />
(UPDATE: Blog reader Circuit Rider CZ alerted me to <b><a href="http://zpravy.idnes.cz/i-pres-pomoc-zachranaru-maldik-pad-ze-skaly-neprezil-fyx-/krimi.aspx?c=A130207_071224_praha-zpravy_jpl" target="_blank">this story</a>.</b> Turns out, the body of a young man was found at this location back in February. It was unclear whether his 50-meter fall was an accident, a criminal act, or a suicide. Very sad.)<br />
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<br />
<b><i>A newly graveled path leads to the small memorial.</i></b><br />
<br />
I can only surmise that perhaps a climber fell to his/her death here or that someone was killed by falling debris. (I would question the intelligence of placing a memorial in the same spot where someone was killed by falling rock. I couldn't help but look up with some degree of trepidation when I was visiting. I didn't stick around long.)<br />
<br />
Any information would be greatly appreciated. I'll update the blog accordingly.<br />
<br />
<b><u>RIDE STATS</u></b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 9 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 11.9 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 33.6 kph</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: 0</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2013: 28 kilometers</b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>I'm always amazed at how close to the city Divoka Sarka is, but how it can feel like you're miles from civilization.</i></b><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeGh3B5JNUFwWBIIHbmcIs5PQ_H0U1GWhiPPwo7fe7d2asQSD2Rx6mfW770x1b4SDIMobW9iq-3nMDv8qfjCr2oAgxNAtueK56bGfz3yRzGpXN7SRUHTMyhoO-NF4VEZhIGQ9mIJNkroE/s700/DSCN8074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeGh3B5JNUFwWBIIHbmcIs5PQ_H0U1GWhiPPwo7fe7d2asQSD2Rx6mfW770x1b4SDIMobW9iq-3nMDv8qfjCr2oAgxNAtueK56bGfz3yRzGpXN7SRUHTMyhoO-NF4VEZhIGQ9mIJNkroE/s700/DSCN8074.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>I passed this rather disturbing scene on my ride. I'm afraid to ask.</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-16446279432561049932013-05-06T09:26:00.000+03:002013-05-06T09:33:19.167+03:00A Dirty Pub, A Mysterious Hole, And An Unexpected Visit <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><br /></b>
<b><i>The Dirty Pub</i></b><br />
<br />
I'm either a bad cyclist or a good alcoholic.<br />
<br />
I took my first ride of the year a few days ago. I met Stewart at what will forever more be called The Dirty Pub, also known as Na Břetislavce, on the corner of V Podbabe and V Sareckem Udoli in the village of Lysolaje. It's a right filthy joint, but it's got cheap beer and some outdoor seating under the big trees out back, and it's about halfway between my home in the Vokovice neighborhood of Prague 6 and Stewart's home in Roztoky.<br />
<br />
Except in my case, it's all downhill from my house to The Dirty Pub. About 5.5 kilometers of downhill, to be exact. (The ride's a bit more strenuous for Stewart.) Which means I hadn't yet come anywhere close to earning my first bike beer of the year. But I had one anyway. Make that two each.<br />
<br />
Let me digress.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggf3_MEwoIU-vsM1mkHv2XbD6KZhDJQCfE_qHZ22VgDhE-oGaysN6XUGqKdyFY6jsPTqop3WyGOkR5YL1DOZ2NOQfIGHBpkuFGto_y4M_ctNZmohp-JyPV06wRZkotgeXx_g-QPsJqkeDo/s700/DSCN8055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggf3_MEwoIU-vsM1mkHv2XbD6KZhDJQCfE_qHZ22VgDhE-oGaysN6XUGqKdyFY6jsPTqop3WyGOkR5YL1DOZ2NOQfIGHBpkuFGto_y4M_ctNZmohp-JyPV06wRZkotgeXx_g-QPsJqkeDo/s700/DSCN8055.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><i>The "beer garden" behind The Dirty Pub</i></b><br />
<br />
The night before this ride, Daisy and I had been to Sansho, the celebrated Prague restaurant run by British chef Paul Day, who's become a good friend since we first met more than two years ago. I and 40 of my friends took over Sansho for my 50th in 2011, and <a href="http://gusto-blog.blogspot.cz/2012/05/hot-time-in-meat-locker.html" target="_blank"><b>I celebrated my 51st birthday in his butcher shop</b></a>, <a href="http://gusto-blog.blogspot.cz/2012/04/pleasures-of-flesh.html" target="_blank"><b>The Real Meat Society</b></a>, last year.<br />
<br />
Paul recently moved to Lysolaje, and in fact we had been talking about The Dirty Pub the night before, which is close to his house. So as I sat there sipping my beer, I sent Paul a text message, just for fun, and attached a photo of two crazy cyclists.<br />
<br />
Unexpectedly and very surprisingly (I wouldn't even have replied to such an SMS on a quiet Sunday morning), Paul and his partner, Michaela Jorgensen, invited us over for a few glasses of wine and a tour of their new home. We had a blast talking and drinking as Paul tended to some pork he was slow-roasting on the Weber and their dog, Yuzu, tracked mud through the living room.<br />
<br />
What an unexpected and delightful detour.<br />
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<br />
<b><i>This is the photo we sent to Paul to warn him of our presence in his 'hood. He invited us in anyway.</i></b><br />
<br />
Not wanting to wear out our welcome, and wanting to get a little actual riding in before we were too far in our cups, Stewart and I bid our farewell and headed up into the forest. We ended up between the villages of Horoměřice and Nebušice, near Route 240, which gave me a chance to show Stewart something I had seen on a ride last year but had never really gotten the chance to inspect: a large swimming pool, surrounded by overgrowth and mature trees, abandoned in the forest.<br />
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<i><br /></i>
<b><i>Abandoned swimming pool or drainage pool? You make the call.</i></b><br />
<br />
On closer inspection, we concluded that it was likely not an old swimming pool but perhaps some sort of drainage pond. The sides of the pool were sloped, unlike a swimming pool, and there was some sort of small crane hanging over one end. And while we were there, contemplating what this big old hole could be, we heard a big gurgling sound and some sort of effluent burbled up from a drain at one end.<br />
<br />
If anyone has a clue what this is, I'd love to hear from you.<br />
<br />
From there, we cycled through the forest to Nebušice, where he had a few more beers and a couple of pepperoni pizzas at <a href="http://www.uady.cz/" target="_blank"><b>U Ády</b></a>, before parting ways.
<br />
<br />
An inauspicious but totally predictable start to my cycling year. The ride reminded both of us of <a href="http://www.praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/2012/05/road-to-heaven.html" target="_blank"><b>last year's ride to Únětice</b></a>, which quickly devolved into a drinkathon. Although looking back at it, I managed eight more kilometers in that ride than I did in this one.<br />
<br />
There's nowhere to go but up.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><u>RIDE STATS</u></b><br />
<b>Length of ride: 19 kilometers</b><br />
<b>Average speed: 12.4 kph</b><br />
<b>Maximum speed: 46.1 kph</b><br />
<b>Pivo Index: 4 (plus some white wine and Champagne, with a capital C)</b><br />
<b>Distance ridden so far in 2013: 19 kilometers!</b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><i>Finally, hitting the trails, for a little "bhiking." If you don't know what that means, <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.cz/search?q=bhiking" target="_blank">click here</a>.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
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<b><br /></b>
<b><i>Man, that tasted good.</i></b>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-292393883251274452013-04-06T14:22:00.002+03:002013-04-06T14:29:00.322+03:00Baby Got Back, Or Back To The Bakerloo (Redux)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAm1IHelYPpxy7FUGttRRj1KJUiAgAEH5vzCwzLt_qE2kbfdPM9eCo_mi2KmQuRhwU7zZsJb_0R8vU8dSjcuggfMlYyJg9u7Lzz1YqmZrKGln_Pbl-ohUgEoQDcqw-hfjcpCV5l9ObxyTb/s700/CIMG2524.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187780605548370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAm1IHelYPpxy7FUGttRRj1KJUiAgAEH5vzCwzLt_qE2kbfdPM9eCo_mi2KmQuRhwU7zZsJb_0R8vU8dSjcuggfMlYyJg9u7Lzz1YqmZrKGln_Pbl-ohUgEoQDcqw-hfjcpCV5l9ObxyTb/s700/CIMG2524.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">I passed some of troublemaker artist David Černý's "Babies" series at the Museum Kampa.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>Editor's Note: The weather in Prague so far this spring of 2013 has been crappy. Cold and snowy and gray and miserable. I haven't been riding. To show just how bad this spring has been, I'm reposting a blog entry from April 8, 2011, which shows magnolias and forsythia in full bloom. As far as I know, none of that has yet blossomed this year yet. Grrrrrrr. Or maybe better to say Brrrrrrr...</b></i><br />
<br />
I and an old friend got reacquainted last Friday.<br />
<br />
I loaded my bike up in the back of my car and headed into the city. I was intent on riding the Bakerloo Run again. It used to be one of my favorite urban routes, but a quick search on the blog reveals that the last time I'd ridden it was in July 2007. Wow.<br />
<br />
I must admit to having reached a certain level of boredom with the beautiful, but familiar, routes routes around my house in Černý Vůl, west of Prague. So I thought a spin on the old Bakerloo was in order.<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="548" src="http://connect.garmin.com:80/activity/embed/78527130" width="500"></iframe><br />
I'd actually made plans to ride the Bakerloo on this day with its namesake, Mark Baker. I can't quite recall why we named it after Mark. I was going to ask him that question while we were riding, but we never did.<br />
<br />
The day dawned windy, brisk and quite cloudy, and Mark wasn't feeling it. Just as I was heading out the door to meet up with him, he called to say that I'd have to do the Bakerloo in lieu of Baker.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgglrpAK140GtePPo3V0CDgrU6Ha18aL4JhyphenhyphenfxyssOO18KMKVYTjrrQ_T7H5_uUUlf6XrnP8g9ZCHjMZyCdt5fRm2eM-hChzRG3uynAZQn21tmktUWQQK-n8RqECIQevBKumzMmbq4_s1W/s1600/CIMG2488.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594188391420299554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgglrpAK140GtePPo3V0CDgrU6Ha18aL4JhyphenhyphenfxyssOO18KMKVYTjrrQ_T7H5_uUUlf6XrnP8g9ZCHjMZyCdt5fRm2eM-hChzRG3uynAZQn21tmktUWQQK-n8RqECIQevBKumzMmbq4_s1W/s320/CIMG2488.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 320px;" /></a>I must admit that my sails felt a bit dewinded, as it were. But I had the day off and needed the exercise (I'm 1.5 pounds from my 25 X 50 campaign I began in January -- to lost 25 pounds, or 11.3 kilos, by the time I turn 50 on April 24), so I headed out anyway.<br />
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And I'm so glad I did.<br />
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The city was a riot of springtime blooms and flowers, there were cyclists and roller-bladers everywhere, the sun peeked out quite often from behind those clouds, I got a chance to catch up on some of my favorite podcasts (such as <a href="http://wtfpod.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Marc Maron's hilarious and curiously intellectual "What The Fuck,"</span></a> as well as Daisy's excellent hosting of <a href="http://www.rferl.org/content/podcast_yury_gagarin_peter_weir_kyrgyzstan_bakiev/3550765.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Radio Free Europe's "The Blender" podcast</span></a>), and I thoroughly enjoyed my first bike beer of the season (in fact, I believe it may have been my first beer of the year period) at what we call The Blues Shack, at the bottom the park known as Dalejské údolí, near Hlubočepy.<br />
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By the way, they're doing some renovations on the ramshackle Blues Shack. It wasn't really open when I stopped by, but the guy served me a 25 CZK glass ($1.50) of delicious Kozel anyway.<br />
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That place is still going to be a dump when they get through with fixing it up, but they serve cheap beer and homemade smoked sausages, and it's perfectly situated on the Bakerloo Run, at just the time when you need some refreshment, so what's to complain about.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPSAzKRycVl8ImL26WgX_nRkPkw3EPXLhijvFW8IVEa4rLkcAh-aOrK0ndg_lF27qn72y7p1ehnSAJeAXtz7AH_QqLzOkQLBeTw8k4TaEW-X3Noi2F2iSJC5V4HHv8VywCkBndYpxarIK/s700/CIMG2515.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187776428388306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPSAzKRycVl8ImL26WgX_nRkPkw3EPXLhijvFW8IVEa4rLkcAh-aOrK0ndg_lF27qn72y7p1ehnSAJeAXtz7AH_QqLzOkQLBeTw8k4TaEW-X3Noi2F2iSJC5V4HHv8VywCkBndYpxarIK/s700/CIMG2515.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The ramparts of Vyšehrad.</span><br />
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The cool thing about the Bakerloo Run is that it is almost totally urban, but the route somehow manages to be about 75 percent on dedicated bike paths. It starts at Hradčanská metro, winds its way through the lovely villas of Střešovice, through Veleslavín, to Letohrádek Hvězda, through endless panelaks, until you connect with the top of Dalejské údolí.<br />
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There's a beautiful downhill path all the way through the park, which ends at The Blues Shack. Just before the shack, off on side trail, there's also Secret Lake, wedged into between tall sandstone cliffs. It's a magical little oasis -- hushed, beautiful. Hard to believe you're still in Prague, really.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlUPY_R4a8eMp6sHEBEMOEmUyoMkk0OE71uk1jK7S1OzB9nCe0b3TUzUlWzcyUIgj8IAvV0Z_7ATWgMsT7pPDMNa8SxXgHyKMZDC4qoKuyKK5eEBU37cQUC4P_8qCruZvr-9fbs9Ue7r1/s700/CIMG2499.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187522150975442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlUPY_R4a8eMp6sHEBEMOEmUyoMkk0OE71uk1jK7S1OzB9nCe0b3TUzUlWzcyUIgj8IAvV0Z_7ATWgMsT7pPDMNa8SxXgHyKMZDC4qoKuyKK5eEBU37cQUC4P_8qCruZvr-9fbs9Ue7r1/s700/CIMG2499.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Secret Lake.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXBXPFfFqtxe6J-obn4SpDvX0l2vxcZNtd-n7otD4ED4P9rRtEkj_NJYvdKllHGDygnOUEWJmKPGT6xRYD2oxNz5HJ8lHY1-TLFjcPTVMaNDjfkwiClbU-l9w6_1UHcmv6BEEnOuPpr1c/s700/CIMG2512.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187532733726498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXBXPFfFqtxe6J-obn4SpDvX0l2vxcZNtd-n7otD4ED4P9rRtEkj_NJYvdKllHGDygnOUEWJmKPGT6xRYD2oxNz5HJ8lHY1-TLFjcPTVMaNDjfkwiClbU-l9w6_1UHcmv6BEEnOuPpr1c/s700/CIMG2512.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Blues Shack, under reconstruction. Although, frankly, it usually looks almost exactly like this during the best of times.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-m3yI3bKmbbDsJKtnqmQqWPFDu4m3wQ7ovo3bjc1bByjaKXrFn33ia9ilrfiAU6VnNOvIJTONRhq4ptyrDFEIrOSsWfbj30YFG6FiVFGLT0-yd5aUMvkPl3w3gc0gRMJCRhl4P6pxKnnr/s700/CIMG2510.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187530446309346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-m3yI3bKmbbDsJKtnqmQqWPFDu4m3wQ7ovo3bjc1bByjaKXrFn33ia9ilrfiAU6VnNOvIJTONRhq4ptyrDFEIrOSsWfbj30YFG6FiVFGLT0-yd5aUMvkPl3w3gc0gRMJCRhl4P6pxKnnr/s700/CIMG2510.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">My first bike beer of the year, an 11-degree Kozel, from The Blues Shack, for 25 CZK, or about $1.50. Delicious.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh51hAPxMLaGF8rNuwtUxh3vkY9PKf78bOydlk4-uoJjmu7m_toJabDq_dc6Q-lgdONkiXgORt6a4wpVVKQjO8nboGkgvuv9R-O910ycev-drSJ4vgGaY2GwRwg9NcLbX1kKMv6ly3bFnB/s700/CIMG2502.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187525712004162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh51hAPxMLaGF8rNuwtUxh3vkY9PKf78bOydlk4-uoJjmu7m_toJabDq_dc6Q-lgdONkiXgORt6a4wpVVKQjO8nboGkgvuv9R-O910ycev-drSJ4vgGaY2GwRwg9NcLbX1kKMv6ly3bFnB/s700/CIMG2502.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">A very affectionate, if slightly mangy, cat at the also slightly mangy Blues Shack.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6Q7hJVyFPBlbnR3Pkft4nDP3RBzS2kVpUTMelIl-mBl1M2aBO-xM6sycBIQ7hg2uZ9gE6cydDGIwNzwz5XFEWi2oMeU9H80PH3XDrj2bOauWL-Gchilcj5d0ue7DeWvNTlAAjOe2rCso/s700/cat.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594406187186765474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6Q7hJVyFPBlbnR3Pkft4nDP3RBzS2kVpUTMelIl-mBl1M2aBO-xM6sycBIQ7hg2uZ9gE6cydDGIwNzwz5XFEWi2oMeU9H80PH3XDrj2bOauWL-Gchilcj5d0ue7DeWvNTlAAjOe2rCso/s700/cat.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a>From The Blues Shack, you wind your way down to the Vltava River, crossing on a very busy highway overpass to Branik (but which has a bike path and it's kinda of cool to be above the river and amid all those cars and trucks but safe), and then head back toward the center of Prague, also on a dedicated bike path along the east side of the river.<br />
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Once you're in the center, it does get a little squirrelly trying to negotiate your way to Letna park. I cross back over the river on either the Palackého or Jiráskův bridges and then snake through Kampa Park before joining up with Letna.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6L5jXRmdE6a2EshROlnaKfdIxi4QvmKfaKwdEHILIdmY-q4ZZecOKR_wmG06AoJYz4HfCvxXeSK2JA3fzxTtGqmK456KC7qynwMxwnigQfqFwpIEo_21_oiSeNJArW2sBTNa4td2Q4rE/s700/CIMG2525.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187781778734098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6L5jXRmdE6a2EshROlnaKfdIxi4QvmKfaKwdEHILIdmY-q4ZZecOKR_wmG06AoJYz4HfCvxXeSK2JA3fzxTtGqmK456KC7qynwMxwnigQfqFwpIEo_21_oiSeNJArW2sBTNa4td2Q4rE/s700/CIMG2525.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Prague's fabled Charles Bridge. Not a bad sight to appreciate from your bike. The pleasures of urban riding.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkR5ABEDZhStJjPpUD1ShnMOVi08PVWBxOQmPD-GH63pLzWFR9-XpHgy6lctO4YDEYPq356aU_ajCdIspDF6yphBpTaU1nZkuyYb5StxWZHZSKV5oHFUsPCtV-h6RQCCLt4gukWkJsMBg/s700/CIMG2527.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187865958945282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkR5ABEDZhStJjPpUD1ShnMOVi08PVWBxOQmPD-GH63pLzWFR9-XpHgy6lctO4YDEYPq356aU_ajCdIspDF6yphBpTaU1nZkuyYb5StxWZHZSKV5oHFUsPCtV-h6RQCCLt4gukWkJsMBg/s700/CIMG2527.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The view of the Vltava and its many bridges, looking down from Letna.</span><br />
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But what fun it is to bike through the city. Living out in the country, I don't get into the tourist areas very often, and it was amazing, on this ride, to see so many new restaurant and shops and hotels. Makes me want to live in the city again, frankly.<br />
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The Bakerloo is almost 40 kilometers in length, and it's another 10 or 12 from my house one way to Hradčanská, and I just wasn't feeling up to biking that distance round-trip so early in the season. I'm glad my car was waiting for me.<br />
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But it was a great ride. I saw a secret lake, petted a friendly cat, drank a cold beer, tackled some challenging hills, and stopped and smelled the flowers. Not bad for a Friday.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">RIDE STATS<br />Length of ride: 37.5 kilometers<br />Average speed: 14.1 kph<br />Maximum speed: 36.2 kph<br />Time on the bike: 2.38.47<br />Pivo Index: 1<br />Distance ridden so far in 2011: 91.5 kilometers</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZTm0zg_NhucBHX0WyJihXx0EraIcmFwsUPtJKYzTcddkjMVK7qX67akFEYWCHfc3BUC9yaQ4rP2ReKN9wforb5Xkk5P10k-QYROkZQq-OQsyDdKfWaB7a9_Qh0Z5AemhG_7x10ld7uuD/s700/sign.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594410982691097298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZTm0zg_NhucBHX0WyJihXx0EraIcmFwsUPtJKYzTcddkjMVK7qX67akFEYWCHfc3BUC9yaQ4rP2ReKN9wforb5Xkk5P10k-QYROkZQq-OQsyDdKfWaB7a9_Qh0Z5AemhG_7x10ld7uuD/s700/sign.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">We call this hill on the Bakerloo Run "Halfway To Straight Up" -- a 24 percent gradient. In other words, almost unclimbable. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0_T8ZaC2NBVHcr04ZldkdL0guD7NL8RsgahyIACO2cu1hHZZiNILNlB2-pDjknwBQqrGeaOG1qWrUs_TylyGF3DKhnZKjfsGENONq36Ex1_6WnJS2-J3-AirT_Lo2-fHPAqSJHSAYTfm/s700/CIMG2513.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187772546081314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0_T8ZaC2NBVHcr04ZldkdL0guD7NL8RsgahyIACO2cu1hHZZiNILNlB2-pDjknwBQqrGeaOG1qWrUs_TylyGF3DKhnZKjfsGENONq36Ex1_6WnJS2-J3-AirT_Lo2-fHPAqSJHSAYTfm/s700/CIMG2513.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The scariest church in Europe, on the east bank of the Vltava, near Podoli.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3In5KqTHMiNwwQsL71OHm-TXeNR7OjzT5DUsJv8l-4RTv_kA4KBI1ZOBPRq0MerrEnJY9D9xPI2FTrauaz1geV5UTU7Q9EDF-KCEZcikm3bmbSnnhKb8-Vgt0mSK1r5VwpkdI57ssHnV1/s700/CIMG2514.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187775125246850" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3In5KqTHMiNwwQsL71OHm-TXeNR7OjzT5DUsJv8l-4RTv_kA4KBI1ZOBPRq0MerrEnJY9D9xPI2FTrauaz1geV5UTU7Q9EDF-KCEZcikm3bmbSnnhKb8-Vgt0mSK1r5VwpkdI57ssHnV1/s700/CIMG2514.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The scariest yacht club in Europe, on the east bank of the Vltava.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6Ht9UszHZ0wl3I5Kd_OeXRsHH_6vOD5X28umT2s-MrnKdwtjnmOUJadhGJddwefdQX34XmiAa_Ze7sjxDFW7pXXw53F36xGhaKqIB2fz4aeCMs_Iqg8MRy6Dl7EoY0qVFTkR7D_hMZYv/s700/CIMG2481.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187194751580994" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6Ht9UszHZ0wl3I5Kd_OeXRsHH_6vOD5X28umT2s-MrnKdwtjnmOUJadhGJddwefdQX34XmiAa_Ze7sjxDFW7pXXw53F36xGhaKqIB2fz4aeCMs_Iqg8MRy6Dl7EoY0qVFTkR7D_hMZYv/s700/CIMG2481.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">This very steep climb is in the Veleslavín neighborhood of Prague, and is one of the notable parts of the Bakerloo Run. It's a tough one. The photo doesn't do it justice. Easy for some. A challenge for me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWf8jsz-iMYrz0sK1VMOdVHqYULo6EmSPzhwtTjeGtB8KBvwuMLv52cdIkySq58ObehH-bl_nBJDcinbXtAO_kY6Exv9uXdJKR2AM4eZLRxSQ21CQ2yeiPMh5GHNihMq_Va7Su9ghFRpY4/s700/CIMG2480.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187195973136434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWf8jsz-iMYrz0sK1VMOdVHqYULo6EmSPzhwtTjeGtB8KBvwuMLv52cdIkySq58ObehH-bl_nBJDcinbXtAO_kY6Exv9uXdJKR2AM4eZLRxSQ21CQ2yeiPMh5GHNihMq_Va7Su9ghFRpY4/s700/CIMG2480.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">I loved the way someone trimmed these bushes in Veleslavín. Stylish.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3AzbKKX1eN9tdEgc_pkyqAjECll-sEfy8eWRIOsMctokTzDkiL5GIn0JnO5zBnQDaVvQdbntLgL5Va-HUqfNxjpbcyBBB-D4dMeyncnIZGbWkGJLU6PCsoiDux5UIlMJJTzP-MxI59FB/s1600/CIMG2479.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187190223806818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3AzbKKX1eN9tdEgc_pkyqAjECll-sEfy8eWRIOsMctokTzDkiL5GIn0JnO5zBnQDaVvQdbntLgL5Va-HUqfNxjpbcyBBB-D4dMeyncnIZGbWkGJLU6PCsoiDux5UIlMJJTzP-MxI59FB/s700/CIMG2479.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Which way is up?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DfMo-lEgO6ubws3squ_Pc0Ubl3z59XSVbMRo96ocjsa8ylacemHlsYWyBb-1N2IRXjSlrlwPxmUiJklxB3gh3dK7Jg3oGlDqNLZDMc_BI8dGLoAqvo7V8-fOd3M1Of8O8Mw3HRx7ZsUH/s700/CIMG2475.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187190079337922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DfMo-lEgO6ubws3squ_Pc0Ubl3z59XSVbMRo96ocjsa8ylacemHlsYWyBb-1N2IRXjSlrlwPxmUiJklxB3gh3dK7Jg3oGlDqNLZDMc_BI8dGLoAqvo7V8-fOd3M1Of8O8Mw3HRx7ZsUH/s700/CIMG2475.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Stresovice neighborhood was an explosion of color and perfume. Here, forsythia, and below, a magnolia. Spring in Prague makes the winter almost worth it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNsrwzQRGCW85f2F_IvXdFgXgXeQmaEA67ycnoW2CdbLFLsZrs2HcVSAW2-Lol6Nhp4kTaHOy5PYs0uOtOKTCo6YVbQZSzf8QMKx4ed2ij2x_OX5iu869_i9gi17inxabhxYfpw6FJAZX/s700/CIMG2470.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594187185621194706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNsrwzQRGCW85f2F_IvXdFgXgXeQmaEA67ycnoW2CdbLFLsZrs2HcVSAW2-Lol6Nhp4kTaHOy5PYs0uOtOKTCo6YVbQZSzf8QMKx4ed2ij2x_OX5iu869_i9gi17inxabhxYfpw6FJAZX/s700/CIMG2470.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598027769243380223.post-34624071455257282482013-02-01T13:16:00.002+03:002013-02-01T13:31:42.692+03:00Air Force Won -- Or Watching Obama Land In Prague<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3Lj5__k60LDWGdVRt0zi1raxo5WBblNnqMhZJaX4W0Ih3d1rxbo6yJmq4MJcXPVNkaqyj3HNHGeDplnCMFwtBZhsHNLEiOELYN5105J67g0nXcNNHZoDDlB-OlKE5uc1N9Yu2LRp3_W3/s1600-h/P1000197.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674342159225154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3Lj5__k60LDWGdVRt0zi1raxo5WBblNnqMhZJaX4W0Ih3d1rxbo6yJmq4MJcXPVNkaqyj3HNHGeDplnCMFwtBZhsHNLEiOELYN5105J67g0nXcNNHZoDDlB-OlKE5uc1N9Yu2LRp3_W3/s700/P1000197.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mark took this lovely shot of Air Force One just before touchdown in Prague. There's a video I took of the landing farther down in this post.</span><br />
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<i>In honor of President Obama's recent inauguration for a second term, and since I haven't been riding yet this year, I thought I'd re-post a classic entry from April 22, 2009 -- Grant</i><br />
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It was a ride filled with tragedies and triumphs. And toads.<br />
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I met up with Stewart Moore and Mark Baker at the <a href="http://praguebikeblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/it-felt-like-secret.html"><strong>late, great Koliba</strong></a>, which had burned to the ground a few weeks before.<br />
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As regular readers of this blog know, it was one of our favorite places in Prague -- a little slice of heaven in the forests of Roztoky that also happened to serve grilled meats and fish and Budvar on tap. I'd seen pictures of its charred skeleton, but it wasn't until this day that I had seen the destruction for myself.<br />
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So sad.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1NprsRf4DnS69OxO7TrUT5BQEfrl1NcP9xuz2ho5ij4Z2y3PEiAbhz562xhNjU0VBo2GmrmBGKjmDhJDWmtdBYMQnWX0jm2jjdzQexBB4i-RjHLw5najb6FyT1SWUFPWKBU7-ylRN2iaj/s700-h/P1000181.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674057595290706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1NprsRf4DnS69OxO7TrUT5BQEfrl1NcP9xuz2ho5ij4Z2y3PEiAbhz562xhNjU0VBo2GmrmBGKjmDhJDWmtdBYMQnWX0jm2jjdzQexBB4i-RjHLw5najb6FyT1SWUFPWKBU7-ylRN2iaj/s700/P1000181.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>Stewart and I gaze upon the charred remains of our beloved Koliba in Roztoky.</strong><br />
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But we didn't have too much time to mourn. We were on a mission.<br />
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We had an appointment to keep. With U.S. President Barack Obama and Air Force One.<br />
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Obama was scheduled to arrive in Prague on this day (April 4 -- OK, so I'm a little behind on my postings), and we knew the scheduled "wheels down" time for Air Force One, which was arriving from Strasbourg.<br />
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We also had observed in which direction the planes were landing in Prague on this day. I live near the airport and have made a small study of the landing patterns. Depending on the winds, most planes either take off or land on one particular east-west runway.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nryeMKD_FLrLoArvRqmiDizajF2rjrAzPWDipYW6pJRKfThJwVvaCBQuW1IghDegsVuZG890fsN4oymYKs7ls8tCfEEg_rplYBq-s6hNr-jQHyWRJ4Wts301hmb7O9HVNMI7TMbpZIzx/s700-h/P1000190.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674337411202578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nryeMKD_FLrLoArvRqmiDizajF2rjrAzPWDipYW6pJRKfThJwVvaCBQuW1IghDegsVuZG890fsN4oymYKs7ls8tCfEEg_rplYBq-s6hNr-jQHyWRJ4Wts301hmb7O9HVNMI7TMbpZIzx/s700/P1000190.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>Stewart and I on standby.</strong><br />
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On this day, the planes were landing from the east, which meant that we could get pretty close to the beginning of the runway by hanging out on a road in the village of Přední Kopanina.<br />
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We set off from Koliba, through the forests to Únětice, then on to my hometown of Černý Vůl, onto Statenice, and then up a long, steep and challenging forest path to the outskirts of Přední Kopanina.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOD436O5Aaa68XE2-7qQbePRvY4k9ZatADoo9Tx1J0peFHHgB62-OYo0t2ACfZokBfd3mdsnjuj96kULKYEDNgqZ3cLxYZrbntozDpf6D7kwNcjWnkZb-G64uIG4PY-OnOjBa_RBOtn5Nf/s1600-h/DSCN5014.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321673473969589682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOD436O5Aaa68XE2-7qQbePRvY4k9ZatADoo9Tx1J0peFHHgB62-OYo0t2ACfZokBfd3mdsnjuj96kULKYEDNgqZ3cLxYZrbntozDpf6D7kwNcjWnkZb-G64uIG4PY-OnOjBa_RBOtn5Nf/s320/DSCN5014.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>We were a bit ahead of schedule, which meant we had time for some pre-Obama beers in the garden of a cute little pub in the village where we'd often drained a few.<br />
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We managed to stop drinking in time to hop on our bikes and motor our way over to the vantage point in an effort to see one of the world's greatest symbols of power up close and personal.<br />
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We weren't alone.<br />
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To our surprise, there were a few hundred people already there. Cars were parked on the side of the road, lined up for a kilometer or two in each direction. Incredibly, only three or four Czech police were around, mostly keeping people from parking too close to an intersection.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNRKVGZypkeIyfqq97BAOl2XYC7ITvAYY9YSbSFYLXKGBITHGyZ7t7HJo2vAwWFBPuqPoc_dBJeDrNbA0Q9rLnKan_uC5UgQnyjmKDiNXT7GnSPca2-u2XtlMVTCP6ZSxO8BzraJ5XgW1/s700-h/P1000189.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674074373787410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNRKVGZypkeIyfqq97BAOl2XYC7ITvAYY9YSbSFYLXKGBITHGyZ7t7HJo2vAwWFBPuqPoc_dBJeDrNbA0Q9rLnKan_uC5UgQnyjmKDiNXT7GnSPca2-u2XtlMVTCP6ZSxO8BzraJ5XgW1/s700/P1000189.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>Mark caught this nice shot of the many cars parked on the side of the road, full of folks who were also hoping to get a glimpse of AF1.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaffVhSOC6zrx2m17Z0Dho7S0D7vXVaHFYyGhpD0oz4M62se9J6OM-xnJ_TQXXVQRI7K7i2IsgphKw31Wp45_GgynfxwO6mp-b7Kk2H0HY2MDRbOzoKQl5kw1k7HLkAaC5CQojOnmwyyX/s700-h/DSCN5016.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321673241764410594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaffVhSOC6zrx2m17Z0Dho7S0D7vXVaHFYyGhpD0oz4M62se9J6OM-xnJ_TQXXVQRI7K7i2IsgphKw31Wp45_GgynfxwO6mp-b7Kk2H0HY2MDRbOzoKQl5kw1k7HLkAaC5CQojOnmwyyX/s700/DSCN5016.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>A line of parked cars are silhouetted against the sky as a few hundred people await the arrival of Air Force One.</strong><br />
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There were no searches of cars. No effort to prevent people from parking and gawking so close to the end of the runway.<br />
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Interestingly, we saw two blind men with a radio of some sort who were obviously experienced "planespotters," listening in on the air-traffic control conversations and themselves waiting to <em>feel</em> AF1 pass overhead. (A few days later, I went out to the airport again to try to see AF1 take off, and saw two different blind people trying to do the same thing.)<br />
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We waited for 15 minutes or so, all the time second-guessing our decision. Would Obama instead land at Prague's old military airport, which was nearby but which would mean Air Force One wouldn't pass overhead? That would certainly make sense from a security standpoint.<br />
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Would AF1 really land right over our heads? <br />
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Why, yes. Yes it would.<br />
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Sure enough, a few minutes later, a glance to the east revealed a large plane approaching, two gigantic, unusual-looking "headlights" shining brightly in the distance.<br />
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Air Force One was approaching, and we were in perfect position. I turned my digital camera to video and started shooting:<br />
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Still hard to believe that we could get that close to the Boeing 747 that was carrying the president of the United States. I guess they can't close every road around the airport, but you'd think there'd be some kind of security...<br />
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The gigantic plane -- in its unmistakable light blue and white, with UNITED STATES OF AMERICA in elegant letters -- passed right overhead with a roar, and then was silhouetted against the setting sun as it touched down.<br />
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We'd done it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmOB2Zl9GVxITHTGye2Hmi7z1FpioDNMsOSkX8YjISbqNEg2WeJBwygrNKdTqQxA0IQNc5R_P4-ihEmIAvW7CTpnq8hhhDN2fKRI81j86FM-E23jnUN7EoLf657mXApTf1Lfvl8n33zuT/s700-h/P1000195.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674337767828818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmOB2Zl9GVxITHTGye2Hmi7z1FpioDNMsOSkX8YjISbqNEg2WeJBwygrNKdTqQxA0IQNc5R_P4-ihEmIAvW7CTpnq8hhhDN2fKRI81j86FM-E23jnUN7EoLf657mXApTf1Lfvl8n33zuT/s700/P1000195.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>Another nice shot of Air Force One making its approach, also taken by Mark.</strong><br />
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Although for me, truth be told, the plane itself, while very, very cool, wasn't quite as huge and overwhelming as I had somehow imagined. I don't know what I was expecting. Perhaps if Obama had arrived on the Space Shuttle or something.<br />
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A few minutes later, as we celebrated our good luck, a Boeing 757 carrying Secretary of State Hillary Clinton -- painted in the same colors - also passed overhead and landed on the same runway.<br />
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Then I had an idea. Why not try to race over to Evropska, the main boulevard linking the airport area with downtown Prague, and watch the motorcade drive by?<br />
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I have never pedaled so hard.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf56zIzPk67G9romugdVLfH_r8O1ZlJe5UaqIwgNPP9TW1ZfslDlqLkQyyTJILn2xUkOTISkZn2JcdEMiFt4bzU9aZ6zBMPWdJZn8H5fGNhK2tCDdKL-l6k4JY6I27OBX8LXcgflENR094/s700-h/P1000187.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674074278699010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf56zIzPk67G9romugdVLfH_r8O1ZlJe5UaqIwgNPP9TW1ZfslDlqLkQyyTJILn2xUkOTISkZn2JcdEMiFt4bzU9aZ6zBMPWdJZn8H5fGNhK2tCDdKL-l6k4JY6I27OBX8LXcgflENR094/s700/P1000187.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>Stewart and I catching some rays, and downing a few beers, at a pub in Přední Kopanina, before the landing.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNJ0eJQBC1I4z4RytOANuw7feYi_DHhazHqR2M-sKzffbLmzrJWXGtH695_IuSMtXbRYDDXUsbe0tQeP7JI3FKe7wLjf1j3l2xLOCWyevQCnZ2-oyZkvPDRfCsaeD-ypgI4dbn13bRaiX2/s700-h/P1000185.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674072735361906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNJ0eJQBC1I4z4RytOANuw7feYi_DHhazHqR2M-sKzffbLmzrJWXGtH695_IuSMtXbRYDDXUsbe0tQeP7JI3FKe7wLjf1j3l2xLOCWyevQCnZ2-oyZkvPDRfCsaeD-ypgI4dbn13bRaiX2/s700/P1000185.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>Stewart, on the brink of saying something extraordinary.</strong><br />
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It's a good five or six kilometers, I would say, from where we were to where we needed to be, and we only had a few minutes. We were racing through fields and forests, legs pumping furiously, jumping over rocks and roots.<br />
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In the end, we missed Obama's motorcade by a few seconds. Damn!<br />
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But what a lark, what an adventure!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUorJwE1B8QH-o6zmIoBJOHOTSYHbPdpX5QGafIz2TcE-FklrQzBq8MkqtG-jMQkje5FtYDqQaD6003SSKewByEn0jd5UoIUQ-reRTfX_ALNGSwbeCMwULRt3wZ_e4kSgiY5idGUi-Rk3c/s700-h/obama.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327485129310099090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUorJwE1B8QH-o6zmIoBJOHOTSYHbPdpX5QGafIz2TcE-FklrQzBq8MkqtG-jMQkje5FtYDqQaD6003SSKewByEn0jd5UoIUQ-reRTfX_ALNGSwbeCMwULRt3wZ_e4kSgiY5idGUi-Rk3c/s700/obama.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>My best picture from Obama's speech at Prague Castle on April 5. You can just make out Obama and Michelle.</strong><br />
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The next day, I was fortunate enough to be in the vast crowd of 20,000 or so who gathered in the massive square outside Prague Castle to hear Obama speak.<br />
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Now that was the <em>real</em> thrill.<br />
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<strong>RIDE STATS (April 4)<br />Length of ride: 28 kilometers<br />Average speed: 14.5 kph<br />Maximum speed: 44.5 kph<br />Pivo Index: 3<br />Time on the bike: 1.54.32<br />Distance ridden so far in 2009: 208.5 kilometers<br /><br />RIDE STATS (for a previous short solo ride)<br />Length of ride: 17.5 kilometers<br />Average speed: 15.5 kph<br />Maximum speed: 42.0 kph<br />Time on the bike: 1.06.12</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5vsHVtfpi-oE74BH8GAFjQw5IW1sP07hK_t9D7BLga3xrJYjNUMOfkDDUbBZ__5OXHLgs7BGjhRiw9n60BkAJzYUvl-StXmS64Ct7cFZbmVB2dAegKBLuc4Xh2fpE0LGFB-K7JwRtzCE/s700-h/DSCN5007.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321673243384726386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5vsHVtfpi-oE74BH8GAFjQw5IW1sP07hK_t9D7BLga3xrJYjNUMOfkDDUbBZ__5OXHLgs7BGjhRiw9n60BkAJzYUvl-StXmS64Ct7cFZbmVB2dAegKBLuc4Xh2fpE0LGFB-K7JwRtzCE/s700/DSCN5007.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>Mark (right) and Stewart enjoy a laugh at the beer garden in Přední Kopanina.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvo4h1DlisTDiutwUTkpzAn2QtojezfbavotmPpbC-ExFscq7epSh7Obhio31fF1w-WsSFgp5kK6Jo4nWs-4laFyJ5nwc7yQtOL_4oAoiydk4KR64iPpz89HUbVFqvQxDOLYJ0Sh-mmVbW/s700-h/P1000184.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674072190236610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvo4h1DlisTDiutwUTkpzAn2QtojezfbavotmPpbC-ExFscq7epSh7Obhio31fF1w-WsSFgp5kK6Jo4nWs-4laFyJ5nwc7yQtOL_4oAoiydk4KR64iPpz89HUbVFqvQxDOLYJ0Sh-mmVbW/s700/P1000184.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>Why talk when you can drink?</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjke-z31SIQ_dHp6X2lG9glpl-YCIW1PETOnVmXQ8OtMpUZvncH1vMxZdej52D6TS7bb2Fh9qoplJIj_9CZeYjCXl4dXlxxRHtuZoL1N6CkfGImTyk-8LBbQM3QqJYezzphf7Jmecm9K0Rx/s700-h/DSCN5026.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321673241014280066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjke-z31SIQ_dHp6X2lG9glpl-YCIW1PETOnVmXQ8OtMpUZvncH1vMxZdej52D6TS7bb2Fh9qoplJIj_9CZeYjCXl4dXlxxRHtuZoL1N6CkfGImTyk-8LBbQM3QqJYezzphf7Jmecm9K0Rx/s700/DSCN5026.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 700px;" /></a><br />
<strong>The sun sets on a memorable day on the bikes.</strong>Grant Podelcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14046561738258645391noreply@blogger.com4