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Published: October 4th 2009
For the first 8000 kilometers of our journey we had few choices of routes in that, over most of the Eurasian Steppe there are few roads connecting any two places. We would pick our next destination and ride there on the only route we could find. Sometimes this meant small, remote tracks where we were excited to see another car, horse, anything that could confirm our choice at the last intersection. At other times, however, this reality put us in heavy traffic on the only through road across huge distances. Russia was particularly rough as only one main road plies the whole of Southern Siberia and we shared that road with a never ending flow of aggressive trucks and maniac drivers. In Romania we found a New England-esque "you can't get there from here" sort of network that rolls and connects like rivers in the mountainous country. This gave us navigational challenges but, more delightfully, the multitude of roads granted us options. On our maps there are big red roads, mid-sized yellow roads, and thin lines that mark the byways that connect villages. Whenever possible we have weaved our way through the latter and in doing so have discovered a quickly
fading, old world charm that has transformed our ideas about life in the EU. Along these country roads, amidst bucolic countryside, we have shared the path with far more horse-drawn carts and Soviet-era, single-speed bicycles than cars. We expected a more developed world in Europe and have been pleasantly surprised to find people stacking hay by hand and living at a notably slower pace than their urban counterparts. We are obviously a new experience for most of these folks as even adults stop in their tracks and stare at the spectacle of two brightly colored cyclists rumbling through cobbled streets. Camping has been a more challenging game of human avoidance in the past two weeks but our persistance has payed off with dividends of quiet, picturesque places to watch the sun set, eat chocolate, cuss at our ailing stove, and lay our heads. The shorter days mean that we must be diligent about starting early if we want to cover miles but the relatively small distance between us and Amsterdam keeps us at ease about our riding schedule. The autumn has arrived with vigor and we are relieved by the cool weather though we know that with every crisp apple
we eat, every leaf-covered road we roll down, we are nearing a great transition of oddessies....... The feeling is like the apples themselves: crisp, decisive, sweet, and just tart enough to hint at something solemn.
A few days back we crossed the "strict" borders of the Schengen zone within which there are no longer international border posts. Now we are free to cross international boundaries whenever and wherever we please. Our next stamps will come when we board a plane bound for Baltimore. We exercised this freedom to the fullest the other day when we crossed out of Hungary and into Slovakia on a velo-path. No signs, no checkpoints, just a new country with a language (thankfully) very similar to Russian! After a few weeks of playing scherades for our groceries it is a delight to be able to communicate effectively with the people. For them it seems a delight to communicate in a dialect that has been hidden in their memories for twenty years. The young Slovac republic is a cyclist's paradise. Relatively high and forested, it forms a clear barrier between the flat plains of Poland and Hungary. A tradition of conservation along with a cultural appreciation for
all things outdoorsy means that the tap water is good to drink and we have heard Elk bugling in the high mountain meadows at dusk. The Tatras form a natural border with Poland and it is here in this little pocket of alpine goodness that we have taken a break from the road. From an American perspective things are a bit too regulated here to call it ideal, but the anomolous High Tatry are the only truly alpine environment in two countries, making the strict protections seem prudent. Running around in the mountains uses a very different set of muscles than the ones that drive us along on our bikes and scrambling on alpine granite exercises a different set of sensibilities. The last few days have been the sort of love affair that close encounters with the mountains always seem to be but, for the next month at least, we are married to our bikes. None the less, the distinct flavor of mountain air has reminded us of the goodness of home and as we roll west through southern Poland, our vigor is restored by the sweet thoughts of the high, chilly adventures ahead.
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Samantha
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Getting closer to home
I can't believe you are only a month out from heading back to good old Tahoe. We had our first dusting of snow this week. It seems that fall has finally made it's way to the mountains. I think of you guys often! I LOVED the post card!