Once more I found myself battling straight in to a increasingly stiff head wind as I headed north across what should have been easy riding along rolling plains. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a tail wind. About half a glorious hour 10 days a go in a valley! I would have caught a train, but there weren’t any
One of these is aerodynamic and likes wind!
Although geographically the route was rather boring, politically it was interesting as it crossed the border in to Austria twice. Sopron, like Geneva, is an enclave. The whole area voted in 1921 to become part of Austria, but the town’s citizens stayed loyal to Budapest. So the apparent differences in housing, infrastructure, amenities (and hence -perhaps- standard of living?) when you cross the border are all the more remarkable.
As I slogged on in to the hot headwind I mercifully chanced upon a swimming pool and cafe. A quick swim and spag bog recharged the batteries. Good job, because I now had to try and outrun a fast approaching huge storm- another common and unwelcome part of this cycling holiday so far.
It was only 50km the whole day, but my heart (and legs) just weren’t in to it and wanted to be elsewhere… Feet up in front of the box watching the men’s singles final at Wimbledon. (And the Tour de France + MotoGP = armchair heaven).
After a scramble to find an empty hotel I eventually checked in to a rather seedy place out of town. But it had a TV I needn’t have hurried in the end, Mr Federer took his time to say the least! But a golden moment for him and for little old Switzerland as another of theirs (Fabian Cancellara) currently holds the coveted Yellow Jersey.
My route today took me East across the border on to the rolling plains of Hungary and then north to the roman town of Szombathely. I was sorry to say goodbye to the forested hills. Despite the storms that hang around them, they provide great riding and scenery, plus some protection from headwinds and rain.
After about 10 km I followed a dirt track through some wetlands for about a km and then entered a small ramshackle village with people on bicycles carrying vegetables and broken down cars parked on the road. Without realising it, I’d passed the border somewhere along the track. Unlike between Slovenia and Austria the contrast between Austria and Hungary in building style and condition couldn’t have been greater.
I pedaled on to the next town and tried to change some money. The guy in the bank took 20 mins to change GBP100 as he didn’t like the look of one of my 20s and so called about 5 people on the phone. Who was he calling? The Fed? The Royal Mint? Growing impatient I tried grabbing back the 20. He shouted something and the next thing I know the security guard was standing behind me menacingly with a gun in his holster. For gawds sake! Welcome to (one side of) the ex-socialist world.
I fled town before the riot police arrived and pedaled on to Kormend for lunch at a restaurant complete with mock roman columns and a Ferrari parked outside. Welcome to the other side!
It was then a slog in to a head wind north to Szombathely. As this was the first day in 2 weeks it hadn’t rained, I checked in to a campsite in the suburbs.
Chez Bazz:
Destination Beijing
At the campsite in Szombathely I met two Welsh guys, Chris and Cledwyn, who were on their way to Beijing! Remarkably they were the first real cyclo-tourists I’d met properly and I was keen to hear their story and check out their equipment. These guys were seriously accessorised, including winter down jackets and hiking boots; just the ticket for a Mediterranean summer
Two gizmos of theirs I particularly liked were their solar powered battery charger which strapped on to the back of the bike during the day and then recharged mobiles etc in the night, and a maritime GPS tracking and emergency distress beacon thingie. Kool. But all this, plus palatial his & his tents (see pic) meant that Cled’s rig weighed 56 kg. Yikes! And I thought Zip’s 40 kg lardy arse was hard work up hills.
We headed off to town for a beer and to compare travel stories. Useful as it turns out because they were headed for Slovenia and had just come from Slovakia.
Bon route guys
My tents bigger than yours. Cledwyn and Chris at Szombathely Hungary, July 2009, en route to Beijing(ish).
This little baby, a house cake from a cafe in Radovljica, just melted on the tongue. Divine.
Known as ‘Premurska Gibania’, which -the waiter told me- translates to ‘Over Mora Mooving [sic]‘!! Perhaps he didn’t recognise my Brummie-Ozy accent as English! Whatever, I had the pleasure of scoffing this calorie Howitzer in Bohinj (NW Slovenia mountains), but the owners of the cafe said it was from Southern Slovenia. I was so impressed they gave me another huge piece in a doggy bag and it got me up the mountain pass the next day
Hungry in Hungary?
Not quite, but Hungarian cakes have so far failed to impress.
Best go for one of these:
Hungarian Diet Destroyer:
WARNING. Do not attempt to tackle one of these alone unless you have ridden 100 km! Pancakes filled with crushed almonds and chocolate. My estimates suggest that one of these could destroy a 2 week-long diet in one mouthful!
Keep baking people and remember, cakes make the pedals (and your belly) go round.
After a rest day in Maribor and another festival-disturbed inadequate nights sleep I headed off on a hot and muggy day with no more than a rough plan to just aim NE. The route was rather dull getting out of Maribor, but got better as I hit some hills, and I was soon crossing the (heavily swollen) River Mur at Mureck in to Austria.
The first vehicle that rumbled towards me was a tank! I raised my hands to surrender, knowing that Austria’s close alley and near next door neighbour Switzerland had tipped them off about my late payment of my TV licence. Thankfully the tank crew waved back! Relieved I refuelled on Spag bog.
I then worked my way across a series of ridges in the increasingly energy-sapping heat and humidity, before diving for cover from a particularly violent storm in the beautiful ridge top village of St Anna.
From the comfort of the Inn, I watched as the outdoor furniture got blown across the street and in to the nearby fields! Its almost 2 weeks since this wild weather struck and it has rained on me everyday now. But after the storms at least the air is much cooler (the roads have steam coming from them) and I enjoyed the 15km left to the very pleasant town of Feldbach.
Ptuj, along with Piran, and to a lesser extent Skofa Loka are the real stand out medieval attractions of Slovenia. Hence I would have loved to have stayed longer, especially because of the great campsite and nearby 50m swimming pool, but time was not on my side and I had to keep going.
Reluctantly I set out north along the river towards Marribor and immediately got rained upon. Yawn! I supposedly followed a recommended bicycle route, but (for the benefit of others to follow) it was rubbish, especially the last 10 km in to Marribor.
Thanks to (my SatNav) TomTom, I found a great little route for the 15 km amble in to town along footpaths and footbridges, busy with Sunday morning walkers and runners.
At one village along the way, I passed an exhibit celebrating coal; a reminder of what lay beneath the vineyards. Now that coal has been labelled the bad boy of global climate change, I wondered how long the exhibit will last?
After wandering around the attractive and near-deserted Celje old town, there then followed another rather comical search for accommodation similar to yesterday. Without a guide book and with the Tourist Information office closed on Sunday, I only had a leaflet listing accommodation addresses. One joint calling itself the ‘Hotel Grandee’ and wanting €60, turned out to be in an industrial park with exclusive views of the the Renault dealership! Another was in what looked like a block of council flats. And another looked so grim I didn’t even go inside.
The deserted and apparently empty Youth Hostel was -according to the manager who I called on the phone- booked solid. In desperation I cycled up a hill out of town to a ‘Penzion Retreat’. Well, it turned out to be a stunning 17th century monastery , newly renovated to accommodate senior citizens and travelling lost souls such as myself For €20 I got a room next to the church bell tower (saves having to set the alarm!) with exclusive views of the city, and a slap up dinner and breakfast. Thank God for the Church!
Brother Slogfester’s new abode:
Celje’s big tourists draw card is its large near-intact medieval castle, perched high above the city on steep hill. As I slogged my way up the c. 20% track, hard work even on a pannier-less Zip, I felt for the generations of peasants who had to lug the nobility’s groceries up! But the views were stunning and the castle a real gem.
Once again however, my afternoon (and coffee and cake) was rudely cut short by the now familiar and tedious storms approaching.
I retired to the monastery and prayed for better weather!
After a crap nights sleep (note to self, check there isn’t a rock band playing in the square opposite before checking in to an otherwise nice little hotel), during which the weight police swooped at 2am (just why did I bring a woolly hat? It and another 1.1kg sent home), I headed off East with the intention of making some quick miles. First stop was Kamnik, a lovely little town set amongst the Alps foothills with an attractive high street. Worth a second look.
I then headed along a beautiful and quiet valley road, first upwards to the head of the valley, over a small pass, and then down in to another even more picturesque steep sided valley, with attractive villages either side. Beautiful scenery, fantastic riding
Despite my late start, I was making good progress, my target now being the ancient town of Celje in central Slovenia. But by late afternoon the skies were growing very dark and I could see a huge storm approaching from the Alps to the north. A national camping guidebook said that that there were not 1, but 3 camping grounds 15 km to the West of Celje right on my route, so I decided to head for them and set up camp before the storms hit. The first site simply didn’t exist (someone had forgotten to take down the sign posts), the second was derelict, full of mozzies and no toilets, and the third was about the size of a tennis court with 3 caravans already on it! Sadly, this has been the case in most of Slovenia; actual camping sites are rare compared to much of Europe.
So, with the sky now black, rather reluctantly I checked into a 1971 Yugoslav-era ‘Sports Hotel’ which had all the looks and glamour of -well- anything that came out of that era. Ominously I appeared to be the only guest, but it really wasn’t as bad as I feared and the staff -as ever in Slovenia- were very friendly and helpful. You just had to ignore the concrete and watch out for the hot water taps plumbed the wrong way round!
Despite my prayers for better weather, it rained hard all night and the morning was overcast and muggy, so I knew I had to get going early to beat the rain.
The first 25 km were a brilliant rollercoaster along country lanes, with lots of short sharp hills. But the engine is finely starting to fire on nearly all cylinders, so I made short work of them all
Unfortunately, the fun ended when -at the same time- I hit the main roads and the rain started. I tried ducking for cover at several ‘restaurants’ but none actually served any food! In desperation (honest) I had a liquid lunch
The skies cleared for a little while and with now wobbly legs I headed off to the village of Ptuska Gora, site of the stunning wall sculpture ‘Virgin Mary the Protector’ in St James Church, a gothic masterpiece that impressed even my church-soaked agnostic senses.
I then descended in to Slovenia’s only significant flat lowland and enjoyed the fast spin in to Ptuj (pronounced as if you were spitting the word!). Just across the river from the town I found my first campsite that actually existed and was open!
I was immediately befriended by my next door neighbour in a caravan, who was dead chuffed that he had cycled (sans panniers) 8 km further than me today and insisted I join him and his wife for drinks and food
Days like this are what its all about.
A 12 km cruise along beautiful Lake Bohinj and its (glaciated) outflow valley, and then up a steady c. 10% shaded and cool 15 km climb to a 1300 m pass. After a quick coffee on top, I then enjoyed a wonderfully scenic descent along lush sub-alpine ridges and through picture postcard villages…. In the sunshine
It was then a wind assisted long cruisey shallow descent along a steep sided forested valley to my final destination Skofja Loka, a picturesque medieval town I’d stopped for lunch 4 days a go on my way up to the alps. I checked in to a lovely little penzion and the heavens opened
The weather and time have meant that I have had to drop my plans for circumnavigating the Julian (Slovenian) Alps. I also feared that traffic would be heavy as there is essentially only one road around. So Plan B- get up high (ish) while the sun was shining in the morning and get down before the thunderstorms hit. It worked!
Rather than take the main valley road west between (Lake) Bled and (Lake) Bohinj, I ascended the ridges to the north and climbed to 1213m through the forests. This was my first long climb and after being sick and not riding for a week, it was hard yakka. Never less than 10%, in parts the road hit 18% and more.
At 10%, Zip’s lardy arse hurts. At 20% it feels like you’ve hit a brickwall (see box)
Calling all (mathematical) nerdy Geeks
I know you’re out there. Indeed, some of you work for CERN.
How many more donuts does it take to cycle up a hill with a heavy bike? My brain is oxygen starved at the moment, and its -cough- a few years since I did Applied Math, so your help is needed. Lets keep it simple. How many kjoules/Kcal (I’ll convert to donuts later) does it take for my not so svelte 80kg to climb 10 km at 10% with a 7 kg vs a 40 kg bike? I know with wind resistance, above a certain speed, the power (watts) required to go 1kph faster is the cube right? Or something like that. So what’s it for weight and gradient. Feels like every extra kg and/or %, effort exponentially increases? Or am I just being a wuss?
A Dunkin Donut token worth $10 for the first correct answer.
But the reward for all my hard work cycling through beautiful unspoiled sub-alpine forest and pasture, rather like France’s Jura mountains. Unfortunately the nearby cows and recent rain meant that I was accompanied the whole way up by a cloud of flies
I then descended in to the finest example of a u-shaped glaciated valley I have seen since school geography field trips to north Wales. Would have had my old geog teacher positively salivating!
Just in time before the heavens opened, I bumped in to a fantastic restaurant and refuelled on the house special of suckling of pig. Oink
Thankfully it was then a roll down to the lake where I checked in to a lovely penzion right at the head of the valley. My plans for camping having been ditched as it was now REALLY raining.
Lake Bohinj:
So the only thing to do in such weather is go see the waterfalls, appropriately known as slap in Slovenian. And they didn’t disappoint.
I needn’t have hurried in the end, Mr Federer took his time to say the least! But a golden moment for him and for little old Switzerland as another of theirs (Fabian Cancellara) currently holds the coveted Yellow Jersey.
