Grant's Prague Bike Blog

Taking Our Pick

2009-11-30T11:02:00.002+02:00

The Czech countryside is a giant free fruit basket.

Man, that was one sweet pear.

Stewart and I were in an orchard somewhere between Husinec and Vetrušice, and we were amazed. Delicious apples and pears just dropping to the ground. What a waste. We decided to do a little harvesting of our own.

Pears for the taking.

I must have eaten about six or seven small pears. Lovely little things, and so tasty. I even threw a bunch into my backpack for later. Stewart did the same.

We've always said (like the first time we stumbled across this orchard) that if you were homeless and hungry in Prague, all you'd have to do is head out to the countryside and there's a banquet in the bushes and trees -- fruits and berries everywhere.

Crossing the Vltava on the ferry in Roztoky.

On this ride, I met Stewart at the ferry crossing at Roztoky. I had ridden from my house in Černý Vůl (past the ruins of our beloved Koliba, with no rebuilding in evidence), and he came down from his home higher up on the hill in Roztoky.

We hauled our bikes onto the ferry and crossed the Vltava as a silvery sun sliced through the gathering clouds.

We decided to head up the trail toward Kralupy, but neither of us had the time to make it to the Marina Vltava (our new replacement for Koliba) for a beer.

Along the way we passed a creepy pub/snack bar dedicated to the beloved Czech stop-motion animated characters Pat and Mat. Maybe it was just the fact that it was deserted and cold, but the whole place felt weird and slightly dangerous. U Pedophilia, if you get my drift.

Instead, we headed up the steep, winding road into the hills above Klecany, marveling at our ability to carry on a conversation as we climbed, something we'd have been hard-pressed to do a few years ago. We still laugh at some of the hills that used to give us problems but which today seem like speed bumps. (Except for the Hill of Doom. That one is still a monster and always will be.)

(Click here to see a map of our entire ride.)

At the top of the hill in Klecany, we linked up with a trail that cut across to Vetrusice and then further still, across fields and forests, to the ridge above Dol.

In Vetrušice, we came across a beautifully done statue, carved from a tree trunk, of Boreas, the Greek god of the north wind.

Boreas.

It's an amazing downhill ride from the ridge above Dol to the Bee Institute, on a steep, rocky, leaf-upholstered trail that winds down and down and down and leaves you gasping for breath at the bottom. I barely kept myself in the saddle at some points.

The ride down into Dol is full of hidden ruts and rocks and roots and it's fantastic.

From this point, we decided to head further north and have a beer at a pub we knew in Dolany. Sadly, once we got there, we found it was closed. Too late in the season, I guess.

Damn.

We headed back upriver toward Prague, passing infamous Baker's Falls, the afternoon waning, the light fading. And us, pivo-less.

The sun sets as we head down the east side of the Vltava, back toward Prague.

At Řež, we crossed the pedestrian bridge back over to the west side of the river, and then walked our bikes on a narrow, largely unrideable trail next to the river and just below the railroad tracks. It's the same trail where Rob and I found a dead boar, probably hit by a train and flung down the bank.

It's an unpleasant stretch of path.

Twilight reflections on the Vltava.

If only someone would spend some money to extend the bike trail from Úholičky all the way to Řež. The trail from Roztoky to Úholičky is a wondrous thing and highly recommended.

And it was that trail that we picked up in Úholičky and took all the way back to Roztoky. Our plan? A ride-ending drink at Hospůdka Zvířátka (Little Animal), in Roztoky, which pours a wonderfully creamy half-liter of one of my favorite beers, Černá Hora.

And that's just what we did. In fact, we had two.

And then we went out separate ways.

What a nice little run that was.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 38.5 kilometers
Maximum speed: 35.1 kph
Time on the bike: 3.59.44
Pivo Index: 2
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 738.5 kilometers

Shhhh! What Do You Think This Is, A Pub?

2009-11-19T12:07:00.024+02:00

A still-life from the Smallest Pub In The World (a.k.a. SPITW).

I was sitting in the grass at the Smallest Pub In The World in Úholičky, waiting for my good pal Stewart Moore to arrive for a ride, when my iPhone chimed with a text message.

It was James Gogarty, an old riding buddy, with a warning.

If you're out and about on your bikes stay clear of the fields or you will feel like the vietcong on the run with freakish amount of hunters out there.

We are indeed out on bikes. No hunters yet but thanks for heads up. Cheers.

No sooner had I hit the send button than two hunters and a dog walked in front of me. One of the hunters was carrying two dead pheasants.

Whereabouts are you?

Úholičky. World's Smallest Pub.

So I plan to stop for my first beer at Okoř at 3. Depending on your constitutions, it would be great to have one with the two of ya.

We had a plan.

It was a mild but depressingly gray day, the sky the color of wet cement, the clouds as low as a slow worm's belly.

The ruins of the 14th-century Okoř castle, enveloped in fog.

Stewart arrived, dripping sweat from the long slog up to the SPITW from the river.

We headed back toward Velké Přílepy and then to Noutonice, picking up one of our favorite trails that heads down into the valley behind the castle at Okoř.

I love that trail, but I was a bit trepidatious about taking it, what with all the hunters around. By this time, we'd heard a few shotgun blasts echoing through the woods. But we were talking loudly and we were dressed brightly, so I figured we'd be OK.

I can report that we did not get shot.

(For a map of our complete route on this day, click here.)

By this time, though, the fog had started to creep in, the ruins of Okoř castle looking like some fantastical movie set.

We rolled up to the lovely Family Hotel Okoř, where James was already nursing a beer at the picnic table outside. (We must have drunk about 500 beers at that table by now.)

We ordered some soup and drank a few beers and sat outside and laughed and talked and laughed some more. It was great to catch up with James after so many months.

I also got to chat in broken Czech and English with a guy who had stopped at the hotel with his 1956 Jawa motorcycle, made in Czechoslovakia. It was a thing of beauty. So many lovely design elements to pore over. Apparently the guy used to work as a technician for BMW and refurbished the motorbike himself.

Extremely cool.

A 1956 Jawa. Love that front fender!

It was starting to get dark (or darker, I should say) and we were starting to get cold, so we settled the bill and decided to head to another pub. Inside, this time. We figured we'd head back to the SPITW, which has a cozy fireplace.

Along the way, we cycled past misty ponds and on roads that disappeared into the thick fog just ahead of us. Magical.

Stewart (left) and James and some beer and some soup.

At the SPITW, we found a fire in the fireplace, a friendly barkeep, and no one else around. We ordered a round of beers and bourbons and got to talking and drinking. One bourbon led to another, and a few locals started to wander in. And before we knew it, we were being told by the lady bartender to shush. She did it all friendly like, with a smile, but she still asked us to shush.

Told to keep it down in a Czech pub!

We didn't know whether to laugh or get angry. I think we found ourselves feeling a little of both.

Yes, we were talking animatedly. But we were laughing and having a good time and not presenting a threat to anyone.

But as James pointed out, we were strangers talking loudly in a strange language. Perhaps if the tables had been turned, we'd have asked the table of loud Czechs speaking Czech to keep it down if we were in a bar in Boston.

But I doubt it. I know what James is saying, but I doubt it.

The scene of the crime.

But we didn't let it get us down. We drank some more and eventually tried to befriend that table of locals, to mixed success, as I recall. But I think in the end they realized we were harmless.

It was dark by this point, and time to head home.

Let me just say that we did not go gentle into that good night, after so many whiskies.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 25 kilometers
Maximum speed: 41.6 kph
Pivo Index: 3 for me
Whisky Index: Around 6 for me (from what I can remember)
Time on the bike: 2.10.15
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 700 kilometers

James in deep thought. Or deep in his cups. One or t'other.

Scenes (above and below) from a foggy ride from Okoř to Úholičky.

Whisky-A-Go-Go

2009-11-17T14:38:00.001+02:00

No finer place to enjoy a glass of bourbon than from atop The Crag in Divoká Šárka.

Went on a bike ride with Stewart the other day, and boy, were we thirsty!

Stewart headed over to my place in Černý Vůl from his place in Roztoky. We were going to head out from here for a little change in scenery. We usually meet up in Úholičky (about halfway between our homes), but we invariably end up on many of the same trails and roads.

We were looking for a little variety.

Stewart arrived, I hopped on my steed, and off we went.

To Statenice.

From my house, that's about 1 kilometer or so. Two at the most.

That's when we stopped for our first beer.

The first beers of the day, from the pub in Statenice.

I did it for Stewart. I hadn't ridden enough to deserve a beer, but he'd cycled some seven or eight kilometers to get to my house, and he was parched. I couldn't be rude and not join him, so I went inside and ordered a couple of cold ones.

Trails upholstered in autumn leaves (above and below) in the forest near Predni Kopanina.

I used to think that a beer was a good way to reward myself during or after a tough ride. Now, I think I've convinced myself that it's a perfect way to begin a ride. It was a damp and cold and overcast day, and the beer put a positive spin on things right away. I also find myself able to tackle tough climbs when I've had one or two.

The beer gives me energy. Or courage.

From the pub in Statenice, we climbed immediately into the forest leading to Přední Kopanina. The woods there are crisscrossed by a wonderful maze of trails, as I wrote about recently. Some go up. Some go down. All are beautiful. Many of them are quite challenging.

We were heading up to the top of the ridge line, toward the tall stone cross known as Sv. Juliana.

We cycled on trails upholstered with leaves of orange and yellow. And we climbed and we climbed until our lungs ached and our thighs burned and we had reached the cross.

Time for more refreshments? Amen.

We dismounted and we decanted. A flask of Famous Grouse that Stewart had smuggled along in his backpack, that is. The water of life breathed new life into our muscles and refreshed our souls.

As we drank, a couple of menacing military helicopters flew low overhead, their destinations and missions unknown.

From there, it was another two or three kilometers to Přední Kopanina and Restaurace U Housliček, one of our favorite watering holes in these parts.

We ordered another beer, sat outside, and I cracked open a thermos of chicken soup I'd brought. Not sure which one tasted better.

Sated, yet again, we headed on a familiar trail across some farmer's fields toward our old stomping grounds, the park known as Divoká Šárka. Stewart and I used to ride through Divoká Šárka a couple of time each week when both of us lived in Prague 6. But we don't get over there very often nowadays.

(For a map of our entire route, click here.)

Here's an unlikely scene. Stewart riding into traffic on a precarious path along the highway between Přední Kopanina and Divoká Šárka. It was a very short stretch, but I don't fancy riding it again.

In the end, we cycled up to what we call The Crag, a dramatic rocky outcropping high above the valley that snakes through the park. It's a lovely spot, with sweeping views in all directions. The sun was trying to peek out of the thick clouds by this point, but it was still damp and cold.

The sun tries to break through the cloud cover, seen from atop The Crag.

Time for another wee dram. This time of Jim Beam, from a flask I had hidden in my own backpack. We sat on the rocks and looked out over creation and shared a few laughs, happy to be alive and on our bikes and feeling fine. It's a wonderful spot.

The flask emptied, it was time to get back on the bikes and head toward Nebušice. We were going to follow the trail past the cemetery and along the ridge above the village. It's a nice trail, that, but a lot more fun coming from the other direction. The way we chose on this day meant that it was all almost entirely uphill.

At the end of the ridge, we took another trail heading in the direction of Horoměřice. We crossed the village and explored some more in some forests on the way to Suchdol, crossing the highway 240 and heading down into the valley between Černý Vůl and Únětice.

By this point, I was pretty spent, I must admit (though I didn't say it out loud). I was looking forward to a hot shower and a hot meal, and I wasn't too far from home.

We parted ways, savoring the feeling that comes from pushing yourself hard on the bike. Let's call it elated exhaustion.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 22.5 kilometers
Maximum speed: 31.3 kph
Time on the bike: 4.51.03
Pivo Index: 2 each
Whisky Index: 1 flask each
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 674.5 kilometers

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

2009-11-10T21:22:00.001+02:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fall colors in Velké Přílepy.

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

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

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

But I pedaled on. Stewart was waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like riding through a huge batch of freshly baked brownies.

Mushroom Hill

2009-11-09T21:22:00.005+02:00

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

Time to do a little housecleaning and confessing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I call it Mushroom Hill.

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s exactly what I did.

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

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

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

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

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

And then I returned home.

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

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

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

Hats Off To The Danes

2009-10-24T18:31:00.003+03:00

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

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

Amazing stuff.

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

Hats off to the Danes.

Legend Of The Fall

2009-10-11T18:30:00.026+03:00

None the worse for wear.

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

Unbelievable, really.

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

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

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

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

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

The trail is lovely in spots ...

... and quite treacherous in others.

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

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

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

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

A pig farm on the way from Klecany to Kralupy.

Taking a snooze in the sun.

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

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

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

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

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

That's when he disappeared.

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

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

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

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

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

How that could possibly be, I could not fathom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Listen!

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

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

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

Wow.

That's all I can say about that ride.

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

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

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

The Canny Is Unresemblance

2009-09-28T15:52:00.004+03:00

That's Marlo on the right.

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

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

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

You be the judge!

What I Hope I Look Like 25 Years From Now

2009-09-24T21:40:00.003+03:00

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

I got a glimpse into my future the other day.

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

Let me explain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The video of the little carnival at Okoř castle.

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

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

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

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

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

Nice guy, to boot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only we'd had time for two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not In Sheep Shape

2009-09-10T20:39:00.004+03:00

We passed a couple of inquisitive sheep near Dolany.

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

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

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

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

Rob out ahead, somewhere between Tursko and Debrno.

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

Not this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We stopped. I bought three bottles.

And then I limped home.

I was spent, my legs like soggy pasta.

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

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

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

Me? See below. Pitiful.

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

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

The view at Marina Vltava.

Breaking Out Of The Doldrums

2009-09-05T21:42:00.007+03:00

Emma takes the lead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How depressing.

The ferry arrives to take us across to Klecany.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are worse ways to spend a lazy afternoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was thrilled.

It's important to support your local musicians.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flats, Hills, Gingerbread & Pain

2009-08-27T22:16:00.003+03:00

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

I was looking for an excuse not to ride.

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

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

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

I texted Stewart:

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

He was having none of it:

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

Righty-o! I replied.

The ride was on.

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

It had started to drizzle.

Then the phone rang. It was Stewart.

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

And now the new tube was flat.

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

Which I did.

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

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

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

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

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

But I did make it.

And then Stewart suggested we have a beer.

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

I said yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hot garlic soup and a cold Pilsner or two.

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

I loathe that section of the ride.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was exhausted, frankly. We both were.

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

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

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

River reflections near Kralupy.

Out Of Shape, But Back In The Saddle

2009-08-18T22:33:00.004+03:00

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

My thighs were burning. My lungs were heaving.

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

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

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

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

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

Listen!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Listen!

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

It was all I could do to limp back home.

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

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

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

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

Help Us Find Zhenya. There's A 5,000 Kc Reward

2009-08-07T11:41:00.003+03:00

UPDATE: We found Zhenya! Read more here!

We're devastated.

We've just returned from two weeks on vacation to discover that our beloved cat, Zhenya, escaped from the apartment at Radimova 17 in Prague 6, where she was being kept.

She's been gone for two weeks now, with one possible sighting.

She's a beautiful orange cat, very skittish, with gorgeously soft fur.

If you live in the general area of the Břevnov Monastery and the Střešovice neighborhoods of Prague 6, please be on the lookout.

If you find her or think you've seen her, please call me at 728-070-139, or Emma's father and stepmother at 777-855-768 or 608-248-312.

We're prepared to pay a 5,000 Kc reward.

In Bad Humors

2009-07-12T16:14:00.012+03:00

The wires in question.

Thanks to everyone who's visiting here during my time off the bike.

I hope you're finding some helpful (or at least entertaining) stuff in some of my previous posts.

I hope to be back on my bike soon.

On Friday, July 10, I spent the day in Prague's Motol hospital to have the stabilizing wires removed from the reconstructed AC joint in my left shoulder. You'll recall that I had reconstructive surgery on my shoulder at the end of May.

I thought it was going to be pretty routine, but my most recent visit ended up being one of the most sickening experiences of my life.

I was given three shots of local anesthesia in my shoulder while in my hospital room.

Then, I was wheeled into an operating theater in Motol just like my first surgery.

Then the surgeon basically reopened my old entrance wound to gain access to the wires.

At first, it didn't feel so bad. Pretty routine. I couldn't really feel anything. And my shoulder was blocked from my view, thankfully, by a large surgical blanket.

But then the pulling and tugging began.

It felt like the surgeon was trying to pull my entire skeleton through a keyhole using a pair of pliers.

It was more the feeling of what was happening rather than any searing pain.

I got very dizzy and almost passed out while he wrestled the wires out of my shoulder. I was breathing pretty hard. The whole thing took about 30 minutes or so -- a very long 30 minutes.

Both times I've been at Motol hospital for shoulder surgery, a nurse has come in and wrapped both of my legs in bandages just before going under the knife. I asked my surgeon why, and he laughed and said he didn't really know. Someone else told me it is to prevent thrombosis. I looked it up and it said "compression stockings" are often used. The bandages they put on me were wrapped pretty loosely, as you can see. Weird.

I related this story to a good friend of mine in the United States, who had shoulder surgery himself a few years back, and he was incredulous that I hadn't been given some sort of drugs to distract me while the removal of the wires occurred:

"Jesus, Grant, The doctors over there practice medicine as if it were the Middle Ages. Did they bleed you to get the bad humors out? I can understand not putting you under. Anesthesiologists have to be prepared to breathe for you if something goes hinky. But you should have been so loaded up with opiates that you'd have been cracking knock-knock jokes while they pulled out the wires. There's just no excuse for this."

All I can say is, I am glad that's over! Jeesh.

Now I'm in recovery mode again. I'll go through more physical therapy once the new stitches are removed in a week or so and I hope to be back on the bike next month, better than ever.

Thanks for hanging in there.

Taking A Break From The Bike

2009-06-04T10:18:00.004+03:00

As I briefly mentioned at the end of my last post, I had reconstructive shoulder surgery on May 27, and will be off the bike until the end of June, at least.

(Read some funny things that happened to me in the hospital here.)

So, my posts here may be few and far between until then.

I do hope to post the occasional musing, so check back, if you don't have an RSS feed.

Thanks for reading. I can't wait to get back in the saddle.

-- Grant

Along The River And Through The Woods

2009-05-30T09:48:00.001+03:00

The cycling path runs right beside the railroad tracks, and when a train roars by, it's hard not to turn into a kid again, marveling at the sight and sound.

It can now be confirmed. I have a new favorite cycling route. And I think my good friend Stewart Moore would concur.

The path basically hugs the west bank of the Vltava River and ends in the village of Nelahozeves, the birthplace of Czech composer Antonin Dvorak. I first wrote about this path a few weeks ago, which is when we first discovered it.

We liked it a lot then, too, but had begun the ride in rather unorthodox fashion by getting lost in the woods and crossing a large railroad yard in Kralupy nad Vltavou.

This time, we both started out from my house in the village of Černý Vůl, northwest of Prague, headed over to Úholičky, then up to Tursko, and then headed down through a delightful forest path/road into the town of Libčice nad Vltavou.

From there, we picked up the trail along the river. This time, I took along my Garmin Edge GPS device and mapped the route. Click on the map below to get a larger view:

View Larger Map

If you decide to follow this path yourself, don't get discouraged if you can't find it at first. Even though we'd cycled the same path fairly recently, it took us a few minutes and a few wrong turns to find the start of the path in Libčice.

But once you do, it's smooth sailing -- a dirt path affords lovely views over the Vltava, one one side, and of undulating sandstone cliffs on the other. A train track also runs close to the path, and provides a little thrill every time it passes.

It's hard not to become a kid again when the train roars past just a few meters from where you're cycling.

Our destination on this trip was Marina Vltava, one of our new favorite cycling pubs, just outside Nelahozeves. The pub has lots of outdoor seating, and plenty of bike racks. What it didn't seem to have on this day was enough wait staff.

Unlike our first visit a few weeks back, it took forever to get a beer. And I mean forever. Stewart and I almost left to find refreshment elsewhere in the village, but were persuaded to stay by our friend David Murphy, a fellow cyclist, who just happened to have pedaled to the pub himself with his young son in tow.

Prague never fails to prove the adage that it's a small world.

We finally got someone's attention and our Pilsners were served. To put a positive spin on things, I will only say that the interminable wait made them taste all the better. It was a sunny, hot day, and somehow lukewarm water from my water bottle, which always tastes like plastic, doesn't really compare to a cold beer when it comes to quenching my thirst. Weird, I know.

We chatted with David for a while, had a second beer, and then headed back home. Stewart and I both had some family chores to attend to.

Parts of the path provide a respite from the sun, leafy shade and a breeze off the river.

The ride back is a bit more challenging. The wonderful downhill run into Libčice nad Vltavou means that you've got to pedal up the same hill on the return. It's a pretty steep climb, but it's doable. I remember an ascent last summer where I rode with only one hand on the handlebars. The other hand was holding a beer bottle that I was sipping from as I cycled.

So it can't be that hard!

Although I will admit that the route from what's basically the top of the hill above Libčice to the top of the hill above Úholičky always kills me. It's not really steep, but it's long, and I guess coming on the heels of the Libčice climb makes it even worse. My thighs are always burning.

Stewart and I parted ways near Tursko.

I felt a twinge of regret. I knew it was my last ride for some time to come. I would be having shoulder surgery in a few days and would be out of commission for awhile, right in the middle of prime cycling weather.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 41 kilometers
Average speed: 15.7 kph
Maximum speed: 52.5 kph
Pivo Index: 2
Time on the bike: 2.36.17
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 400 kilometers

I often take accidental pictures when I'm cycling. It's hard to keep hold of both the handlebars and the camera, and sometimes I inadvertently take a photo. Sometimes they're kinda cool-looking.

It's inviting, but if you come across this underpass in Libčice, don't expect it to be the path. Turns out it's a dead end. It's still fun to ride through, though!

Traaiiinnnnn!

2009-05-21T22:28:00.003+03:00

Rob pedals past a field of rapeseed somewhere northwest of Prague.

Rob and I met at Titty Twister, and things got even more interesting a bit later.

Titty Twister is a music club and, I'm assuming, also a gentlemen's club in the otherwise quiet village of Horoměřice. Rob lives near Evropska boulevard in Prague, and I live in the hamlet of Černý Vůl, outside of the city, and Horoměřice is just about in the middle somewhere.

And in the middle of Horoměřice is Titty Twister.

I don't get to ride with Rob too much. Our schedules don't seem to mesh all that well, even though he is out riding almost every single day of the year. He's already logged more than 1,000 kilometers this year. As I've said before, he's the one who should be writing a bike blog. Then again, he'd have no time to ride if he had to log all those clicks on a blog.

It was good to finally link up with Rob again for a ride. The last time was in December, and the weather was decidedly different.

From Horoměřice, we followed a new path that I wrote about a few weeks back, which runs parallel to Route 240, and which slices through fields of blindingly yellow rapeseed.

That path connects to a fantastic forest trail that cuts across a ridgeline above the village of Nebušice. The last time I took this path, I ended up choosing the high road when confronted with a fork in the road. This time, at Rob's urging, we took the low road.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood ...

The left-hand path was an exhilarating downhill run through the forest (above), ending up at a beautiful cemetery hidden in the woods near Nebušice (below).

What a fantastic downhill trail through the pines and oaks. An amazing mountain bike run that spits you out at high speed at a lovely, secret cemetery deep in the woods. Secret to me, at least. I've passed through Nebušice hundreds of times and never knew this cemetery existed.

From there, it was up to Přední Kopanina, then to Tuchoměřice, and then out to Knezeves, and then we just decided to pedal around, not heading anywhere in particular, really.

We passed through, I think, Makotrasy, Lidice, and Beloky before we found ourselves -- after we got a little adventurous -- in the middle of a field somewhere near Stredokluky, trying to get to Okoř, where we wanted to have lunch.

The only problem was that the trail -- or what seemed like a trail -- ended, and we didn't feel like backtracking.

I thought I knew where I was, sort of. It turns out I didn't have a clue.

We came across some railroad tracks, which had to lead somewhere promising. Right? The only problem was that a narrow railroad bridge stood between us and where I was sure we needed to be.

"You up for a little 'Stand By Me' action?" I asked Rob. ("Any of you guys know when the next train is due?" "TRAINNNNNN!!")

He was game, if not overly enthusiastic, so we walked our bikes across the railroad bridge, hoping that a train didn't suddenly appear. Theoretically, I guess we could have stood to the side of the bridge and there would have been enough room for the train to pass without squashing us, but we didn't want to put the theory to the test.

A few minutes after we walked our bikes across this narrow railroad bridge (above), a local train zipped by us (below) and crossed the same span. Whew!

Crossing that bridge -- short though it was -- got my adrenaline pumping, I must admit.

Especially when, maybe two or three minutes after we had crossed, a local train zipped by and crossed the same bridge, traveling at a decent clip.

Alrighty then!

Once across the bridge, we entered another farmer's field, which connected us to a road we both knew well near Tuchoměřice, which led us eventually into Okoř.

I had a couple of beers, and Rob did, too, along with some grilled salmon, all at the Family Hotel Okoř, one of my all-time favorite spots. (If you haven't eaten there yet, what are you waiting for?!)

From Okoř, it was back to Statenice, and then, for me, home to Černý Vůl. Rob had a bit more distance to cover to get home

It was a beautiful day, spent with a good friend, with good food and drink, fantastic trails, and a little daredevil moment thrown in for good measure. What's not to like?

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 43 kilometers
Average speed: 15.2 kph
Maximum speed: 49.7 kph
Pivo Index: 2
Time on the bike: 2.49.15
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 359 kilometers

Show Me The Way To The Next...

2009-05-16T21:23:00.002+03:00

Every year at this time, it seems as if I can never take too many pictures of the fields of rainslicker-yellow rapeseed that paint the landscape around Prague. (For more, scroll further down!)

At first flash of Eden, we race down to the sea.
Standing there on freedom's shore.
Waiting for the sun
Can you feel it now that spring has come.
-- The Doors, "Waiting For the Sun"

Seems like we're always waiting for the sun here in Prague.

The spring started out on a positive note -- lots of sun and unseasonably warm -- but now it's turned cool and wet, and it seems as if it will never be hot and sunny again.

I've been thinking a lot about The Doors lately. Been watching a DVD, The Doors' "Soundstage Performances," picked up for me for a few dollars on the street here in Prague by my friend Rob. I've always been a huge fan, and this DVD contains footage of the band that I'd never seen before, which is saying something.

So it was funny when I reached into the drawer where I keep all my cycling clothes and pulled out my Doors cycling jersey, purely by chance. I bought it last year, or maybe the year before, during some closeout sale at Bike Nashbar, but had never worn it. Maybe it felt too tight. (Read: I was too fat.)

Modeling my Doors cycling jersey, while soaking up the last rays of the setting sun.

Anyway, I slipped it on, and it felt pretty good, so I wore it during a short ride I took the other day, just to enjoy one of those days of sunshine I mentioned earlier.

I started out from my home here in Černý Vůl, west of Prague, headed up to Horoměřice, across the fields of rape I mentioned in an earlier post, and then cut across a really nice path through the forest, toward the village of Nebušice. The path emerged on the Tuchoměřická road, which leads down into the village, or up toward the village of Přední Kopanina.

I headed up toward Přední Kopanina.

You see, there's a pub there that I know, U Housliček.

I didn't think I'd need it, so I'd neglected to bring a water bottle with me, and I was parched.

Yes, a beer would do the trick nicely. I didn't really deserve one. I hadn't earned it. I hadn't cycled all that far.

But sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

I stopped for a beer. Solo style. I sat in the sun and sipped my Gambrinus and all was right with the world.

My fluids suitably replenished, I climbed back in the saddle and headed toward Tuchoměřice, past the spot where we watched Air Force One come in low for a landing last month, and then passing the hulking shell of the Galleria Moda along the way. It's a gigantic mall that was being built near the airport, but construction abruptly halted, due to the economic crisis, I'm assuming.

It's a sad sight to see in some ways, and a happy one in others. Do we really need another shopping mall in Prague? Especially one that would attract more cars to the country roads that we now ride our bikes on in relative peace?

The empty shell of Galleria Moda, between Přední Kopanina and Tuchoměřice.

From there, it was down into Tuchoměřice, then through Statenice, and back home.

Uneventful, perhaps.

Therapeutic? You betcha.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 21 kilometers
Average speed: 15.5 kph
Maximum speed: 42.5
Pivo Index: 1
Time on the bike: 1.18.46
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 316 kilometers

A field of rapeseed between Horoměřice and Nebušice (above and below).

A Family Affair

2009-05-13T08:37:00.002+03:00

Daisy and Emma on the cycling path along the Vltava River.

It was a delightful first.

I went on a bike ride a few days ago with Daisy, and with Emma, who’s 8 (about to turn 9). It was Emma’s first real cycling excursion, and she did great.

She learned to ride her bike early last year (I wrote about that momentous occasion in a previous blog post), and has been riding quite actively since, but only around the house and near neighborhood.

Last weekend, we decided to load up the bikes and head down to the Vltava. Our plan was to park the car on Papirenska, not far from the zoo, and then ride down Papirenska, through Stromovka park, and cross over the suspension bridge to the zoo. From there, we’d head downriver to the ferry crossing at Podbaba, cross the river on the cute little ferries, which we thought Emma would get a kick out of, and then head back to the car along Route 241, which has a nice paved cycling path on the river side of the highway.

This Trojan horse along the river is actually an art gallery. I first noticed it in June 2007. Check out an early photo here.

Instead, we crossed the bridge to the zoo, but decided to head upriver instead. I’d forgotten about this pretty little stretch of paved cycling path that hugs the east side of the Vltava and continues all the way down to the Prague suburb of Liben. ( I also wrote about this route in more detail in a previous post.)

There are no cars, only pedestrians or cyclists. It’s level ground. There are nice views of the river. And there’s a pub about halfway down with grilled sausages, beer and juice. Don’t get much better than that.

Emma was great.

I forgot to bring along my odometer, but I’d estimate we rode a total of 10 kilometers or so. She kept right up and really enjoyed herself. She even made it up a very short but very steep hill that leads from Papirenska into Stromovka.

It may have been the first big bike ride that we’ve all done together, but I hope it won’t be the last.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 10 kilometers
Pivo Index: 2
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 295 kilometers

Emma completes her first real cycling trip in style.

Not Bad For An Old Guy

2009-05-06T18:45:00.002+03:00

The Hill of Doom behind me, another beer in front.

I felt it was something I had to do.

Sort of like going to the dentist.

You know it’s probably going to be painful, but it’ll only be more painful if you delay the visit.

OK, wait. It’s really not like going to the dentist. Because choosing not to climb the dreaded Hill of Doom is always the best option. If you value your lungs, that is.

Delaying a visit to the Hill of Doom is what sane people do.

So forget my analogy about the dentist.

View Larger Map
Here's the route I took, including the spur that is the Hill of Doom.

Climbing the Hill of Doom is actually more like a spinal tap, truth be told. Awful to think about beforehand; painful while it’s being done; still hurts after it’s over.

The Hill of Doom has haunted me for three or four years. It’s a loose dirt and gravel path that begins near the top of the road V Šáreckém údolí near the park known as Divoká Šárka and heads up toward the Prague neighborhood of Hanspaulka.

I turned 48 on April 24, and I wanted to see if I still have what it takes to make it to the top. I’ve climbed many a hill over the past few years of writing this blog, but none compares to the HoD.

As I wrote in 2007:

Somehow, the Hill of Doom has became some sort of psychological bogeyman. It taunts me and insults me and dares me to scale it. It probably doesn't look like much to most people, and really good cyclists probably summit it every day without giving it a second thought.

Not me.

It is a monster.

It was a gorgeous spring day in Prague, and I was riding alone.

Instead of the usual route to the HoD, which would take me from my home in the hamlet of Černý Vůl, to Únětice, Roztoky, along the river toward Prague, and then up V Šáreckém údolí, I decided to be a bit more adventurous and try to find a new route, by cutting across my neighboring village of Horoměřice.

In the end, I saw my own village and the surrounding countryside in a new light.

In unassuming little Černý Vůl, I passed a huge array of solar panels that were connected, I'm assuming, to the house adjacent. Something must be going on here, because I don't believe one house requires that many solar panels. But what do I know? Perhaps they're selling energy back to the power company.

It was quite an incongruous sight.

Solar panels, or some sort of secret extraterrestrial communications site?

From there, I cut across a farmer's field and then headed toward Horoměřice. I really wanted to find trails, not roads. I wanted to avoid cars as much as possible. So at my earliest opportunity, I headed off the road and toward what seemed like a path.

Turns out it took me to a lovely pond in Horoměřice that I didn't even know existed. Lovely willow trees dipped down into the water, and a duck or two quacked at my arrival. A few empty kiosks surrounding the pond hinted that it might be open during the summer for various events.

A tranquil pond in Horoměřice that I didn't even know existed (above and below), and just a kilometer or two from my house. The rewards of exploring unknown paths.

From there, I crossed busy Highway 240 and headed out toward the farmer’s field, trying to find a path that would connect me with Nebušice. After a few false starts, I discovered a fantastic dirt road used by tractors and such that ran along 240 and cut through fields of just-blossoming rape.

I found this fantastic path through some fields above Horoměřice (above), which afforded views over the rapeseed fields to a line of fruit trees (below).

At the end of the road, instead of connecting again with 240 and its cars, I became even more adventurous, cutting through some meadows in a search for some way through the woods that would eventually lead me to V Šáreckém údolí.

I did find a way down, although it wasn’t really a trail – just a thick tangle of “stickers,” as we used to call them as kids, and other unpleasant shrubbery. But it did connect me with a trail that I already knew and that would lead me to Nebušice and V Šáreckém údolí and eventually to...

The Hill of Doom. (Cue "O Fortuna" from "Carmina Burana.)

There it was. We hadn’t seen each other in quite awhile -- I think I cycled all of last year without once attempting to climb her -- but she hadn’t changed a bit.

Harmless-looking to the uninitiated – downright inviting, even -- its first few meters disappearing into beautiful forest.

The entrance to the Hill of Doom looks harmless enough. But it is truly evil.

I decided not to linger too long at the bottom. I didn’t want to psyche myself out. I took a few deep breaths, a few swigs of water, geared down, and set off for the three-quarter-of-a-kilometer climb.

It takes about 50 meters before the HoD really shows itself. It angles sharply up, and I can already feel that I’m doomed.

There are three distinct sections of the HoD, three sections where the severity of the gradient increases so dramatically that each time it feels as if my lungs are going to explode inside my chest and extrude through my mouth.

I am always seconds away from quitting, my brain trying to convince my heart that the pain is not worth it. The lactic acid is pooling in my thighs and calves. I have asthma, and I feel on these types of climbs that I can never quite catch my breath.

I don’t quit, though.

I conquer it.

I make it to Nad Sarkou, the street in Hanspaulka that represents the summit. You can't go any higher.

And I remember why I skipped the Hill of Doom all of last year. My throat is literally raw from breathing so hard. It’s painful to swallow.

Listen!

I rest for quite some time up there -- an old man, to be sure, but an old man who’s proud to say he reached the top of the Hill of Doom in his 48th year.

I ride back down for the pleasure of coasting down what cost me so dearly going up, and then head down V Šáreckém údolí to Lysolaje, ride along the river to Roztoky (where I pause to watch some men ironically burning parts of the late, great Koliba in its own fireplace), and then back home to Černý Vůl along my favorite trail through Únětice.

Once back in Černý Vůl, further indulging my adventurous streak, I decide to have a beer at my local pub, U Cerneho Volu (At The Black Bull).

Now, I’d been there once before, on September 1, 2007, the day we moved into our house, and I wasn’t impressed.

A pretty grubby spot, although the food was cheap and the beer even cheaper.

But the pub was closed last year for six months or so for reconstruction, and I’d learned in the interim that the pub is actually quite historic, dating back to 1480.

Over 500 years of pulling pints in the same location. Gotta respect that.

(I also noticed, for the first time, a very old stone marker near the pub ith a red Soviet star in the center, commemorating -- I am guessing -- soldiers from the village who were killed in World War II.)

I parked my bike at one of the newly installed picnic tables outside and headed in for a beer.

The inside didn’t look much different, to be honest, but the barkeep was friendly, and he poured me a cold Krusovice for 19 CZK, less than $1.

I sat outside in the sun and inhaled my beer and then ordered another.

It was my birthday, after all.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 28 kilometers
Average speed: 14.5 kph
Maximum speed: 41.1 kph
Pivo Index: 2
Time on the bike: 1.55.38
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 285 kilometers

The humble but historic pub in the hamlet of Černý Vůl.

Isn't it ironic? Burning the charred remains of the recently torched Koliba in Koliba's own fireplace, the only thing still standing.

Tunnel Visions

2009-04-27T08:13:00.001+03:00

Stewart took this cool shot of the train rushing past us -- and our bikes -- in the tunnel.

Have we found a new cyclists’ paradise? Even a new Koliba?

Well, nothing can replace the late, great Koliba, but Marina Vltava comes pretty close.

Stewart and I discovered Marina Vltava on a recent ride down the east side of the Vltava, the river which snakes its way through the center of Prague.

We met up at The Smallest Pub In The World in Úholičky. And instead of going our usual route through Tursko and Holubice before ending up in our usual Okoř for a beer or two, we decided to be a bit more daring.

Stewart had been wanting to ride down the river to Nelahozeves, a village noted as being the birthplace – on September 8, 1841 -- of Czech composer Antonin Dvorak. Dvorak lived in the village until the age of 12. The village is also dominated by a 16th-century castle owned by the Lobkowicz family.

Whenever Stewart had mentioned it, the trip had always seemed too big to bite off for an afternoon ride. It seemed I always had something I needed to do later in the day, and was hesitant to commit to what seemed like a big bike trip.

In this case, though, I had just come back from eight days of eating and drinking in Bulgaria, and was eager for some exercise.

So we set off for Nelahozeves.

From Úholičky, we rode up the hill to Tursko, and then took some back roads in the direction of Kralupy nad Vltavou.

Wanting to get off the roads as soon as possible, we followed what at first seemed to be a promising trail. Unfortunately, it soon deteriorated into brambly overgrowth, and spit us out above a gigantic train yard on the outskirts of Kralupy.

Stewart heads bravely down an unknown path, which, it turns out, led to a gigantic railroad yard (below).

The 20 or so active train tracks stood between us and our destination, but it looked particularly inhospitable to cyclists. We didn’t want to backtrack, though. We wanted to forwardtrack, so to speak.

We climbed down from the forest, and saw a man in a booth who appeared to be overseeing the train yard. We thought he’d yell at us, or tell us to turn back, but instead he nodded his head, indicating that it was OK for us to cross.

We hoisted our bikes onto our shoulders and did just that, as quickly as we could. A train crossed on a track behind us shortly after we’d passed. Very cool.

Once across, we entered Kralupy, then hooked up with the river path on the west side of the Vltava, heading north.

And what a beautiful cycling path it is! One of the best trails either of us have ridden in quite some time. Smooth dirt, no roots or rocks, with large trees shading the way, the river close by on the right, and tall cliffs on the left.

Suddenly, we look up to the left, and there are some spectacular sandstone cliffs looming over us, pockmarked with rounded caves and all sorts of holes and indentations, eroded over the centuries. Very much like the rock formations near Kokorin, where we rode last May.

We stopped to take a closer look, and discovered a much larger tunnel into the rock, which led us to two sets of train tracks passing through the mountain. The tunnel was long and dark and cool. A couple of local kids were playing in the caves and running along the tracks.

We waited eagerly for a train to pass, but none came. Of course, as soon as we hopped back on our bikes and headed off, a train whooshed through the tunnel.

A couple of local kids hang out in a sandstone cave above the train tracks. Am I the only one who can see some sort of mutated monster face in this picture?

Just up from the tunnel, we came upon a most inviting-looking spot – Marina Vltava, a beautiful pub, restaurant and hotel, situated right on the river. We stopped for a couple of reasonably priced cold ones – Gambrinus for 23 CZK ($1.13) for a half-liter, Pilsner Urquell for 33 CZK ($1.62). We splurged on the Pilsner.

I can think of worse places to stop and have a beer.

This may become our new favorite ride. A beautiful riverside trail, and a lovely pub at the end of it all. What more does a cyclist need?

Marina Vltava.

Just up from Marina Vltava was our destination -- the village of Nelahozeves, where the beautiful Lobkowicz castle rises over the river. I actually thought the castle was Dvorak’s house, but Chez Dvorak actually turns out to be somewhere else in the village. I’ll have to check it out on my next visit. I’m sure I’ll be back.

The Lobkowicz castle in Nelahozeves.

It was back down the trail to the train tunnel, where we hung out for a few more minutes, hoping for a trainspotting. The kids were still there, running on the tracks through the black tunnel. A few seconds later, a train appeared down the tracks. The kids must have known the schedule, and were playing a little game of chicken.

The kids made it to safety, and the train roared past right in front of us. What a thrill! We felt like a couple of kids ourselves.

Speaking of Dvorak and trains, I found a great story about Nelahozeves and Dvorak on the Radio Praha website. It contains this passage, which I’m pretty sure is referencing the very tunnel where Stewart and I were hanging out:

"It's quite well-known that Dvorak throughout his life was very fond of keeping track of train schedules, and going to see the trains even, when they came and left. For some reason it was fascinating to him."

So he was a 19th century trainspotter.

"Yes, you could say that. But I think what's more interesting about the train station and the train line here in Nelahozeves, is the fact that when Dvorak was born it wasn't here. There was no railroad here. It was constructed during his childhood and it was a very big event for the village of Nelahozeves, and Dvorak was here to see it being built.

The entrance we discovered to the train tunnel just south of Nelahozeves.

"I can't resist telling one anecdote. There's a tunnel through the cliff just to the south of the village, and the workers who built it were from Italy. They were experienced in building tunnels through the Alps and came here to little Nelahozeves to build this tunnel. There is one report that after work they liked to gather around Frantisek Dvorak's butcher's shop - that's the father of the composer - and sing their Italian songs."

So, maybe Dvorak as a little boy was picking up a little bit of the Italian spirit.

"Yes, and in general it's quite surprising, when you start going below the surface of what is commonly said about Dvorak's childhood in Nelahozeves, the variety of musical experiences you could have here."

The tunnel, inside out.

Back on the trail to Kralupy, where it was our understanding that the river trail ended.

But on a whim, we decided to see for ourselves if that was true, and kept heading south on what appeared to be a trail. And the trail kept going, more or less. We had to improvise in a few spots, but sure enough, we followed a pretty nice path all the way down to Libčice nad Vltavou.

From Libčice, nestled at the bottom of a steep valley, you’re forced up a steep climb to get back to civilization. Last time I did the climb, I did it one-handed. I was holding a bottle of beer in the other hand. This time, it seemed equally tough, but I had two free hands. Go figure.

At the top of the hill, we explored a quarry for a few minutes, and then headed out on the road to Úholičky, and back home for both of us.

Consider this our new favorite ride!

Next time I’ll bring along my Garmin GPS device and map the route for all to enjoy.

RIDE STATS
Length of ride: 48.5 kilometers
Average speed: 14.5
Maximum speed: 42.5
Pivo Index: 2
Time on the bike: 3.10.09
Distance ridden so far in 2009: 257 kilometers

If the cheap beer, bright sunshine, and fantastic river path weren't enough, many trees and flowers were in full bloom.

One of the many beautiful views from the bike path along the Vltava River.

This huge, gnarled tree on the grounds of Lobkowicz castle may have been the model for the Whomping Willow in "Harry Potter."

Bikes In Bulgaria

2009-04-26T10:06:00.001+03:00

I was amused by the literalness of this bike lane in the capital, Sofia. It's cool that the city even has bike lanes.

Just returned from a week or so touring around Bulgaria with friends.

One of the things that struck me was how many people use bicycles for their daily transportation. I saw a lot of different bikes being ridden by a lot of different riders.

The very young and the very old. The fit and the fat.

It's a poor country.

I also saw lots of donkeys and horse-drawn wagons on the streets of various villages we'd pass through. So perhaps people are riding bikes because they can't afford cars.

But I like to think it's because riding a bike to the shop or to work makes perfect sense and that Bulgarians haven't yet succumbed to Western-style laziness.

I loved the funky green bike ridden by this guy in the northern city of Ruse (above and below).

I Am On Twitter

2009-04-25T12:00:00.005+03:00

Hello, everyone.

Just a quick note -- between blog posts -- to let everyone know that I am on Twitter, and tweeting away fairly regularly.

About biking. About Prague. About life.

Also recording some AudioBoos, too. (See below for a sample.)

Please check me out and follow me, if you're so inclined. It would be a pleasure to tweet in your general direction.

You can find me on Twitter at grantpodelco

Conquering The Hill Of Doom

2009-04-24T14:02:00.001+03:00

Listen!

And I'm also on Twitter. Look me up at grantpodelco