My new scar, looking exactly like my old scar, which had healed rather nicely.
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.
The wires in question.
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.
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.
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:
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!
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
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
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).
This is an account of my cycling adventures in and around the city of Prague. Living in the Czech Republic means you see all sorts of cool stuff while you're riding -- from castle ruins to naked ladies. In addition to cycling, I also like to write and take photographs, so I hope you'll always find something interesting to read or look at here.
