Sunday, August 31, 2014
The pedestrian suspension bridge linking Císařský Ostrov to the east side of the Vltava, where the Troja Chateau and Prague Zoo are located.
If you're reading this, and you haven't taken this bike ride, what are you waiting for?
It's not hard, it's not long, but it's fun, it's flat, and it's fantastic.
Grab your bike or rent a bike and head to Stromovka Park. Ride around the park for a bit. It's lovely. There are people walking and dogs running and kids playing, and every once in a while a train will whoosh past on the tracks that bisect the park.
From Stromovka, head towards the Vltava River, first crossing a side canal over a regular car bridge to Císařský Ostrov and then across a cool pedestrian suspension bridge that leads over the Prague Zoo. You're supposed to walk your bike across, but not everyone follows that rule, and I'll sometimes ride if there aren't too many people.
Now you're at the Troja chateau, with the Prague Zoo a few hundred meters to the north.
From here, you can either head north along the river bike path, past the zoo, and just keep going for many, many wonderful kilometers, all the way to Klecany and beyond. No cars. Just pure cycling pleasure, with quite a few little pubs along the way to stop for a cold one of whatever it is you're drinking.
Or you can do what I and Emma did a few weeks ago (and which I did on my own a few days before that). That is, head upriver, toward Prague 8 and Libeň. It's also a bike path, and it passes lots of cool sites: a whitewater kayaking course, a giant Trojan horse that's now a funky pub and music venue, a stunning new bridge that's set to open in a couple of months, boats and barges, and if you're adventurous, an abandoned sculpture park.
The Trojan Horse pub and gallery also hosts intimate concerts along the river.
At the end of the bike path is a run-down looking pub that Emma and I discovered actually sells a pretty darn good (and pretty darn huge and pretty darn cheap) burger.
You can turn around and head back, as we did, or continue on, along a bike path that runs toward Karlin or, again, if you're feeling adventurous, you can connect to Europe's Most Expensive Cycling Path.
There are no hills, no cars. No excuses, really. Ride.
Length of ride: 36 kilometers (all state combine two rides)
Average speed: 14.7 kph
Maximum speed: 31.1 kph
Time on the bike: 2 hours, 24 minutes
Pivo Index: 2
The kayak and whitewater rafting course along the Vltava. As far as I can tell, groups can book rides here.
The new Troja bridge across the Vltava, which is supposed to open to the public in October 2014, as far I can tell.
An old boat moored along the Vltava, near Liben.
One of the sports-related pieces still standing in the abandoned sculpture park, which I previously wrote about here and here.
A cold beer and a malinovka at Hospůdka U Žabáka in Libeň.
It's not gourmet, and it was pretty sloppy, but it was huge and tasty and cost 98 CZK ($4.65), as I remember.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
A man outstanding in his field. (Photo by Mark)
As Stewart and I have often said, riding a bike as an adult instantly takes you back to being a kid again.
Grabbing the handlebars changes your mindset. It changes your direction, in all meanings of that word.
Instead of that guy sitting quietly in the metro, giving your seat up for old ladies and making sure the music in your earbuds isn't so loud as to bother other passengers, your bike turns you into that guy sitting on the back of a mysterious stone statue of a Sphinx that you pass along the trail.
Instead of that guy standing patiently in a long line at the potraviny, all the while hoping that you have the coins you'll need to give the cashier the exact change so she doesn't roll her eyes at you and make a big fuss, your bike turns you into that guy zooming down a hill at full speed, more than a little recklessly, and not even wearing a helmet (see my last post, "The Joy of Riding Without a Helmet").
Instead of that guy sitting in another boring meeting at work, nodding politely, pretending to be paying attention, your bike turns you into that guy scrambling up a slippery rock face so you can squeeze your fat ass into a cool cave scooped out of undulating sandstone.
It's almost obligatory to take a shot at this bridge, with the Mělník castle in the background.
We -- that is, I, Mark, Stewart, and a new acqaintance, Jonathan -- decided to meet up last Saturday for the classic ride to Mělník. I've described it on this blog before as perhaps the perfect bike ride, and once again, it didn't disappoint.
Mark, Jonathan, and I met at the train station in Bubeneč. We hoisted our bikes aboard, destination Kralupy, picking Stewart up along the way in Roztoky.
From Kralupy, it's a wonderful ride along country roads and bike paths all the way to Mělník.
We passed fields of rain-slicker-yellow rapeseed and green young hops, sucked down some cold glasses of Holba at U Hofmannů in the unfortunately named village of Dědibaby, found someone's phone in the middle of the road and tried to return it to its rightful owner, inhaled a few burgers and a steak and few more half-liters at U Císaře in Mělník, and tried not to melt under the incessant sun.
And then, as we made our way back to Kralupy, we remembered that there is one train per hour back home, and we were devilishly close to being able to make the 6:41 p.m. But we'd have to hustle, and there would be no more beers on the ride home.
Getting our just desserts. (Photo by Mark)
At some point, Stewart and I -- flagging a bit, it must be said -- lost Mark and Jonathan somewhere up ahead. As we approached Kralupy, it didn't seem as if we had any chance in hell of making that train. Undoubtedly, we thought, Mark and Jonathan, far ahead, were already onboard.
We looked at our watches, and we pedaled, and we looked at our watches, and waited to cross a busy street, and we looked at our watches, and we raced through the back streets of Kralupy, and we looked at our watches, and we rode through the lobby of the train station (against the rules, I'm sure) and lifted our bikes up the stairs to the platform and onto the train with about 37 seconds to spare.
The train started moving.
Mark and Jonathan had missed it, we learned by SMS. They hadn't known exactly how to get to the station. Or at least the fastest way. We'd overtaken them somehow in the backstreets.
That's what you get, guys, for breaking off the pack and leaving the so-called weaker riders behind to be devoured by the wolves.
Mark and Jonathan cooled their heels with a glass of wine or two at the train station while they waited for the next train.
Hard to feel too sorry for them, really.
Length of ride: 65 kilometers
Average speed: 15 kph
Maximum speed: 47.4 kph
Time on the bike: 4 hours, 17 minutes
Pivo Index: Six
A little spelunking along the trail toward Nelahozeves.
The chateau at Veltrusy.
Creamy, cold Holba at U Hofmannů in Dědibaby.
Discussing life's weightier issues at U Hofmannů.
On top of the world in Mělník.
A burger at U Císaře in Mělník, our traditional watering hole.
I just liked the old-fashioned feel and '60s-era sign at this flower shop in Kralupy.
Rapeseed on the road to Mělník.
Stewart had a puncture at this juncture.
Off the train in Kralupy, heading to the trails. (Photo by Mark)
What it's all about. (Photo by Mark)
Jonathan goes off-road (or off-rocker).
Jonathan's panorama app accidentally produced this intriguing photo of Stewart contemplating a beer or three.
Grant, meet Jonathan. Jonathan, Grant. (Photo by Mark)
Hops. Bikes. No cars. A beer in sight. (Photo by Jonathan)
I had to. I just had to. (Photo by Mark)
A cute little holiday camp near Veltrusy. (Photo by Jonathan)
Mělník castle. (Photo by Jonathan)
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Tourist Shot #1.
I took a ride a week or two ago down to the Pivo Na Naplavce beer festival along the Vltava River, just south of the Charles Bridge.
My short ride was notable for a variety of reasons.
1. The beer festival, which featured the work of dozens and dozens of small breweries from across the Czech Republic, was phenomenal. Wonderful beer, great atmosphere, perfect weather, good food. It was exactly what the Czech Beer Festival on Letna was not but desperately needs to be.
2. My ride took me through some prime Prague tourist spots and I was able to appreciate the beauty of the city anew. Sometimes it's good to be a tourist in the place where you live.
3. And, perhaps most significantly, I decided not to wear a helmet or even to take my backpack (with its spare tube and a tire pump) with me.
As you may remember, we took a ride in Amsterdam back in October. Of course, no one wears a helmet in Amsterdam, and we didn't either. It was liberating. I felt like a kid. (We didn't know what a helmet was when I was growing up.) I experienced the true freedom of being on a bicycle, untethered. I wanted to feel that feeling again, and I did.
Some may say that drinking beer and then riding through the city without a helmet on is crazy, stupid, maybe even against the law. I can't argue with that.
I also can't argue with how great it felt to just hop on my bike and take off.
My bike was still wearing the residue of my last ride, "I Don't Like Mud Days."
Tourist Shot #2.
Tourist Shot #3.
Munchies at the beer fest.
One of my favorites.
Fried carp nuggets. Boneless and delicious.
Pivo Na Naplavce was all that the Czech Beer Festival is not.
Grilled sardines, from the good folks at Nenasyta, Food Adventure, the Prague 6 Slovenian restaurant.
Four wheels can be good, too.
Behind the scenes of a blog post. (Photo by Mark Baker)
A discerning palate. (Photo by Mark Baker)
Sunday, June 1, 2014
The author at Letna with Bike No. 3.
By Mark Baker
I saw a great video on bike theft recently on "The New York Times" website. According to the video, called "How to Catch a Bike Thief," police in San Francisco have formed a special unit to fight bike theft and employed some creative ideas to that end, including using "bait bikes" to lure thieves, hidden cameras, GPS devices, and social media.
For me, the most satisfying moment comes at the 1:20 mark, when through CCTV we see a thief make off with a bike, only to be wrestled to the ground seconds later by the police. The head of the bike-theft unit, officer Matt Friedman, chuckles while watching the thief go down hard. Sounds bad to say it, but I could probably watch that moment 50 times in a row and not get tired of it.
In the past decade or so living in Prague, I've lost at least six bikes to theft (to be fair, two bikes were stolen on trips to Poland, not in Prague). I long ago lost sympathy for anyone who would steal a bike for whatever reason, and would probably go to great lengths to try to catch a thief (even, perhaps, setting out a bait bike).
Trail of Tears
Many people don’t realize it, but finding that your bike has been stolen can set you off on an emotional roller-coaster ride. There’s the immediate surge of anger you feel toward the thief that actually seems good and healthy. That’s suddenly tamped down, though, by the realization that you’re never going to see the bike again. The prospect of recovering a stolen bike (here in Prague, and just about everywhere else) is nil. There’s no place for that anger to go and what felt like strength in the first moments, starts to feels more like impotent rage a couple minutes later.
There’s also the frustration (and boredom) of having to deal with the police and insurance company (if you’re lucky enough to have a policy) and all of the fruitless, pointless questions they ask. Make, model, color, serial number (who has that in their wallet?) This is just the start of the process. Where did you buy it? When did you buy it? Do you have the receipt? ("Yes, officer, right here in my pocket."). The police in Poland, on one occasion, even asked me to sketch out the bike on a piece of paper and
identify the angle between the crossbar and the down tube (45°? 35°? 65°??) On that occasion, the police kept me at the station for four hours filing a report -- without the slightest expectation they would ever catch the thief.
Then there are your friends -- your closest friends -- and their well meaning but maddening inability to understand your predicament.
Tell someone your bike’s been stolen and instead of sympathy you often get a barrage of questions: "Was it locked?" "Where did you leave it?" "How good was the lock?" "How long did you leave the bike unattended?" It’s as if they’re working on behalf of the bike thief and trying to find holes in your story.
(As a short aside, if you’re ever in the situation where a friend tells you his or her bike has been stolen, try hard not to make the first question, "Was it locked?" Of course it was locked. Simply say: "Sorry
to hear it. That’s really bad news.")
Maybe the toughest – and most unwelcome -- emotion is somehow related to the above. It’s the inward shame and nagging feeling that maybe you really did do something to enable the theft. "Of course that lock wasn’t strong enough." "I should never have parked the bike there." "What was I thinking?"
"What an idiot I was."
All these thoughts run through your mind over and over again, and inevitably lead you to the faulty, messed-up "realization" that somehow you’re complicit in the theft of your own bike.
It’s Not The Bike Owner’s Fault
Writing all this out now has been therapeutic and helped me to understand why, perhaps, I appreciated that "New York Times" video so much. In the video, Officer Friedman’s moral clarity is rare and refreshing in a way that possibly only a person who has lost a bike can really understand.
Simply by the way he talks and acts, you can see he knows that it’s NEVER the bike owner’s fault. It doesn’t matter where he or she parked the bike. It doesn’t matter if the lock was strong enough (or even possibly if the bike was locked at all). Theft is theft and honest people should be free to ride and park where they wish, without fear their bike will be stolen. It’s time to ditch the remorse and fight back.
Hear hear! What a welcome reminder, and I wish him and the San Francisco police department all the success in the world. I only wish now the police in Prague would get the memo (or at least see the video).
Mark Baker is a Prague-based journalist and independent travel writer. He’s co-author of the "Lonely Planet Guide to Prague and the Czech Republic." He’s been riding bikes in Prague for more than 20 years.
MISSING IN ACTION
Bike 1 (no photo)
White Trek MB
Last seen: Betlemska 1, Prague 1, in 2000
Bike 2 (no photo)
Black Cannondale MB
Last seen: Cechova 20, Prague 6, in 2002
White/Black Specialized MB
Last seen: Lodz, Poland, in 2006
Blue Scott MB
Last seen: InterContinental Hotel, Prague 1, in 2007
Gold Kona Caldera MB
Last seen: Ve struhach 22, Prague 6, in 2008
Black Kona Caldera MB
Last seen: Plotsk, Poland, in 2011
Blue Specialized Rockhopper MB
Still have it. For now.