Day: 15 (Oparno, CZ to Prague, CZ)
Average Speed: 17.5 km/hour (11 mph)
Distance Cycled Today: 130 km (80 Miles)
Distance Cycled Total: 1475 km (916 Miles)
Mood: Burnt
Jamie poked his head into my tent at 7:30 A.M. this morning.
"How old are you?"
That's the question I woke up to in Sewage Camp, where we stayed last night.
"37," I murmured.
"Okay, good."
"Why?"
"The hostel I just booked for tonight in Prague has an age restriction of 39 and under. I just wanted to make sure you made the cut."
I'm pretty sure Jamie knows I'm not 40 yet and this conversation was just to make sure I was too insulted to go back to sleep.
It worked. I lay there for another couple of minutes picturing myself being carded at the hostel door by an ornery bouncer. It's been a long time since I had to show proof of age, and the idea of getting IDed post-30 is scintillating. But when it's to prove that you're young enough... that's a different story.
Our plan was to start early today, and (in my opinion) we did. It's only the second or third time I can remember getting started before 9:00 A.M... and I think there's a bingo board spot for that.
There's a couple more I missed too:
A couple of days ago, I was caught by a scary German caretaker trying to fill a water bottle with the town cathedral's garden hose. After a quick pantomime, he brought my bottle inside and half-filled it with water from the tap. Mark that one off.
And of course, I think our sojourn into the wilderness a few days ago counts as getting lost.
Somehow, my rear tire survived another trip today, so "pop a tire" isn't up for grabs yet. I was fully expecting a loud Bang! in the middle of a a downhill while cruising at 40 MPH, which undoubtably would've resulted in a trip to a Czech hospital.
It was an exhausting ride today, especially after the first 40 kilometers. Perhaps it was the two and a half weeks off-bike, but I'm aching again. The sun was harsh, there were sudden steep climbs, and the cycle surfaces were- once again- often ridiculous. We also hit our first Major Climb- a three mile challenging mountain reminiscent of Appalachia- and while it turned out to be a lot of fun to be challenged, my quads are paying the price.
But perhaps the hardest climb was the four flights of stairs we had to haul our bikes up and down. Bear in mind that we are no longer using Google Maps. This is an actual cycle path that is clearly marked. In other words, these stairs are part of the plan.
It took three trips for me to haul my gear to the top... and three more when I saw older women struggling to get their bicycles up and down.
It got to the point where we had to hurry off... otherwise we'd be there all day playing the part of cyclist Sherpa.
The scenic vistas we had grown accustomed to eventually gave way to industrial eyesores, which also makes the ride a bit more difficult.
And while we passed through a ton of super-small villages, there was virtually nowhere practical to stop for supplies.
That's another huge (and unexpected) difference between America and Europe. The towns in America are fewer and farther between, but you can pretty much always depend on being able to find water, electricity, and a place to camp for the night. Not so here. It's actually a challenge to keep devices charged. Our external batteries have run out of juice multiple times, and- unlike America- finding an outlet that is available for public use is extremely difficult. Proper bathrooms with sinks to fill water bottles are also scarce. Walking into a cafe that you have no intention of eating at and using their facilities carries with it a sense of shame. And that, of course, is assuming you can find a cafe that is open.
I'm well aware this gripe falls within the category of "first world problems." And it really isn't so much a gripe at all. It's just somewhat alarming to have to worry about the next time you'll be able to find the basics when there are clearly populated areas.
We eventually stumbled into Prague at about 7:00 PM. It's a beautiful city that's extremely hard to cycle through. It looks like they're trying to make it cycle friendly, but they are failing badly. Once in a while there's a street that has a designated cycle lane, but it ends just as quickly as it starts, and pedestrians seem to have no clue that it exists. I nearly plowed into several people who stepped right in front of me without looking. This isn't Berlin, and it most certainly isn't Copenhagen. This is Prague.
You've got two feet.
Take your bike and shove it.
And I wouldn't mind walking, except that I lost one of my sandals on the ferry to Poland some weeks ago, and I only have cycle shoes to walk. With their metal clips at the bottom, it sounds like Fred Astaire is about to start a street performance every time I take a step. And these boots ain't made for walkin', I assure you.
So tomorrow is going to be a "stock up" and sight-see rest day. Half of my clothes are also stuck in Poland after I dropped them off to be cleaned and couldn't pick them back up because the place was closed when I had to leave.
I have one pair of socks (they're so disgusting. I can smell them right now as I type this). One cycle outfit. A couple of T-shirts. And a pair of dress pants from the wedding I attended.
That's it.
Oh yeah. I have a tire that's about to explode too. That's on the list of things to do as well.
It'll be nice though to sleep in a bed tonight. Jamie was delighted when the receptionist at the hostel apologetically asked if he could put us into two different rooms, and I was so horrified to enter my co-ed 10-person dorm room and find that I was the only Ed.
9 girls simultaneously stopped typing on their cell phones and assessed me for about 5 seconds before turning their attention back to Instagram.
One of these things is not like the other...
And that one thing is likely going to keep the other nine up with awful, guttural snoring sounds.
 |
| Bicycle in Kafka Square |
"How old are you?"
That's the question I woke up to in Sewage Camp, where we stayed last night.
"37," I murmured.
"Okay, good."
"Why?"
"The hostel I just booked for tonight in Prague has an age restriction of 39 and under. I just wanted to make sure you made the cut."
I'm pretty sure Jamie knows I'm not 40 yet and this conversation was just to make sure I was too insulted to go back to sleep.
It worked. I lay there for another couple of minutes picturing myself being carded at the hostel door by an ornery bouncer. It's been a long time since I had to show proof of age, and the idea of getting IDed post-30 is scintillating. But when it's to prove that you're young enough... that's a different story. Our plan was to start early today, and (in my opinion) we did. It's only the second or third time I can remember getting started before 9:00 A.M... and I think there's a bingo board spot for that.
There's a couple more I missed too:
A couple of days ago, I was caught by a scary German caretaker trying to fill a water bottle with the town cathedral's garden hose. After a quick pantomime, he brought my bottle inside and half-filled it with water from the tap. Mark that one off.
And of course, I think our sojourn into the wilderness a few days ago counts as getting lost.
Somehow, my rear tire survived another trip today, so "pop a tire" isn't up for grabs yet. I was fully expecting a loud Bang! in the middle of a a downhill while cruising at 40 MPH, which undoubtably would've resulted in a trip to a Czech hospital.
 |
| A New Grade Record |
But perhaps the hardest climb was the four flights of stairs we had to haul our bikes up and down. Bear in mind that we are no longer using Google Maps. This is an actual cycle path that is clearly marked. In other words, these stairs are part of the plan.
 |
| We stared at this for at least 10 minutes before accepting that this was the situation. |
It took three trips for me to haul my gear to the top... and three more when I saw older women struggling to get their bicycles up and down.
It got to the point where we had to hurry off... otherwise we'd be there all day playing the part of cyclist Sherpa.
 |
| Beautiful town that has no supplies whatsover |
The scenic vistas we had grown accustomed to eventually gave way to industrial eyesores, which also makes the ride a bit more difficult.
And while we passed through a ton of super-small villages, there was virtually nowhere practical to stop for supplies.
That's another huge (and unexpected) difference between America and Europe. The towns in America are fewer and farther between, but you can pretty much always depend on being able to find water, electricity, and a place to camp for the night. Not so here. It's actually a challenge to keep devices charged. Our external batteries have run out of juice multiple times, and- unlike America- finding an outlet that is available for public use is extremely difficult. Proper bathrooms with sinks to fill water bottles are also scarce. Walking into a cafe that you have no intention of eating at and using their facilities carries with it a sense of shame. And that, of course, is assuming you can find a cafe that is open.
I'm well aware this gripe falls within the category of "first world problems." And it really isn't so much a gripe at all. It's just somewhat alarming to have to worry about the next time you'll be able to find the basics when there are clearly populated areas.
 |
| Cathedral in Prague... I don't know it's name. It looked picture-worthy though. (Photo credit Jamie) |
We eventually stumbled into Prague at about 7:00 PM. It's a beautiful city that's extremely hard to cycle through. It looks like they're trying to make it cycle friendly, but they are failing badly. Once in a while there's a street that has a designated cycle lane, but it ends just as quickly as it starts, and pedestrians seem to have no clue that it exists. I nearly plowed into several people who stepped right in front of me without looking. This isn't Berlin, and it most certainly isn't Copenhagen. This is Prague.
You've got two feet.
Take your bike and shove it.
And I wouldn't mind walking, except that I lost one of my sandals on the ferry to Poland some weeks ago, and I only have cycle shoes to walk. With their metal clips at the bottom, it sounds like Fred Astaire is about to start a street performance every time I take a step. And these boots ain't made for walkin', I assure you.
 |
| No idea what this is. (Photo credit Jamie) |
So tomorrow is going to be a "stock up" and sight-see rest day. Half of my clothes are also stuck in Poland after I dropped them off to be cleaned and couldn't pick them back up because the place was closed when I had to leave.
I have one pair of socks (they're so disgusting. I can smell them right now as I type this). One cycle outfit. A couple of T-shirts. And a pair of dress pants from the wedding I attended.
That's it.
Oh yeah. I have a tire that's about to explode too. That's on the list of things to do as well.
 |
| DOH! CHEERS FOR THE BEER HOMER SIMPS... ERR... LAURIE ARIAS! (my sis) |
It'll be nice though to sleep in a bed tonight. Jamie was delighted when the receptionist at the hostel apologetically asked if he could put us into two different rooms, and I was so horrified to enter my co-ed 10-person dorm room and find that I was the only Ed.
9 girls simultaneously stopped typing on their cell phones and assessed me for about 5 seconds before turning their attention back to Instagram.
One of these things is not like the other...
And that one thing is likely going to keep the other nine up with awful, guttural snoring sounds.
P.S.
This sign should not exist...
...but I'm so glad it does.
I get I.D.d at 54!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ride on!
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