The Problem with Memory, a Night on the Town, and the Day after That

Days: 20 and 21 (Sanov, CZ to Vienna, AU / Vienna AU to Semmering, AU)

Average Speed: 17.1 (10.6 MPH) / 14.9 (9.25 MPH)

Distance Cycled Today: 85 km (53 Miles) / 99 km (62 Miles)

Distance Cycled Total: 1998 km (1242 Miles)

Mood: Pumped

Memory can play tricks on you. 

Wien = Vienna by the way... Vienna sounds so much nicer.
Wien sounds gross. 

I specifically remember disliking Vienna when I was last touring Europe twenty years ago.

I also remember thinking that Prague was the most amazing place in the world.

Either I'm completely wrong, or my taste has evolved. Or maybe it's the other things that are going on in your life that help to form your opinion of an environment. 

The first time I was in Prague I was on a 5 day break from my grueling touring schedule with Up with People. I went with a few good friends, and we did what normal 19-year-olds would do: Partied. Vienna was more of a quick stop with the whole group, and if I remember correctly, it was a rainy day and I was inside one building for most of the time before we left. And maybe I was going through a breakup with a girlfriend. Not sure.

I don't know if any of that is accurate- because memory is unreliable. 

And maybe my judgement is skewed differently now: Vienna earns a solid B+ in cyclability whereas Prague gets (without a doubt) a big fat F. 

The reason I didn't keep a journal when I travelled with Up with People was because I was confident that all I needed was my memory. At the time, it was impossible to imagine the need to write stuff down. In my 19-year-old brain, I was super-human and would remember EVERYTHING. 

How naive. 

That mindset has since changed. 

Two days ago, I panicked when I wasn't able to blog for a day due to tiredness, just like I panicked last year when my computer shit the bed in Utah. I don't want to lose this. I don't want to forget.

At the ripe old age of 37, I now know memories are fleeting. 

I couldn't blog last night... and now I barely remember anything about the ride into Vienna. It was only yesterday. 

Here's what I think happened:

I took this photo for some reason... seemed important
at the time... 

I remember that it started off quite miserable. It was hill after hill after hill after hill. The weather was okay. We were on a road with traffic (80% of the time in Europe, we are not on the same road as cars). The traffic was heavy. We wore helmets. Jamie had a near-miss with a car. We changed routes to avoid the main road. We separated after that. I made it to the Danube river route. Casual cyclists started appearing again. I had a tail wind. I flew, overtaking all of the 70+ year olds on the cycle path. Only one cyclist passed me in a 15 mile stretch. I was listening to the Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack. 

Those memories have already started to change. Did it start off miserably? Maybe not. Did only one cyclist pass me? Probably more than that. I'm positive I was listening to Dear Evan Hansen, though.

Gone for sure are the emotions- the facts are somewhat easy to recall at this point, but my feelings aren't. I think I was mostly happy. 

I don't remember. 

How can you look at this and not hear
classical music in the background?

And I was certainly slapped in the face by the 20-year-old false memory that Vienna was some kind of drab city with a pretty sounding name. 

This time, every building looked pristine- like I had cycled into a museum. None of the lackluster chaos of Prague. I started humming Vivaldi's Spring movement of Four Seasons (seemed more apt than the latest Broadway rock opera that I had been listening to). 

Also, I'm pretty sure Vivaldi moved to Vienna at some point... so there's that. 

There was another guy who lived there too... I can't remember his name... I think it started with an M and ended with -zart, but I'm probably wrong. It's been a while since I've taken a music history course, and I forget things.

This is not the rowdy hostel. This is a building that
a lot of people were taking pictures of.
So I took one too.

We had booked a large and rowdy hostel near the center of town and met our roommate, L.J. when we got there. He seemed shy at first- a 22-year old German studying to be a police officer and taking advantage of a three-week break to do some traveling. 

Turns out, L.J. is quite the party animal. He glommed onto us quickly, and while I had planned on a simple night of blogging and sleep, he had other ideas. 

I'm not the one in the middle... but
CHEERS FOR THE BEER MAMA QUINLAN!

This kid is half my weight and fifteen years my junior, but wow... he can put 'em back like a champ.

At one point I had to call it a night, explaining that I needed to write down the events of the day. He challenged me on this:

"How long can that possibly take you?" he asked.

"About three hours or so..."

"Why would you do that? I post some pictures on Facebook and write a sentence or two... it's that easy!"

"I... I like to write... and if I don't do it, I'm going to forget."

"Yes, but that's a waste of time! To write so much..."

No it's not L.J., because if I only snap a few pics and post them on social media, you're not going to make the cut. And then I will forget you. And you were fun. And I want to remember you. And now there's proof that you out-beered me. 

In fact, because of you, L.J.- I couldn't blog the day as I had planned. 

Go ahead and mark off "Too Drunk to Blog" on your Green Saddle Bingo cards. 

I thought about trying to write after L.J. ditched us for the younger crowd... then I thought about the number of typos I would make... then I thought about bed... then I woke up at 8 A.M. this morning... about the same time L.J. was calling it a night. 

(Side note: "Need Repair at a Bike Shop" should also be marked off... that happened in Prague with my back tire.)

Naturally, the idea of cycling this morning after that sort of night is off-putting... and we got our latest start to date- 11:30 A.M. We simply couldn't find the motivation to move quickly.

Neither Jamie nor I expected a good ride. We braced ourselves for the worst.

And it wasn't a good ride.

I wish I could take credit for this photo...
Alps in background.
Credit: Jamie.

It was a perfect one. 

I can think of four times when I've used the word "perfect" to describe a ride, and I mean them all. 

I would re-do all of them over and over again if I could.

Perhaps it wasn't photo-worthy to begin with- but it was a relatively easy ride out of Vienna along ideal cycling paths with lots of fun twists and turns. 

See that bridge? We're below it at this point...

And although we were due for 3,400 feet of climbing (and only 600 feet of descent), the climb was slow-going for the first fifty miles. The weather was as good as it could possibly be, but mountainous scenery loomed on the horizon. 

It was like the Rockies were ahead of us... only not as naked. 

I started to get concerned when we were only 12 miles from our destination for the night and (according to Google Maps) still had 2,000 feet of climbing to complete. 

Me... 1/4 way up climb.

2,000 feet in 12 miles is a lot, by the way. Like... for real. 

I thought Google had to be wrong. But as you and I both know, The Goog is never wrong. 

It was an ass-kicking climb of epic proportions. 

It was a "Throw in those ear buds, turn off the piano jazz, blast some Green Day, and keep those legs moving" kind of climb.

1/4 way up climb (on other side of bridge) and we're above it.

When Europeans start cheering you on in passing cars... you know you're climbing something big. That's a hard crowd to get a reaction from.

In fact- and Jamie and I are both in agreement about this- one particular section of the climb was the steepest road-surface I've ever biked (the climb in the woods the other day may have been just as steep).

He was ahead of me, and I sent a text message in disbelief:

I had to stop once on that part, not because I was weary, but because I almost fell backwards when the front tire kept popping up (most of my weight is in the back). 

In other words, I almost fell in reverse because of how steep the climb was.

I had to create my own switchback pattern in order to make it to the top.

Due to the blaring music in my earbuds, I had no idea how loud I was grunting. But it must've been loud- because there was a very curious audience of about five people waiting for me at the top when it opened into a ski resort. 

Monica Seles, eat your heart out. 

This is a ski resort. It's at the top of a mountain.
In the Alps.

With a fully weighted bike, this is more than tough stuff, and when I sailed down to the other side of the mountain and saw Jamie drinking a Coke outside the hotel we'd booked, I fist pumped, feeling fantastic. 

He knew what I was feeling too. 

In a rare moment of seriousness, he just looked at me and calmly said "And that's why we do what we do."

He's right. 

There is no feeling in the world like crossing mountains without a gas pedal. 

CHEERS FOR THE BEER AFTER MAJOR CLIMB
STACEY SZYMCZAK!

And- according to a local- we are now allowed to say that we crossed through the Alps. Or an Alp at least... even if it's at the tail end of the range.

One more thing: We have two options for a route tomorrow... the easy way is about 3,000 feet of descent (awesome) and 1,000 feet of ascent (no prob).

Or there's another, far more difficult way...- 4,800 feet of ascent (very hard) and 6,700 feet of descent (amazing). 

We both agreed instantly on which way we were going to take.

P.S.

Jamie: Do you follow the news much when you're on a bike?

Me: Not really. 

Jamie: Do you want to see what's in the headlines in the local news where I'm from?

Me: Sure.

I'm not even 100% sure that's meant to scare people. 

It might be an advertisement from the Manchester Board of Tourism.

P.P.S.

This from a friend- recounting a recent ride of his:

I ran over a snake the other day... it didn't really notice... neither did I.