Karolinka to Jablunkov, 86 km
Another day, another border crossing, this time at Konečná, which means “terminus” in Czech. Things get even more terminal as I swoop down the other side of the pass into Klokočov, the first Slovak town I’ve encountered on my frontier ride. There, a woman is reading out death notices in a mournful monotone over the municipal PA system. Sombre choral folk music follows. The crackly sound rises and falls as I pass under telegraph poles where the speakers are mounted. The sky darkens fleetingly. I feel a growing sense of foreboding about the unknown hill trails ahead.
The Czech Republic ends at Konečná
