Circuit Rider CZ

Arachnophobia on a bike

2012-03-19T09:38:00.000+01:00

Stage 6, day 4 (Tuesday, 27 September 2011)
Znojmo to Mikulov (91 km)

The slithery sandy track I’m on disappears into a thick, dark wood. It looks ominous, but I press on. I can’t see much with my sunglasses on, but straight away I feel the thick, sticky pull of cobwebs across my skin. And where there’s webs, there’s... SPIDERS! Big, plump ones suspended one after the other across the overgrown trail. The horror! As an arachnophobe, I couldn’t continue along here even if it was the last available route out of hell. All I can do is turn around and retrace my tracks. Unfortunately, that means taking with me the remaining webs and spiders I didn’t pick up on my way in. Back in the field, I descend into panic. I try to flick the beasts off me, my body convulsing and my arms and legs flailing (imagine, if you will, Ian Curtis attempting the cancan on two wheels). Just as I’m beginning to recover a mite of composure, I spot a whopping specimen with a bloated grey abdomen hitching a ride on my handlebars. Worse still, he’s crawling towards my right hand. What has, up to now, been a mere panic attack turns into a fully fledged physical and psychological meltdown. I blow the bugger off his perch just as he’s reaching my thumb, but he immediately starts scrabbling back up his thread. The bike lurches to one side as I momentarily lose control, and in the process the angry arthropod gets a dose of my spokes and is knocked to the ground. That, I’m glad to say, is the last I see of him.

The early morning view from my B&B in Znojmo

I was woken up at 5 a.m. on Tuesday by a mosquito buzzing around my ears. By six o’clock I had despatched the insect lowlife to the afterlife with a well-aimed blow from a Znojmo tourist guide. Just as I was dropping off again I was disturbed by the sound of shotgun fire emanating from a dawn hunting party getting busy on the opposite side of the Dyje valley. At this point I gave up hope of getting any more sleep. I got up to admire the view out of my bedroom window and then spent some quality time twiddling the knobs in my high-tech en-suite shower cubicle.

At breakfast I was amazed to learn that Derek, the owner of the B&B where I was staying, hails from the same part of England as me. We spent quite some time chatting over a cup of tea, two blokes from Stoke getting nostalgic about the dirty old Potteries and comparing notes on expat life in the Czech Republic. (I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Derek and his wife Blanka for their warm hospitality. If you ever visit Znojmo I wholeheartedly recommend Pension Grant Lux. It’s easily the best place I’ve stayed at on my tour along the Czech border.)

My day’s cycling began with a whistle-stop tour of Znojmo, one of the oldest and loveliest towns in Moravia. Its historical highlights include the Gothic Church of St Nicholas and the Romanesque Rotunda of the Virgin Mary and St Catherine, as well as the Late Gothic Town Hall tower, from the top of which, it is said, the Alps are visible on a clear day.

Znojmo’s Town Hall tower...

...and Romanesque rotunda

I headed out of town along the south bank of the Dyje then turned right onto the main road leading towards the border with Austria. At the wine-making village of Šatov I stopped to visit the “Zahrada” infantry block. This large concrete bunker, built in the late 1930s, used to form part of the Czechoslovak frontier defence line and is now a museum.

Zahrada infantry block in Šatov

A former Iron Curtain guard tower

At Šatov I rejoined the so-called Signálka - the long and mostly straight former Iron Curtain patrol road. This took me east across featureless farmland to the busy border crossing at Hatě. I really should be used to these tacky shopping zones by now, but this one was in the most spectacularly bad taste, as I hope the following wobbly video will show.

At midday I crossed into Austria into an altogether more tranquil and bucolic world where families were toiling together to harvest the grapes in the vineyards. The terrain hereabouts was quite hilly, and at the top of the first climb I chanced upon a rather decrepit old viewing tower. A startled hare bolted out from under a picnic table at its base as I parked my bike and made for the steps.

Grape harvesting on the Austrian side of the border

The viewing tower I came across...

...and the vineyards viewed from the top

After admiring the view from the top of the tower, I returned to ground level and continued through Austrian wine-making country, past a malodorous chemical works at Pernhofen and on to the border town of Laa an der Thaya, which I had last visited on my way to Vienna by bicycle in 2004.

Town Hall in Laa an der Thaya

I left Austria for the final time on my Circuit Ride and stopped for lunch at a “motorest” (a restaurant for drivers) at Hevlín just over the border. There I was served a nasty bowl of pasta which an Italian would not even feed to his cat. Back on the bike, feeling full but slightly queasy, I turned off the road and on to cycle path number 4, which runs parallel to the frontier. From here I was expecting a nice easy spin across flat open country to my destination for the day - the historical town of Mikulov. I could not have been more wrong.

A surreal rest area on cycle route 4

After a few miles my way was blocked by a large crater, beyond which the trail was being re-laid and was practically uncyclable. For a while I managed to make slow progress by riding through the fields alongside the path and by getting off and pushing where necessary. To make matters worse, the hunting season was evidently in full swing and my nerves were being frayed by the thudding sound of shotgun fire all around me. Mikulov may have been visible on the horizon, but it still seemed a long way off.

First sign of trouble on the run-in to Mikulov

In the village of Březí a crane was pulling up the old concrete surface of the trail, leaving the bare earth underneath exposed. At this point I gave up on the cycle path and decided to take the main road into town. Now, I’m not usually a timid cyclist, but the motor traffic there was so fast and furious it soon had me consulting the map again. Unfortunately, the alternative route I found led me straight into the horrific Forest 101 described at the top of this post. Suddenly, sharing the road with speeding juggernauts didn’t seem quite so bad, so I hit the highway again.

Mikulov at last!

I was still picking the spider silk off my bike and clothes as I reached the outskirts of Mikulov. Due to poor signposting I took a tortuous route into the centre of town, which at least meant I got to view the castle from various interesting angles. Eventually I emerged on the main square and found my guesthouse, which lays claim to being the narrowest in Moravia. It turned out to be a cross between a B&B and a bike hire shop, but it had the feel of a student house. Aptly named U Bylinkáře (“The Herbalist’s House”) it was stuffed to the rafters with esoteric herbs and teas, which filled the air inside with a heady aroma. The young proprietor congratulated me on arriving exactly when I’d said I would (six o’clock). His partner, a girl with a mellifluous laugh, showed me up to a rudely furnished room on the second floor. The shower room below it reminded me of Barcelona with its crazy Gaudi-esque mosaic decor.

The ever-so-narrow Herbalist’s House

That evening I sat outside for a while on the square drinking coffee and eavesdropping on a party of elderly local ladies at the next table, who were laughing raucously at smutty jokes and singing folk songs in strong Moravian accents. Afterwards I strolled up the hill to a restaurant recommended to me by the couple in charge of the Herbalist’s. Then, with my belly full of duck, cabbage and dumplings, I rolled back down the hill to a busy bar called O’Hara’s for a nightcap or two. Later, as I meandered back to the guesthouse to turn in for the night, I wondered idly just how far one would have to cycle to leave the generic Irish pub behind.

Meandering down the Dyje

2012-02-04T14:28:00.000+01:00

Stage 6, day 3 (Monday, 26 September 2011)
Slavonice to Znojmo (86 km)

I know I tend to bang on about breakfasts in these write-ups, but they are vital when you have a full day’s cycling ahead of you. If I don't eat properly first thing in the morning, I grind to a halt well before lunchtime. Quality varies enormously from one guesthouse to the next. Yesterday's offering was almost up to German standards, with, among other things, fresh fruit, unlimited sausage and a wide range of teas to choose from. Today's, however, is feeble - bread rolls with sachets of jam and cheese spread, a single teabag floating forlornly in a large pot of underheated water, and, for a 50-crown surcharge, two greasy sausages. And if I hear Europe's “The Final Countdown” one more time on breakfast-room radio on this trip, I swear I'll put my foot through the speakers. Or more likely, being English, I'll just keep suffering in silence.

Slavonice town square

The sun was shining again on Monday morning, and outside the hotel - on Slavonice’s handsome historical square - it was even warmer than it had been the previous day. After peeling off my outer layer of clothing and taking some photos I pedalled east out of town on the official Greenways Prague-Vienna cycle route. It was a section I vaguely recognised, as my friend Ryan and I had previously cycled it en route to the Austrian capital back in 2004. Before long, however, I decided to turn right off the main road onto a cool, tranquil trail running through woodland close to the border.

Slavonice lies roughly halfway along the Prague-Vienna cycle route

After passing through the village of Písečné I followed the Moravian Thaya River for a short distance then climbed a short, steep hill to the border with Austria. A couple of miles further on I came across a roadside shrine on the Austrian side, where I stripped down into shorts and a T-shirt, slapped on the suncream and basked on a bench for a while.

Time for a quick sunbathe on the Austrian side of the border

I had intended to continue along the farm trail on Czech side of the frontier and pick up the Greenways route again, but the smooth asphalt surface of the parallel road on the Austrian side was too enticing to resist. I made brisk progress through the flat, open farmland. The wind was so light it barely bothered the long grass at the roadside. A farmer driving towards me in a tractor pulled right over to let me through and waved cheerily as I passed (something that Czech farmers rarely do). Austria was growing on me fast.

Near Vratěnín I re-entered the Czech Republic and rejoined the Greenways route, which took me steeply downhill to the River Dyje, over a bridge and equally steeply back up the other side of the valley. I remembered fondly how, back in 2004, Ryan and I had given each other the high five on reaching the top here.

Bridge over the the River Dyje

At Šafov I took leave of the Greenways again and followed a narrow lane back across the border into Austria at Riegersburg, where I stopped for a while to admire a handsome chateau. By now it was lunchtime, and a sign at the gate announced that the chateau’s coffee shop was open, adding “Mluvíme česky!” (“We speak Czech”). However, I needed a proper meal, so I decided to press on in search of a restaurant.

Riegersburg Chateau

I passed through the village of Felling, where pumpkins decorated with smiley faces grinned at me from well-manicured front gardens, and entered the Thayatal National Park. On the descent into Hardegg (the smallest town in Austria, so I have read) I touched 71 kph, which, as far as I can remember, is my top speed on my Circuit Ride so far. Near the bottom of the deep Dyje valley I rounded a corner and the town’s 12th century castle - perched on a high rocky outcrop - came suddenly and spectacularly into view above me.

Hardegg Castle

Footbridge over the Dyje below Hardegg Castle

I was getting seriously peckish by now, but I realised had no euros on me. This meant I had to ride reluctantly straight past the two restaurants in Hardegg and cross a footbridge over the Dyje back into the Czech Republic. I climbed back out of the gorge on an empty tank, passing walkers and other cyclists on my way. At the village of Čižov I briefly investigated the last remaining remnant of the Iron Curtain in the Czech Republic then stopped for a very late and much needed lunch in the shady garden of a small pub.

A preserved section of the Iron Curtain at Čižov

It was gone 3 pm by the time I hit the road again. I joined one of the most picturesque sections of the Greenways route and cycled off-road through the forests of the Podyjí National Park. All around, acorns rained down from the trees, creating a crunchy coating on the trail. I had some fun bouncing across tree roots down to a ford and rather less fun climbing up the other side.

At a spot called Šobes the Dyje snakes sharply to the left, forming a deep incised meander. Late in the afternoon I emerged on the ridge of the high, narrow peninsular enclosed by this loop in the river. I let out a spontaneous whoop of joy as the canyon suddenly came into view below me on either side of the trail.

The meanders of the Dyje close to...

...the Šobes vineyards

The south-facing slopes of Šobes are reputed to be among the top ten wine terroirs in Europe, with a microclimate similar to that in the Rhine and Rhone valleys. On our 2004 trip, Ryan and I had stopped at a busy stall selling wine straight from the vineyard and enjoyed a couple of glasses of crisp white in the shade of the vines. Today the stall was closed and I had the entire place to myself. I sat down at the same spot as last time and wondered whether there could possibly be a more glorious grape-growing location in the Czech Republic.

Another footbridge over the Dyje...

..."Maximum 6 persons. No swinging!"

A bumpy cobbled path took me down to the river. I crossed a swaying footbridge and on the other side turned off the Greenways trail again and joined cycle route 5000 for the final section of the day’s ride – an entertaining scramble across sandy scrubland and past more vineyards. The town of Znojmo - my destination for the day - suddenly rose into view on the steep opposite bank of the Dyje ahead of me, its historical buildings glowing gorgeously in the early evening sunlight.

Znojmo comes into view

I crossed the Dyje for the fifth time that day and rode up the winding road to the guesthouse - Pension Grant Lux - where I’d already booked in for the night. I rang the doorbell twice to no avail and was about to phone for assistance when a teenager opened the door. Somewhat flustered, he explained that his parents were out but that they were expecting me. While I was waiting in the entrance hall for him to find the key I noticed a glass case full of Wedgewood porcelain, which is traditionally made in Stoke-on-Trent, the English town where I grew up. As we climbed the stairs I realised that the whole place was decorated with British bric-a-brac. I asked the boy, in Czech, whether there was anyone English in the family. “My Dad is English,” he replied. “So am I,” I told him. He seemed most surprised.

Pension Grant Lux

Pension Grant Lux is located directly opposite Znojmo prison, but don't let that deceive you. It is without doubt the best place I have stayed at on my entire Circuit Ride. For the same price that I'd paid for my spartan garret in Slavonice the day before, I got a bright, spacious room decorated in English country style, complete with minibar and a proper bed with satin sheets. Best of all was the space-age shower, which even had a radio and telephone built into it. I spent quite some time in there playing with the various spray settings and steam-cleaning myself thoroughly.

Feeling refreshed, I walked out on the streets of Znojmo in search of food. A waitress at a coffee bar by the town hall recommended a posh restaurant on the upper main square, but that turned out to be completely devoid of customers so I opted for a cheaper but busier place on the lower square. Afterwards I nipped into a nearby pivnice (beer pub) for a half-litre of Hedgehog and a glass of Pardubice Porter. Later, back at the B&B, I turned on the TV and watched Stoke hold Manchester Utd to a 1-1 draw. All in all, it had been a rather excellent day.

Happy 2012!

2011-12-31T19:31:00.001+01:00

Just a quick post to wish all my readers - regular, occasional and one-off - a Happy New Year!

For various reasons (which I won’t bore you with here) I haven’t been blogging much over the past couple of months. Unfortunately the winter arrived before I found time to do the final leg of my trip (Stage 7), so that will have to wait until the spring. On top of that, I still have to write up the last couple of days of Stage 6, which I rode in late September, so I can’t even write a review of 2011 yet.

Not to worry. I promise to return - refreshed and re-energised - in the new year.

Cheers,

Simon

Václav Havel RIP

2011-12-23T11:12:00.000+01:00

The Czech Republic is in mourning for its former president Václav Havel, whose funeral takes place at midday today.

Václav Havel addressing hundreds of thousands of people on Wenceslas Square in 1989

Václav Havel led - and still symbolises - the Velvet Revolution of 1989, which overthrew communism and restored democracy to this part of the world. He was a fighter for and defender of freedom. For me he is a hero and inspiration.

On Wednesday I went into the centre of Prague to pay my respects. On Wenceslas Square, my eye was drawn to a handwritten note lying among the field of flickering candles: "Honza, 22 let, 22 let svobody" ("Honza, 22 years old, 22 years of freedom"). Czechs are feeling this loss personally. So am I.

When I embark on the final stage of my Circuit Ride in the spring, Havel and his legacy will be foremost in my mind. Before 1989, most of my route along the Czech border would have been out of bounds to the vast majority of the population, never mind to an English cyclist. Now I am free to cross in and out of the country as I like.

Thank you Václav Havel. RIP.

Tripoint number three

2011-10-15T20:33:00.001+02:00

Stage 6, day 2 (Sunday, 25 September 2011)
Nové Hrady to Slavonice (99 km)

The tripoint stone is tucked away behind some bushes behind a tourist information board. I tread carefully towards it, as the ground is littered with white tissues, a sure sign that it is used as an open-air toilet by people out walking in the forest. It is here that the historical border between Bohemia and Moravia meets the Austrian frontier. Each of the three sides of the base of the stone has a letter carved in it: Č for Čechy (Bohemia), M for Morava (Moravia) and Ö for Österreich (Austria). This is the third tripoint I’ve visited on my lap of the Czech Republic, the first two having been Poland-Germany-CZ and Saxony-Bavaria-CZ. Unfortunately, the German-Austrian-CZ one, high up in the Šumava mountains, is off-limits to cyclists, so I had to bypass it. As of today, I have two more to go: Slovakia-Austria-CZ and Slovakia-Poland-CZ, both of which lie on the final stage of my circuit ride.

The tripoint of Bohemia (Č), Moravia (M) and Austria (Ö)

It was cold in the shade down by the River Stropnice as I set off from the guesthouse in the morning, but surprisingly hot in the sunshine up on Nové Hrady town square just a few minutes later. I peeled off my outer layer of clothing and took a quick look round the town’s gleaming Gothic Old Castle before setting off on my day's ride.

The Old Castle in Nové Hrady

I followed the road east out of Nové Hrady for about a mile and turned left at the border post onto a damp and sticky forest trail running parallel to the frontier with Austria. On the approach to the tiny village of Vyšné I helpfully gave directions to a group of walkers and then immediately, and slightly embarrassingly, took a wrong turn myself. After a bit of messing around I did a detour along a road and rejoined the cycle trail further on. This section consisted of a long succession of oblong concrete slabs lying lopsided on the ground - a good enough surface, I imagine, for the armoured vehicles that used to patrol the frontier here, but a bumpy ride for a cyclist.

Former Iron Curtain patrol road made out of concrete panels

By late morning I reached České Velenice, a town which did not come into being until after World War I, when Gmünd in Lower Austria was divided into two and its northern part was ceded to the newly formed Czechoslovakia. Gmünd lost its main railway station but retained the town centre and cemetery. The Czechs, however, continued to bury their dead in Gmünd until a new cemetery was opened in České Velenice in 1922.

Cemetery in České Velenice

The Czechoslovak cemetery was built right on the border and became part of the Iron Curtain when the Communists came to power in 1948. After several people escaped through it to the West, the authorities increased the height of the rear wall and installed fences, barbed wire and watchtowers. Anyone wishing to visit the cemetery had to pass through a checkpoint. These measures stayed in place until the fall of communism in 1989.

Mass grave of 512 Hungarian Jews in České Velenice

Just after World War II the remains of 512 Hungarian Jews were found in a mass grave next to the cemetery in České Velenice. They had been part of a group of around 1,000 deported to Gmünd by the Nazis in autumn 1944 to work as slave labourers, and had fallen victim to cold, hunger and exhaustion. A small, sombre monument marks the spot.

The narrow-gauge railway in Gmünd

I crossed a footbridge into Austria and rode into Gmünd on a cycle path running alongside the town’s narrow-gauge railway. A man in his sixties approached me as I was taking photos on the central square and asked where I was heading. He said he’d cycled 300,000 km in his lifetime and as recently as three years ago had been cycling 100 km a day on tour in the Loire region of France. Now, he told me ruefully, he could no longer cycle as he had severe problems with his teeth. I made a mental note to visit the dentist when I got back to Prague.

Gmünd town square

I travelled north out of Gmünd and re-entered the Czech Republic at Neu-Nagelberg. For about an hour I rode along a practically deserted forest road. At the holiday resort of Chlum u Třeboně, I stopped for lunch at a busy restaurant overlooking the town’s 16th century fish lake. My trout with almonds took a long time to arrive, but was worth the wait.

The lake at Chlum u Třeboně

It was so warm outside after lunch that I stripped down to my summer cycling gear. I rode north along the shoreline of the lake and back into the forest. This section of trail ended at a T-junction with the Prague-Vienna Greenways cycle path. I’d cycled the entire length of this popular long-distance route with my friend Ryan back in 2004, but I had little recollection of this part of it.

Re-joining the Prague-Vienna Greenways route, seven years on

By a small lake at Peršlák I found a sign pointing towards the northernmost point of Austria. As I set off down the sandy path a couple flagged me down and the woman asked whether I had “pití” (something to drink). At least, that’s what I thought she said. When I offered her my water bottle, she corrected me: not pití, but pytlík (a bag). She showed me a handful of freshly picked wild mushrooms and explained that they had nothing to carry them in. I found her a spare carrier bag and she gratefully tipped her crop of fungi into it.

The northernmost point of Austria

After resting for a while on the bank of a babbling brook opposite Austria’s most northerly point, I rejoined the border trail down to Nová Bystřice. I would have stopped there for a coffee, but all the seats outside the town’s one open cafe were taken, so I kept going. This was possibly a mistake, as my legs stopped cooperating on the next uphill section and I had to take a break anyway.

Nová Bystřice

I crested the hill and descended past a (disappointingly empty) bison enclosure to Staré Město, another place which looked strangely unfamiliar from my 2004 Prague-Vienna Greenways trip. Due to roadworks, I had to take a diversion through the backstreets of the town before hitting the final climb of the day. My increasingly heavy legs forced me to stop for a rest a further two times, but a weird-tasting malty energy bar I’d picked up the previous week in a health food shop gave me enough extra calories to reach the tripoint at the top.

The Bohemia-Moravia-Austria tripoint stone

From the tripoint it was downhill practically all the way to Slavonice, where I’d booked accommodation for the night. Slavonice’s development was arrested in the mid-18th century, when the Vienna-Prague postal route was re-routed away from the town. This meant that its beautiful late Gothic and Renaissance square was spared the ravages of the industrial age. The place became even more of a backwater after World War II, when the German population was expelled and the Iron Curtain came down just to the south. Since 1989, however, its fortunes have revived. It has become a popular tourist destination and a home for artists and craftsmen.

Slavonice in the evening light

I stashed my bike in the hotel’s ancient cellar, cleaned myself up and went down to dinner. The goulash I had was okay, but the beer I washed it down with was distinctly musty. I took this as further proof - if any were needed - that I’d left Bohemia (beer country) and entered South Moravia (the Czech Republic’s main wine-making region). After dinner I stepped out onto the town square. It was chilly outside, and there was no one else about. The only other pub open was even emptier than the hotel restaurant. Evidently Sunday night is not party night in Slavonice. Feeling cold and just a little bit lonely, I decided to turn in for the night.

Uneventful, but sensational

2011-10-10T09:09:00.000+02:00

Stage 6, day 1 (Saturday, 24 September 2011)
Horní Dvořiště to Nové Hrady (61 km)

Some days not much happens when you’re bicycle touring. Take today, for example. I’m in the Nové Hrady Mountains, a lesser known region deep in the south of Bohemia. It consists mostly of unpopulated forest and there are few tourist attractions to lure people in. But while there might not be much going on here, there’s more than enough to satisfy the senses: the sickly sweet scent of pine resin oozing from log piles at the side of the trail, the ever-shifting dapple of the auburn autumn sunlight on the ground below me, the cool crisp air roaring across my ears as I coast downhill. Yes, today may be uneventful, but it is - literally - sensational.

Stage 6 official start: Horní Dvořiště railway station

Shortly after 1 pm I disembarked from the Linz train at Horní Dvořiště railway station - the last stop in the Czech Republic - and went through my usual start-of-stage routine (loading up the bike again, taking the official start photo, phoning home, sending a message to the blog). Under a cloudless September sky I took off into the forest and was soon changing down through the gears as the gradient kicked up. This was supposed to be a fairly short day in the saddle, but it was shaping up to be a tough one.

The former horse-driven railway entered Czechoslovakia near here

I cycled north close to the border with Austria and before long emerged from the trees into the Indian-summer sunshine. For a while I followed the route of the horse-drawn railway that used to run between Linz and České Budějovice. Built between 1825 and 1832, it was the first and longest such line in Continental Europe. Used primarily to transport salt and other commodities, it was 131 km long, with a journey time of 14 hours, and was in service for 40 years before being superseded by steam power. I scoured the fields for signs of it, but sadly there was little if anything left to see.

Czech-Austrian border crossing near Dolní Dvořiště

Behind a casino at the major border crossing south of Dolní Dvořiště I took a short cut down a little-used road running across the fields into a wood. After a mile or so, however, it came to an abrupt dead end at the top of a steep bank above a river. Unable to continue that way, I backtracked and turned down an overgrown path in search of the footbridge marked on my map. This path, too, soon petered out and I found myself in a small clearing not knowing how to proceed. As luck would have it (as it so often does on this trip), help was at hand in the form of two local women out foraging for wild mushrooms. They told me that there was indeed a bridge somewhere nearby, but that it had been wrecked by tractor traffic and was no longer safe to cross. My only option was to turn back.

Horses outside Dolní Dvořiště

So much for my short cut. I took the long way round through Dolní Dvořiště, passing across open farmland and through clumps of forest. The hunting season was in full swing. All around me I could hear the thud and crack of hunters’ shotguns, an unnerving sound that was to accompany me for the next few days. The hunters themselves, though, were always out of sight.

Church at Cetviny

I took a short break at a place called Cetviny, which - as I learned from a tourist information board there - had been quite a large village before the War. In 1945, however, the German population was thrown out of the country and Cetviny was resettled by, among others, Romanian Czechs and Slovaks, but they too were evicted just six years later when the Iron Curtain came down. In 1956, the town was completely demolished, with the exception of its church and one other building, which was converted into an army station. Only in 1990, after the Velvet Revolution, was the area opened to the public again.

Nové Hrady landscape

Time was getting on, so I abandoned my original plan to cycle around the back of the hills. Instead, I cut the corner and saved myself about ten miles of hard travelling along the remote trail closest to the border. This decision guaranteed that I would arrive at my destination - the town of Nové Hrady - before nightfall.

High point in the forest above Pohorská Ves

I crested the highest point of Stage 6 - a hill called Vyhlídka (which means “view” or “vantage point”) - and began my descent out of the Nové Hrady Mountains. At Žofín, where a surprisingly large number of walkers and cyclists were sunning themselves on the terrace of a woodland lodge, the trail turned into a road leading back into civilisation.

Huťský Rybník, site of a long-gone 18th century glassworks

In the picturesque village of Hojná Voda, in the shadow of an elegant peak called Kraví Hora, a fine view over the south Bohemian plain suddenly opened up below me. In the next village I took a detour through a ranch to visit a curious cairn marked on my map as a kamenná pyramida (“stone pyramid”). Opinions differ as to who put it there and why, but there's no arguing that it's a charming spot.

Cross-country trail leading to...

...the huge cairn above Horní Stropnice

About a kilometre out of Horní Stropnice I turned off the main road and followed a footpath to a late-15th castle called Cuknštejn. From there I crossed the dam of a reservoir and joined a nature trail running through Terčino Údolí, a park that lies in the valley carved out by the Stropnice stream. The park, created in 1756 by a local nobleman and named after his wife Teresa, contains various romantic buildings dating from the late 18th and early 19th centuries, but it is probably best known for its 32-foot-high artificial waterfall.

Cuknštejn Castle...

...and the waterfall in nearby Terčino Údolí Park

I rode at a leisurely pace from one end of the park to the other, admiring its ancient trees and giving a wide berth to the many couples strolling there in the fading evening sunshine. I came out just a short distance from the guesthouse I’d booked into on the outskirts of Nové Hrady - the accurately named Penzion Pod Hradem (“Guesthouse Below the Castle”).

Penzion Pod Hradem in Nové Hrady

I spent an uneventful evening in the restaurant at the guesthouse. To say the food (chicken in a wild mushroom sauce) was sensational would be an overstatement, but it was certainly a cut above the average. By the time I’d finished eating, night had fallen and it was cold enough outside to dissuade me from going out to explore the town centre. I decided to leave that for the next morning.

Stage 6 on Bikemap.net

2011-10-05T17:30:00.000+02:00

The map below shows the the route I actually followed on Stage 6 of my Circuit Ride in September this year

Bike route 1287137 - powered by Bikemap

Stage 6 slideshow

2011-10-03T20:42:00.000+02:00

I've been busy over the last few days putting together a slideshow of Stage 6, which I completed last week. I hope you like the results - Southern Moravia looks particularly pretty in the autumn sunshine. Click on the panel above to see the full-sized version with commentary.

Stage 6 completed!

2011-09-28T14:38:00.001+02:00

I'm on the train, heading back to Prague via Brno after completing the latest stage of my Circuit Ride. Today I took a detour away from the border to ride the sandy trails of the Lednice-Valtice Park (Lednice Chateau pictured). Thanks to the wonderful weather, the relatively easy terrain and the easy-going Moravians, this has been the most relaxed stage of my trip so far. Only one more stage to go now, back to the start in Bohumin. But will I manage it this year?

Lovely Mikulov

2011-09-27T20:04:00.001+02:00

Extraordinarily, the owner of the B&B I stayed at in Znojmo, Derek, turns out to be from my home town of Stoke, so we had a nice chat over a cup of tea at breakfast this morning. I then cycled 90 km through the vast vineyards of Moravia and Austria in unseasonally hot weather. After doing battle with an uncyclable cycle trail, a scary main road and a forest full of dangling spiders (even more scary) I arrived in the charming historical town of Mikulov, my destination for today, late in the afternoon. Tomorrow I complete Stage 6 with a fairly short, flat ride to Breclav.

Heaven, I'm in...

2011-09-26T19:47:00.001+02:00

...well, I am, in fact, in Znojmo (pictured), but it's heavenly enough. After a superb day on the bike, weaving in and out of Austria through some spectacular scenery, I've shacked up for the night at an English B&B. Not only does it have the most space-age shower I've ever stepped into, but it also has tea-making facilities in the room (something you never see in Czech guesthouses). Circuit-riding doesn't get much better than this!

Hardegg Castle...

2011-09-26T14:36:00.001+02:00

...perched high above the River Thaya on the Austrian-Czech frontier.

Goodbye Bohemia, hello Moravia!

2011-09-25T22:11:00.000+02:00

Pictured is the point where Bohemia meets Moravia meets Austria. It lies not far from historical town of Slavonice, where I'm spending the night. Highlights today included Gmund, a town that was literally divided by the Iron Curtain, as well as a short diversion to the northernmost point of Austria. Tomorrow I'll be passing through two national parks en route to the wine-making town of Znojmo. Cheers!

Sensational September

2011-09-24T22:23:00.001+02:00

How I love September! After a fine autumn afternoon's cycling through the forested hills of deepest South Bohemia I've arrived safely in Nove Hrady as planned. Tomorrow I ride west into Moravia.

Stage 6 starts

2011-09-24T13:21:00.001+02:00

I've just got off the train into the warm autumn sunshine to start Stage 6 of my circuit ride. My destination today: Nove Hrady.

Countdown to Stage 6

2011-09-20T08:31:00.000+02:00

It’s raining here in the Czech Republic and has been almost continuously for the last two days. However, we’ve been enjoying some fine weather for most of this month, and according to the forecast the Indian summer is set to return today.

This is good news for Stage 6 of my circuit ride, which is due to start on Saturday. I’ll be travelling for five days from Horní Dvořiště in the south-west of the Czech Republic to Břeclav in southern Moravia (click here for more details). Preparations are in full swing. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been refining my route (using, among other things, the excellent Cykloatlas online cycling atlas of the Czech Republic and Slovakia) and learning as much as I can about the interesting places I’ll be passing through. I also have a full set of maps printed out and installed in my map holder.

Three useful trip-planning websites: Cykloatlas,...

The next step is to reserve accommodation at each of my overnight stops - in Nové Hrady, Slavonice, Znojmo and Mikulov. Booking in advance is probably not really necessary at this time of year, but it does mean I’ll have one less thing to worry about on the road. I’ve drawn up a shortlist of interesting-looking guesthouses (partly with the aid of the Cyclists Welcome website) and I’ll be contacting them over the next couple of days.

...Cyclists Welcome...

The other thing I need to do is book myself and my bike onto the relevant trains. Thanks to the Czech public transport timetable website I know which services carry bicycles and which of them have mandatory or optional bicycle reservation. Unfortunately I can’t buy bike tickets online, so I’ll have to go down to the main station in Prague later in the week to do that.

...and the public transport timetable
(all three available in English)

The day before I leave I’ll print out my packing list, gather all my stuff together and load up my bike ready for departure. On Saturday I’ll get up early, head down to the station and catch the 9.16 am express to České Budějovice. If all goes to plan, I’ll reach the official start point shortly after 1 pm and immediately set off into the Nové Hrady mountains.

Hopefully I’ll have both the autumn sun and the prevailing westerly wind on my back.

(Lack of) progress report

2011-09-06T16:48:00.001+02:00

Last November I wrote a post celebrating the first anniversary of this blog. In it, I commented that writing the posts, rather than cycling the miles, had - to my surprise - proved to be the toughest aspect of my circumnavigation of the Czech Republic on a bicycle.

On the basis of my experience this summer, I have to revise that view.

I still maintain that the cycling itself, while being certainly very hard work at times, has been the easy bit and that writing up my exploits is certainly the more laborious task of the two. But the most difficult part of all has been to find enough time for circuit riding at all.

Take this summer. Originally I’d planned to do Stage 6 of my circuit ride in July or August. I could make excuses about the bad weather (July, for example, was a washout), but the truth is I’ve been too busy with work, family commitments and (yes, I admit it) other holidays to get on with my journey. Now I find myself in September - with two stages and some 500 miles left to cover - and my diary is still almost full. Where this leaves my plan to complete the whole project this year, I’m not sure.

However, I can see a window of opportunity. At the end of September - on the 28th, to be precise - there’s a public holiday in the Czech Republic. It falls on a Wednesday. This means that by taking just two days off work (Monday and Tuesday), I can engineer a break of five days (Saturday to Wednesday), which is exactly how much time I need to ride Stage 6 (from Horní Dvořiště in southern Bohemia to Břeclav in the south of Moravia).

You can consider it pencilled in.

Horní Dvořiště: where I left off in June

Then all that will remain is Stage 7 - the final leg back to Bohumín (where I started in May 2010). Whether I still manage to do that this year depends most of all on the weather in October. At some point in the autumn, the Slavic weather gods will switch off the heat and we’ll be plunged into at least five months of winter. And that, in turn, means no more circuit riding till the spring.

Needless to say, I’m praying for an Indian summer.

Bohumín: when will I see you again?

Stage 5 on Bikemap.net

2011-08-27T20:45:00.000+02:00

Here's the map of the route I took on Stage 5 of my circuit ride in June this year.

Bike route 1218512 - powered by Bikemap

(Not) going to extremes

2011-08-10T09:39:00.000+02:00

Stage 5, day 4 (Sunday, 5 June 2011)
Vyšší Brod to Horní Dvořiště (26 km)

I am - you might say - extremely inefficient. Last year I failed to visit the northernmost extreme of the Czech Republic because I was in danger of missing my train back to Prague that evening. And in April this year I got within a few hundred yards of the westernmost point before the path disappeared into an uncyclable bog and I threw in the towel. Today I’m standing on the Czech-Austrian border looking up a sign that reads “Most southerly point of the Czech Republic 300 metres” and I already know this is as near as I’m going to get. The muddy path ahead is so overgrown with nettles it’s barely visible. I’m wearing shorts and I’m not carrying a machete, so it’s effectively impassable. And do you know what? I don’t really care. First, it’s a near miss, as the actual southernmost point is only a few yards south of where I am now. Second, there’s nothing to see there apart from more nettles. And third, whatever this circuit ride is about, it’s not about ticking off places on a list. Mind you, I'll be disappointed if I don't make the easternmost point while cycling Stage 7 later this year.

The Cistercian monastery in Vyšší Brod

I was woken up early by the sun shining through my small square attic window and by a chorus of coughing from the rooms on either side of mine. Clearly I wasn’t alone at Penzion U Candrů that night. After a breakfast of greasy sausages I packed and set off on the short final section of Stage 5.

Lipno II

I started by taking a quick tour of Vyšší Brod and its environs, stopping first at its impressive Gothic monastery (one of the largest in the Czech Republic) and then at Lipno II (a smaller body of water just below the main Lipno reservoir), before heading back into the town centre and out the other side along the main road south.

The monastery again, as seen from a bridge over the Vltava

A long, steady climb brought me to the border crossing with Austria. It was here, at 2.40 am on 22 September 1938, that the Czechoslovak checkpoint came under attack by German invaders. The border guards retreated to the nearby woods but managed to retake the building at daybreak. The next morning, however, they were forced back again, this time for good. The spot is marked by a memorial to all the border guards who fought in vain for a democratic Czechoslovakia in 1938.

Monument to Czechoslovak border guards

I entered Austria and continued uphill along the main road for a while before turning left onto a steep path running steeply downhill through a field back to the frontier at Radvanov. The border crossing here is reserved for cyclists and pedestrians, and the trail on the Czech side has recently been upgraded with the aid of EU money. This was where I wimped out of visiting the most southerly point of the Czech Republic.

The Czech-Austrian frontier at Radvanov...

...where the invisible path to the southernmost point begins

From here on in I was cycling mostly off road. In places the trail was so rough and steep I had to get off and push. I passed by the locations of at least two former ethnic German villages whose residents - like so many others - had been expelled from Czechoslovakia after World War II. After about 10 km I rounded a corner and the official endpoint of Stage 5 of my circuit ride - the small town of Horní Dvořiště - suddenly came into view. As I rested my camera on the top of a post to take a photo of the bucolic scene, I got an electric shock from a cow fence.

Horní Dvořiště as photographed from an electric fence

Me reflecting on an unforgettable journey through Šumava

I took a few more photos on the town square, then - seeing as I had half an hour to kill before catching my train home - I took a seat at a table outside the village pub. The waiter brought me probably the biggest bowl of ice cream I’ve ever seen. That, coupled with the beer I washed it down with, left me feeling like I’d swallowed a fully inflated football. The final mile of my journey - to the railway station - was not a comfortable experience.

Beer and ice cream: an explosive mix

Horní Dvořiště railway station: end of Stage 5

Channelling Šumava

2011-08-04T11:35:00.005+02:00

Stage 5, day 3 (Saturday, 4 June 2011)
Strážný to Vyšší Brod (94 km)

First, a quick history lesson. The Schwarzenberg Timber Floating Channel (Schwarzenberský plavební kanál) was designed by forestry engineer Joseph Rosenauer and was built in two phases between 1789 and 1823. It begins on the Czech-Bavarian border, crosses the watershed of the Danube and Vltava rivers, and runs for 32 miles through the Šumava forest before flowing into the River Mühl in Austria. It is around 2.5 m wide, 1 m deep and draws water from 27 springs. During its 100-year heyday between 1793 and 1892, almost 8 million cubic metres of firewood was floated out of Šumava to Vienna. The city’s grateful authorities made Rosenauer an honorary citizen for his efforts. The channel fell into disrepair after timber floating ended in the 20th century, and it is only now gradually being restored to its former glory. Why am I telling you all this? Because I cycled almost its entire length on this day of my trip along the Czech border.

Setting off from Strážný

I was chatting with the boss of Hotel Strážný while loading up the bike in the morning. “The weather could go either way,” he said, pointing up at the clouds lurking over the hills to the west. “But it’s usually better here than on the German side.” He wished me a pleasant ride and I set off along the “Golden Trail”, an old salt trading route between Bavaria and Bohemia.

Crossing into Germany for the last time on my circuit ride

After a couple of miles I turned right down a steep, wet path to the border with Germany. A large group of Czech cyclists all in the same red jerseys passed me as I took photographs. I overtook them on the hill on the other side then followed the frontier into the sleepy town of Haidmühle. From there, cycling against a tide of Germans carrying bags stuffed with cheap Czech cigarettes, I crossed back into the Czech Republic at Nové Údolí. It was here that I came across the “shortest international railway line in the world”.

The Šumava Railway: "105 metres long! Journey time 24 seconds!"

All aboard the train to Germany!

The adjacent Wagon Pub

The top of the Schwarzenberg Channel was just two miles down the road from Nové Údolí. The first section - a singletrack with muddy holes and slippery tree roots - had me nervous, but it soon opened out into a wide, smooth forest trail. The channel was well maintained in places, but completely blocked and barely visible in others. However, it was never less than enchanting, and I felt in fine form as I scooted along.

Start of the Schwarzenberg Channel

Near the village of Jelení the channel disappears into a 429 m long tunnel, so I had to take a short detour along the “Bear Trail”, so called because it leads to the spot where, on 14 November 1856, the last surviving wild bear in the Czech lands was hunted down and killed. The hunt involved 122 people, 46 of them armed, and took place in bad weather and deep snow. The encircled beast turned on its pursuers and chased them before one of the party took aim and fired the final, fatal shot.

The "Upper Portal", where the channel disappears into a tunnel

I stopped in Jelení and lunched on chicken schnitzel and delicious blueberry tart at an outdoor pub. Never before on my circuit ride of the Czech Republic had I seen so many other cyclists in one place. Šumava is a well-known cycling destination and the Schwarzenberg channel has the added attraction of being almost flat, unlike many other cycling trails in the area. Indeed, it has such a minimal incline the water sometimes looks like it is flowing uphill.

The section of channel by the museum at Jelení

Just down the road from the pub I found a one-room museum featuring a large and quite impressive 3D map of the whole area. The other tourists around me let out a collective gasp of wonderment as I pressed a button on the control panel and lit up the entire length of the model waterway with little flashing lights.

First taste of Austria

I continued along the channel in the afternoon, and in doing so entered Austria for the first time on my circumnavigation of the Czech Republic. This section of the “Schwarzenbergische Schwemmkanal” was the most overgrown, but the parallel trail stayed perfectly cyclable all the way to U Korandy back in the Czech Republic, where I parted company with this amazing feat of late 18th century engineering.

Me in a mirror in on the other side of the channel

Back into the Czech Republic for the final 2 km of the Schwarzenberg Channel

I headed uphill – on asphalt that was melting in the afternoon sun and snapped, crackled and popped as my tyres rolled over it – all the way to Vítkův Hrádek, which, at 1,053 metres above sea level, is the highest castle ruin in the Czech Republic. Two rock climbers were scaling the side of the 13th century tower with the aid of ropes, but I took the easier option of climbing the steps on the inside. From the top there were magnificent panoramic views of Lipno reservoir, aka the “South Bohemian Sea” and the whole of southern Šumava. Worryingly, I could also see sinister storm clouds gathering from the north.

Vítkův Hrádek castle

View from the top...

...and view of the inside

I freewheeled down the hill from the castle and joined a road running parallel to the border to the foot of the last big climb of Stage 5 of my trip, at a place called Spáleniště. Now, generally I have a very positive relationship with hills, but this was a 1,000 foot sting in the tail I could have done without. I wasn’t in the mood any more, but I had no choice other than to labour up the uncomfortably steep and potholed forest road to the top. Fortunately the ominous clouds I’d spotted from the castle stayed at bay.

Top of the final major climb of Stage 5

A bone-rattling descent on the other side took me into the town of Vyšší Brod, where I’d booked accommodation for the night. My room turned out to be in a converted barn in the courtyard behind the guesthouse. For the second time that day I ate al fresco, this time on the terrace of the guesthouse restaurant, my peace disturbed only by the roar of a posse of enormous German motor trikes passing through town.

Local Jakub beer

After dinner I wandered aimlessly around the town for a while before a wall poster reminded me to check out the local microbrewery. It wasn’t quite what I’d imagined. Instead of a gleaming copper temple to the art of brewing, I found a spartanly furnished, windowless cellar called Pajzl u Jakuba (pajzl being the Czech for a dive or sleazy pub). Practically the only food on offer was pork scratchings in lard. However, the beer was undeniably good, so I enjoyed a couple of pints while writing up the day’s events. A drunk slumped over the table next to mine snored loudly as I did so.

The forest is crying

2011-07-06T22:26:00.003+02:00

Stage 5, day 2 (Friday, 3 June 2011)
Železná Ruda to Strážný (78 km)

The mournful title track of “The Forest is Crying” (an LP of Bulgarian vocal music I bought back in the 1980s) starts to play in my head as I emerge on the plateau of the Šumava National Park and take in the sheer scale of the devastation up here. Much of the former dense forest has been reduced to stumps. Logs litter the ground, ghostly pale after having been stripped of their bark. The silence is broken by the rasp of chainsaws as foresters fight to control a barely visible enemy: the bark beetle. It is a pest that is turning these “Green Lungs of Europe” brown. The forest is indeed crying.

I was woken at two in the morning by the sound of a couple copulating con brio in the room next to mine. They followed this up with a full-blown post-coital row and a further round of rumbustious rutting. This went on till 6 a.m., whereupon they packed their bags and left, not bothering to lower their voices as they did so. It was the worst night’s sleep of my trip, a bad case of somnus interruptus.

Church of Panna Maria Pomocná z Hvězdy in Železná Ruda

Later that morning I headed south out of Železná Ruda and then swung to the east up a mountain road leading into the forest. I was now entering Šumava proper. About halfway up the climb the contact lens popped out of my right eye and dropped to the ground before I could catch it. It hadn’t gone in properly that morning, probably on account of my sleep deprived eyes. I stopped and put in a new one, but it didn’t settle well either. I persevered up the hill, blurry eyed and blinking but still able to admire the views opening up to my right across the border into Germany.

Welcome to Šumava National Park

On either side of the trail forestry workers were busy felling trees. It’s a deeply controversial strategy for dealing with the beetle infestation. The park authorities say it’s the only way to save the forest from being wiped out. Some environmental groups, however, believe the authorities are exaggerating the problem and that nature should be left to its own devices.

Scenes of deforestation

According to my map, the trail I wanted to follow through one of the remotest parts of the park was closed until July, but I stuck to my original route in the blind hope that the map was wrong. At the beautiful black waters of Lake Laka I stopped to rest and take some pictures. From there, however, my path was blocked by two park rangers, who looked in no mood to let anyone through. So, I retraced my tracks back to Hůrka (German name: Hurkenthal), a former mirror-making village whose ethnic German populace was expelled from the country after the Second World War.

Lake Laka

Remains of the church at Hůrka

During the Cold War this area was strictly off-limits to the general public and was used for military exercises. Further down the road I came across signs warning of unexploded munitions in the meadows on either side of the road.

Danger UXB!

In the village of Prášily I stopped for lunch at a pub full of cyclists and forestry workers. I successfully replaced my troublesome contact lens in the pub toilet, but my eye problems continued after I set off again. I’d unwittingly left my sunglasses sitting on the rear rack of my bike, and of course they fell off as soon as I round the first corner. Fortunately I heard them hit the road behind me, and even more fortunately I found them unscathed when I returned to pick them up.

Prášilské jezero (Lake Prášily)

I’d covered a depressingly small distance that morning, and ahead of me this afternoon was one of the biggest climbs of my entire circuit ride. A group of German road cyclists whizzed past me as I turned off the highway and onto the wide dirt trail leading to the summit of Poledník. At Liščí díry (“Foxholes”) I ventured off the main route to visit Prášily Lake, which fills the base of a glacial cirque on the side of the mountain. I had to abandon the bike and walk the last 200 yards up the rocky path. By the lake is a small monument to Ottakar Kareis, a student who drowned here in 1927.

Looking down the steepest part of the climb to Poledník...

I’d have liked to tarry at this beautiful spot longer, but time was getting on so I clambered back down to my bike and rejoined the main trail. On the steepest part of the climb it took all my strength to keep pedalling rather than get off and walk. Fortunately the last section was less brutal, and before long I arrived - tired but elated - at the highest point of my entire journey along the Czech border: Poledník, 1,315 metres above sea level.

...the highest point of my circuit ride

At the summit is an odd-looking viewing tower which served as an air defence station during the Cold War. In the now well-established tradition of Circuit Rider CZ, I climbed up the steep steps to the top to take in the view. The damage wreaked by the beetle (and also by Hurricane Kyrill in 2007) was even more plain to see from this lofty location.

Scene from the top of the tower

From Poledník I descended on surfaces of steadily improving quality to the Roklanský potok, a mountain stream that meanders across the marshy plateau. I followed the flow down to the village of Modrava, where I stopped to stock up on snack food and water. From there I headed up another gorgeous stream - the Modravský potok - along a newly laid road reserved exclusively for cyclists and walkers. Šumava truly is a cycling paradise - if you don’t mind hills, that is.

The Roklanský stream...

...and the Modravský stream

Late in the afternoon, with not a soul in sight, I reached the top of another big hill - Černá hora (Black Mountain) - and dropped rapidly to the next point of interest on my map: the source of the Vltava (the river that flows through Prague). A strange stillness descended as I rounded the bend and re-entered the forest at the top of the valley. The true source of the river lies in inaccessible terrain higher up the mountainside; the pool pictured below is really just a tourist attraction. I sat there for while speculating how long it would take the water to reach Prague from here.

The source of the Vltava

From the source of the Vltava I backtracked a couple of hundred yards and commenced the last climb of the day to Pod Stráží. It was very rough and very steep, but fortunately not all that long. I took my mind off the pain in my legs by slaloming around the fat-bottomed ants crossing the path below me. A sign at the top told me I still had 18 kilometres to go to Strážný, my destination for the day, but it was all downhill from here.

View back down the last climb of the day

Before long a gentle rain began to fall, but on the long, straight descent I managed to keep just ahead of the ominous cloud gathering from the north. The first sign of civilization was a grubby brothel right on the edge of town. Strážný itself had the usual cluster of Vietnamese market stalls selling tat to cross-border shoppers, but the hotel was respectable enough and the welcome warm by Czech standards. I was the only guest staying there that night. I dined on bean soup and schnitzel and reflected on one of the most thought-provoking day’s cycling of my trip. The waitress quizzed me about where I was from, saying she was unfamiliar with my “dialect”. As an Englishman who has spent many years trying to get to grips with Czech, I took this as a compliment.

Riding down memory lane

2011-06-15T15:13:00.002+02:00

Stage 5, day 1 (Thursday, 2 June 2011)
Nýrsko to Železná Ruda (36 km)

Just a half day’s cycling in store for me today, on the back of a four-hour train ride from Prague to the start point of Stage 5 - Nýrsko on the northern edge of Šumava National Park. I begin by retracing a small section of the Prague-Munich ride I did with a couple of friends three years ago. Back then, the weather was cold and wet. The steam rose from our backs as we laboured up the climb to Špičák pass, and the subsequent descent chilled us to the bone. In Železná Ruda we took refuge in a pub to warm up, but the manager switched the heating off as soon as we arrived. It’s none too warm today, either, and for reasons not even known to myself I’ve booked a room at the same place tonight. It doesn’t bode well.

Špičák pass, wet and cold, May 2008

Nýrsko was quite chilly and overcast when I alighted from the train on Thursday afternoon. The town was as unattractive as I’d remembered it, so I wasted little time there. Before long I was heading along a quiet road up to the nearby reservoir, where I stopped to take some photos and reminisce about my 2008 trip to Munich.

Nýrsko reservoir

I skirted the reservoir along its western shore, following a sporadically muddy off-road trail for a while. The climbing - of which there would be much over the coming couple of days - started in earnest in the village of Hamry, but I was aided by a slight tailwind and especially by a newly surfaced road winding uphill through thick forest.

Smooth riding up to...

I shared the last, flatter, part of the climb to Černé Jezero (Black Lake) with a large party of German mountain bikers. I began to see tourists, and quite a lot of them. On previous stages of my circuit ride they’d been few and far between, but Šumava is a national park - a frequently visited one - and Černé Jezero is one of its best-known beauty spots.

...Černé Jezero, the biggest and deepest lake in Šumava

I freewheeled to the busy main road at Špičák pass and sent text messages to Ryan and Ciaran, who had been there with me en route to Munich. Unlike last time, I decided to take a detour to a viewing tower called Pancíř more than 700 feet higher up. As I climbed, vividly coloured bullfinches fluttered and twittered through the trees to one side. My efforts were rewarded by fine views across northern Šumava on all sides. However, the tower itself - which sits squatly on top of a mountain lodge built in 1923 - turned out to be shut.

Pancíř mountain lodge and viewing tower

View across Šumava

The long descent to the frontier town of Železná Ruda was chilly, but not downright cold and wet as it had been that day in 2008. I touched 60 km/h on the wide road down without even trying. On arriving I had a quick cycle around the town to confirm that it was indeed as sleazy as I’d remembered it and I then checked into the guesthouse. Fortunately it seemed to be under new management. In contrast to my previous visit, the welcome and the premises themselves were warm.

Stage 5 slideshow

2011-06-10T10:12:00.002+02:00

Here's the Stage 5 slideshow, folks!

Stage 5 completed

2011-06-05T12:36:00.002+02:00

The church clock on Horni Dvoriste square is striking noon as I enjoy a celebratory pint and an ice cream outside the village pub. It seems as good a way as any to celebrate the end of Stage 5 before catching the train home.

Castles in the Sumava sky

2011-06-04T22:55:00.003+02:00

This afternoon I climbed to the highest castle in the Czech Republic - Vitkuv Hradek. Look closely at the photo and you might see a rock climber hanging off the keep. From the top of the castle there are fine views through 360 across Sumava, and especially of Lipno reservoir, aka the South Bohemian sea. Tomorrow I plan to visit the southernmost point of the Czech Republic, but given my previous failures to find the most northerly and westerly points I'm not feeling too optimistic.