One man, a tent and a bike: part 5

It was somewhat disappointing to leave Ostrava under grey skies, but at least it was dry. Then at noon, the clouds wouldn’t hold back anymore and it started pouring. My route and the surrounding landscape was pretty monotonous and the only diversion came with a long phone conversation with my mum.

It had been a while since I had passed through the last town, when a kitten crossed the road. The tiny creature was soaking wet and shivering – just like me – and had a light injury. I was wondering how it had ended up so far away from civilization. No doubt, the cars speeding by would mean its certain death, were I to leave it now.

Taking it along turned out more difficult than I first thought. I finally managed to place it inside a plastic bag and hung it from my handlebars. The poor thing did not like this unknown transportation mode at all. My plan was to find it a new home down the road as soon as possible. I briefly thought about keeping it, but the impossibility of this was all too clear to me. There was light inside one of the first dwellings I saw. Then, I realised that my inability to speak Czech to explain the situation would make it very hard to convince anybody to take on a stray kitten.

My mind made up, I placed it on the doormat, sheltered from rain and wind and hoped that the people would take kind to the little creature. However, the kitten came after me when I started to leave. I took it back to the door, rang the bell, and quickly rode away. Not an easy farewell.

The area was hilly and the only wooded sections – my preferred campsites - were along steep slopes. I decided to lug my gear up a hill piece by piece. After a simple but wholesome meal, I quickly decided to call it a night to the sound of the drizzling rain inside my tent. The next day was rainy as well. Even though my gear was all waterproof, the moisture slowly took hold of everything and with it the cold. In addition, I started having problems with my phone, the handy and cheap device that doubled as my camera and navigation system. Failure would be devastating: Being stuck in the middle of nowhere and you can’t even capture it on film or let anybody know about it. The battery made it through the day though – and then I discovered that my power bank was out of juice as well.

With all my gear already soaked from the past 24 hours, night began to fall. I had badly chosen the campsite, the ground was uneven and then there was noise that did not belong. I heard something that awfully sounded like gunfire – I tried to convince myself that it was fireworks. It was bad night, but dawn came and I had managed to catch a few hours of light sleep and badly needed rest. I used the first morning light and the few minutes of battery power that I could squeeze out of the power bank to jot down a few coordinates from my maps. I committed them to my memory the best I could. I only had to reach Slovakia and hopefully electricity. From there it was easy – follow the river Danube bike path to Vienna.

At the border, I finally found a power outlet and managed to take the obligatory picture. I was physically and emotionally drained and decided to call it a day in the next town. I booked myself into a hotel and spread out my clothes for drying. My spirits started lifting with the warmth retuning to my body. At the same time I was frustrated by the realisation how depended I was on electricity and the comforts of civilization.

The next morning had me back in the saddle with batteries recharged - literally, physically, and mentally - and dry equipment. Upon recommendation of the hotel manager, I followed the river March. On its way to Bratislava, it forms a natural border line with the Czech Republic and later Austria. I enjoyed the solitude on my path. The rising temperatures that dried the air made my ride even more pleasant. Towards the end of the day, I did not look for the cover of the forest, but camped somewhat out in the open on one of the meadows along the river. I watched the fog roll in across the water before darkness fell. The remaining 60 kilometres along the river to the capital city Bratislava followed in the morning under a clear and sunny sky. I spent an hour touring its beautiful historic city centre.

Soon after passing Bratislava, the March flows into the Danube. The bike bath paralleled the majestic stream that would lead me into the fifth country on my journey, Austria. I did not feel like riding too much that day and finally stopped after another 20 kilometres. Once more I chose an open meadow as a campsite, prepared dinner and spent the evening reading. I was looking forward to Vienna, Austria’s magnificent, baroque capital. There, I would also reunite with Andreas, an old friend from university, whom I had not seen in seven years.

I made painfully slow progress on the last 30 kilometres to Vienna’s centre, but still madnaged to arrive at the agreed time at my friend’s flat. Andreas and I had a great time visiting and remembering our days at uni. My stay was relaxing and productive as well. I enjoyed the comforts of a real kitchen and my bike received the well-deserved maintenance. As I had become accustomed to during these city-stopovers, apart from the exploring, I spent my days writing, eating, meeting and conversing with people and also running some errands.

It was my grandmother’s unfulfilled dream to visit Vienna. I did my best to fill this void in her honour while I was there. Then it was time to move on. The day of my departure was sunny and bright and made the city’s buildings look even more splendid. Andreas and I shared one last drink and then we went to the central station, where I boarded the train to Florence, Italy.