Day Fifteen - Pieniężno to Węgorzewo (83mi)
954 miles in 13 days of riding, according to my Garmin app. The biggest riding trip I’ve ever done was Lake Superior in 2003, where we clocked a total of 1100 miles in something like 12 days. Kids. I think the only reason it ended up being 12 days is because my body told me to stop in the middle because of an Achilles heel issue. Anyways, that was then. I still have 700 more miles to go on this trip and I’m tuning into my body. My ass is taking a beating from these Polish roads. Smooth pavement feels like butter. Wavy cobblestone paths feel like a Phil Collins drum solo on my back side.
With all that said, I know how to modify my riding style in these conditions. Over a drink at a cycle show in the UK years ago, the legendary Paris-Roubaix winner, Johan Musseuw, shared that he pedals at an extremely low cadence over the cobbles, letting the bike flow under him. It takes more strength, but it definitely helps with efficiency and saddle sores. More on the Paris-Roubaix later.
Leaving the campground this morning I had a nice conversation with the owners, Tamara and Marek. They were the sweetest couple, and so eager to help with advice and information about the road ahead for me. They were also very nice with their Polish, speaking slowly and clearly so I could understand them. So sweet. Soon I was off, and headed towards Węgorzowo on the marked bike route, which is commonly painted on trees here.
The first 40 miles of the ride was on a highway with reasonably smooth blacktop. The wind was kissing me in the face, encouraging me to dig deeper into my bucket of energy, which was feeling quite low. I was tired. The previous day I relied too much on sweets for fuel, and I think I was feeling a prolonged crash. Before lunch time I stopped at a grocery store in a small town to grab some real food.
The cheese, salami, mustard, and bread rolls (not pictured) cost a total of 16 złoty, or roughly $4 USD. It was tasty, but it seemed to immediately upset my stomach. Three teenage boys walked around the corner in the park to see me at the picnic table and were surprised by my presence. They said “dobry”, put their heads down, then sat at a table in the shelter on the other side from where I parked my bike. The bike is getting looked at a lot in this part of Poland. The sign above my bike explains how this park, which is a cycling rest stop, was funded as part of a national cohesive strategy. I think the boys started smoking as I was leaving.
I rode out of town and was struck by a sign unlike others I have seen here yet. I reads:
“Polish farmers. Polish fields. Polish bread. On Polish Tables.”
The sign was put there by a farmers organization from the Mazury region, where I am riding through right now. The message is not innocuous. It is a reflection of the sociopolitical climate happening in Poland. There is tension between farmers and EU membership, and the regulations that come with it. While cycling through Poland I have seen dozens of signs celebrating EU funding for specific projects, as well as signs spray painted with X’s over the same message. The sign below is poignant. It stopped me immediately when I saw it.
There is a pride in this area of the country that I haven’t seen elsewhere. That also seems to come with a bit more provincialism. There are more “do not enter” and “private property” signs here than I have seen. Riding out of Bartoszyce, my planned route was to ride what was labled a bike path on the map. I soon found out that that was not going to be ok. This person cared so much about keeping people off this path that they used an excavator to move several massive rocks to block the trail, forming the most medieval stop sign I have ever seen. This is very unusual. It was time for me to re-route. Things are different in these parts.
It was back to the highway, and then more of these crushing cobblestones. Mr. Johan Musseuw, thanks again for the advice.
These cobbles devolved into a dirt trail, which led me to an interesting memorial for several people from the 1700’s who had built a bridge across a river I was about to cross. Incredible.
Whoever was last here visiting dropped their kiełbasa.
At this point I was getting pretty thirsty and drained of energy. I needed to get some water and a boost. I was passing through Glitajny and there was a convenience store. There were two older men in front arguing, and 4-5 more men loitering around and smoking. I really needed water, so I went for it. When I came out of the shop, my bike was only visible through cigarette smoke, as this group of men had taken an interest in my bike. Their first question was how much the bike cost. I pretended I didn’t understand. The second question was, where are you from. I told them. I shot the bull with them about the weather, told them I was tired, but enjoying this area. They asked me if I was traveling alone. I probably should have lied, but I told them I was alone. It was quite a moment. These guys seemed to clearly have problems with outsiders, but speaking with them in their tongue gained me some credibility. I didn’t feel threatened necessarily, it’s just that the encounter would have been totally different if there was no ability to communicate. The power of language.
The bike path narrowed so much in the next section. It reminded me of the hair covering the eyes of the highland cows we saw in Sweden. Are you there? I can barely see you, bike trail! It was just wider than my shoulders.
The fields were beautiful today. I was tired as hell, but enjoying the scenery.
I finally made it to the camp site, got set up, forgot to take photos, then went into town for dinner. A Polish band was playing loud music from across the street. I got to speak with Allison and her parents for awhile, which was such a treat, and so good to hear their voices. I’m missing everyone back home a lot. I think of my friends and family every day while riding, looking forward to seeing everyone again next month.
I got back to camp and showered. These showers were certainly built in the era of brutalist architecture, remnants from pre-1990. They reminded me of the classic showers that racers like Johan Musseuw use after finishing the Paris-Roubaix race. These showers are well documented, and I wanted to document these showers here after I was done.
Walking back down to the camp site after showering I was startled by a movement in the grass. It was a hedgehog! The first time I have ever seen a hedgehog!
Time to bury my head in a pillow and get rest for Day Sixteen, my last day in Poland.