Despite there being a bit more rain, my tent kept me dry - I slept deeply and woke up early. As a rather soggy dawn broke over the Sázava valley I got my stuff together and headed back to the Korfball club for breakfast. The girl from the night before was just opening up and made me a coffee, which I supplemented with a croissant that'd made it all the way from Poland.
The previous day had been a bit epic: 110km, with significant climbing. My limbs were aching, and I was getting a bit concerned about how much even the short distances were taking out of me. I was pleased with yesterday's performance, but didn't think I could take many more days of the same length. Now the conditions had improved: a little rain, but nothing like the headwinds and baking sun I'd had in the Black Forest, never mind the gradients - there didn't seem any excuse for what appeared to me as my slackness. Little did I realise quite how much climbing I was going through every day: it was only when I analysed the routes after the fact that I realised the previous day I'd climbed more than the during the epic saga of Shauinsland - it was just hidden by the lack of distinct peaks in the constantly undulated Czech landscape.
So, my aim for the day was to take things reasonably easy. I was back on schedule now, and if I could make it to Plzen in two days I would still have time for the rest day - which I could sacrifice if things became very slow. Making the Vltava - the great river running from top to bottom of the country - seemed to me to be a sensible goal. There would be plenty of campsites (and I felt I needed the extra comfort of a shower and a restaurant), and it was in theoretical striking distance of Plzen the next day (putting out my mind for the moment the scary, unpopulated hills of CHKO Brdy which I would need to cross).
As I slowly had breakfast, a guy dressed in waterproof gear came over for a chat. He was canoeing with his family - while road access along the valley is difficult, it's a popular paddle all along the river, which eventually joins the Vltava. I asked him about the possibility of getting up the valley, and with some examination of his phone he verified that while there was no road, there was a track that contoured around further up the slope. "I have no idea if you can ride it though!", he presciently warned me.
It seemed that breakfast was served from the Korfball club after 9am, when the deliveries came back from the village. Not being a big breakfast man I was fairly satisfied, but went looking around the back to fill up on water. I was slightly disconcerted to find a complete shower block, really quite nicely done up. Could've done with that last night, but I couldn't really be bothered with it before starting the ride. I made one last visit to the bar to pay my remarkably tiny camping bill, and waved to the canoueists as I set off.
A bar, restaurant and campsite camouflaged as a Korfball school
There were some cabins and things, which I thought were all shut up the previous night - but the morning revealed quite a number of canoeist occupants.
As I'd discovered to my incredulity the night before, there was no road running down the picturesque valley I'd descended into. I had absolutely no intention of climbing back out, so my options were to head south-east, essentially in the wrong direction, or to somehow break through the kilometre-or-so gap to the next village of Vlastějovice off road. I was conscious of wearing myself with silly off-road adventured early in the day, but just couldn't bring myself to go backwards.
I pootled down to the end of the valley and dead-end. Sure enough, a decent track continued away from the river after crossing the railway. I followed this for a couple of hundred metres - and then the path I needed to follow along the valley was quickly obvious. I'd have no problem navigating - but on the downside it was extremely steep, narrow, and loose surfaced. There was no way to ride - so I had to push the bike half a kilometre or so along this woodland path.
When I got to the top, I was panting and sweating, despite the coolness of the morning. But the path flattened out and broadened out, and I found I could ride again. Eventually I popped out on a made road and descended down to the village. With a bit of elbow grease I'd made it out the valley!
The end of the road! The railway and river continue north up the valley - but the road just ... ends
Unfortunately, the path I actually needed to take me around looked more like this. I try to ride everything I can, but there was no way this was possible on the loaded shift. It was not a fun half-kilometre push.
Eventually I came out to the top and could ride again. I'd actually pushed the bike up 150m, which is no joke on that sort of path. You can just about see the river quite far below.
In Budčice, I picked up a numbered cycle route, and gladly followed it to the north-east towards Zruč and the end of the valley. At a level crossing I had to wait for the train that passes down the scenic valley - I took the opportunity to re-hydrate as the tiny train took on some passengers. The scenic route is apparently known as the "Sázava Pacific", after the Prague hobos that used it to escape to the country - in imitation of the great US railways of the thirties.
The numbered route turned out to be very well signed and easy to follow - and take an interesting, quiet and sometimes off-road route to Zruč. I started to feel better as I followed it through the quiet fields.
Waiting for the tiny "Sázava Pacific" that goes down the valley scenic route. Sadly there were no stations that I could use to skip the climb out the valley.
It was still early when I descended into Zruč, and the town was still sleepy. After the tricky technical start start to the ride, I intended to make the most of my shortcut and head directly west, taking the B road out of town towards the E50 highway to Prague. I'd then head directly to the next two substantial towns: Vlašim and Votice. If I could reach Votice by lunch I'd be well on my way to the Vltava.
The traffic was quiet, and it was a straightforward climb up to the motorway. The hidden, isolated vibe of the valley completely changed, as I passed over the roaring highway, surrounded by landfill sites. I didn't hang around and powered on towards Vlašim.
A rare roundabout (what's the priority again?) and a first sign for Praha
The road continued to climb and roll to Třhový Štěpánov (which must hold some sort of accent record - I'm not going to attempt to type it again, so it's TSas far as I'm concerned). While the traffic was reasonably light on the 126 B road, it was hilly and I fancied some quieter cycling and so planned to take the slightly less direct 127.
I picked that up south of TS, and as I left the town I spotted a curious sign that seemed to indicate a Jewish cemetery a few hundred metres off the road. I cycled up to the quiet hillside, and it appeared: a walled, secluded area quite separate from the town. Full of rather ancient stones with dense, beautifully hand-cared Hebrew letters, it was peaceful and rather eerie. On the one hand I was glad it had survived the dark years of the middle of the century (and had no modern vandalism - far-right agitation is hardly absent from the Czech Rep. in recent years). On the other, the community it had served is of course almost all gone. A rather ghostly place.
The entrance to the Jewish cemetery near Třhový Štěpánov
Inside the cemetery. You can see from the age of the trees, the unevenness of the ground and the way it is elevated above the surrounding country that it's a pretty ancient place.
Certainly an atmospheric and worthy place to stop. In rather sombre spirits I continued my rolling ride west towards Vlašim. I chewed through the kilometres without much of note, and soon was coming down into town. To my surprise as I descended, I noticed a huge Tesco outside the town below. It seemed like a good juncture to pick up some supplies, so I went in and brought a rather huge amount of food. I drank a full container of juice, and then prepared to go again.
From Vlašim there was no B road going directly west, so my approach was going to be to cut through the minor roads through villages until I could join the 150 near Jankov (pronounced "yank-off", according to my easily amused childish imagination). At this time, the B roads were quiet, and a little more direct (and less hilly) than the minor roads, so I was happy keeping on them to make time and kilometres.
I was feeling good, had covered 35km, and figured Votice would fall somewhere after 50km - so a good spot to aim for lunch. I passed a rather amazing dinky white castle outside Vlašim, and then passed through a series of small villages, in one of which (Polánka) I had to push the bike off road to pass around a bridge that was being repaired. The absence of the bridge meant that the road was very quiet, and I made good time.
As I neared the village of Čelivo, I heard a rumble of thunder, and almost immediately felt raindrops. I bore down and pumped the peddles, realising that the heavens were about to open and looking for some shelter. There's actually a prominent, and rather comical, 30kph peak on the GPS trace so I must've been motivated! I spun into the village, spotted a perfect bus shelter and dived into it, just as the rain started to tip down. It's not often I have the presence of mind to avoid a soaking!
I saw these all over the place, but only took a photo of them today. Public address systems, relics from the communist days.
The rain hammered down - it was so heavy (and loud inside the bus shelter) that I gathered up the panniers and brought them inside - even though I've never had any trouble with the waterproofing I didn't want to take any chances with the sleeping bag etc. I watched some of the workers in the farm opposite run rather frantically about to get out of the rain, and felt rather snug (and smug) as I ate my lunch - I since I was immobilised now was the perfect time. By the time I'd finished and made some coffee, the rain had completely gone.
During my vigil in Čelivo, I'd spotted a potential off-road shortcut on the map that would allow me to cut off an annoying 5km diversion to the south and head directly for Jankov. I was a little nervous what the surface would be like after the deluge, but the GPS verified it so thought I'd check it out, and return if it looked even slightly dodgy.
So I made my way north out of Čelivo up the hill, and then peeled off on a narrow country road. At the end was a charmingly hippyish camp, with teepees set up in the rolling countryside. I could've been back in Devon! The track proceeded from there, and I pushed on up it, watched by a couple of visitors to the camp. The surface was stony and remarkably good, and after dodging a couple of puddles and climbing very steadily I came out in the very rural village of Buchov. From here I could proceed via Bedřichovice to Jankov, and rejoined the main road. A few more kilometres and I was in my second staging point: Votice.
Half an hour after the deluge, the rain has flown, and blue sky was visible over the hilly country
Little rural road on the shortcut, and nice rustic signpost. I always am sceptical of people who say foreign countries don't look any different from home - I tend to think they're just not being observant - but this really could be a shot of England (maybe it's the rainy aspect?).
Coming into Votice. I really tried to set off the speed detector (and get a photo of it) - sometimes I could. It would inevitably show me some pathetic speed, then flash a smiley face in what appeared to me to be a patronising fashion. 12kph - well done you!
The towns were almost equidistantly placed through the ride - I had now travelled 60km, and was starting to flag a bit. It wasn't particularly obvious to me, but before Votice I had been climbing nearly the whole way and had been rolling up and down above 500m - a good 250m higher than the start of the day. The rest of the way to the Vltava would be a descent, and this carried me without excess fatigue.
Outside Votice I planned to take the back roads to cut as far west as I could, to avoid the "red" main road 18 - I was happy taking "B" (yellow) routes, but mostly because all the traffic seemed to be funnelled onto these trunk roads. Fortunately there was a network of country roads that ran parallel to the trunk route, crossing it near the village of Kosava Hora. The roads ran through an industrial district outside of Votice, the whole of which smelt of biscuits.
I eventually traced the smell to this factory, which does seem to be a bakery of some sort. Mmm!
I was quite tired now, but the going was good and the sun came out - it was still cool, but the landscape glowed with a freshly-washed green as I picked through the villages of Nazdice and Vojkov.
There were lots of these - maypoles? - around, nearly one in every village. Some of them were incredibly tall.
The landscape glowing in the sunshine. You can get some impression of how high this is relative to the Vltava valley, which can just be seen to the right
I crossed the 18 after Vojkov, and noticed that it really wasn't too busy. After Kosova Hora, I quickly came to the small town of Sedlčany. From here there were more backroads going west for the next 5km, but beyond that there was no direct way to the Vltava valley, which was only another 10km away. After some indecision, I had picked the campsite indicated to be near to the 18 and its bridge over the Vltava. Close inspection of the map indicated that, frustratingly, it wasn't accessible except from the 18, even though minor roads connected villages a few kms to the south. So I figured I would ride a little on the 18, in virtue of directness.
After Příčovy I spun onto the road, and - while there were cars - it was fine riding. Even when I slowed down to climb up hills, they passed wide and without fuss, and it was all good. Coming around a bend, to my surprise I saw a lot of cars queuing up. It seemed there had been quite a bad smash - four or five cars were smashed up to various degrees. Traffic was having a lot of trouble getting past it, but I could easily squeeze through on my bike. Cars were queuing on the other side too, and a few people asked me (what must have been) what was causing the obstruction. I made as explanatory hand gestures as I could (two hands - smash!) and continued on to Dublovice.
Sedlčany was a rather handsome place, with a nice square. 31km to Příbram, which would be my first waypoint on the way to Plzen tomorrow. I did have a slight run in with a car here, but it was really my fault - and the driver gave me a benevolent wave and smile, and gave way to *me*. Good fellow!
On the outskirts of Sedlčany. This is very typical of Czech towns - there are quite dense high-rises, and then the town just ... stops. It's quite nice, as the countryside begins straight away, no sprawl.
After Dublovice I could pull off the 18 - with a little relief, I have to say - and take the back roads again. Instead of describing three-sides-of-a-square via Drážkov, I could see another off-road shortcut directly to the west to Hrachov. I'd had such luck with the last one I figured it could be a nice way to end the ride.
And it was! The path lead off behind a house, and then over a stream and through some woods to a kind of hidden, unpopulated valley. I found my way down it, and then popped out by a kind of park which was full of school kids - of all things, petting a goat. They stared at me with great curiosity - naturally, I was a bit of a bizarre sight - but was ignored by the teachers so figured I hadn't wondered into anywhere I shouldn't have been. A terrifically steep little hill took me to Hrachov, and continued up through the village. It looks like about 9% on the trace, but it felt even steeper!
The off-road shortcut through the empty, secluded little valley. I was having great luck with my off-roading today.
Though it was only a kilometre from Hrachov as the crow flew, annoying the only access to the campsite seemed to be to go back up to the 18, travel a couple of hundred metres along it, and then back down along the river. But, of course, it was fine - a couple of minutes and I was on an idyllic road by the mighty Vltava, following clear camping signs.
And to my relief, there was indeed a campsite open. I parked up the bike, and seeing the reception empty, strolled into the bar-restaurant. The two girls on the bar seemed to find my lack of Czech hilarious - really, context should have been the key - and got (their father?), a slightly odd bloke that was the other end of the spectrum, saying things to me repeatedly long after I'd got it. It was fine to camp, but I gathered there was no showers. To be honest I wasn't sure I'd got this right - surely there were showers? To confuse matters, he had a habit of sniffing mightily every few minutes. At first I genuinely wasn't sure if he was trying some advanced-level non-verbal communication - there's no showers so, you know, you'll just have to smell (or maybe I already did smell - it was certainly plausible). But I think he just had a tic!
Anyway, I wheeled up to the tent area, which was very nice - flat and off to itself in the woods - and set up. There were a few Czech youngsters who seemed very friendly. In a state of significant exhaustion, I went down to the shower block and determined that, yes, indeed it was completely locked up. Not giving a damn any more, I took my top off and washed myself down by the taps - I hadn't had a shower for two days now, so was determined.
I changed into some cleaner clothes and went down to the restaurant. The girls had well got over their hilarity now and were friendly as I ordered beer and pizza. The place was busy with jolly Czechs, no other foriegners I could see. At one point a guy with a friendly dog introduced himself, and was incredibly friendly and enthusiastic. The pizza was actually superb - I'd eaten very lightly for the last few days - and after my second drink I was gone. Another deep nights' sleep for me.
