You know how borders follow natural barriers?

August 20, 2019

Žlutice (CZ 🇨🇿) - Oelsnitz (DE 🇩🇪)

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I actually slept rather well inside the rather open pavilion. I'd set an alarm for 5am, but when it went off it was still pretty dark, so dozed in the now very cool morning until the light started coming up. As I'd slept in my clothes, striking camp basically consisted of standing up and rolling up my sleeping bag.

The tent had even dried a (little) bit, so I bundled it away before it could get covered in dew again. Then I could put some coffee on - I'd managed to remember to buy some yesterday evening and was glad to have my pick-me-up available again - and have a leisurely breakfast. I certainly had plenty of time what with the early start.

The morning was still and misty, but it was dry and I generally felt like I had a lot more energy compared to yesterday. This was a good thing as I'd need it: my route from this point was clear, I would need to climb over the border and some distance inside Germany today if I wanted any chance of staying on track. A range of, frankly, mountains runs along the border of North Bohemia and Saxony, with peaks easily above 900-1000m. These are the Ore Mountains, and before I started contemplated the problem of how to leave Czechia I hadn't fully grasped what Wikipedia makes clear: that they "have formed a natural border between Saxony and Bohemia for 800 years". Indeed, there were only a handful of roads running north through the passes, and the wall separating the countries continued unbroken all the way to the strange "panhandle" of Cheb and As in the far West, which was more extensive hilly terrain (and which looked even less tempting, to my rolling hill-fatigued eye, than a straight climb out).

The Ore mountains. Yeah, that's the way I need to be going...

I had no intention of detouring that far west anyway, and had picked on the a pass following the valley of the Svateva. The surrounding peaks were more on the 700-800m range, but more importantly both a river and railway passed all the way from the valley over the pass and into Germany. How bad could it be? In the valley was the spa town of Karlovy Vary (or, as it still seems to be universally known in Germany, Karlsbad) - the only big town I would pass through in this rather depopulated area - as well as some of the notorious heavy industry of Northern Bohemia.

So my morning's destination was clear: Karlovy Vary. The highway E48 headed directly there a few kilometres north of Zlutice, but despite the earliness of the hour I was still hesitant about riding it for a full 25km with no chance of getting off. Fortunately, the tiny "pencil" lines on my map now seemed to represent proper back roads, through which on the GPS map I could see marked clear cycleways that would take be to Bochov on the highway, and then on to Karlovy Vary.

It didn't take long to pack up, and I was on the road before 7. Unfortunately, my first act was going to have to be climbing the bloody hill for the third time to get past the town. I was an old pro at it now though, and even found it invigorating.

At the top of the hill outside Zlutice. It's a misty, still, quiet morning. This was where the other phantom campsite was marked on my (GPS) map. Either it's very well camoflaged, or such a thing has never existed.

I continued along the, frankly deserted, B road towards Veselov, and (after a touch of slightly tricky navigation) found the turn towards Ratibor that would take me across country to Bochov. After passing through the sleeping village with its own little tower blocks, I continued on signed grassy tracks into the woods, passing some early dog-walkers who gave me a friendly greeting.

I picked my way along the dirt and grass paths. It wasn't exactly speedy, but one of the things I love about the Shift is that, even carrying a lot of luggage, it's so stable that I can ride pretty comfortably on even rough tracks. Actually, this track got rougher and rougher - until I was really travelling through the woods. After relieving myself in a stand of trees - the lake had been a touch too exposed for that! - I came out in the unpronounceable village of Udrc and took back roads towards Bochov and the main road. Amazingly, just before the village, there was a sign with a camping and a bike symbol on it! I couldn't actually see where it lead, but this was an established cycle route so might have been something official...

Deserted minor roads - pretty good cycling!

The shortcut track got quite rough at times

This must be the tiniest caravan I've ever seen. I'm not sure I'd even be able to fit my body in here lengthwise, to be honest

At Bochov there was an elaborate re-tarring operation near the main road - I (carefully) rode the Shift over the new tar, which even though a little soft didn't stick to the wheels. Quickly I left the highway - which, even at this hour, was carrying traffic - and found the minor road west. I peeled off on the minor road toward Dlouha Lomnice across open fields, and then found the (fortunately well-signed segment of EV4!) track that would lead me across country again to Pila, so allowing me to avoid the highway.

The track was actually reasonably well-surfaced, and descended nearly all the way through an increasingly wooded valley. The way emerged near Pila, when I rejoined back-roads to take me around the (surprisingly sizable) Karlovy Vary airport that is perched on the high ground above the town, and some rather displaced-looking suburbs that seem to have sprung up around it.

Climbing into the open farmland around Bochov

I like the use of multiple exclamation marks

An impressive bit of carving in someone's garden...

While there'd been some gently descents, I was still above 600m and getting close to Karlovy Vary. In the broad valley of the river Ohr, it's a good 250m lower and I was anticipating a bit of a descent. I wasn't disappointed! The road hair-pinned down the steep hillside - and while it wasn't open enough to really build up speed, after several kilometres of 8% descent my brakes, and braking hands, while starting to squeal a bit. On the way down I got some great views of the impressive, baroque, and sometimes frankly bizarre architecture of some of the spas positioned on the hillside for the best views.

First peek down to Karlovy Vary in the valley

A spectacular, and sometimes bizarre, mismash of architectural styles in the spas

I'm still not sure if this is a real orthodox church

As I descended into the outskirts of town, I passed a decently sized supermarket, and figured it would be a good time to stock up before lunch (and try to spend as much of my remaining Czech Kurona as I could). Fortunately it was well-stocked, and I came out with armfuls of baked goods, juice, cheese, chocolate and crisps, and had to shove the into my panniers rather unceremoniously before the eyes of the people waiting at the bus stop opposite.

I spun down the rest of the way to the town centre, which was busy and jammed with traffic. I had to try to cross the river, but managed to get a bit confused and headed quite a way east, missing the bridge. Not that the driving was bad - in fact, it was hyper-courteous in an almost Scandinavian way. When I was waiting on the pavement looking at the GPS to work out if I needed to cross the road, a car stopped and gave way to me - despite the fact I was nowhere near the road. After a bit of confused waving on the lines of "after you ... no, after you" I thought the simplest thing was just to get on the bike and ride (the wrong way, as it turned out). It's rather nice and well intentioned, but jolly confusing none the less.

I crossed the river, and was then remarkably quickly out of town riding on a good cyclepath running between the river and the motorway. There were quite a few cyclists out exercising, something I hadn't seen I entered the country on the other side.

Cycle path between the river and motorway in Karlovy Vary/Karlsbad

My plan was to follow the valley to the west to Chodov, and then peel off around an enormous and ominously blank circle on the map to the village of Olovi, on the Svateva river which was followed by minor roads up to the last town in Czechia, Kraslice, and the pass into Germany. A fair bit of this would be on B roads - primarily the 210 - but I wasn't too worried about this. My first task was to find them!

Outside KV, the cycle route emerged near a rather monstrously complicated highway junction, out of which I knew the road to Chodov emerged. I spent a not-so-happy 10 minutes following the traffic, and hopping off the road when the junctions looked too hairy or I went the wrong way. It was during one the latter, when, as on foot I turned the bike around in the entrance to a service station, I was met with the surreal sight of the front of the bike apparently disappearing down into the road. It turned out there was a gap - perfectly bike-wheel-width - between the concrete station ramp and the tarmac road, into which my front wheel had sunk almost up to the hub. I (rather unthinkingly) yanked it out of this crevasse, with a not very reassuring rubbery-ripping sound of the jammed tyre. Fortunately, neither the tyre nor the brake disk seemed to have sustained any real damage on their unexpected trip to the underworld. Not a risk I would have anticipated!

After circumnavigating the junction a few times - and avoiding taking the ubiquitous exits to "starring role" (Stara Role), I did find the road to Chodov. It had a little traffic, but was reasonably flat and easy going and I made it without further trouble.

I figured Chodov would be a good spot for lunch, being the last "proper" town in the Czech Republic (I strongly suspected Kraslice would be a bit of a fly-by-night border town). You know what? Chodov is lovely, a really good send-off to Bohemia. It had a nice old town square, with lots of locals sitting around and chatting, and a jolly ice-cream seller. I sat down and made myself quite an elaborate lunch, and watched some workmen who were cleaning the fountain take their break and kick a football around. Then I spent some more of the Koruna burning a hole in my pocket on ice cream, getting a beaming smile from the lady selling it. It just had a nice vibe to the place.

Hah, call that English! I'm also intrigued by the "oldies retro party"...

Town square in Chodov. A place with a nice, friendly vibe. The Jehovah's weren't having much luck and packed up soon after I arrived.

I somehow sense this building has seen a wide variety of uses in the last few years...

But I had to continue onwards, and in this case, very much upwards. My first task was to continue on the B road, out of the valley and around the ominous blank spot on the map. It looked to be a climb back up to 600m or so, but I had no reason to think it would be anything but well graded.

The nature of strange holes in the map soon became clear: this area is a huge industrial brown-coal field called the Sokolov basin. One of the earliest cradles of the industrial revolution, the area has been filled industries to extract and use the coal ever since. Particularly heavily developed during the Communist years, at one point so much sulphur was emitted by the heavy industry of Northern Bohemia that acid rain denuded much of the forests of the hilly landscape. Pollution is much more controlled these days and the forests have recovered, but much of the industry remains.

First I followed a set of huge pipes, so large that they had to be raised above the road to allow traffic to pass under them at any turnings. I climbed up at a slow, steady pace, with the smell of sulphur becoming increasingly strong. At the point where it was positive Icelandic, I arrived in the settlement - I hesitate to call it a village - of Vresova. Apparently there was a historical village here, but after the war the German population was displaced - and a huge industrial complex converting coal to gas and electricity installed.

Certainly this was not a particularly pretty (or sweet-smelling place) - I didn't particularly envy the residents of the small blocks of flats right next to the complex, or the rather downcast kids walking to the bus stop along the road. But I still find industry on this scale impressive, and took more photos than really warranted. Think of it as a companion piece to the huge BASF plant on the Rhine from last year (but in a more Cold War key).

Welcome to Stara Chodovska - please drive under our massive pipe carefully!

Lots of smoking chimneys, and the pervasive smell of sulphur

Looking back down to the valley, everything seems to be steaming or smoking

Image not found :( — The big cooling tower

Leaving Vresova I had the harder part of the climb in front of me. There were now quite a lot of big trucks on the road, presumably from the industrial complex, but fortunately it broadened to effectively become a dual-carriageway, complete with significant shoulder, that allowed me to crawl my way along. The grade was gentle but consistent, never above 5%, and I found I could sustainably pull myself along without really feeling the fatigue.

Near Dolni Nivy, the marked cycle route continued to follow the B road up and over the hills above 700m - it didn't take me long to decide to avoid this, and continue towards Olovi so I could follow the river. I topped out around 600m, and then had a blistering descent on the open, broad road - the only reason I had to control my speed was I really, really, didn't want to miss the turn to Olovi (and so have to backtrack and climb back up again). I made the turn and had a glorious descent into the quiet and pretty green valley of the Svatava.

The official cycleway followed the main road and went over hills that were well above 700m. No thanks!

A second solemn Map Changing Ceremony. I could now pick up my first ADFC map of Germany (Oberfranken/Vogtland) which included this bit of the Czech Republic. Very useful as it had proper contour lines and I could actually judge how much climbing I'd need to do. I did however need to stand in the middle of the (empty) road to take this photo.

The road to Olovi and the Svatava valley was quiet, pretty and green. And downhill!

I've seen CDs and tapes thrown out by the side of the road, but never a textbook before. "Stupid Foucault!"

There wasn't much to Olovi other than a prominent petrol station, but I did catch sight of the train line and - a German train (the "Vogtlander"). Cars passed me with German plates, and it became clear that this was a major thoroughfare up through the pass over the border.

So this was it - the climb out of the Czech republic. And it was - fine. Just well graded, mild and steady climbing, following the river and railway all the time. I ate up the kilometres, making good time all the way up valley until it rejoined the main road near Rotava. Before I knew it I had pushed my way to the outskirts of the border town, Kraslice (or Graslitz, as the German equivalents on my map indicated). I was barely above 500m - almost an anticlimax (I'd live with it, though).

Now, I referred to Chodov as being the last "proper" town I'd pass through in the Czech Republic, but this is with a bit of hindsight. Kraslice is quite a sizeable place, but is, frankly, a bit of a hole. First it's a pretty dedicated border town, which means the first few kilometres consisted of a continuous march of petrol stations with an endless stream of German motorists queuing to fill up their cars, then turn around and go back to Germany. The place was choked with traffic and fumes, and when I stopped at one garage to buy a chocolate bar they charged me 60Kr, almost £2 (which would be unheard of even in London). The town then strung out in the valley beyond, and consisted of low-slung factories where I could see dozens of people beavering away (in a "Precision Components" factory). Quite a contrast from the high-tech automation I'd seen in Plzen or the Cold War monolith down the road at Vřesová.

Following the Vogtland railway up the valley to Germany

The central square in Kraslice was the best part of it

I Shifted on from Kraslice without wasting much time, jiving with the traffic on the single road through the pass to Klingenthal, on the German side. After leaving the town and climbing a little more, I entered a second strip of malls and discount shops, similarly jammed with cross-border bargain hunters. I spent a little time looking for somewhere to take a leak, but unfortunately this is obviously a common place to "break the journey", so there was nowhere that wouldn't charge (or was suitably out of sight). I would have to transport my full bladder to Germany.

It was a somewhat soulless place to depart the Czech Republic that had been so good to me - giving me hundreds of miles of excellent, varied, traffic-free cycling, such friendliness of the people and courtesy of the drivers, and not to mention excellent and inexpensive pilsner. Fortunately I saw and photographed a couple of things that brightened me up: some inexplicable brightly coloured bugs (they're not children's rides - they were made of solid concrete!) and an amazing stall selling mushrooms foraged from the surroundings.

But there wasn't too much of this - a few hundred metres and I was in Deutschland and immediately in Klingenthal. A bit of a difference from the woodland trail on which I'd crossed into Czechia.

Interesting sign on the road leading to the border. At some point it must have been banned to cross the border on foot...

Strange multi-coloured bugs. They're completely solid, so presumably not a children's plaything

The malls just before the border and entering Germany. Classic silly broken bike lane (though I was glad to get off the busy road).

Impressive mushroom stall. All the mushrooms came out those wicker baskets, where they'd clearly been gathered from the woods

Slightly nonplussed by my quick progress - it was still only mid afternoon - I figured I had time to get some kilometres and push into Germany. I didn't want to continue North, where the foothills continued - so now was the time to cut to the West. The town of Oelsnitz, which had a campsite marked (and a lake and youth hostel nearby) seemed like a good target. Following my river-based navigation, I could continue west following the Eisenbach and then the Weiße Elster. The latter was a dedicated bike route (the Ilmtau Radwanderweg) so even though it followed a major road E49, the chances are there would be a dedicated bike path.

I followed the road west through Zwota and Oberzwota, still climbing but at a steady rate. My main source of distress was that the town was well-kempt and there was precious little opportunity to take answer the call of nature. I plugged on until I reached a signed track in Oberzwota that cut across to Gunzen and the Eisenbach valley. After being followed for a while by some curious local kids on bikes, I managed to shake them and so gain some privacy to relieve myself without breaking (too many) local laws.

Signed cycleway? Harmonica museum? I must be back in Germany!

Slightly kitsch mural on a cosy Gasthof? I must be back in... etc.

Well signed forest track cutting out of Oberzwota

Coming through to Gunzen there was a brutal last climb, over 10%, bringing me up over 700m. This rather took it out of me - but I could see that this was the watershed, and the end of the long winch out of the Czech republic. Spinning down through the small village of Gunzen was a thrill, with very steep and windy little roads. From here it was a matter of following the lanes down to main road at Leubetha.

The top of the climb - and effectively the watershed between Germany and the Czech Replublic. To the south, water enters the Švatava and ultimately the Ohre near Sokolov; the the north, it will drain into the Weiße Elster. Amusingly, water separated here will meet again after a diversion of a thousand kilometres around the Ohre mountains, when they both flow into the Elbe.

Some hairy gradients coming down into the village of Gunzen. At this point I was singing "Gunzen style!" to myself (it had been a long day).

Pretty church in the villages around Gunzen

Cool old-style signpost (or is it actually antique?)

The weather had been pretty still and overcast for most of the day, but as I approached the main road it dimmed significantly, and I felt a few drops of rain. Not another soaking! But there was nothing else for it - I had to get to Oelsnitz for a chance at accommodation. The cycleway was well signposted, and I happily crossed the busy and fast E49 to take it north.

Unfortunately, in quite uncharacteristic fashion, there seemed to be serious holes in this cycleway. I soon lost it, and as the rain started to bucket down, was forced onto the main road. Riding as fast as I could with lights and raingear on, wincing slightly as the trucks overtook, wasn't the best conditions for the end of such a long day. Again and again I tried to get off the main road, taking a number of "unofficial" tracks that seemed to run parallel, with some success.

At one point I found myself on a long, gravelled but unsigned section which was clearly intended as the cycleway, but I only found by taking a shortcut through a little wood. About 5km short of Oelsnitz my luck ran out, though, and I was forced back onto the road with the rain at its heaviest. I was heartened by the fact that there were a couple of other cyclists going the same way - but still breathed a sigh of relief as I came down into town.

A ... Ukrainian house on the main road near Rebersreuth. Strange.

This house had lots of Viking and Saxon imagery (it's admittedly quite hard to see in this characteristically bad photo).

Two minutes in Oelsnitz and it became totally obvious that there was no campsite in the middle of the town (thanks, ADFC!). I swear they are the least accurate maps for services, less reliable even than Michelin maps meant for motorists. Cursing them rather, I set off out of town around the north side of the lake, where there was supposed to be both a youth hostel and campsite.

Getting close to the autobahn at the end of the lake, I finally saw a jugendherberge sign pointing down a lane and dived down it. At the big, rambling building that appeared (in what would have been a beautiful setting if I could actually see it through the rain) by the lake, I leant up the bike and, wasting no time (it had just gone six) tried the door. It opened!

Today's ride: 122 km (76 miles)
Total: 985 km (612 miles)

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