September 11, 2015
Luze, Czech Republic: Down in the dumps
IT'S end-of-tour blues, I think. The day started straight over a minor col, in the rain and dripping trees, and my mood stayed that way all day. This is, as planned, my last full day of riding. I have a stint tomorrow but now I'm just kicking my heels.
Steph's flying to Prague to join me but there are flights only twice a week. I'll get there too soon if I hurry. I'm not gloomy; I just realise, I think, that I've had all the fun I'm going to get out of it. And it would take a lot to beat yesterday. That's what I have to bear in mind.
Drivers still stopped this morning on the other side of the trees that separated me from the road. It didn't take long to realise they were collecting or dropping off passengers. I don't suppose they noticed I was there, still less cared.
I prodded in the long, pale, wet grass to be sure I'd left nothing behind - usually I leave luggage all over a continent but this time I've lost no more than a lock and chain - and pushed back to the road along the squashed grass I left yesterday. I clipped in and set off straight up the little pass, on a road dark and running with rivulets from the peaty banks. The wind gave me a helping hand.
And there's not much more to tell. I stopped in the middle of the afternoon, history of not going too far too soon.A bumpy road led to a track and, at the end of the track, an earth turning circle on the far side of a heap of straw bales the height and density of a house. I sat there listening to radio documentaries, resting against the bales, my legs in front of me.
I sat for an hour, happy, peaceful but at a loose end. And then a curious thing happened. A man appeared silently from my left, barely glanced at me, said "Hi!" and turned left into a field of shoulder-high maize. He rustled out of sight and I never saw him again.
I've no idea who he was. If he was concerned what I was doing, he'd left it a long time - an hour - before coming to find out. And he'd have wanted to know why I was there.
If he'd come to inspect the maize, why walk 800 metres to do it? And why not re-emerge from the field?
If he was satisfied I was doing no harm, why walk into the field rather than just turn back the way he'd come?
He didn't come back, anyway, and he didn't sent the local posse to arrest me. So I put up my tent and now I'm sitting here, digesting my food, writing to you, and thinking about an early night.
Today's ride: 63 km (39 miles)
Total: 6,003 km (3,728 miles)
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