September 3, 2015
Sarbice, Poland: A Belgian saves the day
WELL, nobody arrived in the morning and the only caller in the night was an unidentified animal that stole half a bun I'd left on a table. I opened the tent when I heard it rustling - the animal, not the bun - and it looked round to spot the noise. The shape of the tent meant nothing to it and it didn't pick up a scent in the night air. It looked, slightly crouching, more puzzled than defiant. And then it strolled off with my bun.
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It's been a dull day today, busy with cars and lorries taking the slower but more direct route to Krakow. I'm now down in the south of Poland; Krakow used to be the capital but it lost its status when treaties with neighbours made it better to shift the administration north.
I'm looking forward to Krakow because, while both Gdansk and Warsaw were beautiful, Krakow is original. The Germans didn't destroy it because they chose it for their regional capital and didn't want the bother of rebuilding.
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All that's happened today, apart from a succession of small hills through open countryside, is that I crossed with a young Belgian from Dendermonde.
"I'm on my first tour," he said, looking pretty much the part nevertheless. "I've never done anything like this before."
He was tall and fit-looking with blond hair and a chunky build. He had less fat than a greasy chip. I asked where he was going on this first tour, expecting something exciting but unextending.
"I've been on the road since March," he said. Remember that we are now at the start of September. "I've been round southern Europe and I thought now I'd ride up to the North Cape."
I gulped. My first tour was two nights of youth hostelling close to home.
"And what then?" I asked.
"Oh, I'll probably just turn round and ride back to Belgium."
Today's ride: 97 km (60 miles)
Total: 5,525 km (3,431 miles)
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