Tom's travel blog
After 7 degrees Celsius at night I am happy when the sun comes out in the morning, warms the man and dries the tent (at least one side). When I start driving I forget to switch on the track recording again, which I only notice after eight and a half kilometres when I take a . . .
No, this is not the last day in Poland, as Viktor suspected in his commentary! And this is due to the fact that the Eurovelo – and I too – is still making a turn to the east just before the Czech border in order to cross the Sudeten Mountains in a location that is . . .
After a storm night and a cat, who decided to wait for the rain in my tent and then meowed all over my ears, because she was not allowed into the inner tent or even into my sleeping bag, I can’t really get into action this morning. And with my GPS, I’m at war again. . . .
Wroclaw has undergone many invasions in the course of its history: Bohemia, Prussia, Sweden, Germany, Russia: everyone was there. Not to mention Napoleon! In recent years, however, there has been a new power that is permanently changing the cityscape: Dwarves. The first were in the eighties as an expression of a peaceful and subversive protest . . .
The aroma of mirabelles flatters the nose, while I continue up the Trebnitz mountains in the morning. Because they grow here again wild at the roadside, just like apples, pears and plums. Trebnitzer Berge – that promises descents and makes fears of inclines. And at 14% (up) I have to get off and push. Luckily, . . .
In the morning I drive a little bit in a circle, because my GPS and I can’t agree on how to get out of Gostyń again. But of course we soon reach an agreement and leave the city on country roads, first with a separate cycle path, unfortunately no longer afterwards. Here the rear-view mirror, . . .
Andy, my warmshowers-host lives on the outskirts of Poznan (which was not quite visible in his profile). And since this is not at all in the direction of my onward journey, I now have to enter the city again for 11 km. Via arterial roads, which I hate on the one hand because they are . . .
Waliszczewo – that was the most idyllic place I have stayed overnight so far. And so I am not in a hurry to break off here this morning, especially since it is probably not that far to Poznan. For a long time I sit with a cup of tea in my hand and look at . . .
Sunday in Poland. From the open church doors of the small villages through which I come, the song of the faithful escapes to heaven. The skleps aren’t open yet either. But a gas station in Mogilno. Here I have a cup of coffee and replenish my drinks. Then I continue through monotonous regions, which offer . . .
First of all the promised supplement to yesterday: About 10 km before the city centre a fantastic modern church building suddenly appeared on the right side of the road on a spacious square: I just had to look at that. Very bright from the outside as well as from the inside, with large realistic paintings . . .
After I drove over the Wisla from Kulm yesterday, I had to cycle 3.5 km against my route to reach a camping site in Świecie / Schwetz. Actually only a slightly larger meadow with a sanitary area and a roofed seating area, but a great location directly under the castle Zamek. This is a rather . . .
Whoa, what breakfast! sausage, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes, scrambled eggs, boiled eggs in pea mayonnaise, salads, melons, cakes,… Otherwise today is Assumption Day, one of the highest holidays in Poland. And so the Pope was to be seen on the TV, which unfortunately ran in the breakfast room, however, the Polish one and without time . . .
The sky over Pomerania hangs grey and deep as I drive into Gdansk. It’s been raining since 7:am. So the weather forecast was right again. Luckily I got up early enough so that I could pack the tent halfway dry. Gdansk has a well developed network of mostly wide cycle paths, which I can use . . .
Westerplatte. 01 September 1939. “Since 5:45 is being shot back now” – Fake News already existed back then! Here, at the Westerplatte near Gdansk, Hitler attacked Poland and thus started the Second World War, which not only once again drove armies of soldiers into the “heroic death” for the fatherland, but also brought hitherto unknown . . .
