334 Days

Krakow – Checiny , Poland

One day shy of eleven months – and thirty one countries – on the road. 

That’s how long it took us to achieve the perfect bike touring day. 

Some people go their whole life and never have a day like this. 

Poor saps …

Perfect weather. A little crispness in the air, but with a high of 75 or so. Blue sky, but with those little wispy clouds that don’t seem to block the sun, but make everything a bit more picturesque. Oh, and a nice tailwind – which pretty much makes any day about a thousand percent better. (For our Midwest readers, it might be difficult to imagine a day without smoke – but think of the crisp clean air of a Minnesota winter – but without the sub zero temperatures. That’s what it was like here today . . .)

Rolling hills. Enough vertical to provide some panoramic views and exhilarating descents, but not so much that we were left wiped out at the end of the day. 

Lonely roads with only an occasional farm tractor for company.

And don’t forget the Krakow riding this morning. Beautiful bike path right along the Vistula River. We liked Krakow before – but having a pleasant way to bike out of the City was kind of a revelation.

A clean cool stream to swim in right at the end of the day – when the sun was at its peak. 

An expansive campground with lush grass and nobody around.

Well, nobody except Gorey (sp?), the camp host’s grandson, and later, Gorey’s Mom, Daga. Gorey is a charming ten year old who speaks both perfect English and Polish. Turns out that Gorey spent the first nine years of his life in Belfast, Ireland – so, of course, he knew English. He did a great job of translating for his Grandfather – who owns the campground. 

Daga explained that her husband is from Nigeria – making Gorey and his sister half African, half Polish. Kind of like Barack Obama. Gorey and his sister have citizenship in Northern Ireland, Poland, and Nigeria. How cool is that!

All campgrounds should be like this place. First of all, it’s located at the foot of a hill, on top of which is a castle – which might be why it’s called Kamping Under the Castle. A real castle. Still standing. Even lit up at night. Really, all self-respecting European campgrounds should have a castle. I mean, what are we paying for, anyways?

But the castle isn’t the only amenity. There’s also a very nice grill, complete with dry wood to burn. There are picnic tables with awnings. Showers and toilets. And even a shared kitchen – though there is basically nobody around to share it with . . .

With the grill and the picnic tables we were able to make one of our favorite barbecue meals: grilled potatoes and onions, grilled vegetables, and some kind of marinated pork belly that was entirely yummy. 

Don’t forget the sangria. Diana was smart enough to get a bottle. Forget fine wine. Give us something fruity and sweet . . .

Speaking of fruit, Poland has lots and lots of apples and plums – and so far no one has yelled at us for picking them … Any perfect bike touring day has to include some foraging…

Pretty sure bike touring doesn’t get any better than this. 

Not much else to say. What can you add to perfection? 

Definitely score some points for Poland. Not many countries can deliver the bike touring equivalent of a Nadia Comenici routine – a perfect ten. 

I should point out, though, that the whole day nearly went off the rails there for a minute . . . 

Diana had done some good research and figured out that Camping Under the Castle probably had a grill – so we headed to the grocery store and purchased the potatoes, vegetables, pork belly and sangria. But when we arrived at the place where Google Maps indicated we would find said campground, we found ourselves more than a little confused. There was a parking lot, trails up to the castle, and bathrooms for castle goers, but we did not see a single tent. No RVs either. 

I had visions of returning to the creek we swam in – about three miles back. Someone had made a fire near the creek and it looked like maybe we could find some unsanctioned place to camp. That’s why my vision included an argument with Diana – who would surely not want to go backwards, and would not be thrilled with the prospect of camping “down by the river . . .”

But just as I was starting to think these dark thoughts we found the woman who runs the castle bathrooms. Or, rather, she found us after I used the bathroom without paying. (In my defense, I didn’t even know they were paid bathrooms – just assumed they were public . . .) But, while she didn’t know any English, she was kind and helpful – and pointed us across a grassy field – where she indicated we would find the reception for the campground. 

At this point I was pretty sure that we had some significant language barrier going on – because I saw no sign of camping or a reception – but we headed across the field anyway. As we approached, we did receive one hopeful sign: a dog began barking at us. At least there was some life around here . . .

And then Gorey appeared. A ten year old kid. Seemed even worse. How many campgrounds are run by ten year olds? It was only when he welcomed us in perfect English that we realized our perfect day was going to stay that way . . .

Which brings me to the last element of our perfect day. Actually meeting and talking to some good Polish people – Gorey, his Mom, and his Grandfather. Kind of nice for us – because so far the Polish people we’ve encountered have not been particularly eager to engage with us . . . (We get lots of stoic walking on by – like we’re on a subway in New York or something …)

Hopefully we won’t have to go another 334 days to find a day like this again. But, really, I’d be okay if tomorrow was half as good. We’ll be more than half way to Warsaw from Krakow – so maybe that’s a good sign?