A “Russian Bridge” and a Baltic Wind

Bauska – Riga, Latvia

We started the day at a little campground with Heikki and Walter – overlooking the Lielupe River. 

You remember Heikki. He’s our Finnish friend who told us how formidable the Finnish military is. At breakfast he adds that, despite what the pundits say, Finland is not really the happiest country in the world. “That’s Bullshit,” he said, dismissively.

Walter. He’s our Austrian friend who lives in the Dolomites in Italy. We are on the same basic path as Walter and we’ve really been enjoying his company. So much so that we ended up having dinner with him last night. 

He’s full of good stories, but here’s the one I like most . . . Years ago, when he was biking across the U.S., he was camping in the mountains in and around Yellowstone National Park. People told him that he should watch out for grizzlies. Walter’s response? He went to the store, purchased a six-pack of cheap beer, and kept drinking until he had to pee. Then, and this is the crucial part, he peed in a circle all around his tent “in order to mark [his] territory.” 

He explained that once the bears know its your territory they won’t bother you . . .

Well, now I’m way off of my story’s trajectory, and I’ve given away that we all made it to Riga for dinner. There goes all the drama . . .

Well, I suppose the fact that I’m writing this would have told you that anyway – so let’s go . . .

We’re finishing up our breakfast and just about to head out. We’re conferring with Walter about our riding plans. And it’s one of those days where the various mapping apps have some pretty divergent views on the journey. Mapy says it’s 95 kilometers to Riga – and it’s apparent that it’s going way around for some reason. Google Maps is at 82, but it’s taking the big highway. And Komoot – which, you may remember, I really hate – is saying something like 88. 

There’s supposed to be a nasty headwind and we’re still not feeling great – so we are really not interested in going any farther than we have to. We’re going back and forth, and Walter comments smugly that (because he’s traveling by himself) he doesn’t need to consult with anyone – he just brings up a route and goes. 

We eventually come to a conclusion: we’ll follow Komoot to this nearby town, and then we’ll pick up Mapy from there – because Mapy seems to want to go way around this town for some reason. 

Walter just chuckles and waves us off. He’s still eating breakfast, and we agree we’ll see him later, at dinner in Riga.

Off we go. 

“Right . . . Straight . . . Right . . .” squaks Komoot.

Soon we’re on a gravel road. No problem. We should be in the little town in a minute – and then we can switch over to Mapy.

Now we’re paralleling a pretty river and there are a few people fishing. 

“Right turn,” instructs Komoot. 

“Umm, you mean into the river?” I respond. It’s not a good sign that I’m talking to my phone, but that’s where we’re at . . .

Apparently Komoot decided that there is a bridge here. 

There isn’t.

Turns out there was a reason that Mapy didn’t go this way . . . Because without a bridge it’s a very long journey to arrive at the town.

After a brief pause, during which we have a pointless marital “discussion” – because it’s pretty much impossible to go the wrong way like this without a certain of level of frustration entering the picture –  we turn around, retrace our steps on the gravel road, and take the long way around . . .

So much for shortcuts.

Now we’re biking against the wind. And I think we’re both realizing that this day may not turn out to be a biking highlight. More of a put-our-heads-down-and-get-through-it type of ride. 

We decide to just bite the bullet and take the highway. It’s shorter – and that’s all that really matters at this point . . . And besides, once we start out we realize that the highway has a shoulder and it’s not even a big road. It’s just boring.

Five or six hours of hard pedaling later we make it to Riga. And, I know we’ve covered this ground before, but let me just reiterate that biking into the wind is not all that fun. Especially when it’s kind of cold. And it turns out that when the wind is coming off the Baltic Sea it’s pretty similar to a wind off of Lake Superior.

Can you say refreshing? 

A full of day of a wind like that can be downright exhausting – especially when you start out under the weather …

When we finally make it to the Airbnb I collapsed into bed and enjoy a two hour nap. Did I mention that biking with the flu is not ideal?

We did eventually manage to meet Walter for dinner. Turns out that we have nothing to complain about. Whatever route Walter ended up on was far worse than our little misadventure with the missing bridge. 

He ended up on a gravel road. But not just any gravel road. This one was full of washboard bumps and big rocks. Worse, it was heavily traveled, and the cars and trucks didn’t bother slowing down for him; every time they went by he ended up covered in dust. Combine all this with the relentless wind, and it was super disheartening. Walter told us he ended up walking much of it. 

Walter has biked across the United States. He’s biked half of Africa. He’s biked all over Europe. He’s warded off grizzly bears by drinking beer. But he says this was the worst day of biking he’s ever done. His spirit was broken. 

“Next year I’m taking my motorbike,” he told us. “Biking in these three little countries is terrible. Boring. Gravel. Wind. It’s too much!”

By the time we finished dinner I think he was fine again. Funny how calories and hydration can buoy the spirits . . .

And then the truly good part of the day began. We walked home from dinner, and quickly discovered that Riga is one of those cities that we really like. There’s the Daugauva River.

There are pretty canals running around town. There’s a little old town that doesn’t feel like it’s an Old West set that’s just made for tourists. And there are real people – families and lovers and friends – walking around everywhere. 

We ended up stumbling upon a bit of performance art along the canal on the way back. It was like a Latvian Luminary Loppet. They were playing music, and then they had a series of little lighted water jets that shot off in rhythm with the music.

There were thousands of Latvians crowded around the canals watching with wonder. 

Later we came across a street musician playing the guitar and singing. There was a big crowd gathered around – singing along. Turns out that the singing was in Russian and the crowd was all made up of Russian speakers. 

Now, remember, Latvian is not a Slavic language. The only language it’s related to is Lithuanian. Russian and Latvian are no more similar than English and Latvian. 

The thing is, Riga is about one-third Russian speakers. The Soviets imported all these people to Latvia after it shipped off masses of “suspect” Latvians to Siberia years ago. The theory was that the Russian speakers would be well-received because the Latvians needed the people. 

Didn’t really work out that way . . .

When Latvia gained its independence in 1991 it didn’t grant these people automatic citizenship. It required that they learn the Latvian language and the Latvian national anthem. Seems sensible. But, according to our tour guide, the Russian speakers haven’t done this. They have just gone on speaking Russian. 

We have a little corroboration for this idea. We took a cab to dinner last night and our driver was Ukrainian. He’s been here for three years now. He’s learned some English, but he told us that he basically knows no Latvian. 

The cab driver, being Ukrainian, was obviously upset about the war, but our tour guide told us that, when surveyed, Latvia’s Russian speakers in general have expressed either outright support for Putin, or they are ambivalent. I guess everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I’m a little surprised that the Latvians have continued to offer their hospitality to these Russians – particularly when the Latvians are about to start compulsory military service for their young people – because of fears about another Russian invasion. 

One other thing here . . . I guess before the war with Ukraine Russia had been offering discount natural gas to the Latvians in exchange for Latvian acquiescence on certain topics. For instance, the Latvians couldn’t remove old Soviet statues, they couldn’t be mean to the Russian speakers, etc. – or the Russians would up their prices . . .

Now, with the war and with Latvia and the Baltic countries going all in with the West, Latvia no longer gets its energy from the Russians. So, without the Russian blackmail, over the last few years the Latvians have removed nearly all the old Soviet art. 

Bottom line. Russia’s ugly shadow seems to hang over this whole part of the world. 

Maybe the Russians are responsible for the gravel road and the wind. Maybe they even removed the bridge. 

It would be just like them . . .

Tomorrow – we’ll head up the Baltic coast toward Estonia and Tallin. Hopefully it turns out to be as alive and vibrant as Riga.