June 2: Poprad to Krakow, Poland - 166 km

Was first in breakfast room at 6:30 and pulling away from hotel at 8 am after more repairs to trailer. Mother Nature had departed from here usual schedule and had started the day with rain and fog. Undeterred I set off to cross the High Tatras and enter Poland.

I have been told by all who have visited the region that the scenery is spectauclar - 2500m peaks towering over Apline-esque villages. I did all the work but gone none of the visual rewards. The mountains must still have been there - they could not have been moved overnight. However, I saw nothing except the stretch of road in front of me - the entire area was enveloped in rain clouds and fog. The villages looked cold, wet and miserable - a mirror image of how I felt. Still, at least the uphills were generating body heat and I was not yet suffereing too badly.

The rain worsened as I reached the Polish border. For some reason I thought things would get easier gradient-wise upon reaching Poland. Oh no - more towering climbs for several kilometeres. Not 12% but L-O-N-G. Finally I seemed to reach my high altitude of the day and the road into Nowy Targ was fast. I had reached my goal of 80 km by lunch.

It was still raining as I left the pizzeria. Once again I had put wet clothes back on after changing into dry ones to eat. The pain in my knees this morning had taken about 25 km (1.5 hours) to dissipate and now they needed to be warmed up again. The road to Krakow was essentially downhill from here. With the weight of the trailer I was tearing up the tarmac and making great time and anticpated arriving in Krakow at about 6:30. To good to be true? You bet.

The all too familiar 'phsssssssst' sound bellowed and I prayed it was the trailer tire that had punctured and not my rear bike tire. Of course, it was the rear bike inner tube and the problem could not be fixed - the valvestem was the problem. Nothing to do but throw inner tube away. Problem - I had no spare! It had been used in Budapest and I planned to buy two more in Krakow. What to do? - I was stuck on an overpass of national road number 7.

The local fire department were setting up for their annual 'field day' tomorrow and there were about 30 youth and adults on the wet field (was still raining) as I walked over. I asked if anyone spoke English. One of the youths did. There was no bike store nearby, but a bus could take me to Krakow. While digesting this there was some more side talk. Then the offer that some of the youths would help me carry bike and trailer back to field house and store it while one of the men took me to try to fix the 'tube'. Deal. Four lads moved my gear. The 'fix' for my tube was that I took the tube from the man's bike after driving to his home! Then my pump stopped working - another person was dispatched to go and get a pump. We managed to get about 15 psi in the tire (it should have 70-80) but no more despite our team effort.

Two hours later I was back on the road and in a race a) to get to a petrol garage and get more air in the tire, and b) get to Krakow before darkness fell. I won both contests. Just. I arrived in Krakow at 8:30 and then took another 20 minutes to find the apartment that Lene and I had rented.

It had been a truly memorable day and a big thank you to the Pcim Fire Department for bailing me out and helping get me back on the road.

June 1: Lucenec to Poprad, Slovakia - 132 km

Following breakfast with the Sinko family I was out the door at 7:40. It took me 45 mins to lube the bike and repair the bent cotter pin that secures the trailer to the bike on the right side. Took another 15 mins to locate an ATM. Armed with a day's worth of Slovak currency I set off for Kalinovo.

I enjoyed the rolling Slovakian countryside, the peacefulness and the sound of the birds. At one point I passed a sign indicating scheduled daily 'cattle crossings'. As luck would have it I had avoided the 'rush hour' period of bovine movment and my ride north was uninterrupted. The climbs were becoming steeper and longer.

In the village of Zlatno I took shade under tree next to a church for refreshment: snickers and a coke. I encountered an older gentleman who in other contexts I may have assumed was homeless. He told me the original church was destroyed in WWI and that this church had been designed by a famous Slovakian architect from Bratislava. It had opened in 1922 following 6 years of planning/construction and that there is a twin-church in Slovakia also. He added that times had been better when the country was Czechoslovakia before 'the division': Czech Republic now has all industry and Slovakia is poor neighbour with rural economy.

People in Hnusta suggested I not try and cycle through the High Tatras. I pushed on towards Tisovec and the climbs really started. First came the 7% signs, then the 12%. My gears were not shifting properly and my knees were screaming at having to climb in bigger gears than they wanted. 'Granny' gear (easiest possible to pedal) was found for the first time. The wisdom of my Hnusta advisors was becoming apparent. It was all I could do to maintain 5 km/h. This meant the German Shepherd guard dog closed the distance between us rapidly, teeth snapping, eyes on my right calf! I accelerated to the dizzying speed of 8 km/h and then sat before tendons snapped or my heart exploded. The dog backed off.

I was rewareded for my efforts with a 12% downhill and the road then dipped and rose into Poprad. I had given everything to get over the mountains (and not entered High Tatras yet) and my knees were shattered. I opted for a hotel instead of pushing another 12 km in failing light. I could barely keep my eyes open during dinner and after a much needed bath it was an early night.

May 31: Budapest - Lucenec, Slovakia - 173 km

Up at 7 in order to be first in line when breakfast was served at campground restaurant at 8. However, efforts for an early start were thwarted when at 7:55, while inflating tires, the valve stem broke off on my front inner tube! Breakfast was eaten with hands smelling of rubber and chain-lubricant and I was pleased I remembered enough French to have a conversation with a couple from Provence over coffee and toast.

A bike courier escorted me along the relevant bike paths to the river Danube and I was soon heading north towards Szentendre where I caught the ferry across a narrow river to Szigetmonostor. I was now on quiet, Hungarian back-roads and leisurely cycled back towards the Danube, before crossing it on another ferry to the city of Vac.

Following a hand-drawn map from two teenage-girls I found my way to Rad and enjoyed a ride to the Slovakian border on more gently rolling, quiet backroads. On cue, about an hour before arrival at the border crossing, the heavens opened. The sky had threatend rain most of the day and within minutes I was drenched and cold. I ducked into the first petrol garage on the Slovakian side of the border to change and put calories in my pie-hole. I then changed back into wet clothes once the storm caught up with me again before I had finished my sandwich and coke in the warm confines of the store.

I had made a potentially grave error: Lucenec was 30 km further than I thoght and I discovered this at 5:15 with 53 km to go. It would be a race against the setting sun - again. Off I charged off in the pouring rain. I arrived at 8:35 pm, very cold, wet and hungry. I met Pavel with the YMCA in Lucenec and was then hosted by an Albanian family for dinner - which was an unexpected opportunity to practice my Albanian. The oldest daughter (of 6 children) asked what was I getting from the trip personally? Contributing to a good cause and seeing Europe at at a pace powered by me. This was strange to her.

The night was spent at Pavel's place.

May 30: Osijek to Budapest by train (25 km on bike)

Woke up to rain and following breakfast (served in my room) I headed for an internet cafe. I stumbled across the old town and explored the wet, cobblestoned streets cautiously - I was no longer nervous about my spokes but the potentially slippery surface. May buildings/statues were being renovated and it appeared the city was involved in the recent conflict judging by the pockmarked buildings.

I arrived at the railway station at 12:30 for a 13:15 train. Happily my ATM cards worked today and I now had Croatian money with which to buy food! Trains arrived: some left; some waited as if for a pre-arranged rendezvous that was now delayed. I had been told my train would display the sign "Sarajevo-Budapest" and expected a train of more than 3 carriages (the 'local' train length). Following an announcement a 2-car train pulled in, well short of where I waited on the platform. I paid it little attention until realising at the last second it was my train: I dashed back to my bike and finally managed to get the conductor to understand that I needed him to hold my bike while I detached the trailer and loaded everything. He was in a hurry to go and I do not think my bike wheels were on the ground when the train pulled away.

My arrival in Budapest was greeted by a horde of 'Hostel touts' trying to sell me rooms. There were not interested in giving directions, but could not match the camping fee I challenged them too. Instead they told my it would take me at least an hour and half to get where I was going. I followed the sun West, and forty-two minutes later I was putting my tent up.

There was a very noticeable difference in temperature here (cooler). I enjoyed dinner conversation with couples from the Netherlands and Germany over pork schnitzel, garlic and fries. To bed ahead of a big day on the morrow.

May 29: Into Croatia, 96 km

Got up later than planned due to sleepless night before and nervously ordered bread and jam for breakfast. Got what I ordered but also butter and cheese. Opened butter packet and this realeased and rancid smell and revealed green fur all over packet. The smell was nauseating and the plate was pushed as far away on table as space would allow. Happily, bread and jam went down and stayed down.

Crossed into Croatia around 10 am. The terrain was now flat. Good for the legs potentially as they could recover a little after all the climbing, but very boring. After 28 km, I heard the familiar 'crack' of a spoke break. I had broken one late in the evening the day before and had trued the wheel without replacing the spoke. Now I had two to fix. Pulled over at next petrol garage and began work. Quickly realised that I could only fix one - the second needed the cassette to be removed to thread the spoke. Fixed what I could and rode on. I had lost over an hour changing the spoke and was now facing a head wind and recalculating how I would keep to my schedule. The thought of taking the train entered my mind for the first time.

The roads were mindnumbingly flat and monotonous. NO challenge, no rest. Another storm swept over me as I neared Osijek - I had changed route on the advice of a bike mechanic who I had hoped could fix bike was unable as he did not have the cassette removal tool.


I entered Osijek cold, wet and very hungry. I had to eat. I had already decided I at least needed to check the train schedule and think about my options over 'lunch' - it was now alrady 3:30 pm. And then it happened - Pulling away from a traffic light. "Snap!", the bike lurched right as I fell forward. How I avoided the curb and stayed upright I do not know. I looked down, though I already knew what had happened: my new chain had snapped!! The Sarajevo mechanic must have put the pin in incorrectly. Mind made up - train to Budapest it would be.

Some local lads helped me get to a bike store where I had everythign possible done to the bike: relaced all spokes on the rear wheel, new bottom bracket, new chain obviously, new bottle cage, new gloves and even a pair of socks. The mechanics were great, ordering pizza and coke and working on my bike for about 3 hours.

They asked where I was staying and I said I hoped to find a cheap hotel. Once we established I would pay 20 euros for a room they called a friend with an apartment and hooked me up for said price, including breakfast. Top blokes!

Silvio, bike store owner cycled with me to train station and I purchased my ticket for the direct train to Budapest tomorrow. 6 hour to go about 250 km as the crow flies - not sure exactly where train is going (?). Then we cycled the 6 or so km to the apartment. We said our goodbyes and thank yous on my behalf and then it was time for a shower and sleep.

May 28: Sarajevo to somewhere in Bosnia, 189 km

Was out the door at 7:10 and ready to roll. However, bank cards would not work at ATM and I was delayed waiting for bureau de change to open.

Lots of climbing early in the day and my stomach did not feel good. Most of the day I felt nauseous. Had my first cola at 9 am. Sky Cola was on offer. NOt the 'Real Thing' but it did proclaim 'original American taste'!

Once again got rained on - this time the storm was accompanied by pea size hail. Though I took shelter under trees the 'ting ting' sound of hail on my bike helmet was heard repeatedly.

Gradually I came out of the mountains and was making good time. However, I ended up the wrong road despite asking three people to confirm where I was! Originally frustrated I then realised that if I just kept on riding I would meet back up with my intended route tomorrow and effectively both options were two sides of a diamond.

Camping that night was not an option as I passed multiple signs proclaiming 'danger - mines' at the roadside. Instead opted for a hotel, figuring that 10 euros was a small price to pay in order to be assured of keeping both my legs. I raced the sunset north towards the Bosnian/Croatian border at Orasje. I won. Just. My room was above a restuarant and was sparse. But after 189 km what did I care? I just needed food and sleep.

Food was easy and I went down for dinner. Steak and fries. Sleep proved more difficult as my stomach refused to digest what I had eaten and my sleep was fegularly interrupted at 90 minute or so intervals with trips to the bathroom!

May 27 - Sarajevo

Got up earlier than planned as need for food outweighed need for sleep. Spent the day exploring some of Sarejevos sights: old town, Latin bridge where WWI started with the assasination of Archduke Ferdinand and plenty of signs of the recent war - pockmarked buildings, etc.

Managed to get my bike repaired - I had been carrying spare parts since Albania that I could not get fitted there due to lack of tools. Was happy to finally have new rear cassette and chain on.

Had good conversation with man who helped me find bike shop, mainly about the recent conflict. He told me, with the sense of pride someone would show if they bought a new car, that he had blown up the butcher's shop with 100 kg TNT. He is Moslem and the shop was housing Chetnik snipers. From where we drank coffee he showed me his 'front line' position on the other side of the river Miljacka. His brother had been killed in the war. He was a journalist and had followed Richard HOlbrooke to Bajram Curri, Albania during the Kosovo conflict in 1997. Albania was a dangerous place he said, but that he had felt safe on teh front lines of Sarajevo! It was a fascinating conversation.