In Gdansk

We spent 3 days in Gdansk. George had got a flat through airbnb, which was comfortable and with a washing machine,which we used considerably! On the first day there, he took off to Munich by train and plane, to hear his daughter in an opera performance. He came back the next day. Jetting around Europe, etc. We spent the first morning doing nothing particular but actually quite a lot. Then into town by tram,about 5km. Went to “I” to get general info and details of our onward ferry to Hel in particular. Then walk around, which took us to St Mary's church. Enormous and impressive and it took a bit of time to “do” it. Then it started to rain, and the rain became serious. We recommend Pellowski for hot chocolate on a rainy afternoon, then on in the rain and home in a tram with everyone else wet.When not pouring with rain, this is a poor photo of part of the main street.

and here is rather striking Pieta in St Mary's

Mind you, not as impressive as the one in Durham cathedral

Overnight, it really rained and rained. There was a stream by our building and this had risen and risen overnight and flooded the lower levels – we were on floor one. Much shouting and it seems some were flooded out. The stream was very full by the morning but not overflowing. A continuous sound of pumps. Here it is, later, when no flooded.

Next day, again not an early start but off to see around. We went to see two churches, St Catherine's and St Bridget's (this was important in the early days of Solidarnosc, when the parish priest took an important role), looked at the old mill.  Outside the mill, chidren were playing in a fountain

 We suddenly remembered the ferry booking. So along to the place, off the waterfront, and a walk down the waterfront, stopping for hot chocolate and cakes. This included looking at the celebrated Gdansk Crane.

Met George back at the flat. He was keen to see the new museum about the Gdansk ship building workers, the rise of Solidarnosc, and beginning of Polish democracy. We went also and it was/is fascinating and showed detail of pivotal events. The to a tram stop for a tram to the National Museum, art gallery, and it was just like London. No tram our way, 4 or 5 the other for about 15 minutes. But one did come. The museum was a bit of a disappointment except for a small temporary exhibition of 14^th and 15^th century items.

Next day, we left Gdansk by ferry to Hel. A bit of time in the morning to visit part of the maritime museum and see the inside of the crane and an exhibition of boats from rural 3^rd work communities.

The ferry ride interesting. The sun came out and has been out ever since (at the time of writing, more than a week later).

During all this time, kathertine has kept her diary up to date, sometimes in more difficult circumstances:-

 

Poland, part 1

Once more, a lack of any entries for a long time.  This is mainly becuase of limited internet access, but not entirely, and I must admit to a sloth factor. However, internet access has been patchy after Gdansk.  Should have caught up in Gdansk, which is where the sloth factor really kicked in. 

Still, here goes. 

We left Russia, Kaliningrad Oblast, and entered Poland with no particular problems.  One of the officials on the Polish side told us the UK had made a big mistake to leave the EU; we could only agree with him and tell him we had voted to remain. The conversation moved to football and then beer, but anyway could not last long.

Off from the crossing point to Frombork.  This was where Copernicus developed his heliocentric theory - never mind that Chinese and Persian astronomers and doubtless othersknew all about it; Europe was then in the grip of Earth-centred thinking.  Copernicus was a priest and ended up in Frombork cathedral where he did extensive observations, and - bingo. The museum about it all was annotated entirely in Polish which somewhat linited our appreciatiion.  We were struck how many school parties were visiting.  The cathedral was impressive; like all(?) churches here entirely of brick.

We had to get on.  George had to be in Gdansk that evening to meet the owner of the flat we were to have.  Two ways to get there, a ferry to the spit opposite, then 60km cycling to Gdansk.  Or cycle all the way via Elblag.  We got in a muddle over ferry times and he decided to go on the latter route and being faster, to go ahead with this.  Katherine and Tom now regret they did not explore the ferry option more thoroughly, and followed the same route on the assumption that it would not matter is we arrived seriously late.  So we set off.  We took a slightly, more scenic route to Elblag, along the coast.  This involved two glorious descents but one not so glorous ascent for the second descent.  When we got to Elblag we got a bit lost and had no idea of the route out of the place.  But by now we were serioujsly late for cycling to Gdansk.  We deceided to avoid that by going by train. We missed a driect train by about 10 minutes and had to have a long change in Malbork.  The train to Malbork may gave been an electric train, but it was a true bum-shaker.  Before it left, we had a snack in a place called Amercan FUK and I bought a new outer tyre for my back wheel as the old one was in a sorry state.

On the way to Elblag, we saw a stork's nest

We got to Gdansk around 7pm.  Getting our bikes off the station was a challenge as no lifts.  Then had no ides where the flat was.  After aimless wandering, stopped for a beer and had the seriously original idea of asking the waitress where it was.  She knew and showed it on thje iPad map. So no more blowing raspberries with the child on the next table, and off we went and found the place, a bit after George got there.  A nice flat in an interesting town with much to see.

Kaliningrad oblast and Kaliningrad

Oh dear.  Since our last post, much has happened and not been recorded.  Still, here goes.

Last entry (I think) had us just into Russia after an enforced wait at border control who seemed to have trouble with a new passport, mine.  We then cycled on, now on the main road but very empty of traffic.  Coffee at a place where you could walk up the dunes and see the sea; majestic surf and that sort of thing.  Then the "dancing forest" where there were pine tres all twisty-curly and apparently no-one known why.

Finally to Rybachi, where we spent the night in a hotel that seemed to be converted from an old Pressian building.  Comfortable.

Dinner in a restaurant; delicious fish dishes at very affordable prices.  Next day, setting off, passed a local event, a celebration of a fishing tradition.

 A woman heard us speaking English and told us of free fish soup. It came out of a sort of tanker trailer and was delicious.










Then on to Zelenogradsk, a seaside resort at the end of the spit.  On the last bit of the spit, did a walk in the King's Forest and saw the sign warning of ticks only at the end.

George had dire tales of tick-born encephalitis.  Checked each other that night.  No apparent ticks.  Althogether the spit had been a bit less than 200 km.

Zelonogradsk.  Had use of a kitchen in a comfortable lodging.  The next day, walk on the beach and a visit to the cat museum in an old tower.  Quite kitch and amusing.  The on, about 30km through the countryside to Kaliningrad. We had reserved a hotel at the far (south) side of the city for a quicker exit, later.  Cycling through the city centre was exhausting; heavy traffic, frequent on and off pavements, clouds of diesel fumes from the motor buses.  But got through.

The next day, went to the old Konisberg cathedral and Kant's tomb.  A rather handsome building with various art works and artifacts, such as this one which we do not understand

They make a bit of Kant, though not that much because he has been moved from inside the cathedral to the side.

Then the heavens opened, with thunder and lightening.  Got into a cafe until it passed.

We next walked to the Amber Museum alongside a pleasant lake in the city centre.  The museum was interesting and the amber jewelery on sale in various stalls quite good.  Then back by bus; George had picked up a bus info leaflet at the hotel and got to grip with routes with efficiency.

The last day in the Kaliningrad area, we cycled to the Polish border.  On the way, I suffered a loud bang and lost an inner tube.  A passing lad helped me fix things,although no language in common.  It turned out my expensive back wheel outer cover was on the way out, but it kept going.  This time, at the border, no problem with new passport - got through quickly and on to Polish immigration.

Curonian spit; Lithuania, again

There has been a fairly short account of going along the Curonian Spit.  To add a bit.  The spit is a quite extraordinary place. Lots of sand, but also the forests are well established and the soils may be sandy, but they are not only sand.   The forests at the Northern end are mainly pine. We arrived on the ferry from Kaipeda.  Went to "I" where they had quite a useful overall map. This point was the start of the resumed Iron Curtain Trail  We cycled aAcross to the other side, the Baltic side of the spit, and off Southwards, under a huge continuous dune, like an embankment, with the Baltic the other side. Paths up it, to the beach, and we went one or two times; the beach was almost deserted and beautiful; the sea quite rough with lines of breakers; the sun was shining and the wind was blowing.  But the path we took itself had little of this.  Then it veered from the sea. On the other, East (left), side at times the land rose quite high and in one place seemed to go to moorland.  In my mind I compared it to Yorkshire, but you would have to be a bit funny in the head for this really to hold.

Then, after maybe 25km, turned inland up a quite steep hill - had to get off to push - and down  the other side to the village of Juodokrante, an ordinary village but one where in former times, wealthy people from Konigsberg had villas.  We got on to the beach and stopped for lunch in a fish restaurant.  The first gastronomic event on the iron curtain trail this year, and a good one.  After this, continued in the lagoon side, no dunes and much more peaceful on the water.  Past a part of the forest full of cormorants, and back to the Baltic side of the spit.  The cycle way resumed under the dune-embankment but then turned inland and ran for a while along the main road.

I (Tom) was getting quite tired by this stage.  The track went through some villages and got to Nida.  I was glad of arriving at the camp site

Curonian spit; into Russia

Nida campsite.  Up in reasonable time, though George was much earlier.  Nice and sunny, but a rain squall came a little while later to ensure our tent was wet before we took it down.  Quite a few people came up to us to talk about varioous things; a friendly place.  Anyway, off at about 10am.  On the main road, stopped at a cafe and then on to the border with the Russian "enclave" Kaliningrad.

Through the Lithuanian boerder control with no trouble.  In the Russian control, George and Katherine had their passports and visas processed rapidly, with migrations cards issued.  When I presented my passport, the official took it off to anoither office, with no explanation at all.  OK, they seemed to speak only Russian so communication was not easy.  So I waited.  In a while, asked not to stand in front of the window where one presents passports.  Sat at the side and waited. Eventually, someone told us we could wait inside as it was less cold. So we did, on a row of 3 seats.  Waited and waited; had lunch; eventually an apparently more senior offical told us the problem was I had a new passport, and true it was issued earlier this year.  Why having a new passpot was a problem was not mentioned, but clearly it was.  So waited on.  All contact so far had been a trifle frosty, but suddenly 3 of them with my passport came and were all smiles and explained (again) the delay becuase a new passport.  I was taken to the window, conputer work the other side, entry stamp and migration card, and we through.  This all took nearly 4 hours, but alls well that ends well.

Whilst waiting we were entertained with hundreds of martins who had built their nests under the border control canopy. They were busy feeding their babies and fledglings. We also enjoyed the sniffer dogs. One was very interested in one of my small front bags and I had to open it.  It contained food and in particular chocolate.  I'm afraid the dog didn't get any.

The Curonian Spit

The spit is about 100km made of sand dunes. On the Lithuanian side the west is quite high dunes with a good cycle path more or less next to it.  The land is protected so access is only at designated places.  Storms and rain were forecast but we seemed to avoid them but the wind was strong and we went no further than admiring the sea from the top of the dunes.  Much of the rest of the spit is pine forest with small resorts from time to time on the east side, facing the lagoon and the mainland.  We crossed over at lunch time and ad a high dune to cycle (or push) over. A couple of hundred years ago the trees were mostly cut down or destroyed by fire.  Then the sand began to be blown around and villages were buried, so the trees had to be planted again and protected.

We stayed the night in a friendly camp site in Nida.  There was a German tourist bus carrying mainly pensioners. The top floors were sleeping cabins.  I think it is the sort of coach tourism that I could cope with.

Photos of Klaipeda

I have found another way into the blog and I think it will take photos. So here is an attempt to post some of Klaipeda.

Things a bit out of order, but when we left Klaipeda we saw the "signature" K Building on the ferry to the Curonian spit:-


 

Maybe this is the emblem for the start of this stage.  Not really, is just a building.  I wanted to put in a picture of the Anna statue in the main square, but forgot to take a photo of it.

After this, please continue with the first bit of the Coronian Spit!

The Curonian Spit: 7 July 2016

Today was forecast for rain and storms. Fortunately it was nothing worse than strong gusts of wind, mainly behind us. It was a beautiful ride on cycle paths through the forest. On the ocean side there is a high sand dune, so we only saw the sea when we climbed up. Then we felt the full force of the wind. The land is all protected national park and you can only walk on the dunes in designated areas. It's a shame that I don't seem to be able to put photos on this blog but I will keep trying. Now we are in a camp site in Nida. There is a restaurant with the TV on and a large crowd watching the France/Germany World Cup. I feel there isn't much support here for France. 

Klaipeda, Lithuania. The start of 2016

Klaipeda Wednesday 6 July 2016

We are starting where we left off last year.  Again we are joined by Tom's brother, George.  The weather is somewhat stormy so we booked into a hostel for the night and hope that it doesn't rain all day tomorrow as we cycle down the rather beautiful Curonian Spit.  We have spent the last week and a half travelling here by boat to Holland and then train, first to Lublin in Poland to visit our friend Ela and then on by train and cycle to Grutas Park, Lithuania, where there is a collection of discarded Soviet era sculptures and art. Then bus to Vilnius where we spent three days.  Today we came by train to Klaipeda.

Everywhere we have stopped there have been reminders of the destruction and horrors of war and the occupation of Eastern Europe that followed.  Both in Poland and Lithuania we are seeing the hopeful signs of regeneration, much of it funded by the EU.  We are pleased that we in Britain have been able to support this through our EU membership.  Now we continue our cycling in the wake of Britain voting to leave the EU.  We are sad to be leaving, but far worse is the racial hatred that has been generated and the many lies that have been told to lead people to believe that the cause of economic stress and hardship is the result of migrants, particularly from Eastern Europe.  We enjoyed a meal this evening in a square on the other side of which Hitler gave a speech from a balcony.  If you repeat lies enough people will believe them and particularly if they are repeated in the press. This is how the Nazis began.  In one museum in Vilnius there was a section on Jewish children who had survived the war, often because they were adopted or hidden by non-Jewish families.  Their stories were heart warming but what stays with me are the accounts of the hundreds of children taken out from the ghettos to be shot.  The soldiers didn't bother to shoot the babies. They were just thrown straight into the pits.  When I look at the children playing here now I keep remembering what happened in the past and what could happen again. Unthinkable?  I am sure the people in Lithuania would have thought it unthinkable.

Back to Klaipeda though. We had time for a walk round the old town. Not much of it left but it had a definite German feel showing its German origins.

I was going to add some photos but can find no way of doing it. What has happened to the iPad between last year and this? I will try again tomorrow.

Summary of Finland to Lithuania via St Petersburg 2015

We are about to start the next section of the Iron Curtain Cycle Trail and see that we never finished the last one.  I shall now try and copy the summary we wrote last Christmas.

Iron Curtain Cycle Trail 2015: Finland through Russia to Lithuania

Start We left London in reasonable chaos; flights on a cheap airline to Stockholm required bikes in boxes, necessitating partial dismantling. Chaos in getting suitable boxes, getting the bikes into them, getting myriad items of luggage into two “bundles”, overnight at Gatwick for early check-in. Arrived in Stockholm to find that half the tools and Tom's wheel spindles remained at home. (British Airways take bagged bikes in one piece; higher fares, but less cost. Hmm). Got the bikes working, with tools borrowed from an airport carpenter. Train to central, walk about 8km to ferry terminal (because Tom's wheels had no spindles); just made the Helsinki boat. What a boat, even had a street with shops down the middle! Helsinki; found bike shop, for missing items, train to Imatra, cycled to the Russian border, about 10km, in the company of several local cyclists and a strong, cold north wind.

Russia We followed the locals through the border controls. No one spoke English. There was some bewilderment by the border guards but eventually our passports were stamped, our bags checked and we were cycling a few kms to our first hotel. Problems! There was a form we didn't have. No one spoke English. A Danish man, who spoke Russian an English, explained it was a Migration Card but that we didn't have one because we were on bikes. Actually not true, but smiles all round and we had a receipt for our stay, a good meal and a nice room. The next morning snow was gently falling, but onward hotels were booked, so we had to leave. Hills and forests are beautiful in the snow but cycling was less fun. Next stop Vyborg. The hotel was not going to accept us without the migration card. But they saw the receipt from the previous night and all was well. And so it went on, Zelenogorsk and then St Petersburg for three days. The hotel wanted to sort out the Migration Card and we spent an interesting afternoon with one of their staff, observing the bureaucracy of Russian migration. At one stage we were herded into metal holding pens, along with many desperate looking Asian men from former Soviet states, seeking work permits. Eventually we got to the right place, waited a couple of hours and then 2 people before us, the shutter came down. Come back in 3 days time, but by then we were well on our way to Estonia and no one was worried any more by the lack of forms.

We had warnings about cycling in Russia: it was dangerous, no one cycled, there were bandits, our bikes would be stolen, etc. On the whole lorry drivers were courteous, as were cars except coming towards St Petersburg on a Friday afternoon when the motorists were leaving for their weekend in the country and needed to overtake whether or not a cyclist was coming in the opposite direction. On Saturday there were many people out on wheels, families with bikes and tag-alongs, skate boards, roller blades, scooters. They had all vanished, though as we came into St Petersburg and there was a hairy moment as we went though a spaghetti junction with a motorway across the sea being one of the exits. Were motorways signed in blue or green? We couldn't remember. In St Petersburg we spent a largely cultural 3 days. It could have been a lot longer. Then to Petergof, to see Tsar Peter's extravagance in fountains and stay in a luxury hotel, which by British standards was quite cheap.

From Petergof we planned to keep to the coastal road but in mid-afternoon there was a military road block and “Niet!”. There was no persuading, we had to find another route. The Galileo map on the iPad showed a road going inland with a hotel in about 30kms at Gostilitsy. The road was hilly and the wind and rain against us. Would the hotel still exist? Then the sun came out and with it the hotel. The staff were somewhat bemused by two foreign cyclists, with no Russian, turning up unannounced. Google Translate again came to the rescue and established that we wanted a bed and an evening meal. By breakfast they were trying to teach us Russian. A shame that we had to move on. The roads were now minor roads through forest and marsh with very little traffic, much birdsong and signs of spring, with wild flowers coming out and the leaves just starting to open on the trees. Much more pleasant. The second 40km though was a dirt road that deteriorated into a mud bath where logging lorries had been. We had to walk and wondered for how long, but after couple of kms it improved and we found the next hotel in Dubki, our last in Russia. The final 93kms took us through more villages and now we saw other cyclists. Many of the villages had closed factories and abandoned workers' flats but always there were people tending their gardens and allotments and on the riverbanks men were fishing. Gardens were beautifully kept but the forests were spoiled by heaps of rubbish. Apart from the St Petersburg district, every ditch, picnic spot or lay-by seemed to be a refuse tip.

Our trip would obviously have been much more enjoyable if we had spoken Russian. You can get a long way with sign language and Google translate but you can't go much beyond the basics. Learning the alphabet made a big difference and enabled us to read the essential words such as toilet, vodka and chocolate. The Migration Card? We were asked for it at the border. Again no English, we looked puzzled, shrugged and said “Niet”. After some discussion we were issued with one to fill in. It was stamped and filed. With little fuss we were now legal and pushed our bikes into Estonia. We wrote a blog on this for Real Russia from whom we got our visas. Google “Real Russia blog August 2015”.

Estonia hasn't been independent for much of its history, the Germans, Swedes and Russians saw to that. It entered the Soviet Union during and after the 2^nd world war, in accordance with the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact, annulled only in the 1980's. In both Estonia and Latvia, we saw many Soviet era buildings and towns, often very run down. The Estonian language and culture relate to Finnish but Estonia is its own. With Latvia, the “singing revolution” led to independence.

We entered at Narva. We expected the Schengen zone entry to be strict, but the main issue was the alcohol we had – why so little? Narva is inland; next day, to a sea-side resort, then by the coast and a good camp site at a posh hotel. The following day's accommodation was a matter of luck, but we ended up in a spacious flat, found for us, on a cold wet evening, by a cafe owner because the hotel on our map no longer existed. Then another long, wet day to Viinistu and a hotel with a collection of Estonian art, in a closed down fish factory, owned by the man who was the manager of ABBA. We liked the picture “Euro Referendum” (adults only; do ask); might send a photo of it to Private Eye when the UK has its turn. Viinistu is on a peninsular closed in Soviet days because of their nuclear submarine and radar bases and a grand research centre, now all derelict and decaying.

Then to Tallinn on a long and windy day. We could write on wind and cycling, but others have. At one point we got mixed up with a bike race and were on the final stretch with large signs giving the km to go. I was looking forward to the welcome drink on arrival but regretfully our paths diverged at the final km, even though the steward stopped the traffic for me to turn left, I regretfully went straight on. In Tallinn. We met up with George (Tom's brother) and Debbie (his wife). A few days of sightseeing in the picturesque old town. Then Debbie returned to England and we continued with George. Out of Tallinn, due West and less and less traffic but then rain. The camp site turned out to be very basic: just forest, pit-latrines and the sea. Cold but very beautiful and a wood fire in the morning cheered things up. The theme of the cold recurs. We were told that, like last year, it was the coldest spring and early summer for 38 years. Next day, a cycle track on an old railway, with a chilling exposition at a former station on deportations to Siberia in Soviet times. On to Haapsalu, close to the island of Hiiumaa. A rather faded and good looking seaside resort with a big medieval castle, noted for the ghost of the white lady, the lover of a monk - they got caught and she was walled in - and an immensely long canopy on a railway platform to take the tsar's train, so no one got wet getting off. Crossed to the island; enjoyed cycling around for 3 days. The first night we camped in a forest with only pit-latrine, barbecue, traditional communal swing and the most amazing concert of birdsong. It was just beautiful. On the last night we could only find a field of holiday cottages, with doors unlocked but no one around. Eventually someone in a nearby house phoned the owner. “choose any one and leave the money under a coffee pot.” We chose one with a log fire and sauna. Coffee pots are obligatory, coffee is a staple here.

Then to the next, larger island, Saaremmaa. Stayed mainly in cabins in camp sites and went round the island anticlockwise, to the main town Kuressaare for bike shop, running repairs, excellent meal in a windmill and a visit to the castle, where there had been walling in. This time the Pope's emissary, whom they tricked into an affair with a girl and to justify his demise. He was found, not so long ago, sitting at a table in a hidden room, but disintegrated to dust as soon as he was touched. The castle museum offered lots jokes from Soviet times: “Did you go to the party meeting last night?” “No. I slept at home.” “What did Stalin collect?” “Jokes. He had two prison camps full of them.” After Kuressaare, to an impressive meteor crater, then a wonderful old church, and camped in a riding establishment, with a log fire and a tree in the dining room, before crossing back to the mainland. Next stop was a quite extraordinary seaside place with garishly painted cabins. A campsite was marked on ours and the village map, but the turning where it ought to be, had a no entry sign with dire warnings of fierce dogs. We went on downhill along a dirt track, past wild boor disappearing into the forest and at last found these huts. The establishment must have once been rather nice but was now decaying, except for the newly painted psychedelic huts, each had a flower painted onto an otherwise transparent glass door. One was cannabis. There were no locks on the doors, and no one around, no phone number, no other houses, except the owner's house with a rather beautiful cat, lots of pot plants and washing up. We were tired and with nowhere else to go we took a couple of cabins, hoping to find someone in the morning to pay. The someone turned up at 2 am. The light was turned on and the conversation in minimal English sounded distinctly hostile. We (that is Tom, I confess that I pretended to be still asleep) agreed to go up to the house in the morning. We decided to eat breakfast later, pay and leave quickly. But we were greeted at the house with coffee and breakfast and a very pleasant man, with whom we communicated through Google Translate. Next stop Parnu, a seaside resort, where we stayed for a couple of nights, in a flat in a wonderful pre-Soviet era Russian house, with an amazing old stove. Parnu is a place of former glory; this included mud baths, now in an expensive spa complex. It is busy in the season but on a cold, windswept, afternoon we were alone on the beautiful sands. On to the Latvia border, we camped one more time in a forest with latrines, a barbecue we couldn't light because it was just too windy and nothing else except natural beauty and seaside.

Latvia We had heard of the Black Latvians, recruited by the Russians pre-war to attack Estonia; fortunately that is over now. We arrived early in the morning, looked in vain for a café, then found one on a main road by-pass. Inland to a lake and campsite at Burknieki; very beautiful location. Next day, a long one, via Valmiira, with bike shop for a replacement back carrier and cafeteria, and on to Cesis.

At this stage, something about how we travelled. Out of Tallinn, we kept together and made a good threesome going along. But something like sloth set in and Tom found he was lagging, whilst George got fitter and speeded up. Katherine was somewhere in the middle. Cafés were becoming less rare and George normally found one, texting us where to meet him. Through Russia and Estonia there had been a lot of marsh land, with protected areas. Now in Latvia we were going more inland and it was hilly, though still cold, wet and windy. We saw Spring develop: leaves come on the trees, flowers in woods and fields and storks, first on the ground singly, then in nests high up on telegraph poles, and finally feeding their young. One mystery, especially in Estonia was fields full of dandelions, a slightly different variety from England. A museum in Riga gave the answer: edicts from Moscow forced the farmers to stop growing flax, clover and buckwheat, but instead plant Asian dandelions, Jerusalem artichokes and corn. Why dandelions, we never discovered but the effect was to ruin the agriculture.

Cesis is in a national park on the Gauja river. We took a day off and spent time in the castle and a reconstructed iron age settlement. Onwards on a poor dirt road, a long way down hill to an ferry (did it work on Sunday? Thankfully yes. A pontoon on a wire pulled across by hand.) and a visit to a former Soviet bunker above a rehabilitation home. It was a dull life underground in the absence of a nuclear attack, whilst above ground party elite enjoyed a pampered holiday, unaware they were spied on. On to Sigulda, where we got thoroughly lost finding the camp-site – at the bottom of a toboggan run. It's a ski area, in a gorgeous location by the river. Next stop Riga, where we had a spacious flat for 3 days.

Enjoyed Riga. A highlight is the art-deco frontages to buildings with almost unbelievable sculpture in many forms. Plenty of evidence of the of the World War 2 holocaust: a synagogue burnt with the people at prayer, museums and a memorial to those who had helped Jewish people. Then on, West to the Kurzeme peninsula, where we failed to find blue cows (a rare native breed able to withstand the very cold winters. They do exist!) There were very beautiful wild horses though. North to the tip of Kolka peninsula where the gulf of Riga joins the Baltic and stood with one foot in each cold current. Then South-West to the large port of Ventspils with a camp-site of the sort you expect in countries like Germany. We now cut inland, via Kuldiga, with the widest waterfall in Europe, very wide but only a metre or so high, and to Aizute where we stayed in an establishment above an art shop; told to leave our bikes leaning against the shelves. A little perilous as they were filled with an exhibition of beautiful, probably priceless, glass artefacts. Careful! The next day to Liepaja where George took a ferry home.

Lithuania Katherine and Tom went on to Lithuania, failing to find one or two museums on the way. We got to Palanga, a classy, seaside resort where we thought there was a camp-site. There was, but not the one we were looking for; the one we found, in a forest, was somewhat run down but full of character. We think they had not quite got the hang of the Euro, as a cabin was cheaper than our own tent. Next day, coffee, walk on the pier, then to the Amber Museum, fascinating, and on to our final destination, Klapeida, along an excellent cycle trail through the woods, on a warm, sunny day, with a cyclists' café part way along. In Klapeida, we were too late for the clock museum, but had a nice meal and set off for the ferry terminal. This turned out to be a badly signposted 10km out of town, and then an even worse signposted path, round the end of the harbour and 8km back. But we got the ferry to Kiel and back to the West! Tom got a puncture on a broken bottle just before our hotel. Then a short distance to the station and trains to home. Had to dismantle the bikes to travel on German ICE trains. German stations lack luggage trolleys. Changing trains with 2 bikes in several pieces and four panniers each, was a bit of a challenge. Never again; next time on IC's only. And next time, health permitting, it's Lithuania, through Kaliningrad and Poland and into Germany.