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.