When the anticipation is far worse than the reality

When I was a little girl, my family went every year to have flu injections. There were two doctors in town: Dr Deravin, who would sit behind his desk with his pipe in his mouth and question his patients in a heavy smoky voice, and Dr Nott, who was renowned to be the best at giving injections. Ours was Dr Deravin and it was him we went off to see for our annual shots.

I was terrified of injections and my older brothers took great advantage of this, taunting me about how much it would hurt. I went into a spiral of terror and cried relentlessly the morning of a particular Saturday we had our appointment for the injections. I cried the whole drive to the surgery and continued wailing as we waited for our appointment. I must have looked to be in such misery that a patient who was also waiting in to see the doctor offered that Mum could take me in ahead of his appointment. With that I wailed louder and Mum thankfully declined the offer.

When we got into the doctor’s office, he decided to do me first. My mother thrust up my sleeve and held me tightly. Dr Deravin laid down his pipe, took up the needle, wiped my arm with cool alcohol and then … nothing!. “I didn’t even feel that,” I announced to my family, my tears drying up suddenly in the way that only small children can manage.

The anticipation was far worse that the reality.

Today we are due to ride what became known as the infamous E77 during our research for this trip. The E77 is a Class A north-south route and is part of the inter-European road system. It is a very busy road and carries massive trucks and many, many cars up and over the Donolvaly Pass – traffic heading north to Poland and south to Hungary. All of the commercial cycling trips (which do tend to travel the opposite direction to us) use vans to transport their clients through the valley on the other side of the pass, up and over and to the relative safety of Liptovská Osada where clients resume their cycling. I had never been able to find out exactly what the awful danger was, but in email conversations with an Amber Trail contact, I had been well warned off and directed onto steep dirt side roads, or to take this particular leg early on a Sunday when traffic is far less busy.

We ride this road on a Wednesday. And rather late on a Wednesday because, well, we are just not that good at getting up, eating, packing and getting on the road. And when it is raining when we wake … well, let me say I am not a great fan of riding in the rain.

We take our leisurely time (though on the inside I am feeling nervous and a little antsy) and hang about, hoping for the rain to stop. It eases a little so we wheel out onto the road, start our Garmins and set off.

We ride around the southern part of the Liptovská Mara (the “lake” which is actually a reservoir), the opposite side to which we rode in on Monday. It is a reasonably gentle ride. On one side we have mountains towering above us, on the other we gain glimpses of this elusive body of water, as we ride along a fairly quiet road, making a fairly cracking pace. We pull over after about 10km at a bus stop and peel off rain layers. The sun is trying to get through and we don’t linger. We don’t really know what we have ahead of us.

After another 10km we complete the circuit of the lake and set our sights on the town of Ružomberok. This is the jumping-off point for the slope up to Donovaly Pass. We think the “bad” road is the other side of the pass, but have plotted our way up a bike track, at least until the town of Liptovská Osada. At that point we can choose to take the dirt road option, but I think we are both fairly convinced on taking our chances on the main road. The dirt option has a 3km 10% grade section, it is not really well mapped and, well, we just think the main road may be quicker. Unless of course we are dead. But then I suppose it won’t matter either way any more.

We hunt for food in Ružomberok. Our first stop is not successful and we continue on a bike path until we come to a shopping area which has a number of food stalls. After walking up and down and using up a great deal of time in the process, we end up buying bread from a baker van and sitting on a step to eat it. We are feeling a little nervous about time and quickly set off again.

Our plotted route takes us on quiet streets and eventually onto a fair bike path. So far, so good. We tool along happily, but all things come to an end. Our fair bike path turns into a muddy wallow and we must make our touring barges act like mountain bikes. It is not too bad wallowing along in the mud. I make pretty good progress, but have to concentrate all the way. I leave Neil a little way behind and feel just a wee bit smug. Every now and then it is good to be better at something than him!

At Liptovská Osada, we skip a bit of the path that looks treacherous and hit the main road. We do not even discuss the alternative, but point our bikes uphill and pedal.

It is a busy road. We hug the edge and ride briskly in single file. I don’t ever actually feel threatened by passing traffic, but it is a two-lane, two-way highway, there is continual traffic and there is no opportunity to relax and enjoy the ride. I am tense. I know I will pay with my shoulders and neck later when I finally fall off the bike.

I am disconcerted to find bike parts lying shattered at the side of the road but have no time to process, or call back to Neil, who is riding on my wheel. I am setting a pretty good pace; there is little to do other than to keep the pedals turning and find the top of this hill.

We finally find a place to pull over, take a break, eat something and take in our surroundings. We are riding up a green mountain valley. The views are spectacular, the traffic relentless. We take a little time to relax, stretch and then mount up again. The Donovaly Pass will not get any closer by standing around.

We continue our cracking pace and it is not too long before we start seeing signs and buildings and realise that we are nearly there. The road tips up a little more steeply before the top and I take a strategic break before, finally, being able to move out of the relentless traffic and onto a walking/cycle path that will take us to the top. It is steep, but I am heartened by the fact that some of the larger trucks are not actually moving much faster than us.

We finally reach the top. It is a little anti-climactical given my many weeks of stress while searching for a way to get up and over safely. We stop for a breather. In our original plans, we had thought that if we got to the top we could, if feeling uncomfortable about the road, ask around and see if someone with a van or truck could take us down the other side. I had spent hours poring over bike trail maps, trying to find something that would take us safely down to Banská Bystrica without using the main road.

In the end, we just push off from the top and join the crowd of motor vehicles on the road. The speed limit on the way down is 40km/h for a good way and we find ourselves constantly on our brakes to avoid speeding. We are going faster than the traffic! What a fun ride down this would be if there were no traffic. Is this the dangerous section of road? It has all seemed a little less than safe, but I have ridden on more scary roads, such as the road from Dubrovnik to the Dubrovnik Airport, where I have actually felt my life might be at risk.

We cruise happily down the hill. Once the traffic spreads out we have little need for brakes and little need for pedals. The wind whips our faces and life is pretty good. We stop a few times to take time to admire the surroundings but then push on. We still have a way to go and a fairly steep uphill to tonight’s home at Špania Dolina.

After a thrilling 19km downhill we strike a busy road. A very busy road. It is the main northern approach to Banská Bystrica. Is this the dangerous part? We have to negotiate crossing the road to make a left hand turn and then, only a few kilometres along, we need to cross over again to get into a side street to take our left hand turn up to Špania Dolina. We manage all that safely and face a steep and unrelenting road to take us on the last leg of today. I am seriously regretting the whim that made me book the quaint guest house rather than some faceless place in Banská Bystrica, but I resolve that I am going to make my way, all the way, without walking.

And I do. There is a lot of stopping. The slope reaches 15% and above and it is difficult for me, with my tired legs and all, to push the touring barge up there without a break. But I ride all the way. (A friend back home in Australia is astounded that once again the hardest part of the day is the upward ride to where we are staying. I must pay more attention when planning!)

It is a blissful feeling as we finally wheel away into the tiny village of Špania Dolina with its quaint wooden houses and the white church that dominates the village. We find the guest house – Penzión Klopačka  it seems it is the only guest house in town – and collapse with a beer to recover.

 

Špania Dolina is not, as I had believed, an old mining town. It is an ancient mining town where prehistoric mining tools excavated in the area have been dated back to 2000-1700BC. It has a very small – less than 200 – permanent population and these days is a bit of a mountain biking centre. And a stopover point for silly cyclists like us. While having a beer in the outside courtyard of our guest house we observe the white church and dub the covered walkway that leads up to it as the stairway to heaven. Tired legs and hungry bellies don’t permit a walk up there today.

I head inside to claim our reservation, which I had made through booking.com. The young woman who had served us our beers helps me. With her speaking no English, me speaking no Slovakian, it takes a little while, but she eventually leads me through several rooms, up some stairs, around a few corners and into a room. I had thought I’d booked a room with a private bathroom, but the bathroom is along the hall a little. Never mind, I can deal with that. She is gone before I realise and I have to find my own way back downstairs. She needs my passport and I hand it over. I believe that she sys she will bring it out for me. We wait and wait and wait, but she doesn’t come out. Eventually I go in and find somebody who speaks some English. She is actually waiting for me to bring Neil’s passport in. So much for my great confidence in hand gestures, miming and trying to understand Slovak¹.

With everything sorted, we drag our bags up to our room and Neil goes down to find somewhere for our bikes. I am NOT dragging my bike up those stairs. We shower, tend ourselves and head downstairs to the restaurant for dinner, only to find that we are too late. The restaurant is closed!

Fortunately, a very kind Slovak gentleman intervenes for us and persuades the kitchen to make us dinner. We order quickly and exchange conversation with the gent, eventually asking him to join us.

He is from Bratislava, here on a cycling trip. We are in a mountain biker’s paradise and he is here taking lessons. He told us he had been here when younger and remembered what a great place it was, in particular for the silence. With that fond memory, he had booked to come back for this holiday. We are talking to a middle-aged man, who is so keen on his cycling he travels on his own to places around Slovakia to improve his mountain biking. He is good company and a nice change from facing each other over a dinner table night after night.

We eat and as soon as we can absent ourselves from the dining room. The young girl serving must surely want us to go home so she can go to bed. I suspect she works very long hours.

Stats for today:

• Distance: 82km
• Climb: 1009m
• Average speed: 17.2km/h
• Average temperature: 15C
• Moving time: 4:46:46
• See our ride on Strava

The beer picture

At the end of a day’s ride, our tradition is to enjoy a beer, and to photograph it for posterity. Today’s beer was enjoyed in the courtyard outside Penzión Klopačka in the company of motor cycle riders and other guests while we enjoyed the view of the church on the hill.

Along the way today:

1. And a later note: my efforts at Slovak and hand gestures are even worse than I thought! A few days after our stay at Penzión Klopačka I receive an email from booking.com telling me that my reservation for the guest house has been cancelled due to no-show and that I am being charged a €50 cancellation fee. Luckily I am able to convince them that I did actually show and avoid the fee. [↩]