Day 1 - Vienna to Bratislava
Saturday September 30, 2023, 76 km (47 miles) - Total so far: 76 km (47 miles)
We stayed near the Prater, so the beginning of the day was nothing but marvelous: after a nice breakfast at the McDonalds of hotels - Ibis Budget - we packed up quickly and started pedalling. At once we were riding along the Hauptallee of the Prater, where not so many years ago I witnessed Eliud Kipchoge's momentous achievement, an under 2 hours marathon run. The vibe was different though. The continuous wall of spectators was not there for us this time around, instead chestnuts in similar numbers were covering the ground, producing a not altogether unpleasant crunch under the tires of our bikes.
We rode on and soon it was a left turn, then over a couple of bridges - to the North of the Danube, and we were pretty much out of the city.
The path followed the river, although not too closely. In fact, there was another path, parallel to ours, closer to the water, more scenic. It seems the "official" eurovelo is having a hard time keeping up with the new cycling infrastructure popping up everywhere.
Next, we rode through some sort of gas facility. It was surprisingly neat and nicely looking - with well tended grass everywhere, and even the huge gas tanks looked nice.
Then we were riding through a natural reserve, with fields, forests and meadows alternating, so as to make things interesting for us. I recalled a chance meeting on a train in Germany with fellow cyclists, who were going back home after cycling this stretch, that we are riding now. "Boring" was their verdict. So far I fail to understand it. [Future me: yeah, I get it now. Read on.]
Today, as almost any day on this trip, there are options to pick from in terms of the route. This time, the possible variations concerned a visit to the Roman city of Carnuntum. The visit itself was obligatory as far as I'm concerned, but it could be achieved in two different ways. Either continue through the natural reserve until well after the Roman city, which is on the opposite, Southern bank of the Danube, then cross the river and ride back to Carnuntum - or cross over at Orth by a ferry, continue through Haslau and a variety of villages and country roads connecting them, all the way to Carnuntum. I chose the latter route. And thus, we made our way to the Orth ferry.
I thought we'd have time to make a break while waiting for the ferry to arrive, but turned out it's operated on the on-demand system, meaning we could leave as soon as we wanted. However, I was already set on making that break, so it was indeed made. We had tea with a delicious plum cake,
then told the boatman to do his Charon thing, and he did. It was 5 euros per person and another coin for the bike, although there was no eye-lid to put it on.
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While the northern landing of the ferry is a restaurant, the opposite one is a pebble beach. We made a masterful imitation of the Omaha beach landing, minituarised down to 2 bikes landing from a ferry boat, then quickly moved inland. Alas, there was a glitch.
Before this trip I took my bike to my local bike shop, a new one (because the old one wasn't good enough for me, apparently), to have a once-over. To measure the chain and replace if needed, to check and maybe bleed the brakes, and most importantly - to adjust the gears. Fine, they said, it should take a day or two. On the morning of the third day, which was the last one before flying, I called them to ask how my steed is doing. They haven't touched it. A lot of arguing ensued, but bottom line was - I packed the bike as it was, with gears slightly out of whack, especially the low ones, and the chain unchecked. All was fine until that sudden sharp climb from the beach into Haslau. I was down the lowest gear, and it was making these awful noises, and finally the chain went off. I stopped at once, and just in time. The climb was almost over so I walked the bike then put the chain back - no damage done, except my wounded pride and my greasy hands. From that moment on I tried to avoid the lowest gear, and even so, the low-ish gears do not sound right, I'll have to get it looked at, perhaps in Budapest: certainly not tomorrow, because it is Sunday tomorrow. [Future me: no, I didn't take care of it in Budapest. And just for comparison: I finally got to a bike shop to have the bike looked at - in Belgrade. The guy handled all of the issues on the spot, within 15 minutes, 10 of which it took to explain what I want using Google Translate].
With the glitch figured out, we continued through a bunch of sleepy villages and small towns, as well as an amazing panorama of the most wind turbines in one place I've ever seen.
The image above shows maybe a third of the turbines visible from this spot.
Suddenly, there was an imposing but rather strange structure ahead of us, some kind of stone gate, but with another large piece of masonry next to it. This was the Heidentor, or the "Pagan's gate", a structure that originally looked like a cube with four openings, a kind of a 4-way gate, with the central space blocked by a giant sculpture of the ruling emperor. It was restored relatively recently, and is an impressive gateway, so to speak, into what one might expect in Carnuntum itself.
We cycled on to the main attraction - the excavated remains of the Roman city and the adjacent military camp (well, actually, causality arrow points the other way, so military camp and the adjacent city). It was pretty astonishing really. First you walk through a rather pedestrian exhibition focused on a rather somber topic - the burial procedures. Then you walk outside and you're in a Roman city. Granted, it's all restored, but how well restored! You have the villas, the houses, the workshops of various craftsmen, the bloody thermal baths! The baths were amazing. I could barely hold myself so as not to throw myself into the pools - several of them! And the level of details... There were wooden slippers next to one of the pools - as if their owner, a wealthy partician perhaps, just stepped out to take a wee at the authentically restored toilet next door. Man. I've been to Herculanum, and I think this one impressed me more. Well, it's a tie maybe.
We were pretty hungry by this time, so we went next door to the Roman Culinary Forum, or some such fancy name for the museum's restaurant. They serve ceasar salad, which made me think less of them immediately (because, as is well known, this salad has nothing to do with Rome), but they also serve some kind of beef stew, which they claim to be an original Roman recipe, and it might just as well be. Daniel took that, and I ordered an authentic Roman chicken schnitzel with authentic Romano-Austrian potato salad. The lemonade was excellent, regardless of its presumed authenticity.
Having overeaten only ever so slightly (we've done this mistake once, in a lovely German restaurant overlooking the very same river we're currently following), we rode on. On through the rest of the modern village of Petronell, adjacent to the Roman ruins, were they were probably burrying a chief of the fire brigade, judging by the number of people in firemen uniforms congregating near the village's church. Through more fields, and suddenly back next to the river, in time to see it close ranks after having done splitting itself around a long island. Through Hainburg, with its impressive castle and impressive Bila Plus hypermarket, where we went shopping.
Now we made some miscalculations it seems, and either took too much stuff with us (this remains to be seen) or took not enough bags to contain all that we need (this seems certain at this point). So I begged Daniel to contain himself while shopping. He did not, I think, given that I witnessed him trying to fit a 4-pack of apple cider under a bungee cord and smash mutliple boxes of raspberries into his handlebar bag (later that day he spent some jolly good time cleaning that bag from raspberry juice). But eventually he somehow managed to squeeze it all and we were off - to be done with the last portion of the route for today.
We were soon through Wolfsthal, and Austria was beginning to morph into Slovakia. Already at Bila we heard quite a lot of Slovakian, but now the bi-lingual signs were ubiquitous. After Wolfsthal, which I knew to be the last habitation before the border, the path ran alongside a highway, and soon the signs of the impending border were everywhere, and then the border itself. The delapidated and unused building of the customs, then the fancy and very much in use building of the casino, a sign showing that the speed limits in Slovakia are just the same as in Austria, and we've passed our first border, out of many.
Then it was a few more kms alongside the highway, and of course my mobile operator decided to send me a bunch of texts that my GPS dutifully displayed just as we were entering the city and needed to navigate, but there was no real need: it was up on the bridge, the famous one with the observation deck, then over it, then down and around and here was our hotel, moored to the shore.
Yes, indeed, it's a botel, a boat hotel. A nifty way of disposing of old cruise ships. This one is called Gracia and I guess it once was. At the entrance to the hotel we found the laziest cat I've ever seen. Apparently, the cat works at the hotel, but what is the nature of its work is uncleer, since it hasn't moved an inch while we were checking in and unloading then tying up our bikes.
The room is spacious, the view is out on the Danube, we have a decent shower and even a balcony (apparently, ours is the only room with it), so can't complain.
I went out and had dinner, driven by reason rather than necessity: I was more tired than hungry, but realizing I haven't eaten nearly enough today to cover for the energy spent, forced myself. I wish I would be "forcing myself" to eat back home - there it comes naturally to me!