Time and Distance – Day 4, 5am–6pm, 840km - 1000km; Town and Country – A Slovenian hop field near Parizjle to a café in Potoce; Kilos (with apologies to Bridget Jones): 84, another half kilo gone; Coffee and cake stops – 4; Close Shaves on the Steed – none, certainly not on the cycle lanes of Slovenia; Animal life – Bugs and more bugs…
The last entry in this Journal left me dozing, tormented by dementors (actually strings of hops heaving and sighing above me on the night breeze). I rather liked the idea of it, dossing down in a field of hops. Actually it was my stomach that was churning. Now I realise it was simply the effects of dehydration (despite my six Cokes and gallons of water at the house of a very kind fellow competitor). At 5 am I was just setting off, kit by the roadside, and had to make a run for it. A farmer stopped and looked over my bicycle questioningly. All I could do was wave from a squatting position…
Right then, business done, time to go, if a little wearily (the effects of the sunstroke were still lingering). Except that my gps was feeling as out of sorts too… It had gone to sleep happily enough - I switched it off - but when fired up again, it wouldn’t re-engage with life; laggardly it refused to log on and reload the course. It knew where it was – it offered a basic map and faithfully zoned in to the nearby river, main road and village a mile back, but would it bring up its cheery yellow and black arrows to guide me? Not for 40 minutes. So I cycled as far as I dared on my back-up and sat in a tiny local park until the gps felt the call to work. Truth to tell, I was a little leaden-limbed and appreciated the slow start.
The day ahead, through the second half of Slovenia to the Italian border, ran through farmland into hills and eventually into a winding, steep-sided valley on the old road to Ljubljana. Overhead the new road ran raised on pillars: the grumbling echoes of cars straining and the thundering of lorries on the surface above echoed off the walls and filled the valley around me.
The next thing to fill the road came at the top of the hill – a truly luscious aroma of rising dough, laced with a hint of coffee – magnificent. Right ahead was a bakery, with café attached. Luckily bakeries open early; it was still only 7am. I bought a coffee, orange juice and the largest bun I could see, and found a seat perfectly positioned for the view - four or five miles ahead and 600 feet down another huge valley. I sat and soaked it in. I began to perk up, and look forward to the day.
Perhaps it was the coffee… but like the echoing grumble of engines thundering above, so my stomach rumbled into evidence again – like a jet engine barrelling down a valley. At this point, for the benefit of non-cyclists, I should record that ‘the runs’ come with a certain jeopardy when you’re in full cycle gear. Particularly when the onset is urgent… You have to find a place – in this case a quick march along a corridor and down some stairs – phew, a free cubicle. And then it gets complicated as well as urgent. Rucksack, over the shoulders, early-morning light jacket, off, cycle shirt, with heavily laden pockets, zip and heft aside, then the bib straps, left right, but aaargh, they tangle with a wallet slung over the shoulder, left, right, left, and only then is all clear… phew again. Eventually I headed back to my able with the view; the staff had been kind enough to leave my coffee and cycle helmet and gloves.
An hour later, after scooting downhill, I found myself channelled into the network of Slovenia’s superb suburban cycle lanes, through the burgeoning outskirts of Ljubljana. Extraordinarily, cyclists have right of way, so the cars waited politely to let me by. Eventually, downtown, the lanes evaporated, leaving me weaving among busy Friday city folk heading out for lunch or out to the park. At the heart of the city I crossed the river to the old town, and a lovely square with ornate old buildings and a promenade. Hah? Time for another coffee stop. And another pastry. More momentary relaxation in the sun.
Racing to the crapper at the bakery with a view…? At the top of the left hand ascent.
It’s the way of bike-packing races that any pleasant time out tends to be followed by some sort of payback. In this case it was a huge climb. In the early afternoon heat. I headed out - on more of Slovenia’s superb cycle lanes - and the climb began at the edge of the town. Soon I was struggling up through sloping pasture and wooded hillsides, wishing I could be on the shaded southern side of the road. There was only 2000 feet of ascent, but hot enough for another stop after just 600, where I managed two litres of water and a litre and a half of Coke. The second half was truer forest and cooler, switchbacks and shade hanging across the road, and a gradient of almost 20% in places. I found myself competing with sports cars for space around the bends. It was the hottest and hardest climb so far.
But then, after one payback comes another. I think I have written already that modern bicycles offer a good return on the hard work endured on the ascent. This was truly spectacular – 20 kilometres and 2500 feet in one straight downhill run, wind in the hair and with barely a single pedal stroke. From Alpine heights to the Mediterranean coastal flatlands. And from a bearable temperature of the forested tops into a blanket of oppressive heat on the Mediterranean plain in late June…