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In Which I Get All Deflated
November 20, 2006 by Mike
Kolobrzeg
Route: Chalupy - Karwia - Wejherowo - Slupsk - Koszalin - Kolobrzeg (with a bit of help)
I haven't met many Poles so far. Not to talk to. Not in the way I met Latvians and Finns and Norwegians and all the others. That was all about to change.
I started this morning with a view to taking the most coastal route to Kolobrzeg -- as recommended by my Polish spy. Going coastal would involve a series of small roads stretching from small village to small village along the Baltic. It would be slow and quiet: perfect. But within ten miles I had changed my mind. Put another way, I-I-I- h-h-h-a-a-a-d-d-d c-c-c-h-h-h-a-a-a-n-n-n-g-g-... you get the picture. The road was b-b-bumpy. And, in case you haven't noticed yet, I'm not the best, or most confident, biker. Add to that a gathering wind, wet road conditions, Poland's reputation for lethal drivers and the need to replace my balding tyres, and what you get is me heading ten miles south of the coast to join the main east-west highway, the 6.
In those ten miles I rode through a forest called Piasnica, where 12,000 people were murdered by the Nazis during the first year of World War Two. Locals and foreigners. Jews. Gypsies. Nuns. Communists. By 1944 defeat looked imminent, so the Nazis brought prisoners into the forest to dig up the mass graves and burn the decomposing bodies. Then they shot the prisoners.
There are fresh flowers at the monument to the dead in the still, quiet forest of Piasnica.
--
Oh, the main road when it came was great. Smooth tarmac, not too busy, some lovely corners. I countersteered for the first time in ages. Really leaned into the turns. (Then remembered my dodgy tyres and got straight again.)
I also saw my first tractor in, what? a thousand miles? A real, 'Western' style tractor. I didn't realise I'd missed them. Cultivated fields replaced open heath, forest and mud.
Perhaps the conditions contributed. Rough road to start, then the smooth road letting me open up and lean into the bike. A couple of hundred miles in one go. Whatever, within a few miles of reaching Kolobrzeg, as I took a gentle righthander through the forest, I had a puncture. My first ever on a bike: no cause for celebration.
This may sound trite (especially if you've been through this) but I realised straightaway that something was wrong. I'm very happy with my reactions -- hand off the throttle, check mirrors, front brake to stop as gently/ quickly as possible, come to a halt off the carriageway.
Look down. Yes, the rear is flat as a pancake.
Look back, I've stopped too close to the bend.
Look around, there's no hard shoulder.
Engine on, first gear, stand up and paddle me and the bike forward.. easy does it.. don't want to risk any damage to the rims of the wheel.. and.. stop.
Then try and work out how to get the side-stand out when the rear of the bike is suddenly a couple of inches lower!
--
Errr, what the HELL do I do now?
[Change the tyre for yr spare, Mike is not an option. Even if I had one. At the HorizonsUnlimited meet back in June I watched in amazement as people changed tyres for fun! Not me. I can barely get the petrol cap off. Just one of the reasons this is a trip round the coast of Europe and not a one-man expedition to the foot of Everest, or the source of the Nile.]
--
The tenth car to pass stopped. How lucky am I?
The driver had the number of a local recovery service in his wallet. How lucky am I?
He didn't wait for me to find my phone. He dialled them himself. How lucky am I?
The recovery truck man said he'd be along straightaway. How lucky am I?
He found me - within 30 minutes. How lucky am I?
Up onto the truck for a lift to Kolobrzeg's version of KwikFit. How lucky am I?
The tyre people don't have the tyres I need - but it turns out I don't need them. The tyre is fine. How lucky am I?
I've lost a spoke from inside the wheel, and as it snapped out it must have torn a hole in the inner tube. But I managed to stop the bike.. upright.. and get here within an hour. How lucky am I?
A new inner tube, a screw in place to hide the sharp edges of the broken spoke and prevent another blow-out. I'm on the road again within an hour. And I've met lots of friendly and helpful Poles. How lucky am I?
But... my tyres still need changing. I'm down a spoke. I ride to the nearest hotel. I know that, like falling off a bicycle -- an unfortunate example -- I need to ride again, and soon, to prove to myself that I can. But not tonight. Tonight I need a drink. Then I need to get on the internet and find myself a Triumph dealer. It takes a while (the Triumph website lists a country's dealers by town name without indicating where in the country they are. I have to go through a list of 75 dealers to confirm there's one 60 miles from where I'm crossing the border.) How lucky am I?
A puncture, then. But really... How lucky am I?
Comments
By Birgitta | November 24, 2006 9:04 PM
You think you are lucky, we are feeling lucky /pleased all is well with you.
By the way mother does not read all of it.
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By Laura | November 24, 2006 6:53 PM
Very, very lucky! Good job at staying upright!