74 km through Vyssi and Studanky, in the Czech Republic to a free bicyclist campsite at Offensheim, Austria, on the Danube River.

Hallelujah! Out of the desert and into the promised land. Crossing the Austrian border was like being released from prison. I cruised into Bad Leonfelden, bought some wonderful bread, sausage and Brie cheese, went to a park and had my first real picnic in weeks. Not only was the food delicious, but it was at American style prices (i.e. cheap). I went to the library and got a bicycle map for the region (Oberosterreich) from the very friendly (!) information person. Then I exchanged money with a friendly (!) bank teller, and thoroughly enjoyed not being stared at as I relaxed in Bad Leonfeld for several hours.

Feeling in a state of bliss, I then set out through a series of long climbs and descents that provided spectacular panoramic views of the Austrian countryside. These views were enhanced by the absence of the air pollution that kept much of eastern Europe in a constant haze. The roads were smooth, although narrow, and I topped 40 mph on several of the descents. The weather was also ideal, with temperatures in the 70's, sunny and no wind.

To top the day off, just as I was beginning to look for a camping site, I stumbled across a free bicyclist campsite located on the bikepath paralleling the Danube River. I am back on the route that I had previously encountered in Hungary. I saw dozens of loaded touring bikes in Offensheim, and there are about 10 German cyclists at this site (which is a shaded area in a city park) along with me tonight.

Something Wilhelm told me back in Budapest has stuck in my mind. He said that the German tourists were like a "plague" over Europe in the summer time. That seems certainly to be the case, as almost all non-Czech campers I met were German. In addition, when I counted license plates of cars passing me in Czechoslovakia I found that more than 60% of the cars on the road had German plates.

Passing into Austria made me realize how bad things were in Eastern Europe. It was not the lack of western comforts that bothered me--in fact, that was no problem at all. Rather, it was the shameless staring. In Austria, if a person is looking at me (and I know I am a sight) and I return the gaze, he will look away. Not so in Eastern Europe. The last couple of days in the Czech Republic I started picking my nose and making suggestive tongue movements when I was confronted by a persistent starer. They never did get the point, and just made disgusted expressions.

118 km through Marienkirchen to a forest spot near Hoschonuhl.

A warm and sunny day with three distinct terrains. The first 25 km were on a bicycle path along the Danube. This was a flat, easy stretch with hundreds of other cyclists on the smooth, wide path. This was followed by a 25 km river grade climb through lovely canopied forests. The rest of the day was on open, rolling farmland with many hot climbs, some in excess of 15%.

I passed through numerous, quaint, clean and comfortable Austrian villages. I love them--there are not as many parks as in Sweden, but there are public benches everywhere. I found such benches not only in the villages, but all along the countryside, particularly at the summits of hills where there were panoramic views. Compared to Eastern Europe, the people are so hospitable that I can hardly believe it. Many people greet me with "Guten tag" or "Guten morgen" on the road, and I have had several conversations with curious people who had approached me with questions. Talked at length with one man who was sitting at the top of the hill painting a picture of his house in the valley below. The clerks in the stores are invariably friendly and say "auf wiedersehen" after we have completed the transaction.

I spent an uncomfortable evening last night as there was a group of drunks in a nearby section of the park. They were boisterous when I arrived at 5:00, and they were screaming and arguing until 2:00 a.m. I don't know how they had the stamina. The odd thing was that they were loudly playing a lot of my favorite music (i.e. Simon and Garfunkel), and I really enjoyed listening to it.

This evening, I rolled Burton into a secluded spot in a tall pine forest. I managed to get a flat tire in the process, but it looks as though I will have a quiet evening for the first time in a long while. Now that I am back in the "west" I wonder if I will have the recurring dream again tonight.

Tomorrow I will go into Salzburg and hopefully find a good book (I've read "Nexus" twice, as well as the "Dancing Wu Li Masters" and Suzuki's book on Zen Buddhism). Then I intend to go into the woods for a bit of solitude. Most of Europe is on vacation now, and the narrow Austrian roads will be packed with tourists this weekend.

August 7, 1992

55 km through Fridbeerg and Mattsee to a forest spot near Salzburg.

Was awakened during the night (about midnight) by the bizarre howl/yelp of a large wild animal (a wild pig?). I've never heard anything like it--a loud persistent staccato-like yelp. At first I thought it was a drunk making weird noises, but then I realized I was in the forest. After about a half hour the animal wandered away, with his yelp becoming more and more distant until it stopped.

I felt some pressure during the morning's ride because I wanted to get into Salzburg as early as possible so that I could do my business and get out of town. Therefore, the rolling climbs, especially through farmland terrain, were psychologically difficult. In addition, my map was inadequate and so I got lost a couple of times, and ended up riding in a southerly direction hoping for the best. There were a couple of beautiful, clean and fast-flowing streams en route, and I managed to stop at one of them and take a soothing bath.

Beginning in Maltsee (20 km from Salzburg) I got on a narrow, heavily trafficked road. I kept jumping on every available bike path that I came across, but they all sputtered out after a kilometer or so. Finally, at the city limits, I found a bike path that followed a canal, and I took it all the way to the center of Salzburg.

After picking up my mail at the American Express office, I went about trying to find a good book to read for the weekend. I could hardly believe it, but after 3 hours of searching and asking people, I realized that there is not a single used bookstore in all of Salzburg. There were several "antikvarian" shops which sold valuable books. When I told one of the shopkeepers in an antikvarian store that I wanted a book "to read", he just smirked. The new book stores have a fairly good selection of books in English, but at a minimum price or around $20. So I guess I will be re-reading "Nexus" this weekend.

Salzburg is an ancient city with beautiful architecture and narrow, car-less streets in the center. The Salzach River, which flows through the center of the city, is wide and fast-flowing, and looked very inviting in the heat (which was 38 degrees centigrade by mid-afternoon). Finally, the city is bordered on the east and west by steep Alpine mountains, which were unfortunately marred on this day by haze/pollution. The center of the city was crowded with tourists, and as usual, once I was there I wanted to escape to the outskirts. There are extensive bike paths, particularly along the river, but they are not particularly safe due to the presence of many 18 year old daredevils. I had the strong urge to stick an elbow out as one of these hot shots whizzed by, and knock him into the river, but I refrained.

About 4:00 I decided to head for the hills, which weren't too far away as the mountains literally start at the eastern city limits. I picked a road beside a feeder creek of the Salzach river and followed it uphill. It sooned turned into a walking path up the mountain, and I found myself in a quiet, lovely forest with a fast flowing creek (waterfalls and all) beside me. I found a pool under a small waterfall and, since no one else was around, I stripped and bathed in the cool waters. Of course, a man happened by shortly thereafter, but he only laughed and went on his way. I then dragged my bike further up the path until I found a fairly secluded spot to have a picnic and eventually spread out my sleeping bag.

15 km, all in the Salzburg area, to a site in the southern hills above the city.

I ended up finding a level spot beside the waterfall in the park last night. I wasn't going to pitch the tent as I did not want to be conspicuous. However, about 9:30 a thunder and lightning show (which lasted for two hours) began, and I set my tent up in the flashing darkness. About 11:00 it began raining and was still raining when I fell asleep.

In the morning I had no will to bicycle. I decided that today will be an R&R day. I rode a few kilometers south until I found a lovely, clean and cold creek in the forest. There I had breakfast and lunch while I read and relaxed with my feet in the water. An Austrian named Franz approached me and we talked for about an hour. He told me he was a musician and painter and that he was "easily hurt" because of his sensitive (he used the word "sensible") soul. He told me that he was very hurt by his girlfriend who would not tell him what she believed. He said that he idolized Robert DeNiro (he actually resembled DeNiro, and I told him that) and that he had posters of him and Meryl Streep on his walls at home in Graz. He also that that he admired the American Indians because they were "in tune with nature", something in which he found great joy. An interesting character--too bad my German or his English were not better so we could have gone beyond superficialities.

About 2:00 I headed up the hill to scout out a camping spot. The grade was about 20% so I stopped at the first likely spot (i.e. a flat, isolated area where no one was likely to go). I found one about 100 meters from the road, and was drenched with sweat by the time I'd carried my bike up there.

It is now about 5:00 and I am relaxing and looking down on the city far below me. I wish that I were near water but there is no way that I am going to make the journey down (and up) that hill today. The only company I have had is a deer that wandered to within 5 meters of me, looked up and took off like a rocket. I am lying on my foam pad, reading Nexus and smoking Altesse (hand-rolled) cigarettes--the cheapest and probably deadliest that I could find.

August 9, 1992

57 km to the forest outside Muhlbach am Hochkoning.

Sunny and hot. I'd decided during the night to take a side trip into the Austrian Alps and climb Gross Glockner pass before returning to Salzburg on the 15th to meet Jon. I had a difficult time getting motivated in the morning--a real case of burn out. This was not helped by the fact that it was a Sunday and no grocery stores were open. As I got on the road south I found several open restaurants but passed them by because of the prohibitive costs (at least $10 for a meal) and subsisted on Mars bars until I got to Bischofshofen. There I gave in and forked out 75 Schillings for a half-chicken and pommes frites.

The meal did me wonders, as I was suddenly full of energy and ready to roll. Right outside of Bischofshofen I had to make a choice whether to go on the flat, heavily trafficked main road or take a mountainous secondary road. I chose the latter and was soon on a road which my map listed as an 18% grade. Amazingly, I made this climb with no difficulty in second gear. I was feeling a bit like Superman until I hit a climb out of Muhlbach that was sign-posted as 15%. This incline was far steeper than the earlier one, and it took all my strength to move fast enough to not fall over. About 1 km into this climb I heard a snap and discovered that one of my rear spokes (freewheel side) had snapped under the pressure.

From 3:00 until 8:00 I worked alongside the road, trying to get the freewheel off to make the repairs. A German cyclist stopped to assist me but was unable to help. In desperation I decided to thread a spoke through with the free wheel on. This tedious job took more than an hour. When I finally succeeded in getting it through, I discovered that I had stripped the threads and so the spoke was useless. Finally, I decided to camp for the night at that spot, and rolled my bike into the woods. After I had gotten all my gear off the bike I decided to make one last attempt to loosen the freewheel. Voila! The freewheel came off and I was able to put a replacement in. The amazing thing about this whole adventure is that I never became frustrated or angry. I had a feeling of zen-like contentment. Nothing could faze me. The morning's burn out had disappeared. I actually think that the spoke problem helped the process by re-focusing me.

The scenery today was spectacular Alpine. The first 45 kilometers were along the Salzach river, with jagged mountains rising on both sides of the small valley. The next 10 km were a climb through fir forests alongside a white water creek. I stopped every kilometer or so during that climb in order to jump in the creek and to soak my shirt in the icy water.

All I had to eat today was the chicken and a couple of Mars Bars. I wanted to take the chicken bones with me from the restaurant, but I didn't have the chutzpah. This has become a recurring Sunday problem for me.

August 10, 1992

94 km through Dientin to a field near Bruckberg.

The morning was cool, bright and sunny. I climbed about 6 more kilometers before dropping into Dientin, where I had an inspiring picnic lunch beside a white water stream. Dientin is a real Mary Poppins postcard town. Immaculate houses in a lush valley surrounded on all sides by jagged mountains. I then followed the stream downhill to Highway 311 (a narrow, busy road) before turning onto the Gross Glockner highway. The traffic was heavy (5,000 cars per hour?) and never let up, although the heavy traffic kept the speed of the cars down.

The first 10 kilometers on the Gross Glockner highway were gradual, river grade uphill. I then passed the toll booth ($30 for cars! No charge for bikes) and started a 14 kilometer climb with a steady 12% grade. At the toll booth I met Kone and Camilla, a Swedish couple in their 50’s who were cycling from Holland to Italy. We decided to ride together, and ended up leap-frogging each other as none of us could ride for more than a kilometer without stopping to rest.

This climb was among the most physically demanding cycling I have ever done. It took considerable effort just to keep the bike upright and ride at a slow walking speed. It was made even more difficult because there was no shoulder and the traffic was heavy. There were no other cyclists making the climb, although we saw hundreds (without gear) flying down the other way--some were going well over 40 mph.

The weather was sunny and calm when we started our climb. Suddenly, about 10 kilometers into it (at an elevation above 2,100 meters) a violent storm hit. It went from total calm to 50 mph winds in a matter of seconds. The wind was accompanied by a pouring, and freezing, rain. We were above the tree line so we sought refuge behind a pile of large rocks. With teeth chattering and fingers numb, we managed to put on all of our cold weather gear and huddled in a tiny enclave. For an hour we watched the traffic wind by, slowed by flowing water on the road to a speed of less than 10 mph. The storm did not look like it was going to abate, so finally we made the decision to head back down to a cafeteria about 5 km away. What a frightening downhill ride! I had both brakes fully closed and was dragging one foot on the ground to further brake the bike. Several times I was almost blown over a cliff by gusts. We stayed in the middle of the road, going as slow as we could, and the cars made no attempt to pass us.

Thoroughly soaked, we arrived at the cafeteria and went in to eat. Kona and Camille told me that they were from Göteborg, and that they knew an American deserter (Richard Walling) who still lived there. Then they started telling me about another bicycle friend, named Michael Strandberg, who had written a couple of books about his bicycle adventures. Once I figured out the pronounciation of his name, I realized that this was the very same Michael Strandberg that Jon had met while cycling in California, and who I had (unsuccessfully) tried to contact while I was cycling in Sweden. What a coincidence!

The scenery during the climb was spectacular--glaciers, waterfalls and rugged mountain peaks. Not to mention the many switchbacks which were visible from above.

After dinner, I parted with the Swedes and headed back down into the valley. Because this is private farmland, I had a difficult time finding a place to free camp. Finally, I found a small field protected on all sides by trees, and I am now sitting in the protection of those trees. There is still a powerful wind (40 mph) and dense black clouds rolling in, so I expect to get even wetter tonight. I am more exposed than I like to be (and free camping is not legal in Austria) and so I am waiting for darkness to pitch my tent.

August 11, 1992

30 km Kehlbach to a pine forest outside Saalfelden.

Sunny and warm. I cycled into Saalfelden, got some food for breakfast, found a nice park and then set out my clothes and tent to dry in the sun. For some reason, I find that drying things in the sun is an enormously pleasurable activity. It is as though I am accomplishing something while doing nothing. And the end result, dry clothes and tent is wonderful.

I decided that today would be a day of relaxation; I would wander around the town and perhaps spend some time in the local library. I went to the tourist information office and asked where the library was. The clerk didn't know and had to go look it up in a directory. The library turned out to be less than 50 meters from the office, so it shows how often that question is asked. Unfortunately, the library was closed on Tuesday, so I biked over to the next town and spent the day relaxing, reading and watching the tourists do their thing.

The crush of tourists in these towns is starting to get on my nerves. All the towns are geared towards tourism (and, given the spectacular scenery of the area, for good reason), and the towns are bustling with hordes of shoppers and bumper to bumper traffic. I have no interest in shopping and, as far as I am concerned, the magnificent scenery is marred by mobs of camera toting, Bermuda-shorts clad German tourists.

In the late afternoon I headed into the tree covered hills which surround Saarfelden. There I found a forest recreation site (i.e. the forest is interspersed with jogging and hiking trails) where I have decided to camp for the night. I found a quiet, isolated spot in the center and am waiting for darkness to fall before pitching my tent.

August 12, 1992

33 km to a forest spot at the Dientner Sattel, a 1,357 meter pass.

I got caught with my rain fly down again last night--when will I ever learn. About 2:30 a.m. I was awakened by thunder, lightning and pouring rain. I had not put the fly up, so I jumped out of my sleeping bag and put the fly on in the dark. Then I dismantled my packs which I had foolishly left on the bike. By the time this was done all my gear was soggy and the fly was sticking to the roof, so I had all-night leakage into the tent. I then crawled back into my tent and turned on a baseball game (on Armed Services Radio) before drifting back to sleep at 4:30.

When I awoke at 8:00 the skies were threatening, but I geared up and peddled back into Saalfelden. As soon as I arrived in town the sun gloriously emerged from the clouds. So, I went back to the same park as yesterday, and had a picnic breakfast while I laid everything out to dry.

At 11:00 I set out on the 500 meter climb, and following descent into Dienten. The 14% grade was too much for me and I ended up torturously walking the bike for about 3 kilometers. I then coasted into Dietner where I stopped at a riverside picnic area and had lunch, washed my hair and read "Nexus". I then continued on to the climb out of Dienten. This incline was not so difficult (10%) and I had no problems with it.

I arrived at the summit in late afternoon, and found a quiet spot in the forest about 50 meters from the road. I intend to stay here tonight and cruise into Salzburg in the morning.

I am feeling very content right now. It is quite amazing that I never feel lonely when I am out in the woods (oddly, I feel most alone when I am at youth hostels). It suits me fine not to talk to anybody for a few days. I just lie back and admire the clouds, the trees and birds while I revel in the warmth of the sun (or the coolness of the shade as the case may be). I am very happy.

I know that I have adjusted to this life since I prefer to shit outside rather than use a toilet. Also, I am not sure that I could sleep well indoors on a bed--I certainly have not on the few occasions when I have been inside.

August 13, 1992

78 km back to the same forest site in the hills above Salzburg that I had a week ago.

Another all night thunder, lightning and rain storm. There were two large puddles in my tent but all the gear stayed relatively dry. By the time I set off it was warm with high thin clouds and no threat of rain.

It was an easy cruise back to Salzburg. The first 16 km were downhill and then it was relatively flat as I followed the Salzach River northward. I went to American Express and found no letter from Jon (good news), then to a park alongside the Salzach where I dried my tent. I also managed to sell my East European guidebook for 50 Schillings (1/6th the price I paid for it, but I did relieve myself of the weight). Then I spent several hours relaxing along one of the beautiful clear creeks that flow into the Salzach River, before heading to my camping spot. I bought a liter of gasoline with me and used it to clean my chain and rebuild my front wheel bearings.

I am still seeking solitude and, in a sense, recovering. But I am also looking forward to seeing Jon. I am impressed with the amount of patience I seem to have developed. It was a real joy working, painstakingly and lovingly, on my bike. I seem to have adopted Pirsig's concept of quality in life. No more of the "quick and dirty" approach.

I found out where Kate got one of her favorite salutations, i.e. "keep the aspidistras flying". It is the last line of "Nexus" where Henry Miller is saying goodbye to America. I don't think that he would be pleased with modern Europe. It seems as devoted to "progress" as America, and that is not what he wanted to see. In fact, I think there is a wonderful irony in the fact that there is not a single second-hand bookshop in Salzburg where I can trade in "Nexus", and that the price of new books in Europe is triple that of the United States. Books in Europe appear to be status symbols or investments, not the source of wonder and ideas. Henry Miller would appreciate the irony.

August 14, 1992

46 kilometers around Salzburg and then back to the same camp site.

Up at 8:00. Bathed in the creek below my campsite before riding into central Salzburg. Exchanged money at American Express, somewhat anxiously as I had to leave my bike outside and stand in line for 45 minutes. Then spent some time walking the side streets of Salzburg, joined by throngs of German, Italian and American tourists. Finally, I got on the bike path along the Salzach and rode it south as far as it would go. It turned out to go all the way to Hallein, 17 km distant. If I had known this I could have avoided most of the bad traffic problems I had encountered previously.

Returned to my campsite around 4:00 as it had started to drizzle. It is now raining hard, but my tent is up and I am dry and cozy. I finally figured out a way to keep my rain fly from coming in contact with the tent (and thereby causing condensation leakage). I pulled one of the rear pegs out of the tent loops and used it exclusively to stretch out the fly, and this seems to have resolved the problem.

Tonight is probably my last night of pure solitude. I've enjoyed it--I obviously have a lot of hermit in me--but I am also a social animal and so it will be nice to end the solitude also. I was a line in Henry Miller that has stuck in my mind. He wrote about the "terminal loneliness of the man who makes his own rules". It seems appropriate.

August 15, 1992

10 km around Salzburg to the Stadt Campground.

Met Jon today at 10:00 in front of the American Express Office. It was great. We talked about our travels (Jon had just cycled across Canada and had biked to Salzburg from Frankfurt) and Jon showed none of his traditional sarcasm. Maybe things can work out this time. After we set up camp we returned to town and went up into the Hohensalzburg Castle, which is perched on the hills above the city. From this vantage point it is possible to see the entire city and the view is stupendous.

When we returned to the campground, Jon commented that Grand Forks has produced three great cyclists; one racer (Andy Hampstead) and two tourers (Tom and Jon Nelson). I'd never looked at it that way, but I guess that what we are doing is somewhat extraordinary.