ESTONIA
August 8, 1995
167 kilometers to a campground at Motelli Sumuluu, south of Viljandi in central Estonia.
Took the overnight ferry from Stockholm to Tallinn, on the ship that took the place of the Estonia. The Estonia was the ship that sank on this route last year with more than 900 deaths. The car deck had filled with water causing the ship to flip over before anyone knew there was a problem. I was in a cabin that was 8 levels below the deck and my mind was working overtime as the ship tossed on rough seas. I could only imagine the terror that those people must have experienced, trapped so far from safety.
Apart from my vivid imagination, I enjoyed the ferry ride. The ship was packed, with Estonians sprawled all over the upper decks and Swedes crowding the bars. I got a seat in one of the bars and nursed a beer while watching people and the world track championships on tv. Saw a world record in the triple jump – the first man to jump 60 feet.
Got off the ferry around 7:00 a.m. with one thought in mind – get through Tallinn and into the countryside as quickly as possible. I’d heard numerous warnings from Scandinavians that Tallinn was the "murder capital" of Eastern Europe, and that I was nuts to be cycling there, so I felt a bit of trepidation about the city. I usually feel more comfortable while biking in the countryside anyway.
After a half hour cycling on narrow roads through the dreary Soviet era concrete slab suburbs of Tallinn I came across a new four lane highway with three meter shoulders. This new road lasted about 20 miles, and then for much of the rest of the day I was on either fairly smooth asphalt roads with 1 meter shoulders or on gravel roads with no traffic. The terrain was flat the entire way through grain fields and dairy herds, with a few patches of forest mixed in. While the land was relatively nondescript, the sky was a spectacular mix of cumulus clouds, the likes of which I had seen in Finland and on the Canadian prairies. Almost the entire day I could see rain falling somewhere, although I got caught in only a few brief showers. Because winds were light, the cycling was easy and I managed the 104 mile ride without any problem.
As it got near dusk I began searching for a campground (my map indicated that there was camping in this area). I had to ask several people and was finally given some specific directions before I found the unsigned camping ground (actually it was a series of small cabins around a lake). There were a lot of young people hanging around, and when I set up my tent in the trees I felt a bit vulnerable. However, just I was settling in for the night, one of the boys came over and, in English, invited me to join the group. Turns out they were a Finnish church group on a week’s outing in Estonia. Most of them spoke English, and they peppered me with questions. They gave me some grillkorv, and then everyone sat around singing Bob Dylan and Peter Paul & Mary folk songs. Several of them warned me about the Estonians, noting that their huts had been robbed twice since they had been at the campsite.
On my ride today I was surprised at how westernized Estonia has become in a few short years. There were a large number of gas stations (with gas at American prices) and also several 24 hour markets. The roads are in fine condition and are well sign-posted (on the main roads anyway). The architecture is partly Soviet style apartment buildings and partly ancient wooden farm houses. Unlike any other eastern European country I have been in, parks were abundant in the towns.
August 9, 1995
160 kilometers to a forest near Ilzene. The day began clear and cool but by noon had become overcast and gloomy with a threat of rain the rest of the day. I stocked up on food in Tovra (bread, cheese, apple juice and vanilla cookies). Having a bit of problem with finding food as the markets have limited selections and almost everything needs to be cooked (meats, pastas and rice). The bottles of pickled cabbages, cucumbers and sauerkraut that made up the majority of the merchandise are not my cup of tea.
I crossed the border into Latvia at 1:00. It only took a few minutes, rather than the several hours predicted in my guidebook. There were about half a dozen cars and trucks on each side of the border and the guards seemed in no particular hurry to let them through. There was no sign for the border, and the only way that I knew I had arrived there was the road block. In any event, the Latvian border guard was pleasant, as was the money changer on the Latvian side, and I got a good first impression of the country as a result.
This initial impression was rather quickly dissipated by my interactions the rest of the day. I greeted a number of people alongside the road but invariably got scowls, and even curses, in return. This is an area of Latvia that was closed to outsiders for almost 50 years and it showed. I soon stopped my cheery demeanor and avoided eye contact as much as possible for the remainder of the day. My mood was not helped by the gloom of the clouds and a bit of paranoia began to set in. The towns seemed oppressively unfriendly and the roads turned to an endless stretch of gravel (despite the fact I am on the main north-south highway). It seems that only roads leading to Riga are paved.
I am now sitting in a forest (one of many encountered on the route today), a couple of hundred meters from the road, waiting for darkness to fall. Unfortunately, I am quite exposed, as the brush is fairly thin and the forest is crisscrossed with 4x4 tracks.
Latvia has a much different feel to it than Estonia. I really feel as though I am in the Soviet Union. The houses in the towns and villages are Soviet style brick, while all the farmhouses are unpainted wood. A lot of the land is lying fallow. The roads are almost devoid of traffic – most the passenger cars that passed me were Ladas and there were some Russian military jeeps driven by civilians.
August 10, 1995
184 kilometers to a churchyard near Dunas on the west bank of the Daugeva River.
One of my most difficult cycling days ever. Off at 5:30 under clear, but bitterly cold, skies. I immediately misread my map and took a wrong turn which took me 20 kilometers out of my way. By the time I stopped for breakfast my hands were numb from the cold and I had real problems just opening my pack to pull out the bread, cheese and raköst (Swedish shrimp/cheese spread in a squeeze tube).
At Gulbene I stopped at my first Latvian viekal (grocery store) and bought bread, coke and mars bars – I could find no other foods that did not need to be prepared in some fashion. Unlike the Estonian markets, this store was in the Soviet style, like I had experienced many years ago in Hungary. The food was behind the counters and I had to use sign language to get the clerks to understand what I wanted.
By about noon it had clouded over (a typical pattern it seems) and a 10 mph headwind kicked in. About 3:00 a persistent drizzle started so I decided to contact one of the people in my book of contacts (in San Francisco I had purchased a book that listed people in the Baltic states who were interested in meeting English speaking tourists). The contact I chose lived in Jacobpils, a typically depressing eastern European town of about 25,000. I had a phone number, but unfortunately there were no functioning telephones (the public phones still required Russian kopeks!), so I tried to find the address. Unfortunately, there were no street signs, so after asking a number of people for directions a nice bank teller finally drew a map for me. I followed the map through a maze of streets before turning the corner onto what was apparently the street where my contact lived. The street had several identical six story apartment buildings, all without numbers or any identifying marks. In the street in front of the building, a car accident had just occurred and an overturned vehicle was surrounded by a gaping crowd. I asked a couple of people where I could find my address, but just got blank stares. By this time, it had started to rain harder. I was getting more and more irritated by the situation and decided to just head out of town and find the first available forest spot to set up my tent.
I had two choices of roads heading out of town; a paved, but narrow, road on the east bank of the river that had heavy traffic, or a relatively empty gravel road on the west bank. I chose the gravel road as the safer alternative and spent the next 60 kilometers on it. The entire section was through farmland (with no forests!) and I had to fend off wolf-like dogs at every homestead. I was starting to get desperate as night began to fall and I could find no sanctuary. Finally, at about 8:00 I stumbled across a boarded-up church with a small churchyard. The yard had a large oak tree that provided some shelter and I scrambled under it as the skies opened up full force.
Despite the protection of the oak tree I was soon drenched. I also believe I was spotted by people who were going by in horse driven wagons. So as I waited for the protection of darkness I was wet, cold and filled with anxiety. I ate a can of Latvian sardines for supper and within 20 minutes vomited it out. Whether it was the sardines themselves or the tension I was feeling, I don’t know. Finally about 9:30, in pouring rain, I set up my tent under the oak tree, got in and somehow managed to fall asleep.
August 11, 1995
187 kilometers to a forest spot outside Svencionys.
As I write this in the forest, a hedgehog is waddling by about 10 feet from me. It has been a partly cloudy, cool day with spectacular cumulus formations and rain to the south, although no rain on me yet. I managed to get a decent nights rest, and considering the drenching I got the night before, everything was reasonably dry. I started out with 30 kilometers of rough gravel road through farmland. The first 20 were particularly bad and I could barely keep up a walking pace. The conditions were not helped by the vicious attack dogs at every bend in the road. Then, amazingly, a pine forest appeared with a lovely paved road winding through it. As I neared Ilsuke, an even more amazing thing happened, when I was warmly greeted by two men in horse pulled cart. It turned out that I was entering an area of Russian settlement in Ilsuke.
The town itself was a delightful place with parks and a nice church where I sat down for breakfast. A couple of people tried to start conversations with me (in Russian) and although we couldn’t get beyond sign language, I started to feel comfortable for the first time since I arrived in the Baltic states.
After Ilsuke, I continued on the rolling, pine and fir forested terrain and crossed into Lithuania. The Lithuanian border guards spoke English and were friendly. I then entered Zarassi and found a town with parks and a pleasant, peaceful atmosphere. Combine this with some fine cycling weather and I was feeling comfortable and at ease.
At Zarassi I bought a map (a first in the Baltics!) that showed several campgrounds in the immediate vicinity, as well as a youth hostel in Ignaline. I was planning on a short day and then calling my contacts in Vilnius – fat chance! First I hit a 20 kilometer construction zone outside Zarassi that slowed me to a crawl. When I finally arrived in Ignaline I found a crowded, ugly east European town. I could find no one there who had even heard of a youth hostel or knew where the campgrounds were. I could not find an English speaker, so I had to rely on my German. Finally, I decided to go to the hotel. Turns out that the town’s only hotel was a depressing concrete block which had been closed down and was boarded up. Across the street from the hotel, rock music was blaring at about the decibel level of a jet engine. My search for a working phone to call my Vilnius contacts was equally fruitless, and so I was soon back on the open road.
As I pedaled away from Zarassi, two cops working a speed trap gave me a warm greeting and the thumbs up sign. It’s amazing how such innocent acts of strangers can lift the spirits. I cruised into Svendiatys in search of a telephone or a hotel, but again could find neither. As dusk was nearing, I headed back onto the road looking for a camping site in the forest.
After several kilometers of cycling through open farm land, with the sun just dropping below the horizon, I managed to find a small forest patch where I am now ensconced.
I’m about 100 meters from the road in thick undergrowth and, as a result, I feel a lot better about this site than the last two. Also, I just don’t feel that the Lithuanians are quite as menacing as the Latvians. The Lithuanian countryside has been very pretty – rolling hills, forests and lakes. Unlike most of my east European travels, I saw no evidence of a bad pollution problem. The air is clear and the lakes appear clean. In contrast to this rather pristine countryside, I am unbelievably filthy. I haven’t seen a mirror since the ferry, but I know I must look frightening. I have seen no public toilets or running water on my entire ride, so I have not had the opportunity to wash up. I should have washed in the lake today when I had the chance.