Monday, October 3, 2011

Oct 3rd The Deed is Done

Since we started paddling the only means of transport that we have used are paddles and feet but it was about 7 km to Doris from our hotel in Vienna so we decided to train it. We were away from the hotel at 8.10 in the hope of being on the river soon after 9 to avoid all the local tourist traffic and get away before most of the FCSs left from their station 500 metres downstrewam from us - there had been 8 there when we arrived.

All went fine, we changed at the correct station and decided not to get off at the first reasonable opportunity but go to the closer station. Trouble was that the closer station is for S-Bahn trains and we were on a mainline train. Ho hum, a three or four km walk back - no big deal. After about a kilometre and a half we saw the levee and went down the path marked private, over the levee, on to the path by the river and we were relieved that the first kilometre signpost said 1937, yes only two km. to go. A guy out walking his dogs asked if we knew where we were - yes, no problem. We got back to the little inlet where we had dumped Mrs Dobbin, only to discover that it was not quite so little. We turned 180 degrees and started walking back about twenty metres south-west of the path we had just walked. We overtook the kindly dog walker and he was rather amused by our explanation, as were the fishermen on the opposite side of the creek when we passed them half an hour later. Bart recognised the sound of the dog that had barked at him earlier before we realised that we had got back to the private path. We actually started paddling at 10.30. It would have been quicker (and cheaper, of course) if we had just walked from our hotel.

Going through Vienna was surprisingly easy - practically no traffic and when we passed the next sluice there was current - lots of it. We timed one kilometre at 4 minutes 15 seconds - our fastest - at least when I have not been too panic-striken not to take notice of such things. Shows what we can do if Bart paddles rather than waves his paddle at the water. Bart's response to that was that it is not worth paddling hard because we are always going in a random direction anyway.

We did get forced to jump out on the bank a couple of times in the afternoon because there was so much traffic at one point when the river was down to 70 metres wide but, essentially, another beautiful day, not at work, with no real backache or arseache. Bart has not been whingeing about his various ailments and has been doing his arselifting and sticking his legs over the front routine very infrequently. Yes, we are now fit enough, stong enough and confident enough to actually canoe the Danube. We are stopping after two more days.

This is our last night in Austria so, in theory, I will be allowed to do some talking from now on - ooh, that's so exciting.

A relataively quiet little paddle into Bratislava apart being assalted by falling conkers in the village that we stopped for coffee when the wind got up a bit too much for comfort, with one exception. We had good current most of the way and this takes out the worst of the effect of the FCSs going upstream. Normally the barges are a lot easier, but one coming down on our side was going fast, with the current, and threw up some nasty waves; we just made it round to face almost upstream to meet the waves head on or we would prbably have been over. However, the waves were steep so we smashed through them rather going over them. Using the term "smashed" with such a venerable lady as Mrs Dobbin is a bit of misnomer but we decided to pull ashore to bail her out after the smashing - about thirty litres.

There was one slight compensation for this discomfort. Our wildlife spotting has been distinctly dodgy recently but we did spot a couple on the shingle beach doing what young couples do (although you must be pretty keen to partake of carnal delights on shingle) who heard not us approaching but two guys in canoes coming upstream talking loudly so coitus was definitely interruptus as she legged it up the shingle to hide in the wood. He remained, quite proudly sunning his pasty buttocks.

Bratislava is wonderful. The beer is good (Bart is only one pint behind me) and half the price of Austria, we have found seedy bar street and will defintely be back as soon as we have dumped Doris - well probably later tonight after we have eaten and then again after we have dumped Mrs Dobbin - actually we may manage a short visit in the morning to cure Bart's certain hangover because we only have 20 km to the dumping ground in Hungary.

There may be one slight problem. There was no campsite anywhere around the supposed spot where the canoe clubs are. These canoe clubs are very run down so I have put the tent up near them. I just hope that it does not blow too much tonight, the tent pegs seem to be mainly plugged into layers of grass.

The restaurant. Cold appertisers included "Drowned man" with bread, bread with lard and onion and Garlic Major Zeman spread on bread. Hot appetizers included Reeve's scrambled eggs. How could we resist? Bart went for Fried cheese - which he didn't get - he got macaroni cheese with bacon - he should have ordered off the "Vegetarain with slightly fleshy dishes" section. I skipped both Trout gardener, Shopska salad and "Ms Zemanovca strings" before electing for Pangasius on butter. By the way, I am quoting from the English menu. Please don't misunderstand me, as is China, I thoroughly appreciate the effort that has been put in to make life easier for useless gits liks me, but the dodgy translations are funny - I will never forget "No climping" for instance.

Well the deed is done. We got up late - the tent was dry when I packed it for the first time on the whole trip - and went to buy provisions, including liquids, for a full twenty-four hours as there would be no towns or villages. It is only 18km to the Hungary border with a sluice and a boatslide. My heart just wasn't in it and the only reason for going is me to claim another country (Bart has most Central and Eastern European countries) so after 15km I suggested that we stop and Bart was, as ever, agreeable. We quickly found a suitable spot and celebrated - Bart with a beer, me with a bottle of wine and the remains of the emergency brandy - we were busy trying to get the weight down. I don't think that I will see Doris again but Bart will.
He is soon going off on a long trip to South America and thinks he will return bigger, stronger and heavier than me as I become a weedy old man so he can sit in the back and steer in future. I think he will come back with some big fat Colombian slapper as his wife and she will have to sit in the back. I will walk. We left paddles, life jackets, Bart's birthday umbrella, my hat (thanks Norman) and Lynda la Plante for the introduction of the Bart's big fat Colombian slapper wife to English literature.


We had seen cyclists just near the dumping ground so assumed there would be a road. There wasn't - there was a paved cycle path full of roller-bladers. It was a lovely evening and we stopped for a refreshing drink at the conveniently located bar. Actually we stopped to admire this stunning roller blader. Gents (sorry Ladies) many many of the Slovakian women are gorgeous. As I write Bart is, allegedly, out scouting for bars and restaurants, actually he is out looking at the women.

When we stopped to camp, we regretted leaving Lynda. We had dumped Dawn ages ago so we did't have any books that we both had read. I had read the Robert Service biograohy of Lenin and Bart has read the first couple of hundred pages so they had to be sacrificed to get the fire started. (BTW we both think that the book is excellent to the extent of being almost compulsive reading.) This was the first time to have a fire and provided some entertainment. I hadn't found enough dead wood in the nearby thick wood before dark so Bart was amused when a couple of times I disappeared into complete blackness to fight a tree or two to get some branches. Not so amused as to stay up - he was in his sleeping bag by 9, having been up for ten hours. How can a twenty-nine year old sleep so much?

We had expected to hitch or get a bus into town but ended up walking along the cycle track that is for the use of cyclists, roller bladers, joggers and people carrying barrels and bin bags. However, we did decide how best to complete the length of the Danube. Clearly we will have to walk the 80 kms we missed at the beginning and roller-blade the remaining 1,950 kms to the end. The only real problem is that we would need to get harnesses like they use with huskies to pull sledges and a shopping trolley for the big fat slapper Colombian wife. I do suspect that there will be some difference in standard, Bart used to roller-blade as a kid, I have tried it once and would probably be like one generously-proportioned lady we saw who was not displaying a great deal of enthusiasm for the activity and could more accurately be described as roller-slumping.

We had the last night in a cheap hotel where a notice says "Do not throw at toilet ladies pads, handkercheives and swaddling- clothes!!! Thanks". Rather shockingly,we had only the second decent length conversation with Jonny Foreigner on the whole trip - a navigation student from the Polish border who thinks Bratislava is ugly and expensive! Mind you, Bart is out for a haircut so anything could happen then.

We have paddled 737 kms in 34 days of which eight were rest days, forced or voluntary, gone through 32 locks, not turned Doris over, not needed any licences, insurance or training and not met the police (just the German army). So much for the doubters.

We have camped more than two-thirds of the nights including "wild camping" (i.e. not paying) pretty much every night in the last ten days when we didn't get a bed, averaged a shower between us every two and a half days, eaten more crap processed cheese than you can imagine (having the benefit of Bart in charge of food is a double-edged sword), drunk at least ten bottles of wine that cost less than two euros and will come back with less possessions than we left with.

I now have all of Bart's photos so, for those at death's door, I will add some more photos to the previous blogs when we get back to England.

Three words of thanks. Guido - the tent is still truly excellent. Hattie (from Bart) - the plastic earplugs are great. Raimond - for Doris.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Sep 28th - Nearly there - but nearly wher?

Well, that was an odd day.

The weather wasn't great but we wandered off and there wasn't much to bother about until the lock, except my mental state. I seem to find any bit of current worrying rather than enjoyable, ditto with the tail wind, and as for the fucking cruise ships...

We got to the demon lock and, yes, the current was "challenging". We would have taken it on except for the put-in point was steep steps - OK for a kayak, whose paddlers just dump them in the water and get in, but not a five metre long canoe. My reader will remember that we were used to dealing with steep steps four weeks ago and we would have done that again except for the current. So we borrowed the "boatwagon" and took Doris 3 kms down the river to the canoe club. Good old (or young) Bart took the boatwagon back (my excuse is not speaking foreign and there is a security gate at the sluice.)

Whether tiredness is physical or mental I don't know but, at 2 p.m. and after the stress, I didn't want to do anymore. Bart is, as ever, affable and agreed. Bastards at the canoe club did not want us to camp so Bart retired for a donner kebab (Austria must have the requisite filter in such establishments because they do not stink like in Germany and Switzerland) whilst I retired to a bar to meet the local nutter. Normally my job is to look like the dumb, if slightly odd, old man whilst Bart does the talking. In this case I had been allowed out, unsupervised, and so this guy accosted me. Actually he was relatively harmless if one ignores him ending every sentence with high squeaky "yip" "You come from Ulm, yip."" You are canoeing, yip" is rather an odd way of speaking. Anyway he took us to a cheapish guest house and we haven't seen him since for him to touch us up for a drink.

However, we did manage to end up in a decent bar. Why does everybody want the shirt off my back? I am not a rich man but the first time I met Celiac Claire 2 she took the shirt of my back and that was only five months ago. I sat in a bar in Houston for a couple of hours, years ago, shirtless, after a woman took my T-shirt that said "Different Day, Same Shit". Eventually, the landlord took pity on me and gave me some terrible touring band T-shirt. In the same bar a week or two later a different, rather voluptous, waitress wanted that T-shirt so I said we could swap. No joy, I took the T-shirt off and she put in on before taking off the skimpy number she was wearing - I can't rermember what happened to that little number although I do remember some friends in England being impressed with my appearance when I modelled it. What happens tonight ? I was wearing a T shirt that said "Praha Drinking Club" and some extremely pissed guy comes up and tries to talk to me about it. After a while, Bart and I ignore him and go back to our dice game. A few minutes later I feel my T-Shirt riding up my back; it is the same guy! Am I being touched up for cash? What do I do?

I swap the T-shirt for the pinnafore he has for me. In this case it is not meant for pissing but wearing round my neck - I do look at my sartorial best wearing it.

The ducks have almost disappeared - we think it is because the river is too deep; typically it is now about five hundred metres wide and the sandy banks that were common a couple of hundred kms ago and we used to frequently run up on for a rest are now uncommon. We do see a few gulls but no otters for a few days and the river is definitely more polluted - not badly - but we did have it very good 300 kms up stream. (My apologies to the grammaticians about the dodgy use of infinitives)

We have only seen three other canoes on the whole trip (two of which were bound together with large chunks of wood like a catamaran so that they were impossible to turn over as the guys drank their way from place to place - not very far places - but we liked the idea.) We have seen a few scullers and a few kayakers, but the total of all three categories is less than fifty and most in concentrated spots but nothing in the last week. We did see one guy in a kayak on three separate days but that was a couple of weeks ago. So what we now have for company (apart from the occassional little local cross-river ferry and quite a few fishermen) is the cargo ships and fucking cruise ships. Bart is pretty relaxed about this but I find working out where the next wave is comning from quite stressful.

What we do see is endless cycle tourists. On a normal day we probably see 150 or 200 (I am not exagerating),and even in Au they would come through in the pouring rain at the rate of two or three every five minutes. These silly buggers have no idea. The river is flat so they never climb a hill to get any real exercise or a view (or warmth when it is wet), they have about 20 or 30 kilos of crap on their bikes so it is hard work balancing at low speeds (I certainly had less than ten kgs when I cycled from London to Rome last year) and they are on a planned route so can't say "sod it, it is pissing down with rain, we will have a day in the pub." They should get a life.

Another day and little to report really. A tardy start after the night before. Sunny, a bit of current to begin with to get us going, not many obstacles and the river four or five hundred metres wide but, this afternoon, we were back in gorge country and that means all the passing delights have to be dealt with carefully and at close quarters - the river was only about seventy metres wide as we met one lovely object. We shipped more water than any other day and Bart thought we were going to turn over at one point - he held Doris's hips - a sure sign that he was worried although I have no idea what good he thought holding to the sides would do - stop him getting thrown out? - make sure that is he was thrown out Doris would turn over or sink? - she would save him? Well there is a better chance of Doris saving him then me.

Bart will laugh at almost anything I say and today it was my comments about getting on or off the boat as I was mainly doing it without his help for the first time. "Getting out", "Sliding on scum", "Taking Doris from the stern", "Falling over", "Losing the will to live" etc. I wonder what would happen if he went on holiday with somebody funny.

The evening stop was is a village that appeared to have a whole collection of gasthofs, restaurants and pubs (yes, they use that name) but only two places were open - a gasthof, where we certainly had the most miserable waitress of the trip who liked to argue with her colleague, and the campsite bar -which was full of ageing locals, all women, playing cards.

Up with the lark because we had a new plan. It is Saturday so an early start and a short day means that we will miss most of the fucking cruise ships and speed boats. At 7.23 a speed boat went past and at 7.26 an FCS. None the less, we packed properly and were ready to go at 7.50. We actually left at 8.15 because two barges were comiong up stream close together. We could see them about one and a half kms downstream and it took that long to get past. What is more the current was strong enough to flatten out most of the wash anyway. Sometimes I am the image of caution.

Forty-five minutes paddling followed by an hour and forty-five minute breakfast stop and the get going early plan is not looking great. This was in the lovely town of Spitz where we had pulled Doris well clear of the water on a sandbank - a very wet sandbank that made pulling her far quite hard work. As we were walking off, we noticed that the local ferry, The Wachau, that goes up and down the river in the area after which she is named, got water under Doris so we returned to our object of affection. Our 15 metre rope did not reach all the way across the sandbank to a tree so we left it laid out on the sand. Good job we did because when we came back to her Doris had moved and dragged the rope five metres down the sand when some horrible thing had interferred with her. We would have been right plonkers if we had lost her; we do keep our passporst and credit cards in sandwich bags about our persons but everything else except what we were stood up in (and they are not the most appealing of garments) would have gone a long way. Our chances of recovering her would have been minimal between the current and the FCSs she would have got turned over or innundated pretty quickly.

The rest of the paddling was relatively stress free and enjoyable with terraced vineyards on the sides of the gorge and some very pretty villages - perhaps the nicest area we have been in. Summer has returned and is expected to last for a week. The only incident was when we were stood in the water with Doris - we had been about to leave - when The Wachau came round the corner. Nothing worth commenting on except that we had forgotten that this thing throws up waves the size of the FCSs and Doris got banged against our legs and shipped a lot of water - the first time that we have had to bail her out for other than rain.

We did get our short day finished by 13.30 (and we will do something similar tomorrow, Sunday) and enjoyed having the afternoon off to explore and walk. And not have sore arses, backs, knees, egos etc. Oh, and have the odd beer and glass of wine

We have continued to explore cultural ideas and have decided that Austrians have some odd ideas about garden decorations. Many of the gardens are obviously very well kept and then they stick horrible plastic things all over them. These can be quite a lot of oddities but brightly coloured balls on two metre sticks and gaudy windmills on one metre sticks, like a larger version of something you might give a four year old, seem to be the favourites. They also go in for leaving bowls of disgusting plastic fruit outside their front doors.

My ability to use the German dialect is growing. I have perfected "shooligong" (which means excuse me) but cannot understand why they don't use "hallo" - a good German word - but "gersmuck". I am also getting used to "gershloshen" because even those places that are open now certainly gershlosh quite early. I think I have got "Haben sie camping platz?" off to perfection but the answer is always "nein" so I must be getting it wrong somewhere. For Bart, even if they say no, they will still say "but you can put the tent up over there if you want." My campaign to get everybody to say "bye bye" as they do in China is not working very well though.

I am getting a little concerned about the final destination of Mrs Dobbin on the trip. We could be in Bratislava in four canoeing days so, weather and enthusiasm permitting, we can go as far as Hungary and stay the night there, making two new countries for me on this trip. (I have been to Slovakia and Hungary both twice but have never stayed the night outside an airport in either case so can't claim them.) We would then dump Doris in the forest to return and continue in two or more years. Bart is very keen on this idea but, apart from the chances of me returning to do more of this tomfoolery being about 1%, I am also slightly concerned if we get stopped by some figures of authoriy, say the border guards as we walk back in to Slovakia. They might be suspicious of a pair of dodgy looking characters carrying a barrel and a bin liner. "What have you been doing in Hungary?" "Dumping Doris Dobbin in the forest." If they gave us chance to explain that she is a canoe they wouldn't send us to prison but the lunatic asylum.

Sunday was a bit harder amble but the same principle applied - finish early, have a wander round and relax more. In other words we are knackered and can't face more than four hours a day actually paddling. Bart was well taken with the village - many more bikes than cars, people having time to talk to each other and other such idealistic bullshit. I just liked the fact that the local pizza place said we could just sit drinking beer if we did not use the paddle to take the pizzas out of the oven. Bart carries the paddle everywhere as a badge of honour, either that or to ward off the dogs. Bart is an animal lover but frightens easily - a couple of years ago I found him waiting for me on a walk because we had to go past a herd of vicious looking sheep and today, when I returned from collecting the boatwagon, a swan had him at her mercy.

Sunday also marked a couple of milestones; we passed the 2,000 km marker (there are signs in the river every 100 metres counting down the distance to the sea); ten kms later we passed 600 kms of paddling on the trip. Bit of a bugger that the Danube zero marker and lighthouse are now a few kms inland because of the growth of the delta. However, I am not overly concerned about this at the moment.

The theory was today that we could get to Vienna but we have rather fallen into the idea of finishing no later than mid-afternoon so we have ended up somewhere. The weather continues to be kind to us so, tomorrow, the gentle amble into Vienna will be our seventh paddling day in a row. It is, however, autumnal so, although temperataures reach 22 or so in the day (and feel more in the sunshine), there is heavy dew every morning so the tent is always wet and mornings are cool and the sun sets by about 6.30 now so, even though we are up soon after 7, we cannot do really long days. Phew - that is an escape; I tried to persuade Bart to start our trip earlier in the year.

Bart thinks that we have gone semi-feral; we piss anywhere; although we clean our teeth regularly, the rest of our body can wait for three or four days to the next shower; we eat whenever we feel like it, usually every stop and the food consisits of bread and something (tinned fish, packet cheese, tomatoes, bananas, peppers etc.) followed by apple or gherkin all from the bottom of a wet bag; clothes washing is usually in the aforementioned shower and the "drying" is kept in a plastic bag whilst it rots; camping is now normally not on paying campsites (tonight is the third night out of four in that category). I just think that we are French.

Incidentally, the one night we paid for recently was in a rather posh yatch club, where the guy had originally said "no" but chanaged his mind to allow us to camp at the end. I asked about a nicer bit of grass but he assured that the sprinkler system works at night so better not. One of the things that Bart and I have in common is a childish sense of humour. We had twice seen roads called "Romantikastrasse" which Bart translated as "Get buggered street". This amused me and I said that I would put that as my address somewhere where you have to fill in some stupid registration form. It was Bart that did it at this fine establishment but he called me in to verify the address. Actually turned out to be a good place; lots of free wine after all the people had left the party and free fruit juice still there in the morning. We also met an eccentric, hospitable, old tosser who had bought a home-made boat (complete with engine) for €3,000 and was taking it back to Linz. He thought it was a bargain, I thought it was a wreck. Another odd couple like us; he was also travelling with a man half his age who (by the colour of his skin if nothing else) was clearly not his son. Funny, I always get introduced as a friend of Bart's father, not a friend of Bart's.

The rationality of automatic electronic based actions is another cultural oddity (in Germany as well as Austria). If you go to the bog, you never turn on a light; it happens automatically - sometimes selecting between the shitter and the pisser as you approach; you never have to press the button to flush the pisser, that happens automatically - in one case, yesterday, I was stood there for the regulation pissing time and it flushed as soon as I walked up, twice whilst I was blessing the world with my fertilizing effect and once at the end. Thank God that the same does not happen in the shitter, that is still manual. I am still suspicious whan I walk in for a crap, I make sure that there is something to press because I do not want a bidet effect (or even be sucked in) whilst I half way through a dump.

We each have our jobs - this has evolved without any discussion of roles. One on mine is packing up in the morning. I was a bit tardy out of "bed" this morning and Bart wandered off to find a coffee. It was not until we were safely on the water that he told me that he had had three cups of coffee and a full breakfast; I had had fruit juice and blood pressure pills. He is very proud of the fact that his breakfast only cost €2.50. I was not amused.

I have never thought of Austria as an industrial society but we have seen a few really filthy factories - the smoke from one was enough to block out the sun the output from another into the river was steaming.

We reached Vienna very easily (only seven km. on foot) and are now busy doing what we do best - not going anywhere near anything that could be considered a tourist attraction. After seven days in a row of some sort of paddling we will take a day off tomorrow. This will be dedicated to doing nothing more serious than sending this fine epistle before we spend three days taking Doris from Austria throuigh Slovakia to Hungary to her temporary resting place.

Incidentally, Bart has interrupted to say that people reading this blog will decide that he is always hungry, cowardly, sleeps a lot and lusts after every woman under twenty-three. This is a fair summation of his character. Shame is that just about every woman we meet that gushes over him (and there have been quite a few) is at least forty. That will teach him to sneak off and have a good breakfast without me.

A few things about Austria and the Austrians. They cycle a lot and have bike lanes everywhere, almost as much as the Dutch. They go power walking with walking poles specially adapted not to be used in hills or mountains; naturally we overtake them with our packs on. The one thing that I like best is that they are well into roller-blading and, of course, the plentitude of cycle tracks helps. One of the images of this trip that i will find hard to forget is a man roller-blading at at least 15 kph being towed by his dog and I mean towed. The guy was pushing quite strongly but the dog was on one of the modern variable length leads that was at full stretch. Is this good exercise for man and dog or cruelty to animals?

We have enjoyed Vienna; we watched two episodes of "The Weakest Link", saw some of the Michael Jackson trial live and, in a moment of weakness, went to see some surrealistic art. Hussh - we both liked it!!!

So we have three days paddking left to dump Doris in Hungary and then leave. Boo, Hoo.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Sept 21st - The best laid plans...

After the last post I had been for an amble round LInz (Bart had had a kip, naturally) and the busy stalls selling all the "local" stuff were in full swing. My opinion of Linz as a nice place was confirmed; the designers managed the trick of having quiet secluded squares in the middle of a city. It always strikes me that this is not the most difficult architectural concept but most cities are absolutely crap at it. We did the shopping and retired for a rest. It was my turn to choose what we would have for dinner and had decided we would tour the "local" stalls (there were about 200) sampling the various foods and drinks. When we wandered out at 7.30 (after a €1.49 bottle of wine, obviously) the stalls were all closed and mostly dismantled. There was one bar left so we bought two drinks and got given five plus some snacks. They were giving everything away so the that they could close. The barman explained that lederhosen weren't mandatory, it was his choice. He explained that peeing is a problem. Lederhosen do not have a conventional fly but parrallel rows of buttons that all have to be undone. He explained that he could pee behind the bar but it was much easier for the guy in jeans - he had a pinnafore on.

I decided on Indian food - we haven't ventured down that cullinary avenue as yet - but couldn't find the one I had seen the sign for. Bart asked a "security" woman who, though white, replied in English with an Indian accent - she had returned from India two weeks previously after twenty years - and she recommended a very good Indian restaurant; shame about the price.

The morning was cloudy but OK and we planned to do more than 40 km to partially make up for my indolence the day before. We were up early for breakfast but had a forty-five minute walk back to Doris so we actually left Linz after 10. Good strong paddling with only one incident. During a rest, a barge came past and the waves hit Doris and then calmed down. I boarded first as usual and then Bart couldn't. We had forgotten about the "bounceback" waves from the opposite bank that follow a couple of minutes after the waves that come directly on our side. I was not very comfortable hanging on to Doris's generous hips - Bart was full of sympathy as you can imagine. We had done 25km by our "lunch" stop. This was at 2.45 and the gasthof was closed so Bart produced a decent lunch - fish and pepper sandwiches, tomatoes, chocolate and cake - no luxury is spared.

I had been having trouble with Mrs Dobbin all day - we think she is resentful of being neglected - she always wanted to turn right. This means that if Bart is paddling on the left side I have to paddle very strongly on the right just to keep her straight; when Bart was on the right side, I would spend about half the time also on the right side just to keep her straight. Doris did not seem to be physically damaged or unbalanced, who knows her mental state; we discussed if we had changed our paddling styles and didn't think so; we were baffled. There had been a bit of wind all day and it got up a bit on a wide stretch after lunch and created a few little waves which we didn't like. I am no expert on the Beaufort Scale but the wind was probably Force Three or Four, we were both paddling strongly on the right and yet Doris still turned right; it was the wind. Doris is sufficiently long and high sided to catch the wind and so you end up at ninety degrees to the direction of the wind with the waves slapping your sides, rocking you from side to side. This is not a safe place to be and we manage, at the second attempt, to get her to land and exit PDQ.

No way were we getting back in until the wind dropped - which it didn't. We retreated to a bar during a squall and I returned to put the tent up in a wind that was now at least Force Six.

So now we are stuck in Au. Actually this was a bit of luck. If we had stopped a km. earlier or later we would probably not have realised that this place was so accessible and excellent - well excellent in comparison with being stuck by the river in the wind and rain in a cold, damp tent. We had landed in a sort of mini theme park next to a yatchhaven. That means that there are several gasthofs (pubs to you). Bart has been sat in this one now for getting on for three hours and we have eaten. I had got bored and ventured forth in the rain. I discovered a bakery - very important as, if the weather forecast is to be believed, we will be stuck here tomorrow - and a seedy bar which we will venture off to when I have finished this drivel. This is a risk because this gasthof will close as soon as we leave (it is 7.45 p.m.) so we won't be able to return. If the seedy bar has closed we will be forced back to the tent!

Salads and smoking. Two small points of interest. Austria doesn't yet seem to have a smoking ban in bars and restauarants. Salads are tasty! Those of you who know about my eating habits will know that I despise lettuce in particualr and most of the unimaginative stuff that goes in English salads. Here they overcome the problem by having a couple of decilitres of dressing so everything just about floats and the dressing dominates the taste - luuverly.

The seedy bar was excellent - pool table (we won't discuss the score), two dart boards, a card table and some cheerful locals - best bar we have been in. The real highlight was that the pissers - each had a goal with netting in them with a ball hanging from the crossbar so you could entertain yourself aiming to bang the ball in to the back of the net whilst having a pee - an Austrian cultural speciality? One of the reasons Bart and I get on so well whilst travelling is that we believe in picking up on local culture. Local culture is not museums and fucking churches - they are history - local culture is pissing into a goalmouth, electronic dart boards and finding a place to buy yet another pair of cheap Chinese sandals because Bart never shut up about the smell of the last lot which we had lefy at a sluice for the needy - the very needy -= who exited a canoe without suitable footwear.

We knew that the weather forecast for the morrow was poor but when one local told us it would be snowing down to 900 metres we were a little non-plussed. We told the locals that we knew that it would not be a paddling day and wondered about walking the 6 km in to Mauthausen; was there anything to see or do? "Well, there used to be a concentration camp" "Anything to actually see or do?" After about twenty seconds of careful thought he shook his head and said "No, nothing." We took his word for it and didn't walk in during the non-stop rain today. Whilst in the seedy bar we also taught Wolfgang the Chinese dice game and conversation fell to the late Joerg Haider. Wolfgang and Cici (the landlady) assured us that he was not a racist, just that he liked Christians. They had obviously not realised that all three of the midle eastern religions are the truly evil things of this world; the half-wits who think that this stuff is anything other than a fairy story all believe in one god - the same god - have lots of prophets in common but they kill each other because the one god is called by different names. (I am not sure about Eastern religions, but no way are they as evil as Islam, Christianity and Judaism.) Conversation was very entertaining but I could not persuade Cici to forego her day off and open today (Monday) as we would be in there all day. We certainly would have been if she had been open - it has been foul all day - cold, wet and windy. I have tried to remember a day brfore this that it was raining absolutely continuously from before I got up until after I went to bed and I can't, but I have never lived in Manchester. This is our twenty-second day on the Donau and we have had six rest days so far, all but two forced on us by the weather. Bart has been reduced to reading a Dawn French novel, which is truly crap. I should know, I bought it and have read it. However, she does look like a literary icon in comparison with Lynda La Bleeding Plante.

We arose at eleven, had coffee and cake in the bakery that closed at 12, lunch in a different gasthof that closed as we left at 1.30 but no worries, the first one from yesterday opened at 10 and did hot food until two; shame it closed from one to four. We thought that we could rely on that being open because the lady fancied Bart - somebody has to. Had to retreat to sit on a concrete floor getting cold reading but we are now back; our schedule is to be here from 4.30 to 7.30 (we don't want to stay in one place too long in case we are confused with drunken vagrants) and then go to gasthof No. 4 (this place is unusually well equipped with such vital establishments) for a pizza - I can't face more salty fish at this place and Bart's fan is not here so we adventurers will have to try new ground.

We did and twenty-four hours later we have got a room at the pizza place! We got up in the morning (the forecast had been to be bright and 10 degrees warmer) to find a cold grey day but only rain in the wind. We received a complaint from the campsite owner that we should not be camping on the river bank but in the campsite - we hadignored the "camping verbotten" sign. We hung around to official decision time (1 p.m.) and it had warmed up a bit but was still a bit too windy for comfort. Decison - abandon for the day and get a bed - seven rest days out of twenty-three.

Obviously, we had to walk in to Mauthausen and our friend from two days earlier was completely wrong. There is a pool hall, sad that it is permenantly closed, and a cinema, also permenantly closed, so the town was obviously the place to be. We were back in Au by 9 in time to catch the second half of "The Big Lebowski" - Cici is so selfish she closes on Monday and Tuesday. Unfortunately, TV was completely dominated by advertisements for various ladies of varying ages who seemed to think that there were fine young men out there desiring to meet them for social intercourse and there was no sign of Messrs Bridges, Goodman & Buscemi to be found anywhere.

We have booked flights from Bratislava that get in to Luton about 11.30 p.m. on October 3rd but it is Ryamair! So will we make it with Doris? Nerves are trembling. We have yet to reach a decision about the redoubtable lady when we get to the end. Can we donate her to a local school? Leave her at a canoe club? Bart is for hiding her in a forest and coming back to do another stretch. His idea is that we do a section every five years until we reach the Black Sea or I am dead.

Tomorrow is another day! One thing is for sure, even if we have to carry Doris to the train station in Mauthausen, we are not staying in Au!

The predicted warm, sunny day did not, of course, happen but it was OK so off we went. There was a bit of headwind that made me nervous but progress was great - negligible current but we were paddling strongly and doing good work to make up time. Then, after a sluice, there was current, quite a lot of it and not consistent. Control was not a word the boat was familair with at this stage. I had not expected this - we were below 300 metres and still nore than 2,000 kms froms the sea so how can there be current? Presumably the continous rain that we had meant that the sluices were opened and lots of water was coming down. There were two dodgy moments. A ship was coming very slowly upstream with a boat attached to the side; I decided to go out in to the middle of the channel to get reasonable clearance of her and let the current calm the waves that she generates. She might have been moving slowly, but we weren't and I got far too close to her and had to chop across her tail directly into the foam arrears - Bart later admitted that he was worried at that point. We were then paddling along quite happily and suddenly a whirlpool decided to start just in front of us. There is absolutely nothing you can do with no power source (apart from arm muscles and, lets face it, Bart is hardly a hunk) and no rudder so you just have to let the boat turn in whatever direction it wants to. With all the unpredictable current, Bart rather enjoyed the adrenalin buzz, I just found the whole hour and a half stressful and, at the lunch stop, was completely knackered.

We had contemplated trying to do a fifty km. day but the book has a warning about fast currents after the next sluice - the first such warning - and we decided it would be foolish to try it tired so stopped after forty. We were very glad because we had had enough and eight cruise boats came past going upstream (two together the two more abreast) in the space of an hour and a half as we finished the day. Fortunately we managed to be on the water for just one.

What does the morrow hold after the sluice?

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Sept 17th - Panic, we have run out of emergency brandy

The weather. Ooh I am so English talking about the weather. It has been very kind to us the last three days - summer again - and I have been working on my tan, Bart has been working on his sunburn.

There is a certain routineness about the days. Today, Tuesday, was quite like a lot of others. The main differences today were that we spent all day meandering through some hills, the river Inn came in and turned the water colour to a light grey and we had to avoid more ships than usual. We are now getting regular tourist ones - ships that is, not rivers; these are more of a nuisance than the big cargo ships because they go faster and, therefore, create bigger washes. We have now got into a rythum and can do six kilometres across the water (more in the morning) when we are actually paddling - Bart says it is because I can now steer better. This means that 30 km in a day is a reasonably easy target even without any current and we now always do at least that. We did today, but every time a ship passes we waste five minutes going across the stern so that we face the wash bow first. (You didn't know I was a sailing expert did you?) When this happens ten or fifteen times in a day, progress slows.




The real oddity today was the first option of a place to stop. This was a caravan park with a little marina attached. The caravans were weird though; most had rooves over them; had massive extensions - most larger than the caravans, hedges or fences between each one, many had gardens, hanging baskets and the unliklest collection of garden gnomes. The sort of place you might expect in Mississippi or West Virginia. Anyway the German equivalent of trailer trash certainly put us off and we went across the river where a few more brain cells were apparent - a few. Actually the first stop was Austria (this is what we have to look forward to?), the second back in Germany. A cruise ship has just gone past on the evening run, I can just imagine the commentator saying "On your right we have the Austrian trailer trash" I don't like saying it but the effect of the waves makes the reflection on the dieing light rather spectacular. See I am an artist. That reminds me I had better order some more wine.

We camp more often that we get beds but not by a huge margin - beds are veeeery comfortable. It always takes us a good hour to get up and get the boat packed so we rarely start before 8.30 but, now, never later than 10. Breakfast can be an issue, particularly when we camp and, of course, Bart is always hungry. So if we miss a decent breakfast and don't stop for a proper lunch, tiredness becomes a difficulty at the end of the day. Only once have we not had a proper dinner, although last night's is certainly best forgotten - everything in vast quatities of oil. It was so horrible even Bart left it. I was well stuck into my second litre of house plonk so I didn't notice until Bart told me. I don't think I mentioned the apples. In southern Germany it is illegal to have a pudding (or sweet if you are a southern ponce, Yank or other strange ethnic type) without apples. Four items on the pudding menu and they all have apples.

Anyway, I have digressed. Once we have Doris packed and in the water then comes the worst moment of the day - boarding Mrs. Dobbin. This involves nerves, shaking and fussing about. We don't fall in the river every day (the score is two - one to me in dunkings, although Bart would certainly get better marks for artistic impression and attracted a considerable number of laughs from the locals) but it always happens getting in the boat. We paddle for an hour or so - never more than about eighty minutes - and this is normally the longest stint of the day. Bart paddles steadily and fairly strongly (getting weaker as the day wears on), swapping sides every five or ten minutes. I paddle on any side that is necessary and am constantly swapping. The effect of my paddling is always to create a turn to Bart's side so, rather than slow "my side" down after ten or fifteen strokes I swap over and do three or four on the other side. This means that we don't travel in a straight line, the bow swings through an angle about 15 degrees either side of the straight line. Of course, if I am not concentrating we can wander all over the river. About every ten minutes Bart's swap of sides includes an arse stretch. This consists of lifting his fundament up off his seat with his hands on the side of the boat as well sticking his feet over the front. This manouvre always has me worried as he usually has a paddle in one hand (he has only dropped it overboard once so far) and I am worried that one hand will slip throwing all his weight on one side and over we will go. As he often does this as a barge is approaching in preparation for having to sit still for five minutes whilst we deal with all the waves from these things, my sang froid is usually sangless.

There is sometimes some current so we do get up to 10 kph. Sometimes, but this never lasts all day. After the first spell, 45 minutes are more common than hour stretches and, if we have done four or five kilometres, the approach of a boat is normally enough to cause us to take a break. Quite good to stand for 45 minutes watching the maintenance crew move the channel marker buoys or have a look at the barges doing into the locks - no paddling you see. Our normal breaks are fifteen or twenty minutes.

Doris is a truly, loving, kind lady. My navigational skills are not always of the best which can result in the odd impact on things unexpected and Bart does rather mistreat her. My best cockup was trying to come in alongside a sort of jetty going downstream, never the best of ideas, and I managed not so much to get alongside the jetty as power my way into the end of it; to say that we came to a jarring halt would be an understatement. Bart abuses the poor lady by insisting on getting in to his seat on dry land when we are a ramp. He then waggles his pelvis backwards until the poor old dear floats off - leaving rather more than her foundation and blusher attached to the ramp. Despite all this, she still doesn't shed tears inside the boat.

If breakfast has consisted of banana butties without the butter (normal on camping days) we might try and get a decent lunch but don't always succeed. If we had a bed night, we normally have a decent sized breakfast and lunch is apples, cheese or fish sandwiches. Unfortunately breakfast in this part of the world ALWAYS consists of bread rolls, slices of cheese and slices of meat (touching the cheese, naturally). The coffee is normally quite good but any extras are very welcome and no deviation is allowed - oh for cornflakes, eggs, beans, toast & tea. What am I saying? I am the great traveller. Emergency bounty bars are often required for the last stint of the day and sometimes the emergency brandy is required if the day is very arduous. We know how to live.

Bart is currently complaing mainly about his knees, not his back or his arms or his arse. In my case straightening up when I get out of the boat is normally the main effort. We do not sit down during breaks although occassionally Bart finds it all too much.



Locks are now less frequent, one or two a day, and there are now normally trolleys provided so the effort is much less, although we still usually mange to fart about enough to take at least half an hour over such manouvres. I have left that sentence in for the benefit of the one person who is actually interested in what we do, by the time the book comes out it will be a brilliantly witty discussion on the benfits of hydro-elctric power vis-a-vis letting all the nutrients through the sluices to fertilise the land.

For dinner we always eat out (except when we ended up in a village that had a "closed" guest house) and have tried to eat as much German food as we can but, frankly, most of it is shit - I could do with a good pizza.

Sleeping is normally dependent on how much alcohol Bart has drunk. If it is not enough, he normally gets a couple of hours good sleep before I crawl in to the tent after having taken enough medicine. If the medicine was strong, he notices my verbal outpourings quite early and heads for the bivvy bag post hatse. If he has had enough he sleeps in the tent perfectly satisfactorily. If he has had too much, he sleeps well but gets a hangover - not a prettry site.

The weather gods have changed their tune and we are back to autumn. We waited until midday and gave up on paddling for the day; we have done five days in a row so we don't feel guilty . Midday is the latest we can leave and still expect to do 30 kms. At that time, we donned the waterproofs that we have been carrying, unsused, for three weeks, whilst the rain was heaviest, naturally, and set off for a bit of a stroll up a hill. This was the furthest that we have been from the river since we started. It was not a great walk but, amazingly, I was in front going up hill when I neartly trod on this.



Bart had spotted him just after I passed. It is the brightest lizard he has ever seen.

The village, that had looked quite lively the day before, was - how can I put it - dead. So our rest day consisted of a good rest, a gentle stroll with wonderful lizard and a boring village.

Another lovely day, if not so sunny and ten degrees colder that we are used to. We spent the whole day going along a stretch of insized meanders with quite tight bends for a river that is now normally three or four hundred metres wide (one bend managed to exceed 180 degrees) and trees all the way with hardly a village to disturb the trip (just a few fucking pleasure boats), so lunch was rudimentary. We moved into Austria today and dinner was a great improvement. Camping is also looking good, an abandoned campsite so that is pretty cheap.

The ducks frequentntly provide us with amusement. A family of swans will sometimes paddle up and look elegant and refined; one could not say the same about the ducks. We regularly catch up with a bunch of them (a bunch of ducks? a quack? a surfeit? an excitement? a delight?) who then paddle off in front of us. As we overhaul them, they panic and start doing lots of quacking and start flapping wings and running across the water. They don't actually take off, but they do gain fifty metres on us and then settle down again. We then catch them up again and away they go again. This process is repeated about three times before they finally fly off. Twenty minutes later...

We are also constantly amazed by the number of big fish that the fishermen catch. Every time we pass one (and we pass lots), he seems to be reeling in something that weighs in the kilograms.

We have now been travelling together for more than three weeks, It is my longest travelling stint with one other person for almost thirty years. It is Bart's longest stint since he went inter-railing ten years ago. Neither of us are still in contact with the travelling partners from those trips.

One thing about these small places is that everything closes early, and I mean early - 8.30 in the case of the Gasthof associated with the last campsite. Of course, Bart just goes to sleep, but these well organised campsites have sort of street lights so, with a table and chair plus the emergency brandy, I could read until midnight when the lights went out. With no campsite and the emergency brandy finished, I ended up sitting under a street light reading a Lynda La Plante book - Lynda La Plante! It is the first time I have read one of her wonderful tales and definitely the last. I had often wondered what life would be like when I was sixty. I am also concerned that the only emergency supplies we have left is a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon at €1.99.

Another long day on Bart's birthday and we reached Linz, which is by far and away the liveliest town we have been to. There are lots of streets stalls selling "local" rubbish. The place is heaving, it must be some sort of end of summer, last chance to rip off the tourists type festival. Birthday presents have been few - I got him an early one a few days ago (a lovely orange umbrella in case we got a follwoing wind) but so far he hasn't even stolen a birthday kiss of a gullible girl, just a sting on the arse from a wasp.

Bart had the choice of where we eat tonight so obviously we have gone for a pizza, I am happy to report that Linz seems free of the smell of doner kebabs, it must be the most civilized place we have yet been to - except for all the moored up fucking crusie ships waiting to pounce on us in the morning, obviously.

I wrote that before my late night reading. This time I found a chair but the light on the cycle path went off at 11 and I was left to read by the motorway lights.

We have only done two days since the last rest day but they were hard days. Bartw as for paddling but, being an afable fellow, he agreed to a rest day. It is not so much a rest as a bed that is required - four nights camping in a row is tiring. We have found a cheapish place (The Wild Man Hotel), had two beers at stalls on the way and listened to Upper Austrian brass bands (surprisingly pleasant) done the washing and are going out to hunt an internet cafe to send this guff after Bart has completed his kip induced by watching a Spaniard playing snooker with a german commentary.

We have decided to stop at Bratislava so should be there in about eight or ten days. If you are unlucky this will be the anti-penultimate post of this trip, if lucky the penultimate.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Sept 12th - Haben sie wifi?

One of the things that has surprised us here is that wifi isnt very common. Almost every second rate guest house or cheapo cafe in England has it but here it is not prevalant and I am not going to McShit, where you can get wifi. That is why you are not getting this wonderful stuff very often.

What is a rest day for? Sleeping, reading, writing rubbish and, particularly, doing your washing. Whilst travelling it is always difficult to feel properly clean. In our case, dry was also a problem with splashing water, dew, mist, mud in the boat & campsites and, recently, quite a lot of rain. (I had got knee deep in mud a couple of days ago and lost one sandle; I had to dig it out by hand but no good, the buckle had ripped through the high quality Chinese plastic. It has taken four days to get rid of the smell of the mud!) You wash things at a campsite one night and put them in a plastic bag. When you arrive at the next campsite the following evening the temperature has dropped, the sun is not strong enough to dry things and the clothes will get wet overnight either by dew or rain so you put them back in the plastic bag to go mouldy. After three days of that it takes a lot of strong sun to get the clothes to smell of anything but mould; frankly BO is more appealing - well OK, mild BO. The solution is wash all the dirty clothes on a rest day, hang them out in the sun on your balcony and wear the mouldy clothes out in the sun to go into town so that the now clean clothes will be OK to wear for a couple of days before the process is reapeated. Shame it rained heavily while we out discovering the assorted awful local drinks that the town had to offer so Bart's washing is looking a bit careworn.

Ingolstadt was rather disappointing. On first look it semed quite interesting but later looked a bit plastic. I am sure that Bomber Harris must have visited in late 1944 or 1945. The Germans have been very good at recreating places to look like they had never visited by that august fellow but I am getting used to the idea and think I can spot his influence. Audi have some presence here so that was probably a good enough excuse for that fine war hero.

Bit of problem with a rest day is that when it rains the following day one is not inclined to get in the boat. We walked the three kms to ensure that Doris was comfortable as the rain got steadily heavier. No way were we going to get in the boat. We retreated to the cafe at the swimming pool and then back in to town.

The delightful tourist information lady found us a cheap room and Bart retired to bed at 3.30. p.m. A second view of Ingolstadt did not reveal the most exciting town we have ever been in but we did find one decent bar. Irritatingly, we could have happily canoed for three or four hours in steadily improving conditions later in the day but I did not fancy ending up in an area where the Wehrmacht practice and you are not allowed to land.

One thing that we have found of interest is that bars tend to have more women in them than men. (Bart finds this very interesting but is severely hindered by the company that he keeps.) These are not your Manchester fat slapper type women who wander around on a Friday or Saturday night in very short skirts whatever the weather, hoping to get shagged and not remember who by in the morning, but well dressed women who have a gentle drink or two and wander off, apparently home - but what do we know. So where are the men? In Ingolstadt we found the answer, driving round the streets by themselves in cars of varying credibility for the purposes of picking up women. It appears that the women have good sense and ignore them.

Having said that, until we got to Bavaria, it appeared that all women between 28 and 35 had to be pregnant. Is this the law in Switzerland & Baden-Wurtenburg? We think that we should be told. Are they all artificially inseminated or are there some civilized men somewhere? Perhaps neither but hormones drive them to desperation. Or is the answer in the huge number of chemists that we see in every town? It is like banks in Chile - there are just far too many for the number of people. In Chile we assumed it was for the drug money from Peru and Colombia. In Germany, why do they need so many chemists? Are they all hypochondriacs? But Chile also does a fine line in chemists. They are not Germanic. What is the connection?

German people seem to be humourus, helpful and considerate, if rather drunken. There are a worse set of charateristics. Americans - smug, self-centred and ignorant. French -the most civilzed people in the world, according to the French. The Brits - what happenned to our empire: despite our ecconomic decline and intolerance, we are still special and better than these, allegedly, civilized Europeans. Italians? Actually I rather like the Italians, they seem to have a well balanced view of life, don't work too hard and spend summer on the beach. Chinese - peaceful, thoughtful but wannabe yanks. Aussies, well who cares about the Aussies. Only the Dutch and Spanish seem to be as civlized as the Germans in Western Europe. (Apologies to the Scandinavians and other small, irrelevant countries who should just forget about all this nationalistic crap and adopt a European passport and identity.)

Of course, this does not absolve the Germans from the malaise that will, hopefully, see the extinction of the human race within a couple of hundred years. They pursue economic growth with as much alacrity as all the other capitalist societies (including others, like China, who do not label themselves as capitalist), and with greater success than many. They also have no programme for controlling the other great evil of our times - population growth. At least China has made some attempt at containing the latter. How many cars, computers, TVs, phones etc. do the rich countries need? Apparently enough to reduce all the land mammals that are not bred for human consumption to the status of zoo creatures in small national parks in "uncivilzed" parts of the world. The human race is truly, if I can use an expressionn from a source I am not familiar with, "a pestlinence on the face of the earth". Like all pestillences it will, thankfully, consume itself because of explosive greed. Hopefully this will happen before this becomes the greatest ever dieing out of species ever.

Naturally the toy computer that I bought to write this drivel on is an absolute neccessity and how could you benefit from my wit and wisdom if we had not flown to Zurich. So much for recognising my own hypocrisy but how many brats do I have?

Enough of a diatribe. The weather forecast for next week is mixed to crap. So how far will we get? As bigger ships come into play, how will we deal with them in our non-seaworthy craft? Will we hitch a lift? Those are my Monday night thoughts and I will leave them in, despite what happens before the next post.

Tuesday and Wednesday were very interesting days. After a gentle paddle to the next lock we were met with a large flashing yellow light that means do not approach within 500 metres - they were letting water over the sluice because the river had risen by 1.5 metres with the rain. We approached and went to investigate. With the power station running and water going over the sluice the current below looked horrible and I dithered but little real choice so down we went. As we emerged, they stopped water coming over the sluice. Whether this was to help us or not we did not know. Anyway the current was not beyond our abilities and we had a lovely ride. We had intended to stop in a town who's main claim to fame in the book appeared to be "mit chemi-toilette" but the current was too strong to stop.

The current had slackened a bit by the time that we were stopped by the Wehrmacht (the German Arny) and told to get off the river for an hour whilst they were doing some exercises. We pulled in and there were a couple of guys from the Wehrmacht with a big truck who drove us round the kilometre or so that was being used for exercises. The river is narrow and fast here and they were doing an exercise building a pontoon bridge across the river. We stopped for a sandwich and these great lumps of heavy equipoment started coming down the river and getting off on the other bank. Massive engines allowed them to remain stationery in the river and go against the current easily. They lined up in the river and just drove ashore; they were amphibious. I did not count exactly but there were about twenty chunks of this equipment in three different types. It was actually very impressive especially for a man who dislikes all that the military stand for.

On we went and a couple of hours later the scenery suddenly changed. As you would expect with a big river, most of the time you are travelling across large flat plains. We had cut through a couple of sets of hills but they had not been difficult; suddenly we were in a limestone gorge only forty or fifty metres wide. Rather nice but challenging navigation with some funny currents. We suddenly ended up facing upstream in a pool of quiet water!

Anyway, it had been an excellent day and we had had enough but couldn't camp at the canoe club. We settled for a nice B & B a twenty minute walk downstream - our fourth night in a row in a bed and very comfortable it was too.

Whilst going back to collect our gear we tried to work out how fast the current really is; we had tried throwing leaves, bits of wood etc. in but weren't satisfied. Some kids came past! Surely in the week when the human population of the planet passed seven billion nobody would miss one in a spirit of scientific enquiry!

Wednesday was as exciting but more stressful. We had seen a few factories upstream and now we started to see quite a lot. We also had reached the point when the Main-Danube Canal comes in so, after having the river virtually to ourselves for a week, we suddenly had to deal with 10,000 tonne ships (my guess) ploughing up the river at about 10 kph. This is effectively about 14 kph against the current. What you do is let them pass, then cut directly across the wash at right angles so you don't get hit sideways on and get knocked over. This we did fine, the trouble is that you then get hit by the wash from the other side of the boat bouncing off the opposite bank and hitting you at an odd angle. Stressful! Actually the water stays choppy for five minutes after the boat has passed and the effect can still be felt for another five minutes, at least. The weather has also turned back to autumn and we kept getting a shower or two. By the time we stopped, I was the tiredest I had been on any day so far.

Bart was extremely happy; he saw a large otter (the first he had ever seen in the wild) slide into the river; I just saw the splash. The variety of birds has also increased and we are getting really blase about seeing large fish jump out of the water; I cannot emphsisie too much how clean this river is.

We stopped just outside Regensburg, which is a lovely town and consequently quite touristy. It was the first time that we had heard any significant amount of dialect other than German; the campsite even has notices in English. We got invited into their caravan by a very nice Dutch couple, Paul & Miriam, who poured Croatin Schnappes down our throats that was apparently more than 65% alcohol but actually tasted quite good - very unusual for something that strong. They had been sea-kayaking in Croatia and this was the first time they had sat inside for seventeen days - hmm. We met them again as we walked back from town. We had inspected the 12th century bridge which has lots of piers and, consequently, narrow gaps with very fast flowing water. I had drunk enough to think it looked OK. Where we met the Dutch again was at a place where you can go down a water shoot in your canoe instead of the lock, dropping 5 metres in about thirty. We had met one earlier in the day but it wasn't working. Bart tested this one (without the canoe, I hasten to add) and it worked fine. Alcohol also persuaded me that would be perfectly OK. Miriam & Paul declined the chance to have a bit of fun with us in the morning by going down the shoot; they claimed that they had to be on the road for 8 to get back to Eindhoven.

The morning brings rain and listlessness. A day's rest is agreed because the weather forecast is poor for later in the day. No, this is not idolence, definitely not. Cowardice is not a subject we discuss. Having no clear objective any more is, however, directly affecting us; we are on holiday (rather than a mission) and can piss around all day reading and drinking if we feel like it! So we did.

Anyway, we really did manage something close to getting up with the lark in the morning. It must have been a damp miserable lark because that was the sort of day it was. We were in the water by 8.45. This may not sound to early but ablutions, packing tent etc., laoding boat, returning for second round of ablutions etc. takes quite a while.

We were, genuinely, disappointed when the water shoot was closed, allegedly due to lack of water. More later on that subject. Shooting the bridge was also Ok. My navigation was of a standard that you would expect. I was still lining it up to be straight after we were through the bridge. Actually the turbulence here, and at other bridges with fast currents comes afterwards and it was here that my mastery of water craft paid off; well I didn't tip it over.

A bit later on Bart let out a yelp and jumped. Bart's antics always make me nervous, he invariably chooses the wrong momentto stop paddling, lift his arse in the air and stick his feet out in front of the boat. This is to relieve assorted aches and pains but is inconvenient when approaching a fast running current through a bridge or one of the mega-barges. In this case it was because we had a passenger, Mike Goodland (with apologies to those who are familiar with Metadata personnel and have read "The life of Pi" - the best book of this century.) This was a mouse - a rather pleasant passenger but when Mike gives your bare toe a nuzzle it is a bit of a surprise. We pulled in and tried to catch him. Having failed we decided to live with him for a while but his antics were just too much of a surprise even though we were mentally prepared. We had to pull in and unload Doris before we could catch him and transfer him (or her) to an area where she would introduce new genees to the local residents.

A rather dull day followed, the weather never got brighter, we didn't see anything special, we had to avaoid a few ships etc. But we did do a long day, our objective. Naturally I fell in the river again, but only up to my waist and it wasn't Bart's fault. Why hasn't Bart done it once yet?

What we have found is that Bavarian villages are pretty soulless. They all have churches (Bavaria is Catholic), a small playground with swings, slides and the like and a football field. What they don't have is a shop or a pub. We have stopped at one or two for a break or looking for refreshments and been disappointed.

One of the oddities about Bavarian history is King Ludwig. Before Bismark forcibly unified Germany in 1871 there had been a lot of independent states of which Bavaria was the largest. Ludwig had an ego to match Donald Trump; in the 1850s and 60s he built several palaces which he could not afford but didn't care. The one we passed (naturally we didn't stop) is called Valhalla. This looks like the Parthenon from the river. Presumably something to do with Wagner but we will leave that point to the masses to discover.

Anyway, at the end of the day we arrived at our destination, by far the hardest day that we had had - just as it started to rain. The restaurant mentioned in the book is open on Saturdays & Sundays only, this was Friday, and the campsite did not exist. We could camp by the restaurant for five euros each with no washing facilities. We camped on the kids playground. Bart had begged four slices of bread off an old lady so dinner was sardines on bread. We had had nothing hot all day - leaving the campsite early and going through the aforementioned soulless villages - so Tic-Tacs for sweet was not ideal. We were also short of water but not mosquitoes. The emergency brandy helped but Bart was asleep by 9 and I was trying to sleep by 10, an unheard of hour for me.

Bart asked me the time when he thought it was morning - 12.45 a.m. The real morning was a lovely misty but sunny early autumnal one and we were canoeing at 7.45. A complete contrast with the day before in some ways because of the weather. There were lots of birds - I am getting increasingly irritated by ignorance on this subject, I really will have to do something about it. However, we could not get a good rythm going, kept stopping every 45 minutes or so, were harrassed by many big ships (we had assumed that Saturady and Sunday would be good paddling days - the crew would have the weekend off), the villages failed to provide is with anything to eat (although we did get the commodity we most short of - water.) But it was not unpleasant because the weather was really gorgeous and we got some of the views from the levees I had expected of the Danube - big wide sweeping bends with lots of good agricultural land, bywaters full of birds and low hills in the distance. You are getting no photographs because, thankfully, my camera is a casualty of the wet and completely broken. Bart also spotted a couple of roe deer quite close on the bank. What is surprising to me is that we haven't seen any deer before. This has been perfect deer country: mixed forest with lots of varied agricultural land nearby. Just shows what crap observers we are.

We had planned an easy day, only 20km., because yesterday hjad been hard and we were glad of that because there is only so far apples and emergency bounties can get you.

However, before we got to Straubing Canoe Club we had another schlusse and this one did have a water shoot for canoes. We had not seen anyone else use one of these but obviously it had to be tried. Boats with keels are not allowed and the maximum width is 2.4 metres. Mrs Dobbin is less than a metre at her widest so should be no problem although it might have helped to see someone else try it . We got her pretty straight and down we went. It wasn't very fast but when both ends hit opposite sides at the same time we both thought (obvioulsy idependently, there wasn't a lot of time for discussion) that we were going over. Fortunately Doris, despite her age, is a pretty steady character and got us down. Next time I will hold the oars out on both sides at the back to keep her straight

Perhaps I should explain the name of the vessel that has done more to preserve our life than we have. She is an old lady, made of glass fibre and a dull yellow; a little faded in fact but obviously bright and sparkling in her day so Doris seemed appropriate. Our original plan for the summer had been to buy a horse and cart in Roumania and drive it to Latvia. The horse would obviously be called Dobbin. We felt guilty about abandoning Dobbin so incorporated the name.

The canoe club is great, mainly because it was warm and sunny and we could dry everything and get ourselves clean.

The canoe club turned out to have a friendly, if vastly obese, host and hostess plus dormitory beds for €9 each. Camping costs over half as much and you have to put up and take down the tent as well as sleep in it on the ground in close proximity to some fat, smelly, noisy, restless body! And Bart has an unpleasant time too. The down side was that one of the patrons was one of these people who must talk all the time. Clearly most of the regulars knew this and just let him prattle on. From when we arrived at about 2 until we retired at about 11 we never saw him with his mouth shut - much of it directed at Bart after I pretty much ignored him. And that was not all. I got woken by Bart to inform me that there was a third person in the dormitory, yes our friend in the bed next to Bart. Bart feared for his rectal virginity and I stayed awake until I could hear him, our friend not Bart, snoring soundly. In the morning we got up quietly whilst he was still snoring but he woke up just as we were going to have breakfast and within two minutes had joined us for another forty minutes of mindless prattle. I went to another table and lay on the bench until breakfast arrived. Bart claimed I was doing my back exercises by lying still.

Then we had a fantastic day, did lots of kms in beautiful weather, good lunch spot, felt good about our paddling and Bart saw his first snake in the wild! He is having a luuuuverly time seeing all these new things. Slight problem is that this metre long snake was clearly extremely venemous and the next one could be anywhere - in Bart's shoe, in Doris, waiting for him under some leaves - could be anywhere.

Being Sunday, we only saw three big cargo ships. A plus point? No. Instead we got lots of dickheads in speed boats. What is the point of a speedboat? What is the point of water skiing? To consume as much in the way of petroleum products as possible whilst going where? The people who buy these things must have fewer brain cells than Jeremy Clarkson; at least Clarkson's egotisitical, anti-social, planet-destroying toys can go to many different places. Where can you take a speed boat? The answer is repeatedly up and down the same piece of river to discomfort canoeists. These things do not kick up as big a backwash as the big jobbies (we actually shipped a bit of water from one of these today, the river was so narrow that I had to cut across only twenty metres past its stern) but they set up about five or six waves only a couple of metres apart so you have to cut across the backwash in the same way as the barges. It is just on a lovely sunny Sunday these idiots are all out and we had to do this manouvre about twenty times. Assholes.

Do you love wallpaper music? The Germans don't. It is rare to have your ears assaulted by mindless repetitions of Baker Street, Celine Dione, Kenny G or any old crap from the Seventies. Similarly, pubs don't have fruit machines, they have beer - and wine - and Gin & Tonics (in decent measures) - and cocktails all at prices about 50% of London prices. Quite civilized people in some ways, these Germans.

Well there were no snakes in the boat in the morning, the nearest we found was a colourful slug. We did not know how far we would get today. A normal day for us is now about 35 km. I had planned lunch after about fifteen km but we soon had a strong current so arrived at 10.45 for coffee. We fiddled about a bit but the current, although weaker, continued and we had done our 35km by 3. A refreshing beer and we went for the bonus dozen kms. A pleasant but unremarkable day - quite a lot of sun, plenty of birds, and I mean plenty, some pleasant views andnot many ships to contend with. Slightly better than a Monday at work!

We have now done 140 kms in the last four days and should be in Linz for Bart's birthday on the 16th if the weather continues to be kind to us.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Ingolstadt Sept 3rd

Sunday was a day of indolence, sitting at the campsite reading and having the odd beer. We did manage to wander into town in the evening for a few hours. There were, of course, many, many clothes shops. These shops must make some money so who goes in them? Presumably many women with more money than sense and men with large egos (or is it inferiority complexes?) Finding a shop that sells something that we might want to buy is almost impossible. Had a good quality meal for Baden-Wurtenburg Lande - a pizza. Bart was in bed by 10.30, I wandered back about midnight to find him asleep so retired to the fire for an hour with the Marion supermarket's finest quality schnappes - cost about €8 a litre.

In the morning there was no escape. Back to the canoe shop and off with Chris to Ulm.

Slightly worrying when we heard a crack from the canoe as he tightened the ropes on the roof rack. The canoe seats soon fell out on the road so, after Bart had run down the road to retrieve them, we decided it would be better to carry them inside the car. Pleasant drive, the B33 is a road that crosses Lake Constance. Lots and lots of solar panels, big fruit fields - nectarines seemed very popular. We found a put in point for the canoe on the river just below a sluice above Ulm i.e. with a long run before we had to get out for the next sluice We first had lunch of a true Baden-Wurtenburg speciality - macaroni cheese. We were too nervous to eat it all.

Then we had to go. Chris showed me how to steer and how we should get in the boat and we were off before 3 p.m. We tried a practice landing after 100 metres and Bart got out and in successfully. (As the fat git I sit in the back and should always be first in the boat at the back and last out.) Keeping in a straight line seemed to be a bit of a problem. Chris had advised us to stay five metres from the side so it would be easy to swim to the side if we fell in. We were quite often within five metres of the side, just it was sometimes the left bank, sometimes the right; the river is about fifty metres wide.

There had been no current to notice until the river Iller came in then we were travelling along quite quickly. We decided that we should try and land in such a current. We had three attempts and reached the bank each time but before Bart could get out the back end of the canoe swung round and we were off again, backwards, of course. This was the first time that Bart was worried. What would happen if the current was strong as we approached a sluice? One of the reasons that the current was strong was the river was shallow; we decided that the solution was just jump out with the rope in hand. Yes we would get wet but we could stand and everything in the canoe was tied down so even if it overturned we should n't lose things.

The river slowed and we drifted through Ulm, rather a nice looking town but we had places to go and didn't stop. The place we had to go was the first sluice. We approached very carefully and very slowly. About 200 metres short we stopped and Bart got out to investigate. We could go very close and there was no apparent current. We managed this manouvre quite sucessfully but pulling the boat out proved quite an effort. It weighs about 45 kgs and had about twenty odd kgs of crap in it. We pulled it out and I went off to investigate. I walked half a kilometre downstream but there was no choice. We carried Doris about 100 metres and this involved three rest stops. We attached a safety rope to a post and wound a couple of loops around the post with Bart letting it down. Trouble was that post wasn't exactly at the top of the 45 degree steps and it was very difficult for me to guide the boat down the steps. We managed, of course. There was a ring built into the concrete so I threaded the rope at the front through this and told Bart to hold it. This he did, but didn't hold the side of the boat (as is normal) as I got in. The boywonder is very clever but if you want two thoughts in his head when it comes to things practical you had better be specific and not assume any memory. End result; boat tips up, I end in the water, some stuff in the boat gets wet and the boat ships some of the aforementioned liquid.

We had seen some swans, including several taking off - always a magnificent sight, mallards, swifts etc. plus a couple of birds I could not identify; the highlight in that way though was seeing a kingfisher flashing across the water.

There was a village a couple of kilometres below the sluice so we called at a day. 12 kms in 4 hours! It is now only 2,670 kms to the Black Sea.

Bart charmed the lady in the hotel to giving us the one single room available (other hotels were kilometres away) and supplied us with a mattress so we were fine. A few beers for me (and one for Bart), rosti and bed beckoned but not before we realised that all the locals were piss artists. One abused Bart (in English) for writing his diary but you could tell how drunk they were when the woman fell in the rosebed as they were leaving. Next up was Franz, who assured us we were mad to canoe to Vienna! He went off after ten minutes to sort out some drinks for us and, fortunately, never came back. We didn't hang around after dinner to see what other drunken delights awaited us. However, I suspect Franz has a point.

I was not at my best in the morning, having demolished the remains of the "emergency wine" (€1.55 a litre) whilst writing the previous paragraphs so Bart went off to get the emergency rations whilst I had an extra twenty minutes kip. Refreshed and we were off at 10.10 after paying sixty-five euros for bed, breakfast and evening meal (plus booze) for both of us. Germany is a cheap country.

A beautiful day. We started noticing much more fish and plants as well as the birds. Everything went rather too smoothly really. Neither of us fell in, we enjoyed the paddling, we stopped in a nice town for a lovely "lunch" of coffee and cake. Then we went searching for supplies. Our means of lowering our esteemed craft into the water was some "rope" we had bought in Finsbury Park market, actually a clothes line. This had been showing signs of wear as we had repeated the lowering the boat back into the water twice more in the morning. All we found was another clothes line but this one has metal in the middle. Only slight problem is that Bart's Swiss army knife can probably not cut it, so a thirty metre "rope" may not be ideal.

Anyway, back into the water for another couple of hours, another portage round a sluice (this one appeared to have a disused lock next to it) and rolled into the local canoeing club just after 6. So eight hours in the day. Shame was, porterage and lunch aside we had ony had 4 hours actual padling and done eighteen kms! The Black Se in five or six weeks is looking dodgy. The people at the canoe club were great - camp anywhere, park the boat and hot showers (all for €11), gave us a map, offered to drive us into town, good beer in the machine at €1.50, Beautiful sunset - luuuverly. All the members seemed quite good at drinking - are we spotting a trend here?


Wandering into town (Gunzburg) for dinner was a surprise. The architecture seemed more Dutch or Flemish 17th or 18th century to us than anything you would expect in southern Germany. Dinner was nothing special though; Bart fell in lust with the waitress (the reason for choosing the restaurant) but that is not the first time for choosing a restaurant on such a basis.

As we packed to leave the following morning there was another, very significant, act of kindness from one of the canoe club members. When Bart said something about having the haul the canoe round the locks he burst out laughing. He got out two bikes and went back, with Bart, to the last sluice we had passed through the previous day and showed him how to work the lock alongside! That one was actually broken but it could have been many days before we saw someone use one and realised how, or that we could, use them. There had been no-one at all on the river the previous day, we saw one boat on the new day, building up to five the following day - none of them anywhere near a sluice/lock.

We had a good day doing 22 kms, we were clearly getting better. We managed four locks, three using the approved method. There is one slight problem with this, someone has to paddle the canoe in and paddle it out the other end. Bart was busy reading the instructions so that left little choice. Having watched Bart operate the machinery I was not keen on disappearing down a five metre deep hole that had water in when I entered and should have a lot less water in when I left, if the door opened; I could not find any emergency ladder if the door didn't open. I was distinctly nervous but nothing for it.


Actually it was a piece of cake, there was an emegency ladder and this is German engineering, so it soon became routine. The next two were fine but the last one of the day had a different mechanism for turning it on; apparently a key. Surprising I know, but we didn't have one. There was nobody about at the hydro-electric power plant that is part of all these sluices so it was back to carrying.

We actually had a proper lunch stop with a traditional German pizza. We were getting more confident so I even risked a beer. I went looking for supplies and, naturally, found plenty of clothes shops, kebab houses and takeaway pizzas but nothing remotely useful. On the way back to the boat a stop in the bakery to buy some bread took about fifteen minutes; Bart will charm anything even vaguely feminine under thirty.

A lovely couple of hours and we saw a building that might be the canoe club marked on the map. A stop and some kids embararssed to be caught smoking said there was no canoe club or campground, they pointed us back to our previous nights destination. Two hundred metres downstream there was the canoe club and campsite. This was really just a campsite with a canoe club attached. The menu was not inspiring so we wandered in to town to have a traditional Greek meal. This wasn't bad but I decided that Bart didn't know enough about Greek booze so ordered an ouzo with ice, a lemon ouzo and a mere quarter litre of retsina for him to try with the main course. I hadn't realised that we would each get complimentaay ouzos as both starters and disgestifs. Bart does not like ouzo and decided that retsina was horrible, so I had to help him out.


Bart went straight to bed on return to the campsite and even I was in bed by 11! Bart did vacate the tent fairly early because of my "night noises". Serves him right, he should have drunk his ouzo.

The weather began to change. Not just dew in the morning (I haven't packed the tent dry yet) but morning mists. The Horse Chestnut leaves had started to turn brown before we left England and, rather to my surprise, they had here too and every day we see more autumnal colours.

We were slowly pushing the distances, 29 kms that day although we still didn't manage to start before ten, this was mainly because it was another grey, slightly drizzly morning. I wa getting used to Bart's vagueries, putting his hands on the sides of the boat and lifting his arse up, every ten minutes and his random swapping of sides with his paddle (this causes a manouvre almost sharp enough to call a swerve if I haven't noticed and immedately swapped sides to compensate.) I have more leg room than Bart so don't have much problem with a stiff arse, I just get a sore back. We agree, however, that an hour at a stretch is enough. When we take a break, the last thing we want to do is sit down; we stand or Bart sometimes lies down for a few minutes doze.


The day had proceeded pleasantly and peacefully enough until about 200 metres before the canoe cliub we were aiming for as the night's destination when we saw some white water! Shit! Shit! Shit! (That is the polite version.) If you are rafting you would hardly have noticed. We managed to get ashore and survey the options when some kids in kayaks came up and started playing in it. If we has had a kayak I think we would have risked it but not in this thing where your backside is 25centimteres above the water and nothing is enclosed - particularly our fear. Part of the problem was caused by a bridge that exaggereated the impact so we carried the boat under the bridge and got back in. Bart did the rock spotting and I did the steering and paddled with just enough power to allow me to steer. Actually, it ws quite easy and we were soon through. There was a warning in the book and I have finally persuaded Bart to take some interest when my necessary dialect of foreign is not up to scratch.

We had not spotted the canoe club and the current quickly carried us a bonus 1.5 kms down stream before we were certain of our mistake. We turned back upstream and, by paddling hard, we could make some progress but we were clearly not going to make it back far against that current so we abandoned Doris on the bank for the night and found a pension. The lady declined but Bart's charm, together with the paddles we carried to reduce the risk of theft did the trick. Maybe we carry the paddles as a badge of honour so people would ask what we were doing. As a chat up line for the Boywonder it does not seem to have worked too well as yet.

In the morning the current meant that we did 14 kilometres in the first 80 minutes. We do not really want a current of 10 kms but three or four would be great, it would convert 6 hours paddling from 30kms to 50. We paddle at about 5 kms per hour across the water and six hours a day of this is the hardest physical exercise Bart thinks he has done; personally I find cycling for half that time is much harder. Because of the locks everywhere the current is normally barely perciptible and for two or three kms behind each lock is, in effect, non-existent.

We are getting blasse about the plethora and quantity of wildlife, although we could live without the midges. Herons are common as muck, birds of prey a common sight, small fish everywhere but the highlight today was seeing a 30 cm fish leap clear of the water about four metres in front of the boat. Needless to say I cannot identify most of the wildlife and I am even worse when it comes to the flowers and trees - nettles excepted.

There are surprisingly few villages close to the river (perhaps because of the history of flooding before the building of the huge levees that run almost continuously along a few metres back from the river when it is not in the hills) so lunch is often a cheese or banana sandwich although, thanks to the book, we have always found a town for the night. If we did not get a decent breakfast and dinner every day, Bart would be useless.

We were warned by a friendly guy at the last sluice that the current round to the canoe club can be quite rapid so we approached cautiously with not too much current apparent until we clouted the pontoon very hard. We pulled Doris out and Bart rapidly abandoned plans for a swim, the current had certainly increased to five or six kms. In a way, it is logical for canoe clubs to want to be where there is some fast water. Another warm German welcome (we are now in Bavaria, our third German state, even though we had only done 110 kms).

A relatively early night was too early for me so I retired to the shower room with the emergency Apple Schnappes to sit on a bench and read. For some reason Bart thought this was sordid. It did soon become sordid when I dropped and smashed the half empty bottle. Cleaning up glass with toilet roll and hosing down the floor with the shower had not been my expected entertainment. What the two women in the ladies thought of the smashing bottle is not recorded.

And so we continued. Today was an easy day - 20 kms - so we could have our rest day in Ingolstadt; the second conecutive Sunday rest day! Are we getting religious? No, it is just that very few shops are open so we have a good excuse for doing nothing except the washing and drinking beer. The book warned of an impassible bit below the last sluice of the day - only the second, the river is flattening out. So we walked along the bank and it was quite fast but not too tricky. We parked a bit past the city and then spent hours aimlessly looking for a hotel. The first three that we tried just did not have anybody at reception and didn't answer bells or shouts so we ended up going to a business hotel that costs €85 per night for B & B for two of us! We have walked today about as far as we paddled.

My steering today was back on form. Yesterday I managed to clout the bank twice because I had been experimenting with different methods of steering. There is neither keel nor rudder on Doris Dobbin and the bottom is flat so the only way of steering is making one side of the boat go faster than the other.This sounds simple and is. The only problem is that once you have started a turn there is nothing to stop Mrs Dobbin from keeping on turning in the same way. In skiing you start one turn as you finish the previous one. With paddling a canoe you start to turn as soon as you have started the previous one. The man at the back does the steering and Bart has learnt not to try and help unless specifically asked. For some reason Bart does not want to look at the back of my head so I am the captain. Either because I am stronger than Bart, a better paddler or (most likely) because I am at the back, I naturally exert a greater turning effect on the boat than Bart so we tend to turn away from the side I am paddling on. To correct this I am supposed to "feather" my paddle to act as drag at the end of some strokes. This means that I am steering by slowing "my" side of the boat down. I don't like this so keep experimenting by swapping sides and paddling on the same side as Bart for two or three strokes to speed up "his" side; this means that we go in less of a straight line but quicker. To turn sharp left when I misjudge it I dig my paddle in hard on the left hand side. I don't like this either because we loose momentum so I would paddle hard on the right (the same side as my esteemed travelling companion) and after three or four hard strokes the boat would suddenly turn. Trouble is I didn't always have enough room for three or four hard strokes! Today I was back to steering how I was taught.

Clearly the Black Sea is looking a bit tricky, unless we hitch a ride. One or two of you have suggested that you might want to join us for a bit. Walking is more the pace than cycling! It is 520 kms to Vienna and 580 to Bratislava so we should reach one or other before the end of the month and our rate of progress is quite predictable at around 200km per week, in a good week.

Happy Birthday Sal.