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.