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?
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