Relief in Karlovy Vary

Freshly arrived in Karlovy Vary, I found a phone, gave Lucie a call, and waited for her to pick me up. Meanwhile tourists strolled by, casting odd looks my way.


Lucie's family, plus Viktoria and Sergio, enjoying a BBQ my first night with them.

Matthew and I. You can see that paddlers look the same the world over.

Me passing Sergio his brand new paddle in the canoeing shop, with Lucie looking on.

One of the mineral hot springs in Karlovy Vary that people drink for its curative properties.

Ah, the fabled city of Karlovy Vary. Fabled in my own mind, at least. When I first found out that this was a spa town, I thought: that should be a welcome treat after weeks of paddling. And as the trip itself progressed, KV attained the status of a magical turning point, a place that, if I could only reach, this trip would finally cease purely being a difficult yet worthy existential challenge, and actually start being enjoyable too. After all, if I could only make it there, i would at last have some company - and help paddling - from my old friend Viktoria and her Guatamalan boyfriend Sergio, a very welcoming couchsurfer to stay with, spas to soak my weary muscles in, and would be through the worst part of the uphill battle that was the Ohre river.

But it wasn't easy to get there. If I had not had such a tantilizing goal, I'm not sure I would have had the willpower to make it.

From Kadan I had optimistically hoped I could make KV in 2 days, through bypassing the worst of the rapids by simply wheeling my canoe along paths and roadways for 30km. But it turned out that the paths often led up into the high hills on either side of the river, and the only thing worse than paddling up this river was trying to push Sarka laden with gear up hills. So for the majority of the trek I was trapped on the river - the relentless flow of which reduced my progress to about 1km/hr and my arms to aching mush.

Much of the time I wouldn't even be paddling - just poling my way up through the gravelly shallows at the river's edge, where the relentless current slackened somewhat - or simply walking through the water, towing the canoe behind me on a line. J-stroking was a forgotten luxury; it was too ineffecient and I had to do power stroke on either side constantly.

The low point came on the 2cd day, when I felt nausiated from intestinal problems that have been building for some time, and the conditions meant I had only made 3km by lunchtime. I found that maintaining my mental stamina - the will to carry on - was even harder than maintaining my physical stamina. After running aground on my 200th rock of the day, I'd sometimes just sit there for a few minutes, while I tried to muster the willpower to carry on. My morale had also bottomed out. To make matters worse, I was facing a headwind for much of the time. I tried to vent my emotions by hurling expletives at the wind, the water, the rocks; the only element not set against me was fire, for the sun at least was not too hot. If anyone heard me pass, they'd probably think I had Turette's, Certainly they must have questioned my sanity to be heading upriver.

Later in the afternoon, by which time I'd only managed to fight my way 7km upriver, and was just hoping I could do 10 by the end of the day, I thought it might take me 4 days to reach KV. Fortunately, at that point I finally found a road that stuck pretty close to the river and didn't go up any big hills, and gratefully wheeled Sarka onto it. I stuck to it for the remainder of the day, and by sunset had made 16km total, enough to put me through the worst of the rapids and within striking distance of the city of redemption, KV. For the first time, I stayed in a real campground. I had no appetite for food, but did go to the restaurant and downed 3 shots of jagermeiter while flipping through a motorcycle magazine featuring lots of shots of scantily clad women draped over Harleys, and felt much better for it. As I progressed up the river, I noticed more and more German, and this campground restaurant seemed to be run by Germans. There was a big wedding or something happening in the other room, full of cigarette smoke, and buffets, and Abba music, the walls adorned with antlers and deer heads, and a constant parade of huge plates of food being carried 4 at a time by the servers into the diningroom.

I only had to paddle 8 hours the next day to make it the final 16km to KV - a relatively speedy pace. It was a Saturday and the weather was perfect, so I passed a near constant stream of Czechs canoeing the Czech way - downriver of course, with beer and dogs and babies in their laps, funny mexican sombreros on their heads, strumming guitars, and always in big laughing groups. I think I shouted "Ahoy!" to nearly all of them, if they didn't shout it first. Then it was usually followed by laughter, crazy looks, and comments that I couldn't understand but could certainly guess as to their content. When I was on the Sazava and the Vlatava, no one really batted an eye that i was travelling solo, or in a wierd looking canoe, or wheeling it through towns. But paddling up the Ohre certainly unleashed a flood of comment. I don't think anyone had seen that before, and I could tell they all thought I was nuts. One guy who spoke English said, "Are you going all the way to Karlovy Vary?" This when I was maybe 7km from there. "Yeah," I said, "all the way there..."

When I got to KV I wheeled my canoe into the city centre, found a phone booth, and called my couchsurfing host, Lucie. Soon her and her boyfriend appeared with a car with a roofrack, to sweep me and Sarka away to suburban, middle-class comfort. I had been feeling like I stood out in my river wear: short shorts and T-shirt, messy hair, scruffy face, eating dried fruit from crumpled plastic bags. But then Lucie and Matthew looked exactly the same (minus the scruffy face on Lucie, of course). They were paddlers too, which is partly why Lucie was excited to host such a crazy person.

It was all I had dreamed about and more. I am Lucie's first couchsurfing guest, and she has spared no effort to make me (and Viktoria and Sergio) feel at home. We have displaced her brother to another part of the house, while we occupied his spacious bedroom. We have been provided with soft beds and softer duvets, BBQs, homecooking, laundry, internet, tours of the downtown, beers with friends of theirs, showers, baths, late night walks through the forest...the list goes on and on. Her and her parents' hospitality knows no bounds. She and her boyfriend, Matthew, are both paddlers themselves, and are very athletic and are studying recreation at university. I have finally met a group (her and her friends) of Czechs who don't smoke. Though beer drinking is still a popular activity, of course.

Moreover, Lucie and Matthew have been fun and interesting people to spend time with. Lucie has just graduated, and before heading off to graduate studies in Prague in the fall, she's about to embark on a summer of working abroad. She's still not sure where: Ireland or Norway maybe. It makes me envious that Europeans can so easily take off to a completely different culture to work and live. She says she can book her air ticket the day before she leaves, no problem. She actually learned English while living in Denmark, and then later in the USA. In many smaller countries, such as Denmark, Holland, or Norway, nearly everyone speaks English well, because their own populations are so small, to only know their own language would be very limiting. And English, of course, is the international language. Not so yet in the Czech Republic - as I discovered - but it is moving in that direction with the youth.

Yesterday I had my long awaited visit to one of KV's spas. I asked Lucie's mom which one was the best, and she told me where to go. KV is a sedate town full of older people and staid tourists - most of the youth don't stay here - and the spas are these grand places charging high prices. But Lucie's mom told me where the locals go. Around behind one of the grand spas, white columns rising magestically in front, you go, to what is almost a back alley. And there you find an indescript doorway. You pay about $10, and that buys you 2 hours in the spa. It was basically just a regular public swimming pool, but with a side room with a wet and dry sauna, cold bath, and relaxation room. There was also a whirlpool - tepid but surprisingly relaxing to lie back and let the frothing bubbles levatate you. But i spent most of my time sweating in the saunas, jumping into the cold bath, and almost falling asleep in the relaxation room. There was actually a sign on the doorways to the saunas saying "no bathing suits" so i had to comply. I also followed the lead of the other sauna-goers by rubbing my skin until all the dead skin and other accumulated crap rolled up into what looked like eraser crumbs and was washed away in the next cold bath. Afterwards I felt so relaxed and happy wandering around the downtown with Viktoria and Sergio, eating pizza and ice cream and drinking beer - not a care in the world - it was the polar opposite of how I had felt just a couple of days earlier.

The plan now is to leave tomorrow morning to continue up the Ohre toward the German border. This plan might be sabotaged by the delay in the delivery of my GPS unit, which Andrew has Fedexed from Canada, and was supposed to be here already. But apparently it is being held up in Prague, reason unknown. In any case, we have to leave Lucie's tomorrow, as she is going to Plzen for her graduation ceremony. So we'd have to find a hotel or campground if we had to wait longer for the GPS.

Viktoria and Sergio may not be with me for too long. I am asking for three weeks - that would get me through the hardest part of the trip left - but Viktoria is under pressure from a friend in Switzerland to come there. The reason that Sergio was able to afford his flight here is that a rich Canadian is in love with a friend of Viktoria's who used to live in Guatamala and is now living in Switzerland, and gave Sergio a bunch of money so that he and Viktoria could go keep her company there. They have also brough a bunch of Guatamalan crafts with them, which they are trying to sell on the streets along the way. This is of course illegal without a permit, and invariably a cop comes by after an hour or so and threatens to fine them. But before he comes, they always manage to sell some stuff. Yet this is all stuff that must be carried on portages.

Moreover, I'm not sure they feel up to the work involved in a canoe trip. Sergio believes that it's bad for you to work your muscles hard enough that they're sore. But i bought him a paddle today, and I'm hoping they'll get into the trip and enjoy it. I don't want them to do it unless they enjoy it.

Even if I am left alone again, it might not be so bad in Germany, as I hear that most Germans speak at least some English.

I've updated the map, so if you haven't seen it recently, have a look (link is in the "Map" post below)