A Slight Change of Pace

Just another beautiful street in Cheb.

A typical riverside hospoda, or bar, where I stopped in for sausage and beer on both the way up and way down.

Sunset on the river Ohre - which I am no longer padlling into.

Cheb again.

The throngs gathered at the Karlovy Vary International Film Fest, waiting for someone - anyone - famous to walk down the green carpet.

The most ornate place I've seen a film in yet. I was way up in the highest balcony; first time I've had too look down to watch a film.

A selection of movie posters.

The coveted...naked...luminescent...beachball playing...award.
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Where I'm camped, with several hundred others.

More throngs gathered to watch the opening night fireworks. They were my Canada Day substitute.

Watching the movie from way, way up.



So it's official - I've called it quits on my European canoe adventure. I always intended to wrap it up if it was no longer fun - fun being the main purpose of this trip. Not: "Get 'er done", as I may have misled. I'm not into reaching goals just for the sake of reaching them - there has to be a point to it all. I suppose I might experience a sense of pride if I made it all the way to Amsterdam, but - screw that, i'd rather enjoy myself. I feel pride enough in myself for making it this far. Hell, I could have stopped after the experience of buying the canoe and still felt proud enough.

I regret ever characterizing this trip as being from point A to point B. i realized this towards the end of my planning process, and began telling people i was going to start to canoe in Amsterdam and head east, until I felt like stopping. But then, at the last minute, I did an about face in the direction of my trip (just to confuse the assassins), after which it made slightly more sense to begin referring to this as a Prague to Amsterdam trip, because, to benefit from going in this direction, I'd have to get through all the middle-Europe ups and downs before I could start on the long downriver stretch through western Europe. In a moment of imprudent exuberence, I even wrote in indelible marker "Praha" at the back of my canoe, and "Amsterdam" at the front, with corresponding arrows pointing in the appropriate directions...which, now that I'm trying to sell the canoe, I'm rubbing with gasoline, baking soda toothpaste, and any other substance that some website claims will remove permanent marker.

Actually, you know where I can find some pride in this situation? I take pride in the fact that I know when to quit. And that I'm good at finding pride in the most scarce of circumstances. And that I'm good at rationalizing.

So anyway, I was wandering around Cheb, not really making much progess with selling the kanoe, and wondering what to do. I was thinking i might wait one more day for answers to some emails, and then continue upriver into Germany. It would be another week until i was in another town large enough to offer any hope of selling the canoe. But I'd had a few days rest - enough time for partial amnesia to set in about the agony of upriver travel - and was getting little nudges from that 'ol, "I wonder what's around the next corner," feeling.

But then I saw a poster for the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival. I'd seen preparations for it when I was with Lucie in KV a couple of weeks ago, and she'd had good things to say about it. I returned to the internet cafe and checked it out. It actually looked pretty good: it had a reputation, at least, as the premiere film fest for eastern Europe; one of my favourite directors, Nikita Mikhalkov, was going to be there, presenting his new film; they'd also lured Robert De Niro in with an award for lifetime contribution, etc, and some screenings of his earlier films; all the films had English subtitles; and it was cheap - $70 for the full 9 day pass, and camping available in a stadium at the edge of town for less than $5 a night.

It didn't take me long to realize how much sense this made; i had to return to KV anyway at some point to pick up the GPS (if it was ever delivered), and the film fest would give me something fun to do while i figured out how to get my canoe sold. It would also give me time to prepare for the next leg of my trip: couchsurfing through the Mediterranian region. And, perhaps best of all, it was down river. I hopped in Sarka that afternoon and headed back down the Ohre towards Karlovy Vary. One last ride in my faithul companion!

I figure going downriver was about three times as fast for a third of the effort. It was 70km to KV; i did 20 of them the first day, and mopped up the remaining 50 the next day without too much trouble. It was a good way to end the trip - a little payback for all my effort. During the fastest stretch - the one Viktoria and Sergio and I had sweated and groaned and cursed our way up a week previous - i lay back and watched the trees glide by on either side and laughed.

My ill-advised directional markers in permanent ink on the side of the canoe at least earned me a free beer at one of the riverside bars i stopped at. After my first beer, I had my usual debate about ordering a second. One is never enough, but then two, I find, makes me sleepy midday, and is not very condusive to canoeing. I could always order a half beer, of course, but then it's not as good value, and i rarely seem to take this option. Nope, as usual, the second beer won out. As I was nearing the end of that one, however, another one suddenly appeared on the table in front of me; connected to it was the hand, arm, and body of a man smiling approvingly at me and saying, "Amsterdam." He must have seen my canoe pulled up on the shore - luckily, because i paddle it backwards when solo, the Praha and Amsterdam arrows were still pointing in the right directions. He didn't speak English, but his wife, miraculously, did. Actually, it was unfortunate, in this instance, that she did speak English, because it meant that, upon interrogation from her, i had to admit that i hadn't come all the way from Amsterdam. But they still seemed suitably impressed with what I had actually acheived. The man didn't take his beer back, anyway, and he even patted me on the back as he left.

Needless to say, I was excessively drunk when i got back onto the water for the last 15k to KV. I probably hit a few more rocks that I would sober, but otherwise came out okay. The rapids are easy enough that you can navigate them drunk - i don't think most Czechs would even consider doing them sober anyway.

I wasn't sure where in KV the stadium i could camp in was, but on my canoeing map there was on oval labeled "STAD" - near the river too - so i pulled over by that. It was a short but near vertical bank to get up - with a railing at the top - but somehow i got Sarka over it. The stadium, already with a few dozen tents in it, was right there, maybe 100 metres away. I couldn't have pulled over in a better place. I got my tent set up just in time for the rain that had been threatening all day to come thundering down.

The End.

But wait: there will be a lengthy postscript, in coming updates, to this trip. The first ones, of course, will be all about the film fest. After that, hopefully some adventures in the Mediterranian, until my planned return to Canada around the end of July. So stay tuned.