The toughest day
After the slog of the day before, I was determined to steer clear of any possible ambush. I knew the stage would be tough. I planned to cross into Austria and, to do that, I had to get over the mountain range that forms the natural border between Slovenia and Austria. There was no getting away from the climbing, but I would do everything I could to avoid pushing the bike again. And I managed it for the first 35 kilometres, which I rode mostly on a cycle path (yes, there were kilometres and kilometres of cycle path), gently uphill but very easy. All of it along a beautiful valley, where I was lucky enough to see the cross-country skiers doing their summer training. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a photo of them.
In under two hours I reached Mojstrana, a small village on the mountainside, where I stopped to get water and have a coffee. From here the climb begins, a predictably tough one, that will take me to the top of the mountains separating Slovenia from Austria.
A little further on the climb begins. Tough, as I expected. But the surface is good and I’m gaining height at a good pace. I start at 750 metres on a wide track with an uneven surface. I take it easy: I’m in no hurry and the heat is fierce. The gradient is very steep, and I’m really glad I changed the gearing for this trip and have such a big sprocket. I won’t be taking it off for hours.
The track gets more and more broken, and the gradient keeps increasing. The kilometres go by, and so do the hours. Still, the climb is beautiful and, every now and then, you come across a bit of civilisation.
Now the track becomes impossible: with all the rocks and the weight of the panniers, there’s no way I can ride up. I stop for a bite to eat and carry on pushing. Exactly what I didn’t want to do: push. But there can’t be much left; this has to end soon…
But it doesn’t. The track runs out and I start going cross-country. I keep pushing the bike and it feels like it will never end. After two hours and a thousand metres of climbing, I give up. This section can be avoided, and a short detour by road will get me to my destination. It hurts to give up, but this is pointless. The way the luggage sits makes the bike awkward to push, and it’s far too heavy to do it for hours. Everything hurts, so I turn back.
On the way down I meet two Danes who are trying to do the same route I was attempting. They’re travelling lighter (and they’re younger, which also counts), but they’re also fed up with pushing their bikes. I tell them what lies ahead, at least as far as I saw, but for now they decide to carry on.
I keep going down and reach the road. I head towards the pass that will take me into Austria, and stop at a bar to fill up with water. The heat is fierce and I can’t stop drinking; in fact, I’m starting to feel waterlogged. The tarmac is getting sticky, you can feel the heat coming off it, and there’s hardly a breath of air. On to the pass!
I have to admit I didn’t take a single photo on the climb. Very tough, with a steady 18% gradient and lots of heat. That, on top of the beating I’d already taken that day, meant I wasn’t too fond of that blasted pass. But it’s all a matter of keeping at it, and I finally reached the top. And yes, I was thrilled to cross the border by bike.
The descent into Austria is brutally steep. In 5 minutes I lost the 500 metres I’d worked so hard to gain. Before I reached the bottom I’d already decided I wasn’t going to climb back up this way tomorrow. I still didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew what I wasn’t going to do.
From there, I still had about 15 kilometres of road to the campsite where I’d planned to camp. But the truth is everything hurts, and just the thought of pitching the tent and sleeping on the ground feels like too much.
On the way to the campsite I pass a hotel and don’t think twice. Tonight, a hotel and a bed. Finkenstein will be my improvised finish. 75 kilometres with more than 2,000 metres of climbing have finished me off, especially the stretches where I had to push the bike.
Shower and dinner. Tomorrow is another day.