Cycling

Day 9 began cold and dewy, and we were glad we’d sprung for a room the night before. I set an early alarm but mostly took my cue from Mike on when to start moving, then rolled out in every layer I owned: long-sleeve base, alpha fleece, wind jacket, rain jacket, buff, gas station gloves, wind pants. By the first climb I was shedding them, and we had a couple of climbs done before nine and stopped for coffee. The day was going well until a trail section that started as nice gravel decayed into logging-road mud and then overgrown switchback singletrack. We got scraped up and bailed at the first chance. In town, a woman at a small market saw how wrecked we looked and offered to make us sandwiches, her English a welcome change from what we’d been getting in Croatia. The sandals were still hanging on, four and a half straps gone, but I could still pedal without too much trouble. It was a lot of miles and decent climbs, but we spent part of the day confused about where the camp actually was and whether it was a legitimate tent option compared to previous nights. We finally found the riverside RV field in the next town over from where the route had ended, pitched the tents, and hoped not to get kicked out overnight. Nothing in town was serving dinner, so we grabbed what the bakery had left and took it to the bar with our beers. Another cold night, and I slept in my bibs rather than face a bare-bottomed change in the morning. 60.0 miles, 5:25 rolling at 11.1 mph average, 5,046 feet of gain. ...

Day 5 was Klement’s last day riding with us, and it closed out a long, gravel-heavy pull. We’d traded the tents for an apartment the night before, and I won’t lie, staying in a place with walls beats camping almost every time, even if this one was infested with ants. The trade-off was worth it: outlets to charge everything, a shower, and room to spread out instead of living out of the panniers. We knew we needed to re-supply before the hardest stretch was over, and Klement had been sharing his carb-and-electrolyte drink and his gels all along, which had been crucial. My other sandal was starting to break too, the first one having given up its strap days ago, and there was no finding replacements. We stopped in town to restock and hit a bike shop hoping they could sort Mike’s rear rack, but no luck there either, and the shoes were expensive enough that I didn’t pull the trigger. There was a beer-and-fries stop in Ajdovščina along the way, and then an absolutely exhausting finish. Except for the final climb of the day, it was gravel almost the whole way, and that climb, coming at the end of a long day, was my hardest of the trip. I didn’t have the heart rate to do it in one go and had to stop two or three times to gather myself, then grind out the final ten miles to camp. We rolled in right at sunset, pitched the tents, and got drinks and dinner ordered before the kitchen closed and the rain started. Showers, early to bed. 53.74 miles, 5:20 rolling at 10.1 mph average, 3,550 feet of gain. ...

Day 3 brought the highest point of the whole trip so far, and it started with cold feet. Everything was dew-covered getting into the tent, and I was glad I’d brought the 20 degree quilt over the 40, and Klement wins that one. Coffee in town, then the big climb, and it went better than I’d feared. We skipped the off-road bit of the route, and I thought the summit was done only to find there was still five hundred meters left, which made the last leg more taxing. I took breaks, but I still finished well ahead of the others. The descent after was the trade-off: my hands went stiff pulling the brakes, the traffic was busy, and the road threw bumps and potholes at us. ...

Two days in, and Slovenia is already doing its thing. Day 1 began slow and a little chaotic. The bikes didn’t show until 8, so we didn’t roll until past 9:30, and the roofing crew working on Risto’s house picked the same moment to jam up the alley with their truck. Traffic snarled behind us before we’d even made it out of Ljubljana. Once clear, the riding found its rhythm. The climbs treated me well. Every time I caught my heart rate drifting too high, I’d change cadence or pull over for a beat and settle back down. I didn’t love the village-to-town miles, the stop-start through the built-up bits, but the cars and trucks and motorcycles were patient, and that counts. We grabbed a bite before the ride’s end, and my legs went stiff rolling into camp. ...

The flight was easier than I expected. I had a window seat on the Chicago-to-Frankfurt leg, and when nobody took the middle seat the aisle passenger and I spread out a little — not quite enough to sleep, though. I’d set myself a 7pm goal off the clock to beat the jet lag, and missed it entirely. Border control dragged on long enough that I started to worry about making the connection, so it was almost a relief when the Ljubljana flight ended up delayed for reasons that had nothing to do with me. ...