Today’s highlight was Brzozow. A town that defies pronunciation to anyone whose first language is not Polish. This was not the destination but effectively dominated the day. The police were waiting for us 10km before we reached town, prompting the more “street” members of the group, in some kind of reflex reaction, to make for the nearest hedge. Turned out they were not hostile, but were in fact an advance welcome committee; joined shortly by an ambulance, who formed a rolling road-block that escorted us into town. Upon arrival we were greeted by a welcome banner, marching band, dancing-girls, a collection of local dignitaries, the Polish military, news crew, and national radio; who proceeded to lead us triumphantly into the town square. The effect was in no way undermined by the undeniably challenging logistics of leading a large group of cyclists into a busy urban environment at a speed governed by a marching band, in fact arguably the spectacle was enhanced by various individuals falling off during the slower-numbers, and a trombonist narrowly avoiding being rear-ended by a bicycle every time the band paused momentarily to allow the dancing girls to perform a particularly challenging routine.
A stage had been set up in the town square. This was occupied for about ½ hour by a variety of performing arts groups. They performed entirely in Polish, making an assessment of their quality somewhat difficult, however their enthusiasm cannot be doubted. The finale was rendition of the Celine Dion classic “My Heart will go on,” this was both novel and spirited; whether this was also some kind prayer for our safety given the likely effect of the hills that awaited us on the outskirts of town remains open for debate. We gave the town’s hospice an oxygen concentrator; at this point we were unaware of the impending terrain, had we been so, it is possible we would have kept it. After the, by now obligatory, but ever welcome, majestic lunch, we were on our way.
Or least we thought we were. The local police chief, in between apprehending villains, runs a cycle proficiency course, via copious lobbying he had persuaded the powers-that-be to construct a miniature road system. Very worthy, very 12km out of our way, very hard to refuse the invitation when its pressed upon you by the local chief of police.
An unexpected downpour prompted a sudden experiment to see how many people could fit within a bus-shelter. Early results indicate that all cyclists can be accommodated provided that those waiting for a bus are prepared to stand outside. Passenger’s apparent indignation somewhat misplaced given that this state of affairs will facilitate boarding in the event that a bus arrives.
Once the thunder and lightning passed the Cycle Poland crew rolled on, with a glorious descent with views across the whole valley. The golden hour light returned as we drew into our glamorous three star coaching inn, complete with fancy gold throws, a wedding banquet and the end of the Poland Euros match.
A stage had been set up in the town square. This was occupied for about ½ hour by a variety of performing arts groups. They performed entirely in Polish, making an assessment of their quality somewhat difficult, however their enthusiasm cannot be doubted. The finale was rendition of the Celine Dion classic “My Heart will go on,” this was both novel and spirited; whether this was also some kind prayer for our safety given the likely effect of the hills that awaited us on the outskirts of town remains open for debate. We gave the town’s hospice an oxygen concentrator; at this point we were unaware of the impending terrain, had we been so, it is possible we would have kept it. After the, by now obligatory, but ever welcome, majestic lunch, we were on our way.
Or least we thought we were. The local police chief, in between apprehending villains, runs a cycle proficiency course, via copious lobbying he had persuaded the powers-that-be to construct a miniature road system. Very worthy, very 12km out of our way, very hard to refuse the invitation when its pressed upon you by the local chief of police.
An unexpected downpour prompted a sudden experiment to see how many people could fit within a bus-shelter. Early results indicate that all cyclists can be accommodated provided that those waiting for a bus are prepared to stand outside. Passenger’s apparent indignation somewhat misplaced given that this state of affairs will facilitate boarding in the event that a bus arrives.
Once the thunder and lightning passed the Cycle Poland crew rolled on, with a glorious descent with views across the whole valley. The golden hour light returned as we drew into our glamorous three star coaching inn, complete with fancy gold throws, a wedding banquet and the end of the Poland Euros match.
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