Departure was delayed as Charlie conducted an experiment to see what happens when a bicycle tyre is inflated with utter contempt for the manufacturer's own opinion as to its correct pressure. Early results indicate that this generates a mini-pneumatic supernova dispersing pieces of inner-tube over much of central Europe and launching the valve into low orbit somewhere over Ukraine. The enforced break nevertheless provided some relief for those people who had the previous night attempted to lighten the support-van's load by drinking all the beer it was carrying. A sensible precaution, and one for which their mothers will be collectively proud, given that the route from Niedzwiedz to Krakow incorporated several steep climbs. It also afforded the opportunity for numerous photos of the Niedzwiedz sign, this being one of the few words that Cycle Poland riders learn to pronounce, for no apparent practical reason given it means bear and we have seen none along the way.
Our ranks were swelled by a number of volunteers from the Alma Spei hospice who joined us on the outskirts of Krakow and escorted us en masse into the city to be met at the central library by yet more volunteers and family members of the children under the care of the hospice; our arrival prompting the release of champagne corks with the kind of raw enthusiasm that risks sending low-orbiting tyre-valves into high-orbit somewhere over Siberia. Naturally, a substantial meal had been provided. The obligation to feed any visitor in any circumstance, and to assume that any guest has the dietary requirements of a grizzly bear, may in fact be written into Poland's constitution and would certainly suggest that Polish postmen must be enormously fat. Honour was nevertheless maintained on both sides as the cyclists attacked any edible substance like giant lycra locusts, before being ushered away for speeches and presentations. In hindsight it is possible that these were in fact hastily arranged when our hosts realised that we had finished eating what would ordinarily be considered food and were about to start on the furniture.
The hospice volunteers presented us with fantastic certificates, medals, and words of praise for completing the ride; although having seen some of the work the hospice does the medals really ought to have been travelling in the opposite direction. However, we were at least able to present them with seven huge boxes of catheters and tracheotomy tubes so balance was perhaps restored. The presentations came to a natural end when our hosts realised with dismay that they hadn't fed us for at least 30 minutes and gave us cake.
A sizeable part of the afternoon was subsequently spent packing up our bikes in preparation for the flight home. There may be some people who are interested in reading about the mechanics of bicycle storage, however since I have no interest in writing about it those people will have to look elsewhere. One cyclist did use this period as an opportunity to quietly dispose of his cycling shoes which had by now acquired the sort of odour that was both measurable on a Geiger-counter and in danger of attracting feral cats, certainly they could not have travelled through an airport without risking the lives of several sniffer-dogs. With the bikes stored the British and Polish cyclists said their goodbyes. Oily, sweaty hands were shaken and photographs taken. Prasan and Arek called a temporary ceasefire on their 9 day race to the top of every hill. It was noted with dismay that the support van had, for some undetermined reason, run out of beer.
Our ranks were swelled by a number of volunteers from the Alma Spei hospice who joined us on the outskirts of Krakow and escorted us en masse into the city to be met at the central library by yet more volunteers and family members of the children under the care of the hospice; our arrival prompting the release of champagne corks with the kind of raw enthusiasm that risks sending low-orbiting tyre-valves into high-orbit somewhere over Siberia. Naturally, a substantial meal had been provided. The obligation to feed any visitor in any circumstance, and to assume that any guest has the dietary requirements of a grizzly bear, may in fact be written into Poland's constitution and would certainly suggest that Polish postmen must be enormously fat. Honour was nevertheless maintained on both sides as the cyclists attacked any edible substance like giant lycra locusts, before being ushered away for speeches and presentations. In hindsight it is possible that these were in fact hastily arranged when our hosts realised that we had finished eating what would ordinarily be considered food and were about to start on the furniture.
The hospice volunteers presented us with fantastic certificates, medals, and words of praise for completing the ride; although having seen some of the work the hospice does the medals really ought to have been travelling in the opposite direction. However, we were at least able to present them with seven huge boxes of catheters and tracheotomy tubes so balance was perhaps restored. The presentations came to a natural end when our hosts realised with dismay that they hadn't fed us for at least 30 minutes and gave us cake.
A sizeable part of the afternoon was subsequently spent packing up our bikes in preparation for the flight home. There may be some people who are interested in reading about the mechanics of bicycle storage, however since I have no interest in writing about it those people will have to look elsewhere. One cyclist did use this period as an opportunity to quietly dispose of his cycling shoes which had by now acquired the sort of odour that was both measurable on a Geiger-counter and in danger of attracting feral cats, certainly they could not have travelled through an airport without risking the lives of several sniffer-dogs. With the bikes stored the British and Polish cyclists said their goodbyes. Oily, sweaty hands were shaken and photographs taken. Prasan and Arek called a temporary ceasefire on their 9 day race to the top of every hill. It was noted with dismay that the support van had, for some undetermined reason, run out of beer.
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