Avergae 21.5kmph
Max speed 52.7kmoh
Odometer now reads 4290.6km
Austrian breakfast is much like the other European continental breakfasts. We stuff a few extra condiments in our pockets, thankfully the girls have done the shopping last night so the cupboards are stocked and we're on the road bright and early. And bright is definately the word for it, as we head off into the glorious sunshine... Ali instinctively leads us in the opposite direction to Salzburg, but redeems herself with some excellent map reading to lead us to the National Road 1, which we intend to follow all the way to Salzburg (once again, deciding that the straight road is infinitely better than taking the river route via Passau adding an extra 100km to our journey!). We greeted with a lovely roadside bike path, and enjoy sharing with (read: overtaking) other cycle tourists, in possession of by far the snazziest panniers we have seen on the trip (we are fairly sure they are made of shellsuit material). Confusingly, it seems that most of Austria's towns do seem to be out of town, as we cycle past innumerable Eurostop type complexes following the river out of Linz...
We endure considerable confusion as the bike path dips into the small town centres and we lose the main road time and again...refuelled by strangely milky macchiatos and last night's left over pizza, we are making good time and enjoying the warmth on our shoulders after the chill of the mountains.
Confounded by a gaping tunnel our road disappears into, it now also seems to have become the A1, which worryingly appears to be a motorway. Attempting to follow the B road signs, we end up back where we started, at the mouth of the tunnel. We decide to head back into town, where Hazel had exchanged pleasantries (well, a nod and a smile) with a man scooting along in an awesome adaption of wheelchair to handle-bar propelled bike. Thinking it must be a good omen, we choose to take them same route as the man in the wheelchair-bike, and looking back we decide he must have been yet another spirit guide*, assisting us on our journey.
We eventually arrive in Vocklebruk, with the Alps in view ahead of us, and stop for a much needed lunch break. Alice sources the tourist info, and obtains a a slightly more accurate map of our remaining journey from a tourist magazine. Then she hits gold, finding the only open shop in town on a Saturday afternoon is the bookshop, which holds a wonderful selection of maps. We leave Hazel sitting patiently with the bikes and pour over the information on offer for at least 20mins before purchasing three lovely maps for the days ahead.
Refuelled and confident of our direction, Hazel suggests a lakeside road of similar distance to he national road, as the A1 is becoming more heavily trafficked and definately becomes a motorway at some point! Our spirit guide continues to have a prescence, as an elderly gentleman, who sees us looking confused at yet another intersection, pulls over and directs back to the correct route via the bike path, with a combination of German-English, tourist map, and exuberent gestures.
We duly follow the road, round a bend and are all three struck by a magnificent lake, its turquoise waters cradled by snow covered peaks. Rolling alongside the lake for some 35km, we stop for two lakeside picnics (picnic spot location improving dramatically), and attempt (unsuccessfully) to capture the beauty of our location on camera... as Ali put it "I think its the most beautiful thing I've ever seen...."
However, time is ticking on, and Ali is becoming increasingly concerned re: oncoming nightfall. Hazel and I are confident that we can get there but before dark? Our tourist map has no indication of scale or contour, so our estimations are educated guesses (I had previously talked Ali out of purchsing the map for the afternoon's journey...surely we could make do with our little tourist sketch!!). On we pedal into the setting sun, but the legs are starting to feel a little empty. We stop at the top of a hill and allow a cycletourist to cruise past, envying his lightweight, unloaded bike, only to realise its electric!!! We shake our heads at the absurdity (how can that possibly be considered cycletouring?!!) and continue towards Salzburg...
Cold sets in as the sun disappears behind the mountains, and after a 5 km downhill stretch, find ourselves pedalling again up a mountain... We pause breathless at the top of the hill to turn on our lights - its 7:30pm and darkness is rapidly encroaching. The 5min stop becomes 20 as Hazel digs through her panniers to locate the spokey dokeys that have been carted 4000km across Europe. Blue, red and white lights flashing, we turn the corner at the top of the hill to be greeted with "Salzburg 7km"! Now in pitch darkness, we slowly cruise down the hill in tight formation to arrive in the suburbs of Salzburg. There is a moment of panic as I lose my bearings in the middle of a busy intersection and cut across 5 lanes of (luckily empty) traffic - it seems Colby Compass only operates correctly in daylight hours....
Arriving in the the centre, we are stopped (interestingly by a small blonde lady*) who is amazed by our journey, our panniers and the intermittently blazing lights of the spokey dokeys, which have been attracting stares from all and sundry. She offers directions to the nearest youth hostel which we initially take slightly offensively (we may look a bit scraggly but we do have money!) but then re-assess as spirit guide reassuring us in our quest to find accomodation (and also, encouraging Ali that she doesn't actually appear middle-aged to the general population). Hazel and I are very doubtful of any hostel reception being open at 8:30pm, and we begin to trawl the streets for a suitable hotel. It seems that we've left it a little late, and after enquiring at 10 hotels and being informed the entire city centre is booked out and we should head out to the airport to find a room, we return to the 4 star Villa Carlton, which can only offer us a double and single room (Ali and I having previously baulked at the €200 per night price tag). As it turns out, the receptionist is lovely and we're booked in by 9:30pm, a mere 13hours after departing Linz.... Delightful dinner of bread roll, peanuts and two bottles of beer carried all the way from Praha, we have time for a quick soak in the tub, before finally sinking into bed sometime after 11....a long day but well earned rest ahead in Salzburg!!
* Our spirit guide, Bobby J, has accompanied us for thousands of kilometers. He/she assumes many different forms, and communicates with each of us although Hazel has a unique relationship with her female form. There are far too many to detail every encounter, however I will atemp to cover the most significant/memorable guides.
The elusive (read: invisible) Bobby J was first identified by Alice at the breakfast table in Norway. At this time (in our minds), he took the form of a balding, middle aged man with a beer belly, who was our support driver (and conveniently ate from the fourth place setting we routinely occupied at every meal we attended, hence allowing us to walk away from the breakfast table with a days worth of food in our handbags and mountain of crockery in our wake).
As we left Sweden and headed to Denmark, Hazel informed us that Bobby J was actually a small, blonde girl, wearing football shorts, who rode along on her unloaded bike to assess the road ahead. She was instrumental in our eventual arrival in Copenhagen, when we observed a young girl on her pushbike continue through a barricaded section of river path which had been partially washed away in recent heavy rainfall. Following her lead for some 3km, we hopped on and off our bikes as she did, and arrived in the city centre without incident.
Alice and I duly noted that in fact, Bobby J-little-girl-form is a child version of Hazel herself, which would hence explain Hazel's slowed city pace, resulting from her spirit-self being separated from her bodily-self to provide direction and guidance through the cities.
There were three spirit guides on our trip to Salzburg (as mentioned above), Bobby J also presented as the receptionist at Villa Carlton, who befriended us after learning of our journey and advised against departing Salzburg on Monday (when it turned out to be freezing, raining, and probably snowing at our intended destination of Zell am See).
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