Getting Lost

Šikovny - is a Czech adjective used to state that somebody is able or talented.  Well, I can't speak Czech.  And I can't get a job.  I can't even carry a tune.  But, there is one thing I can do very well - get lost. 

Tuesday is the day reserved for me to take advantage of living in cycling paradise.  So, I asked Kristine to give me a destination.  She picked Zlata Koruna, the site of an old monastery.  I put on my bike shorts, filled a water bottle and loaded my fanny pack with a set of tools, a tire patch kit, a pump, 25 Czech Crowns ($1.50), and a cell phone.  There was no space for a map, but all I needed to do was follow Trail #12 all the way there.  Easy.

The distance to Zlata Koruna on the map was about 17.5 km (10.5 miles).  Having read some of Benoit Mandelbrot's paper How Long is the Coast of Britain, I knew that in real life the distance would be greater because all the twists and turns are not captured at the scale of the map.  It also looked like it would be mostly road, but some dirt trails.  The map did not have contours, but I could expect some hills.  Leaving at 10:00 a.m., I was planning to be home at noon for lunch.

Within a few minutes I was on Trail #12 riding south along the Vltava River.  It was a beautiful day.  It had rained during the night, but the clouds were slowly giving way to sunshine.  The temperature was perfect for shorts and tee shirt if out in the sun and working vigorously.

I rode to Boršov nad Vltava.  We were here on Saturday so I knew right where to go.  On the south end of town, I followed the sign for Trail #12 onto a road I had never been on.  Three hundred meters later, on a steep incline, there was a fork in the road and no sign.  Having no better means of selecting a route, I went with the LDS Primary song Choose the Right.

At the top of the hill there were some small, dirt crossroads, but no sign indicating which way for Trail #12.  I figured I'd probably gone the wrong way and could bike back down and get on the correct road in no time at all.  But then my genetics kicked in.

Among the traits I inherited from my mother, one of the most pronounced is this inclination to just keep going forward.  It's tough to describe, but obvious to family members.  It involves a willingness to fly by the seat of one's pants and a disdain for backtracking, with an utter confidence that things will work out.

So, while I could have gone back on that road, I knew the general direction I needed to go and was pointed that way, so I rode on.

Okay, here is where I admit that at this point I had yet to arrive at even a single intended destination on my solo bike rides outside of town.  Yeah, I can make it to the town square to buy tomatoes at the farmers market.  And with Lucy we even went on an 18 km ride one day and didn't get lost.  But whenever it has been just me, somewhere along the way the bike route signs are absent from a critical intersection and I keep going until I figure it's time to get back.  I still try to avoid backtracking on my returns from these trips, however.

In the course of the morning I made two more wrong turns.  The most stunning of which resulted in me climbing a steep bluff pulling myself along from tree to tree dragging my bike behind me. 


Fortunately, Kristine called and was able to find my location on a map and give me some good advice.  Although it was getting late, she encouraged me to ride on and make an adventure of it.  I was glad to. 

Finally, I got back on Trail #12 and took a nice paved trail at high speed down a breathtakingly beautiful ravine that spilled out on the Vltava River floodplain and revealed the glory of Zlata Koruna.  I took a triumphant lap through the charming little village and set back out, determined to stay on Trail #12 for the return trip.

I tell you, they don't put trail marker signs at critical intersections.  Eventually I made it back.

Peter