After a period of separation, I got back to some good people, a region, and an activity.
Belgium is good to me, and I am grateful to be there. However, there are some elements I miss, namely family, friends, and mountains; so, I made a trip earlier this year to hit these targets with one arrow. In this post, I will focus on the last one and the way I got to experience it: on a bike. Not just any bike, though, my good old mountain bike that followed me on the trails of Scotland, Slovakia, and later Czechia. I left it behind when I continued to Flanders because riding in those flat fields with a burly full-suspension bike would be like visiting a downtown shopping mall with a tractor. Locals might disagree, but I'd say once you take mountains away from mountain biking, it isn't mountain biking anymore. And oh, I looked forward to getting a reminder of how it is!
That said, I picked the bike from storage, pumped the tires, and headed to the Jizera Mountains, where I planned to do some cycling with friends – dreams. But how will it be? I thought. I haven't done it for nearly two years! The good thing was that the initial leg of the first trip was on a paved road, giving me a bit of time to adapt to the big bike.
Surprisingly, I felt right at home while climbing. Not that I get to train ascents, but it seems like fighting Belgian headwind does the same trick. Alas, that is where my preparedness ended. I tried to do a bunny hop with the same force I am used to on my rigid bike, but I just loaded the suspension, and the tires didn't even leave the ground. I also got into a hairy situation on the first descent, as the massive hydraulic brakes were day and night different from what I ride with at home. I barely touched them, and the rear wheel immediately locked – ripping the traction when I needed it the most. I had to let go and trust the big tires to grip. They did, but phew! Overall, though, all was good.
As I recalled how to ride, we chatted, and the miles passed. Suddenly, this view opened.
The peak in the middle of the photo above is Špičák, the goal of our trip. It meant another climb, but the easy gearing made that a piece of cake. Speaking of which, we refueled our sugar levels at Špičák's summit.
Besides food, we could also devour the vistas from the cool observation tower that is a part of the mountain hut. It was even accessible free of charge; excellent!
The rolling hills, occasionally crowned with amazing granite formations, and picturesque villages scattered in the valleys around filled me with a peaceful mood; I felt honored to be a part of such a landscape. And things were only to get better. Špičák's slopes serve as one of the largest sports centers around, operating as a bike park during the summer months. So, the way down was a dirt rollercoaster of banked turns and whoops, sometimes spiced with rocks and roots. Yey!
At the bottom, folks shared mixed impressions of the tracks, but my smile could be seen from the moon. Eventually, we returned to asphalt, which might not be as fab to ride, but having the company around left no room for complaints. Friends, mountains, life is good.
The following day, we took a train to the other side of the mountain range and cycled back.
The road started gently again, but unlike the previous day, the bike did what I wanted from the start. Every pothole became a welcomed obstacle that could be tackled, each time differently. In between playing with the terrain, we took in the surroundings.
The scenery around provided plenty to get distracted by; so much so that we lost the road we had planned to follow towards the top of the ridge, and we ended on a path that doubled as a stream.
While rideable at first, it got increasingly steeper and muddier. Soon, we had to resort to a bit of hike-a-bike. Still, sunshine fired into our backs, the air was phenomenal, and the fact that things didn't go entirely as planned only added to the sense of adventure. When we climbed above the springs, the trail had another surprise for us: it became a rock garden.
Now, some would hardly see this as an improvement, yet that's exactly what it felt like to me. This is what the mountain bikes are for! While on smooth, wide roads, one can cruise and think about anything. Here, however, you cannot be just a passenger. Instead, the focus needed to respond to the ever-changing terrain to guide the bike narrows down until there is nothing but the moment you are in. It is like a meditation that takes you through vivid nature. It is exhilarating, and I couldn't get enough of it. The path took us to the top of the mountain Smrk, and another outlook tower.
More views on uneven yet tranquil horizons and endless forests, more music to my soul.
Before leaving the summit, we ate a snack and had an unexpected wildlife encounter: a peafowl emerged from the trees. Here?! The nearest city is roughly 650 elevation meters (~2135 feet) lower, and Smrk is notorious for harsh winds. I took a quick photo to check whether we were tripping. If so, there would be a picture with some greenery but no bird. However, the phone camera saw the same as we did.
Leaving Smrk was a mixed bag. Engaging singletrack quickly changed back to a wide forest road, and from there, it went downhill, not just literally; I got a puncture.
Of course, good stories hardly have only good moments in them; however, this was something I hoped to avoid today. I stopped short of lugging a repair kit from Flanders. "Surely, friends will have it," I thought. But as luck would have it, not one of us did today. To make it worse, we were just about the in the half of the distance to the finish, in the middle of nowhere. A quick brainstorm later, my friend sped ahead in search of a tube, and I started pushing the bike in another walking intermission. When we reunited sometime after, my friend presented a patch from someone she crossed paths with. It barely fitted, but it was better than nothing, and we made it to the next mountain hut. A hearty dose of sugar later, we went back to our bikes, and I found what I dreaded. The tire was flat again.
Thankfully, the hut burst with visitors, so finding a friendly bloke from whom I could buy a spare tube was a matter of moments. After a mixture of rants and laughter at the chaos, we finally rolled back into the mountains to finish this journey. And just as in the first half, it delivered some stunning scenery to pass through.
Before riding down from the ridge, we stopped at yet another place with grand vistas. Not another tower this time, but one of those massive granite formations. The local German Mountain Association made it accessible by carving steps and adding railings at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries.
From up there, we saw Smrk, where we came from, and more beautiful rocks.
It was fantastic. Yet, there was another point of interest in front of us that we anticipated with excitement: an old water reservoir where we wanted to swim.
That is another thing I miss in Belgium. Not that there wouldn't be any body of water, far from it, but the local relationship with open water swimming is rather complicated. It is forbidden unless a coast guard is nearby, which is only available at quite limited places and times. I get it; nobody wants people drowning, but Belgium completely offshored the responsibility from individuals to the authorities. I prefer letting people be responsible for their own risk, a model many other countries have successfully employed, including Czechia. So, we could swim by ourselves without breaking the law, and we enjoyed the heck of it. The final descent into the sunset with the wind in our faces and the steady hum of tires munching gravel added a great conclusion to the day.
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