The Gokwe Kid – Rouge Rhodie on a Roller : Part 5

Saturday 27^th July - Day 1

Well, amazingly I arrived at the first destination in one piece. We left just after 8.00 am and with the roller and luggage in a VW Caddy, it was a four drive via Passau and a bit of Austria. My driver threw me out a few paces into the Czech Republic in the parking area of the cheap fags and booze shop (used by the Austrians and Germans).

It took a while to replace the rear box and mirrors and then pack all the crap. You can imagine the looks I was getting from all the rich folks with fancy campers. But I am hardcore, none of them would have the testicles (especially not the women), to do what I was intending. Come to think of it, looking at what appeared to be a tramp on noisy wheels, only an insane person would bother to have nightmares about this trip.

Still, no pain no gain, and I realised that as I revved the poor things guts out, its front wheel went into some kind of shaking shock and I has a terrible feeling I wasn't going to gain one meter and was about to receive some serious pain. Luckily, due to the screaming of 50cc of pure two stroke power at full whack and the heavily muffled helmet, I could only vaguely hear the watching idiot's peels of laughter as, with small wobbly 'tacking', I reached the end of the car park and completely crapping myself - vomited on the inside of my visor.

Since I could not see a damn thing and the stench made me heave again, I thought this would be a good place for a quick mop out and fag. I had done well – at least 50 meters. Unfortunately, in my fear and confusion I was going the wrong way. The delay would cost me at least 30 seconds.

Finally, with much gritting of teeth and foul language, the buckling machine hit the road. Me, and a roller with no name, headed into the dessert of lower Bohemia. Actually it was rather stunning. Lots of hills with forests and the road followed a river, or vice versa - I suppose it depends who got their first.

I soon realised by the first click, one could not take the eyes off the road, nor remove a hand from the badly vibrating handlebars. That meant I would be unprepared for a sideways ambush from man eating bears and roaming robbing Rumanian Romers (Gippos. Erm, and not the ones from Egypt)

My first destination was a camping site where I had reserved a booking, just outside the town of Cesky Krumlov. I had chosen this place as my Boss had sent me brochures about it. Now, if he had recommended Tripoli, I would gone there also. Not that I have the faintest desire to visit the flea and rat infested war zone, but you don't argue with the Boss.

It didn’t take long to clock I was not alone. Traffic wasn't too much stress and I was only overtaken twice by fitness nuts on racing bicycles. But the river was chockers with screamers – some showing plenty of flesh for fantasy. It turns out this is the most important river in the Czech Republic (CR), the Vltava. Thousands of groups, families, all on rented rafts or in canoes, cruising along and having a ball.

Jotted along the riverbanks, were stop off joints offering drinks and a barbecued meat and fish. I soon thought I had perhaps made a bit of a gaff as I passed one beautifully laid out camp site after another. The sun was giving it the gears full time and the very atmosphere was one known as 'holiday – yeah'.

Now I was thinking perhaps I had been a little too hasty booking, but it had been panic and inexperience of where I was going. I passed the town and on the road to Budweisser (my next destination), I clocked a huge shopping centre straight out of Germany. Lidl, Penny, Kaufmarkt - they were all there. That meant no sweat when time to get some cheeky golden amber.

A couple of clicks later I turn off the main drag and immediately thought I was back traversing Tsavo National Park in Kenya. My immediate mental response, as the poor roller was now reacting rather badly in the loose rocks and potholes - `If the camp site is as well maintained as this road – it have serious doubts it can live up to its name - Camping Paradijis,' which, I hazard a guess, means Paradise Camping.

It was spot on. Cheap, clean, and direct on the river. After unpacking, setting up the tent and throwing all my crap into it, I popped out my chair and prepared to chill a bit with an ice cold beer before zipping up to the shops for some graze. The place has plenty beer, but no food. Imagine my horror when I was refused! The manageress, a drop dead gorgeous babe called Jana Jakesova, Dipl.-Kffr. Ing. (seems they need half a dozen degrees to run something like this), told me -

“Here in CR, no tolerance, zero alcohol in blood when you are driving. You try, the police beat you so hard you will be unable to lift a beer to your mouth for at least six months whilst recovering in hospital during your driving ban.”

Ah. Now that changed everything. So with roller with no name rather enlightened along with its driver, we soon shopped for essentials. It was whilst trying to type up the first report that in a little area outside reception I was soon engrossed in intercourse. The social kind. You, know – it is called chatting, in plain speech.

A young Dutch pair (many here), and a rather weird Frenchman called Pascal. Married to a Peruvian woman, he lives mostly in Atlanta. 30 years he has toured the eastern European countries and buys old pianos from the peasants. Ships them to America, renovates them, and flogs them for a fortune to the Chinese! Cool beans! Importantly – this chat did wonders for me. For the first time in ages – interactivity with friendly, charming, well spoken folk.

The ablution facilities are clean and adequate. The recreation room supplies a cooker, fridges, and power to charge all your gadgets. Also pots, pans, plates and cups. The washing up basins are also stocked with all that you need. People leave their laptops and smartphones charging. No fear of theft! All in all – 5 stars out of 5.

I made a big fat, juicy baguette with salami, lettuce, tomato, spring onions, and peppers. Drank a glass of wine, and exhausted, but feeling absolutely exhilarated – crawled into my fart sack and slept like a man who needs to wake up at 3.00 am because the stupid pills I take still stir the bowls somewhat.

Total distance driven – 57 kms. 1443 to go.

Sunday 27^th July - Day 2.

I awoke to the snores and passing of abdominal gas from nearby fellow campers. I gave them a swift kick through the walls of the tent whilst shouting “Stop contributing to climate change. Your bum holes need a carbon tax.” I then ran away.

After a breakfast of fags and instant cup o' china, I rolled down to this famous town – the third most visited in CR. A really lovely place. I would hate to know what the rent of a pad there costs. Loads of Chinese with cameras as big as their heads. I kept thinking they were kowtowing the whole time, but actually it was the weight of the tech gear around their necks!

Thank goodness no Brits or Irish. I think they are blocked at the border. Loads of cute little knick knack shops set amongst stunning medieval architecture. All on a peninsula with the river full of rafts and canoes. Nice – very. I wasn't bothered to check out any of the dozen of museums. They charge - plus it isn't the same alone. I was happy to just wander around and dream of golden amber awaiting me at my new home from home.

Lunch was grand affair. I treated myself – along with a …. ginger ale! And just as I finished my fried carp with freedom fries, it started to rain. Typical. As a clever, former disgraced Boy Scout, I JUST happened to have a light weight rain poncho in my daypack. Actually, it is just a giant plastic bag with three holes in it. Does the job though – makes you sweat like a pig. The only logic I could suss out was that my rucksack stayed dry, because the outside was soaked in rain and inside I was soaked in last nights recycled beer!

So back at Camping Paradise – I write up my report. WiFi is free here. No wonder - as there is next to none. So hopefully tomorrow I will find a spot to upload. Postings will be constant - if a little out of synch with my actual travels.

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