Arrived to Poznań

Abandoned rails near Kwilcz

There are some surfaces of the earth, built either by man or nature, that are best left untrodden by human feet. Freshly spilled lava, the ruins of Chernobyl, pits of writhing jungle snakes … to this list I will add the peripheries of busy interstate roads. The shoulder-less asphalt margins of the world conveying rivers of semi trucks and commuters were not designed for self-powered transportation. Maybe even more like a sneering gasp at the idea. At best, a long-distance bicyclist or pedestrian on these corridors is at constant risk of catalyzing an accident.

And so it was that I set myself a 50 km (31 mile) course east from Pniewy on Interstate 92. In the spirit of my trip to proceed eastwards towards Warsaw under power of my own wit, this was the best routing option I had, for a while at least. I had just come out of another few cold, lovely nights in the woods, but the landscape was changing.

Warta River at sunset near Międzychód

Snowy campsite near Mierzyn

Avoiding walking on the actual road itself, I crossed over the steep ditch to the frozen hayfields, which serve as decent concrete in this frozen time of year. Not a single other soul to be found outside apart from occasional blips of small villages.

Roadside gas stations are true oases for the self-powered traveler, much more so than for the motorized ones. The fuel bill for my camp stove amounts to to about $1.00 per week, but a good gas station feels like a true luxury after a day out in the wind. My highest compliments to the staff at the Orlan station near Sękowo. Everything fantastically spotless, warm, free phone chargers, nine kinds of kielbasa ready on the hot rollers, booths and tables to sit at. 

My bicycle near Bytyn

It was at this moment, after a long morning of whoosh and rumble and tripping over dirt clods, that I noticed the rumpled white frame of a bicycle in a ditch. I went down to inspect - it was overgrown, rusted, but still partially functional. I can only imagine its story - borrowed from a city, left at a bus station, joyridden by teenagers? I decided it deserved a better fate. 

I pondered some moments if it was in the spirit of this journey to all of a sudden transition to bicycle. It was, and is. I would also accept a ride in a limousine or on a hovercraft if it was freely offered. If a wandering POW eighty years ago found an abandoned bicycle in the country, would they take it? Of course. Did kids growing up in 1920s rural Kansas even learn to ride bicycles? I don’t know.

And so it as that I all of a sudden had a magic carpet. I exited the interstate immediately and plotted a course following somewhat longer, but safe, winding back roads and agricultural paths. The city bicycle creaked and complained and groaned and strained, but cooperated. I covered two days walking distance in a few hours.

Forest lichens near Kwilcz

Wind turbines near Pniewy

The lights of Poznań approached rapidly as the kilometers sped by. I had a place to stay lined up again through Couchsurfing.org, so I messaged to say I’d be arriving early. I stopped somewhere in the dark on the outskirts to take in the unmistakable waft of roasting cocoa beans, and sure enough passed an enormous chocolate factory a minute later.

Gregorsz and a traditional Polish breakfast at his home in Poznań

I’ve hosted 80+ guests myself over the years through Couchsurfing, but it would be difficult to compete with this Gregorsz’s hospitality. Before I even had my shoes off, there was action in the works to boil handmade pirogues, get my clothes in the washing machine, offer several varieties of liquor, and all the other offerings of a four-star resort experience here in his 500 sq ft (45 sq meter) apartment. A man who works as a busy traveling hair products sales representative, who happens to be without hair, he began hosting guests a few years ago to help keep his English skills intact.

I’m about to head out to see if I can find a bicycle helmet and a few other accessories. Hopefully also see some of the famed local midevil architecture downtown here. I’m meeting my host at a famed local city watering hole to try “real” beer this evening. I feel I’m in good hands.

We’ll see how long I can stick with the bicycle. It is a fairly dilapidated beast, and my knee no longer handles long distance bicycling very well. If I end up leaving it by the side of the road again somewhere, I can only hope it will find some other adventure.