I wake nice and early, have a shower, watch Polish cartoons for a bit then head off for breakfast. The door to my room opens outwards and three women in their late 60s or early 70s are standing right outside it talking. I gently bump one of them by accident which causes her to give me her death stare. It feels really intense, but then I realise it’s because all three of them are staring at me. I apologise for wanting to leave my hotel room whilst they stood right outside my door and they resume their conversation. But they’re still staring at me whilst they do so. This must be a real no-no in Poland, I make a mental note.
— Just starting? View Day 1 post of the roadtrip —
I walk back through the spectacular reception down a corridor and into the restaurant. There’s two trestle tables, one with the cold options, ham, cheese, cereal, this sort of thing and another with the Bain Maries containing the hot choices. This table is supervised by a man with a huge, paper chefs hat. I haven’t seen one of those in years and it delights me to see it again. I reserve myself a table by placing my phone and giant keys on it around 5 seconds before the arrival of the three women I had met a few moments before.
I couldn’t tell if they wanted the table I had chosen or they were merely still annoyed at my previous poor behaviour but their attitude towards me appeared to have worsened rather than improved.
Never mind, I would be on my way within the hour. I went up to the hot food table to help myself to an anaemic sausage, some scrambled eggs and some salad whilst these three women seemed determined to get in my way, so I took my food, got a glass of orange juice and retreated to my table.
Breakfast complete, it was time to go. My biking brothers had already left which saved me from having to wave and smile but keep away from them, I would pass them later and they would ignore me. Can’t blame them. I head offing the direction of Lithuania.The journey back up the spit was as glorious as the way down and I rode south to Gdansk. I’d seen a lot of photos of Gdansk and Gdynia and they look beautiful. The same cannot be said of the towns I passed through instead of getting caught in Gdansk’s morning rush hour. Narrow roads, generic apartment blocks, truck after truck made for fairly uninspiring travels. I travelled along the border with Kaliningrad for hour after hour, Kaliningrad being much bigger than I had anticipated and nothing like as exciting as I imagined. It seems that the Poles have decided to put all their industrial stuff and their wind turbines along this border with the Russian enclave. And it’s a long border, a long, featureless border with little to look at but the clouds and trying to work out of they contain rain.
Fortunately they didn’t and it was a long but uneventful trip to Suwalki, the only place I was able to recall from my route planning stage due to the Suwalki Gap, the small corridor of EU land connecting the Baltic countries with Poland and the rest of Europe. I’d read a lot about Suwalki and the Gap, it’s strategic importance and therefore the threat posed to it by an aggressive Russia so I felt a bit like James Bond as I crossed this dangerous plain. In reality it’s just open countryside and a few small towns and villages, it’s not a movie set but on days like this one had been thus far I take my excitement where I can. I stop for fuel in Suwalki and decide to have a hot dog before passing into Lithuania. I have no idea what awaits me in Lithuania, perhaps they don’t have food there? The young girl in the fuel station is asleep so I have to go and wake her up to authorise my fuel pump. She doesn’t like this very much and is very rough with my hot dog. She puts far too much mustard in it too, then goes back to her little office to try and get back to sleep. I cover my hands and wrists with luminous mustard, wipe them on the tiny fragment of blue paper left on the only roll by the pumps as a car filled with children pulls up to really annoy sleepy pump girl.
It’s mid afternoon as I approach the Polish/Lithuanian border. The boredom of the slog to get here turns to excitement as the road widens and I can see the old border buildings. They’re not in use now of course so they are slowly falling apart, windows boarded up, weeds growing around them so I try and picture them back in the 80s. This is the border of the old USSR, a proper border and for me a powerful symbol of how far we’ve come as I can ride straight through it. The road in Lithuania is a bit more scarred and bumpy than on the Polish side, its most certainly a lot wider and I imagine this is so they could land planes here if they needed to.
The first town I arrive at in Lithuania is nothing to write home about, a few apartment blocks, a store that I can’t work out is open or closed and what seems to be all of the remaining 1980s and 1990s Audis left in existence. The guys round here seem to love an old Audi. It’s in this town that I turn off the lumpy, pockmarked runway road and head into the woods.
This is the turning point of the day. It’s around 5pm, the sun is beginning it’s retreat behind me and the light is soft and golden in colour. I ride on a fairly narrow road that gently rises and falls, twists and turns through fields and forests. The surface is smooth and it’s wonderful to ride on but I’m in no rush. I can smell the forest, feel the warmth of the sun, see a beautiful, gentle landscape and I realise that this is what I was dreaming of when I was planning this journey. I pass little households, small groups of buildings surrounding a nicely kept garden surrounded by trees or fields, brightly painted, flowers around the gate. The contrast with the wildness of the forest. I’m very much enjoying myself and seeing the numbers next to my destination on the signposts brings a little sadness rather than relief for the first time. I don’t really want this bit to end.
But end it must and I approach my destination of Druskininkai. My research told me this was a small town that became a Soviet resort following the discovery of a mineral rich spring. Sounds like my sort of place. I approach along a wide, smooth road and pass a ski slope. A promising start, I don’t ski but I haven’t been to a ski town I didn’t like. Entering the town across the bridge over the river I see a nicely maintained park, some sculptures and some quite magnificent Soviet recreational buildings. A few moments later I’m greeted by a large blue Orthodox Church in the middle of a roundabout and beyond, my hotel.
The hotel, the Best Baltic Hotel, is in an old wooden villa with established trees directly outside (honestly, it IS behind those trees!).
I park around the back and check in. The receptionist doesn’t speak English but one of her colleagues who should have finished work a few hours prior stayed on as they knew I was coming and I was English. I’m both grateful and sorry that she has had to give up her time like this.
My room is very lovely but very dark, there’s not much light from the small window and the decor is dark green but I like dark rooms like this.
I like the Best Baltic Hotel. Will I like Druskininkai?
I look through restaurant reviews to choose where to eat and settle on Etno Dvaras, a chain apparently but I’m assured they have Lithuanian food. This is what I want so I head off. On arrival I find the restaurant to be full of families and not especially inspiring so I head off in search of alternatives. I walk around the lake with it’s fountains and it’s small statues hidden in the bushes and flowers and past the large villa overlooking the lake that is probably a restaurant or museum or some such, but was closed. I pass the town’s Selver, a supermarket chain I’m familiar with but not especially fond of and walk to a huge, red brick church. I arrive here at exactly the right time as the bells play a tune, quite a long one that lasts for at least 3 or 4 minutes.
Beyond this church I find a pedestrian boulevard, on one side are wooden buildings that are home to small shops and cafes, all closed or closing as I pass. Children chase each other, couples walk arm in arm, people sit together and talk on benches and it feels like one of the nicest places on the planet. On the other side are fairly small but high concrete buildings, the ground floors housing shops and office space with apartments above. They seem placed into the grassed area like trees rather than buildings and instead of being square boxes, they are round and have interesting details and shapes cast into them. There are no fences, hedges or walls, the place feels open, inviting and spacious.
I continue as I can hear music and I know there’s a musical fountain here, sure enough there it is. The fountain dances to the music of Queen and I approach to see the end of the show. I buy a sausage roll on a stick and wait for the next show. I then walk down to the river I crossed on my way into town, past statues and sculptures, magnificent old trees and pavilions and hotel complexes.
I find the spring, the Source of Beauty, and see a sign that says that because of the high mineral content the water should not be drunk. But I want to be beautiful even at the expense of my own health so I catch some in my cupped hand and take a tiny sip. I resolve to pay heed to signs like this in future.
Walking back to the hotel I pass an upside down house, I see young children apparently driving little electric cars and jeeps that are in reality controlled by their parents and take a closer look at the Orthodox Church and the intricate woodwork on the houses near the hotel. I think about watching some Lithuanian tv but tiredness decides I won’t be doing that this evening.
I like Druskininkai. It’s my favourite place I’ve visited so far.
Total distance 330 miles, riding time 7 hours and 6 minutes.
