Playing it by ear in Poland

August 10, 2019

Zbąszynek - Przemęt state park

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Stepping off the train, I did wonder a little what I'd got myself into. The station was dusty and other than some huge freight trains, didn't seem to be a heavily used. I pushed my bike across the tracks, leant it against a fence and prepared to ride. Getting off some kilometers to the west meant I would need to ride south-east towards Leszno rather than south from Poznan's suburbs. This was all to the good - the map promised, and I had seen from the train, that the landscape was densely wooded and sparsely populated. Instead of camping somewhere to the east of Leszno I would aim for land to the west - the Przemet state part being an obvious target, even having some campsite symbols. It would be a bracing 70km ride, but it was still before noon and the day was fine and warm, with only mild wind from the East. If I didn't get that far, it was only a half-day - I would catch up on later days.

Journey's start - the rather neglected station at Zbaszynek

I didn't have an auspicious start - I managed to wander into the goods yards of a massive factory connected to the switching yard, and it was a good ten minutes before I figured there was no way I could cross over the rails and get to the town. An embarrassing about-turn later, and I found the main entrance and was soon riding before the Polish traffic. Which was - impeccably behaved. Cars waited patiently behind me, and overtook wide and safe. At first, I gave every safe pass a little wave, but soon my arm got tired and I figured my fears of homicidal driving east of the Oder may have been a little overblown.

I needed to head for Nowa Wies, between two of the large lakes that dot this region. My map showed an enticing part-dotted road that would lead me there. This might be a bad surface for cars, but promised to be a perfect low-traffic introduction. I negotiated through the little village of Kosieczyn, to my surprise seeing some road cyclists that gave me a cheery wave, and found the turn to Nowa Wies. Almost immediately the road turned into a strange combination of big round cobbles and sand - an empty road marked by trees marching at regular intervals along both sides - real Knife in the Water country. It was bumpy, but quite rideable. I was wrong about there being no traffic - I met two trucks going the other way, hammering over the cobbles - but they passed me without any trouble.

Leaving Kosieczyn, the road quickly became cobbled

I was a little concerned that the juddering the Shift was getting would throw up some latent mechanical problems, but all seemed to be well as I passed between the lakes and back onto packed tarmac. My plan was to roughly follow the rail line towards Wolsztyn, on a combination of tarmac and rougher roads. I soon realised that the advice which I'd picked up from guidebooks and wikitravel - that cycling was a niche activity in Poland and drivers don't know how to deal with bikes - was, at least in this corner of the country, nonsense. Everyone and their wife seemed to be out on the bike on this still Saturday - old fellas and young kids pedaling at 10kph between villages or to the shops. No touring cyclists of course, and it didn't seem to be the done thing for cyclists to greet each other - but the few drivers we met seemed to be happy to wait and pass safely.

Around Kielpiny I passed a big and slightly decrepit building that looked to be the local town hall. This part of Poland seemed to have a lot of these buildings - grand pre-war structures that presumably had been part of the political infrastructure during the communist era. There was a park next to this one, and thinking there might be some tap I could access - the day was heating up and I was starting to think about refreshing my water - I rolled into it. No luck, but it was now 2pm and it seemed a good place to have lunch.

Some of the unmetalled roads near Tuchorza. The concrete slabs are weird to ride in, giving a regular jolt that sounds like a train passing by

The town hall in Krielpiny where in the grounds I had lunch. A lot of these grand buildings are disintegrating somewhat in this part of Poland.

I found my way easily through the small villages and out onto the main road 32 outside Wolsztyn. Unfortunately I'd not been as attentive to the navigation as I should've been, and was actually some kilometers outside the city. Not wanting to ride on the A road, the GPS indicated a track that could take me across farmland to a minor route into the town. The surface was dirt by good and ridable, and I happily followed it and entered Wolsztyn from the south.

There are little shrines even in the most out-the-way places

I had ridden 40km in Poland and still not visited any substantial or got any Polish currency - so as I rolled into Wolsztyn my priorities were to obtain some zloty and fill up my water bottles. As luck would happen, I could do both. An ATM gave me no problem withdrawing cash - though its default options were ludicrously high - the lowest started at 200 zl or about 40€ and went up from there. In a country where a beer costs maybe 2 or 3 zl this was far more than I needed! Anyway, I had my 200 zl note, and would just have to pick the first unfortunate place to change it.

As I picked up down the main street, I spotted something that brought me to an immediate halt. A graveyard - paydirt for the thirsty cyclist wanting to unobtrusively get water. For those not familiar with my last trip, particularly the stages under 38 degree heat: graveyards (usually) have flowers, and flowers need watering - therefore they nearly always have a tap. And it's generally considered not totally antisocial to wander into them and fill up a water bottle.

But this was no usual graveyard. The graves were small, regular, and it neat rows with cyrillic lettering - it was a Russian military cemetery. I could see some prominent taps, but my eye was rather drawn to the enormous memorial, buried at the back of the graveyard. "Bloody hell!" I said out loud. An idealised Soviet soldier trampling a vanquished Prussian eagle and Nazi flag. The memorial was ringed with bas reliefs of a frankly militaristic nature. The graveyard was deserted, obviously not fulsomely loved by the locals - the Soviets were never exactly regarded as the liberators of Poland - and yet was eerily neat, with every grave tended and with flowers. I would never have discovered this if I hadn't been on a bike and thirstily looking for water - one of the many things I like about the serendipity of cycle touring. I filled my bottles with water - it was slightly rusty - and left.

The soviet military cemetery in Wolsztyn

Some of the bas reliefs around the statue showing exactly what was involved. The next one showed Stalin smiling benignly as the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact was signed (not really).

Curiosity (and thirst) satisfied, I figured I should make some progress towards to somewhere I could spend the night. My initial target was the Przemet state park and its promises of a campsite - I would be surprised to get to Leszno itself, but this would still be a good 70km or so for a half day and so a pretty respectable showing. My reservations having hardly ridden the loaded bike in the summer were starting to fade - though the reliable flatness of the land and stillness of the day certainly had something to do with it as well.

To the south-east I could see a tantalising dotted road heading for over 15km all the way to the park boundary. I'd had good luck on these so far, so decided to head for it, having no trouble now picking my way through the villages to Blocko. I found the sandy trail heading in the right direction, and plunged into a level and rather fen-like plain. The sand was packed and damp, and easily ridable with my relatively thick tyres and I made good progress.

Lots of hops being grown. Beer production is big in these parts, too.

The beginning of the long dirt track across country at Blocko. After about 20m the tarmac stopped and the route was compressed sand.

The land was flat and riven with drainage ditches and canals. If it wasn't for the huge forests I could've been back in Cambridgeshire.

The sandy off-road route with the village of Przemet appearing on the horizon. It is filled with churches, and the twin spires of the cathedral were visible from 15km away (more echoes of Ely).

Over half an hour the village slowly hove into sight

From Przemet it wouldn't be far to the putative campsites in the landscape park. I continued down through the village of Błotnica, and seeing it was bustling decided this would be a good time to buy provisions and attempt to split my 200 zl note. Outside the shop/sklep there were lots of bikes parked up, villagers doing their shopping - bike travel clearly isn't as alien in south-west Poland as wikitravel had led me to believe. I picked up the usual bread, cheese, crisps and a couple of cans of the faithful Tyskie beer - it was only €3-4 worth, but figured this would be out of the embarrassing range for splitting a big note. The jolly young girl on the till smiled at my Polish attempts, and replied in English - and I rather apologetically handed over my unbroken bill. "Ah yes, that's ok" she said, and ladeled out quite a range of change. Dobrze.

The lady on the other till then came over, and begun to have an increasingly animated Polish conversation with the girl who'd given me change. I gathered it was some problem with cleaning out the tills, but every so often they'd both turn to me with smiles and then go back to frankly arguing. At one point, they handed me a further 50zl note - this wasn't right, and I immediately handed it back. They then got confused, and asked to see what change I'd been given: no problem for me, all the Zloty I had on me constituted the change. This seemed to settle something, and they wished me a very cordial goodbye with lots of "dobrzes". Strange!

The cathedral's not quite as big close up, but still has impressive coppered spires

It wasn't far before I neared Bambry and the lakes in the centre of the park, and immediately the atmosphere began to get festive. Lots of families were out on bikes, pedalling slowly along the pavements. As I skirted the lake, I could hear music and see dozens of stalls, bars and cafes. It began to get really packed - around the corner, I saw a sign to the campsite, but could only progress at about 5kph because there were so many Polish holidaymakers out by the lake on this sunny Saturday. After a couple of kilometres I found the campsite - and it was jammed with tents! Tents were set up within centimetres of each other, all over the frankly steep wooded shore.

While it would probably have been a laugh if my plans were to make drunken friends, I fancied a bit more serenity on this first night - so decided I would press on a little and see if I could find somewhere to wild camp. The dotted road beyond Włoszakowice seemed like a good option. I crawled back out of the cul-de-sac leading to the campsite, trailed by an unfortunate but patient car that could go no faster than me, and struck off further to the south east.

I soon left the crowds behind, and stretched my legs on the first hills I'd encountered. Nothing serious, and I was feeling pretty good. In Włoszakowice I stopped again to pick up a cold soft drink - the heat was now impressive and I was feeling the first again, but wanted to conserve my Soviet water for cooking purposes - and found a road heading to the South East. It wasn't actually the dotted road I was looking for, but skirted the woods so looked good.

Within five minutes, a dirt track into the pines showed enticingly. Following my usual technique, I rode half a kilometer down that, and then turned off this onto a path. Away to the north I could see a small clearing and some rare deciduous trees among all those dark pines. Pine forests are technically often good for camping is, as they have good spacing for a tent on the forest floor and soft pine needles, but can sometimes be a bit dark and grim. But a little sunlit glade looked perfect.

I wheeled the bike in, opened a beer and took stock. As usual, my nervousness about camping in the woods in a foreign land evaporated. Nobody could find me here in these acres of woods, and if they did they'd be unlikely to care. I set up the tent and cooked myself a dinner of pasta, sauce, olives and English cheese.

Heading out into the woods from Włoszakowice. To the right is a sawmill, which I figured was a good sign for the size of the woods.

A piny path leading to a nice little glade

I reclined, sipped Tyskie, and watched the sun go down beyond the pines

As the light went down, I lay on the mossy ground and listened to the sounds of the forest. It was extremely quiet, with the main sound being an occasional disconcertingly loud *creak* from the trees themselves. The pinetops all waved in unison in the slight breeze, and I begun to think of them as underwater plants on a strange planet, inhabited only by me. It's amazing how tiredness and Polish beer can stimulate the imagination.

Then I heard a sound which I dearly hoped was my imagination - a definite growl, and some movement nearby. For the second time in the day I uttered an audible "bloody hell!". Trying to dismiss ideas of bears - there are bears in Ukraine, but surely they don't come this far west and are very shy anyway - I kept stock-still and listened. Definite rustling sounds coming from the dark undergrowth. Then - a grunting. A wild boar!

Racking my brain on whether boars were dangerous - I didn't think so, unless provoked - I decided my best action was to stop hiding away (there were certainly no humans around) and to make my presence known. "Bugger off!" I shouted in the direction of the grunting, and then turned on my lights and hung them from the tent. There was a flurry of rustling, and then nothing.

My camp site the following morning ... it was a pretty classic wild camp

When it got really dark, the surrounding darkness started to unnerve a little, and I figured it was time for bed. Of course, with tiredness and Tyskie I passed out almost immediately. I thought I herd some more grunting in the night, but since all my food was in the panniers didn't worry myself. Ortleib roller tops are almost impossible to open with cloven hooves.

Today's ride: 83 km (52 miles)
Total: 133 km (83 miles)

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Scott AndersonGlad to finally getting around to your journal, Jon. I’ve wondered what it might be like to bike through Poland, and this is giving me some idea. I love the boar tale too - it reminds me of a few wild camps of my own with deer or elk crashing around my tent in the dark.
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4 years ago

Jon AylingHi Scott- Glad it's of interest! Yep, I'd been to Poland a couple of times before when travelling through to the Baltic or Eastern Europe but never outside the cities, and the extensive woods and open country looked good for biking (and great for wild camping, as you say - more animals than people around!). You read a fair bit about people riding along the coast, but there seems to be less about the south (perhaps because it's a bit harder to get to).
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4 years ago