The wind, a fantastic trainer

After a pleasant stay, we leave the city in the direction of Volgograd. It’s a beautiful sunny day. A little chilly at around 15 degrees, but the first time without wind for weeks. Absolute calm, in fact. “Hooray!” Today I’m wearing long winter cycling shorts for the first time since we set off from Bucharest. It is pleasant due to the drop in temperatures. “Always straight ahead and left at the nuclear power plant,” we were told. We turn left at the large power station and leave this menacing-looking plant behind us. We are making very good progress. At 20 to 28 kilometers per hour. A cycling dream, despite the trailer. As there are two routes to Volgagrad and we don’t take the main highway, the arterial road is almost empty. Hardly any cars. We almost feel like we’re in Moldova. Many people are still happy to see the unusual-looking cyclists. Several people point at us and laugh. An old woman waves to us with her walking stick. Some cars follow us for a while to take a closer look at the strangers. Others honk loudly. From time to time we are literally lifted out of the saddle by the shock.

Long hills stretch out in front of us up to an altitude of 125 meters. The largest surveys in a long time. Due to the lack of wind, however, they hardly require any special effort. Quite the opposite. The wind has trained us so well over the past few weeks that we are now taking the bumps with ease and cheerfulness. Only after 70 kilometers do we take a break at a lonely soup stand. When I enter the dark shed, a young woman looks at me, startled at first. “Good afternoon,” I greet her. A shy smile is the answer. “Is there anything to eat?” I ask, hungry as a lion. As she lists her few dishes, I discover the reason for her shy laughter. She will soon be missing all her front teeth. As vegetable soup is part of the daily diet of the locals here, I order one. This at least guarantees that it is not old and spoiled. Tanja refuses because the young landlady has advertised the meat in her soup. We take the old, worn chairs out of the hut and put them outside. “It’s much nicer to sit out here than in the dark pub,” says Tanja happily. Tanja is quite right about the pleasant temperatures in the fall sun. We unpack our own bread and cheese. Then comes the Bortsch. “Strange, there’s not the tiniest crumb of meat in it and it doesn’t taste like it’s cooked with meat”, I realize with satisfaction because meat is sometimes not of good quality.

Then we tackle the last 40 kilometers for today. Because our coach and sometimes tormentor, the east wind, has decided to give us a light day at the moment, we are whizzing along like the wind. “Yay! Juuucheee!” we both cheer. The dark bitumen strip leads us through wide open country. Herds of cattle graze on the horizon in the eternal steppe. Animal troughs form small islands of variety in the endlessness of Russia. A small farmhouse defies the loneliness. The resident hangs her laundry on the line and waves happily to us. The eyes cannot bump into anything. Only space and freedom. Light-heartedness and carefreeness fill our hearts. The sun’s rays are already low over Mother Earth as we pass the village sign of Kotelnikovo, still full of energy. “I have won. I saw it first!” Tanja rejoices. “What, really? You mean there’s a gastiniza in this remote settlement?” “Of course. There was just a sign,” laughs Tanja. In fact, a narrow, relatively new building appears on the right-hand side of the road. We let our bikes roll onto the forecourt in a lively mood. “I’ll see if they have a room for us,” I say and enter the simple house. In fact, we are allowed to stay. After we have put our equipment in the clean four-bed room, Tanja sets off again to feed our stale bread to a herd of goats grazing in the last light of day just 50 meters away from here. The shepherd is happy about the special feeding and starts a long conversation with Tanja. It’s already dark when we go into the house to take a shower. The landlady heated water for us on the stove. This allows us to cleanse our sweaty bodies in the scoop shower. It’s a wonderful feeling to be able to wash the sweat off your body after 106 kilometers of cycling.

We look forward to your comments!