106.1 km, 2,269 m
Slovenia is home to nearly 1,000 brown bears. These bears only eat a few people each year, and as Slovenia has a population of ~2 million, if only a couple of folks get eaten/year that’s 0.0001%, so plenty left. Admittedly, cyclists are probably slightly more likely to get eaten as we’ll be in hilly forests and smell of sweat and sweet snacks, but the bears live mostly in the Kocevje forest; we are nowhere near this area. Something we need to remember before panicking when Ian Harling shouts “bear left!” in broad Boltonian.
We head out from the ALP hotel, our damp, festering kit from the last couple of rainy days is packed back into the van. Probably smells great to bears…
Today, we’re cycling through the beautiful Triglav National Park. Brown bears are apparently occasionally found on the Pokljuka plateau, so we have a worry-chuckle at the sign.
Last night, the hotel (and neighbouring bar) was filled almost entirely with cyclists, including a German group riding in green Bora team kit. They’re cycled from Munich, and today are on their last day to Ljubljana. We ride in pairs together up the valley, sharing conversation, and pulls on the front. My chatty German pairing is eagerly telling me about their trip (they work for a small company with bases in both cities, the boss is on the trip, and sanctions the time off). He’s in high spirits, and the trip has gone well. At the front of the peloton, the pace starts to up (it’s probably John and Mark). There are shouts to ‘knock a log off’. A cycling term to reduce the speed: take a log off the fire. I ask my new loquacious chum if he has a reciprocal expression in German. Nothing? Perhaps you could say “knock a sausage off!”? (ha ha). Nothing. Maybe he misheard me, I dig myself further in. “you have great sausages in Germany!”. We ride in silence for the next full minute, then I engineer a peloton position change on a corner. Probs should pull my application for that diplomat job back from UK Govt. (no Ferro Rochers for me).
The first climb of the day is a steady 5% average, 1,173m, to Vršič Mangart (1,629m). We pass a cheery Martin at about 600m. I shout an “ok thanks Martin!” as I pass, but decern an offer of Jaffa cakes to the rider behind me, and make a mental note to correct my error at the top.
First up is a steady climb (5% average, 1,173m) to Vršič Mangart (1,629m).
There are some superb switchbacks leading up, but the clouds are gathering, and with Ju’s fingers starting to tinge blue, we don’t hang around long on the top. (Steve K, waiting just long enough to leave and forget his phone on a post at the summit).
The descent is certainly interesting. The Slovenians are working hard to maintain the beautiful traditional feel to their country, and this currently includes the decision to keep cobbles on the switchbacks. It’s certainly makes for an interesting effect, my 28mm tyres bounce across the wet pavers like ping pong balls. Maybe it’s fun after all.
After a few turns, I spot Steve K’s bike outside a Refugio; we could all do with some warmth, and a hot drink. And they have blankets! Steve K is resplendent as a reticulate python, and Steve T as Sean Connery, others punt for the OAP lounge look.
I re-house a couple of blueberry strudels, we polish off a few gallons of hot beverages, then complete the 25 km decent to the lunch stop (we’re still hungry) for pizza in Mojstrana. A lot of us are still shivering from the cold wet descent; they are placed on a large wooden paddle and lightly roasted in the pizza oven to warm up (maybe).
Post pizza, we climb quite steeply over a small pass. In the world of cycling, there is something called café legs. It’s a phrase possibly exclusive to the less youthful Lycra legions and describes a physical stiffness of legs after sitting around post ride. We don’t have café legs, but some of us do have CTH (Café Tummy-hill). An overindulgence of captivating café calories ahead of heavy physical exertion.
From the top, we descend on little lanes through recently harvested forest. I turn the bars towards a sharp left, but it’s “Margaret Thatcher corner”. In the next nanosecond, the back wheel spins out to the right, then left, then right as I battle to steer it into the grip of the verge and haul it down the hill. It’s now that we notice the iridescent glint of oily puddles; the timber lorries have been dribbling? Lying along the road like angler fish, waiting to lure a passing cycling into their oily mouths. Mark sends a warning on the Whatsapp text to those behind us, and we cautiously descend to the foot of the last climb up to Bled to the summit at Zgornji Greljek.
My legs feel tired today. I’m mindful of the cumulative effects of these rides, and hugely want to finish the trip à vélo. On the last day of the Pyrenees trip (2019), I wrote that “my thighs now feel like Tesco shredded beetroot.” So, I try some mindful cycling, low heart rate, smooth pedalling, minimal lateral movement. Luckily, I manage to catch the others stuffing Jaffa cakes from Martin’s car near the top and join the group again for a Yorkshire-isque (pot-hole-riddled) bounce down through quaint, Slovenian villages. I try to get my tongue around the names: Spodnji Goreljek, Koprivnik v Bohinju, Bohinj Bled, Bohinska Cesnijca, Srednja vas v Bohinju, Stara Fuzina. Finally, we nudge the shores of Lake Bohinj, arriving at the chalet-style Art Hotel Kristal, in Ribčev Laz.
The Hotel Kristal is an oasis of mindful wellness with muted tones of carved softwood and hessian. A family-run business, focused on restoring the yin/zang of the worried middle classes, the staff look on in horror as we portage out dribbling greasy bicycles down into their yoga studio. We excitedly notice the adjacent sauna and fitness room; this could thaw us out!
I sneak a peek in a few mins later and as it is disappointingly already full, I head back to reception, securing ‘the last slot’ at 7pm. We later find out there is more to this story, when Si sheepishly informs us that he was removed from a private couple’s, pre-booked, and very naked, sauna after the husband complained. Si is not dis-abusing us of the idea that the husband was feeling under-equipped.
Dinner in the timber-clad restaurant, a quick plug for the hotel’s own chocolate from Iggy (he’s on commission), and a very welcome announcement of laundry runs that will ‘ease the cheese’ and a much -needed drying room for sodden, mouldy kit.
Liz’s trip wibblings#4 Slovenian Self Raising cakes
You might be picking up a slight blogging bias towards the bakery products. If you’re a fellow patisserie porker, then read on…
You heard it here first: the secret to hill climbing is quite literally to use a raising agent. Usually, a combination of sodium bicarbonate and cream of tartar (potassium hydrogen tartrate), it’s found eponymously in bags of flour openly sold in UK supermarkets.
In Yorkshire, there’s an excellent range of favourite cakes to select to fuel the ascent, a good ‘old Vicky sponge, chocolate, lemon drizzle. These all use self-raising flour to produce a wonderful spongey texture during baking. In Europe, this approach is almost unique to the UK, our continental siblings have often never even heard of SR flour. The French, and in my mind, The Gods of Patisserie, often use more natural ways to achieve a good rise. Beating egg yolks and whisking the whites is key to madeleines and macarons; steam rises choux pastries (eclairs, profiteroles). The French also create extraordinary things with butter such as the delicate flakes of a mille feuille, croissant, or cream horn.
As you spread out E from France, there is a worrying erosion in patisserie quantities and qualities.
The Italians still make exceedingly yummy cakes (Mr Kipling’s Italian friend maybe?), but perhaps less effort is spent on raising the mixture during baking? Think heavier desserts such as the deep fried, cream-stuffed cannoli, and bomboloni (doughnuts); and Spanish churros too.
In Austria, it is more common to use yeasts to rise the bake. Desserts are more ‘pudding-y’, think strudels and dumplings, although the spongey texture in the famous Sacher-Torte still is achieved using whipped eggs. I’ve been dribbling just thinking about what Slovenia might offer. Their national desserts are Kremna rezina, Potica and Prleška gibanica (photos below, details to follow). But tomorrow, we ride to Trieste, and still minimal Slovenian cakes…
Tomorrow, we ride to Trieste, and still minimal Slovenian cake consumption…