What is there to say about cycling from Meran to the Austrian border, and through Austria to Slovenia? Oddly little.
The days through the rest of South Tyrol and Austria were dominated by mixed weather and the goal of getting further. Yes, we cycled. Yes, we camped or stayed in hotels. It rained a lot. We had beautiful moments, and some less pleasant ones. Kilometers went by, sometimes fast enough and sometimes all too slow. And as much as I tried to enjoy the moment, the feeling of having to get somewhere and not having enough time didn’t pass.
It all started to change, though, after the extremely steep Wurzen Pass crossing from Austria to Slovenia. The 18% slope was tough—too tough to cycle non-stop—but we were greatly rewarded afterwards. The weather was finally better, and we stayed at a nice campground just after the border. Originally, we planned to ride all the way to Ljubljana the next day, but because there was a lack of good hotel options for the next night (Saturday and Pentecost), we were “forced” to slow down and spend another day on the road before getting to Ljubljana on Sunday.
Suddenly, instead of rushing from place to place trying to cover distance despite the bad weather, we had spare time AND good weather. What a change! Thanks to a tip from three cyclists staying at the same campground, we changed our route and cycled to the very scenic (and very touristy) Lake Bled the next day. It was more than worth it. Already the way there, with the nice roads along a stunningly light blue river, made up for the few extra meters we had to cycle uphill. Having the first swim of the year, a great ice cream, the first drone flight, and a lovingly cared-for campground with a cozy bar a bit further away from the tourist hotspot rounded everything off wonderfully.
And even though the weather over the next few days in Ljubljana and from there to the Croatian coast was again mixed with lots of (sometimes heavy) rain, we took our time to experience Ljubljana, get some work done, visit the Postojna Cave, and, yes, cover some more distance.
Now we are staying at an amazing community camp on Rab—a hidden jewel Thomas managed to find despite their seemingly great efforts not to be found. We still have a lot planned for the next half year, and the feeling of having to rush and get somewhere is surely going to sneak up on us again. But right here, right now—finishing this post while lying in a hammock and enjoying the magic and peace of this place—I don’t have to get anywhere. I am right here, right now.
Anecdotes from Austria, Slovenia and Croatia
Weissensee: It had been drizzling and raining on and off the whole day, and we just had this one last ascent left for the day—the hill up to the Weissensee. The path went through the forest, was steep, and it started raining again. By the time we finally arrived at the door of a hotel, it was raining like a torrent. We were both soaked, even our shoes were filled with water, and when I took off my helmet after entering the hotel reception, a gush of water poured onto the carpet. Oops. Somewhat surprisingly, we were nevertheless welcomed with the Carinthian hospitality I remembered from my childhood holiday at the Weissensee many years back. The man at the reception was eager to accommodate all our wishes, showing us different rooms in different buildings (making us walk into the rooms to check them out while still dripping from the rain), going back and forth with prices and breakfast options and other options and keys he couldn’t find—all while we just wanted to get out of our cold and wet clothes. A “hospitality” that was nerve-wracking.
Ljubljana: Our B&B (Pod Vrbo) had the very best breakfast-dessert collection (yes, that’s a thing!). Waking up with the thought of an amazing panna cotta with a slight mint flavor is a delight.
Rab: Thomas found a secluded campsite in the middle of nature on Rab with amazing reviews. It was hard to get any info about it—the camp’s website had expired, and some people on the internet spread the rumor that the page was down intentionally to avoid attracting new customers. However, the campsite is fully booked for the main season as early as February, and the people who manage to get there seem to go repeatedly, even over generations, for the last 30 years. Thomas brilliantly found an email address for the hidden campsite, and somewhat surprisingly, we managed to reserve a hut (no tents allowed).
The ferry from Krk arrived in the evening at Rab. A footpath led the way to the campsite, and I had to gather all my courage (and let go of some old fears of cycling) not to get off my bike but instead trust the process and let my bicycle safely bounce down the tall (subjectively speaking) steps built by the roots of the trees along the coast. When we finally got to the camp, nobody seemed to be waiting for us. When we said that we had a reservation for the night, the woman who was found to check us in looked at us skeptically, “Really, you do?” Yes, we did. And like the other people before us, once found, we did not want to leave. We are now staying here for three nights instead of one. And yes, this is also because the ferry brining us to the next island only runs three times a week during “winter”/off-season.
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