By Lennert Lifka
This year we were in Vrsar again and I am proud to be able to call my reports a trilogy. Because I, also just an ambitious cyclist, am now writing this report for the third time in a row. Even if in a trilogy the third part is actually the finale, I hope to share some sequels about our future experiences with you. Of course, a good story always includes main characters, exciting people and supporting characters. But I have to say that in our trilogy there are only leading roles. In Croatia we are all part of a larger whole. And you like to feel the cohesion that prevails across clubs and age groups.
Not only did they grow in number, and this time the hardships for the companions were worth it, because they were rewarded with eventful days and new experiences. This year her pack of untamed leg power included three adults, six Thuringians and two Bulgarians. Once again they threw themselves onto the Croatian roads, where they were longingly being watched by drivers honking their horns and rolling in oncoming traffic, the police and loud bikers. Mixed with good weather, sometimes bad roads, mountains and beautiful landscapes, this resulted in a typical Croatian feeling. When the pack was finally complete on Monday and a day late, it skilfully rolled off the Pineta hill. The journey began with 105 kilometers in good weather. But already in the next few days the initial harmony was disturbed.
It was raining, but we still drove on one of the two rainy days. Since none of the comrades-in-arms had warm fur (as is usual for cyclists), the colorful group turned around with chattering teeth and thus only had 76 kilometers on the clock on the second day together. On the third, the gang hid behind the walls of the hotel and in the cozy two-person caves. But in the late morning the eye of the storm moved on. So everyone enjoyed the good weather and the smell of the stiff breeze that swept across the country.
A day later at the latest, each of them noticed what the Bulgarian companions had on the box. From kilometer 60 onwards, pretty much every town entrance sign was used as a small sprint score. Mountains were not left out either. After 127 kilometers and a final Pineta mountain sprint, the crowd arrived scattered but still in a good mood. This sprint tradition has existed since last year. So it was unanimously decided to continue this in the years to come. On Friday the 147th of March and after six windy days, another XNUMX kilometers were on the agenda. After this stretch, the cycling pilgrims were rewarded with a rest day on their gradual journey to the well-known mountain of Vrh.
After this breather that was far too long, everyone sat on their bikes the next morning and started the third block with a relaxed 137 kilometers. In the evening after this trip was done, the final preparations for the forthcoming king's stage were done. Last errands were made, bars packed and everything on the bike checked one last time. When it was finally Friday, everyone in the crowd saddled their bikes and so the companions set off to their destination: Vrh. After a long time with the wind at their backs and numerous meters in altitude, they reached the top of the mountain and briefly enjoyed the impressive view in all directions. After this long uphill ride, everyone was looking forward to the following downhill kilometers and so started the way back via the idyllic roads on the crest of the mountain range.
After six and a half hours, the gang arrived at their well-appointed burrow with a sea view. Everyone was drenched in sweat and you could see the effort in some grimacing faces. However, these symptoms were probably only due to the local sprint before Vrsar, as everyone agreed. At the end it was said: "Well, I could have driven a few more hours!". Some beamed in agreement with this statement, others just shook their heads and walked slowly to their chambers. Even if the opinions differed a little, everyone was happy to have this journey behind them and so the day ended with a long, extended dinner. The next day, the first four of the troupe were up early. You could hear the footsteps of the trotting athletes and panting across the square in front of the accommodation. Why these four were awake so early, however, remained unclear. The staff present later reported having heard a subtle smell of morning exercise.
Some recovered, others less recovered, finished the block and their last ride after almost five hours in the saddle. A certain sadness slowly crept into everyday life and everyone knew that the much too short time in Istria would not last. Despite the approaching end, each of them tried to use the last rest day before departure to end the training camp optimally. There were a variety of ways to relax.
Some chose long city and beach walks with a delicious lunch and an ice cream to top it all off. This kind of relaxation also served to spend the remaining Croatian small change. Others, however, went one step further and began the evening according to the motto: "You can sleep on the bus!". After twelve days in picturesque Croatia, the bags were packed into the motorized carriage, the provisions were taken on the lap and then it was already back home.