Peddling the Dirt
Day 2
Sääre – Karala

After a comfortable night’s sleep dreaming with the murky sea’s lapping wavelets, we rose and breakfasted to the sound of wind in the trees. Our first stop was a massive 2kms down the road at the Sõrve Lighthouse. We cradled down right at the seashore in effort to avoid the howling wind, broke out the stove and and made our morning cup of coffee. Apparently the lighthouse is the tallest in the Baltic. For some strange reason most of it is painted black, one can only presume that they do not want it to be seen in the evening sky. We stopped, humoured the gaggle of hopeful souvenir-sellers, used the free toilets, cleaned our teeth and purchased a couple of postcards.

From here we tackled the wind in a northerly direction through yet more massacre sites, until we stumbled upon a beach near Ohessaare that was totally plastered with cairns. It was odd, kind of like a bus-load of drunk Scottish teenagers had stopped and did what rural drunk Scots seem to do, and built cairns. It was both oddly charming and quintessentially weird.

Our fellow guest and random film-maker had told us that in the village of Ohessaare there was a cafe with good coffee and cake. We followed the signs until we came to this delightful little windblown cafe snuggled up alongside a gorgeous little windmill. We sat out of the wind whiling down the time reading. We asked the lady who served us where she thought we should camp, she quickly got on the phone, resulting in the instructions of ‘ride to Karala; when you enter the village, on the left-hand side of the road is a large yellow house, the keys will be in the door, there is a room waiting for you upstairs’. We were thankful, however it was still 50kms up the road and a bit further than we had planned on cycling. As an afterthought, I asked where the next shop was the answer was, there was none. Oh dear, we needed water.

We kept cycling, battling the wind from all directions. The sky was cumulusly blue and grey, the landscape green and undulating and the birdsong delightfully refreshing. Then with no warning, just as we thought it not possible, the wind picked up battering us ferociously from the side. We hit damp gravel road and our stomachs decided to start wincing for food. We dowsed on, searching the blue lines on our map for non existent creeks. Worn and ragged, we spied an infant lighthouse and figured it was as good a spot as any to shelter from the wind and cook lunch. I gave the site a sorte and found a delightful looking and almost-clean puddle, it looked a perfect source for a cuppa tea. Billy boiled, tea-ed and fed, we set off past another battle site and Highland cattle.

I had seen the westward turn coming on the map and I knew we would only have to ride about 3kms on in that direction. It meant turning head on into the energy-sapping wind. Sharon is goal-focused and performing anything less than her maximum is just heart-wrenching for her. I kept advising her to get into a low gear and to sit back, relax and enjoy the wind, but I am afraid watching birds fly backwards is just darn right demoralising. We managed to keep upright on the bikes until we turned north again, then there right on the corner was a soft grassy patch in front of a farmer’s gate shrouded in yummy blackberrys. A perfect stop for a rest and sip of rationed water.

Dreaming of beautiful bus-stops and fresh springs, we pushed on to a predestined intersection. The plan was for Sharon to rest here and look after my faithful Ortlieb panniers, whilst I rode onto the shop at Lüdmanda. The crossroad bus-stop was a tired, exposed bench in front of a motocross track. There was nowhere for Sharon to shelter. I raced on, to discover that the shop and our chances of food, water and more importantly, beer, had closed about ten minutes before I got there. Bugger!

I cycled back to Sharon. We ate the last of yesterday’s bread, turned once again into the wind, onto a gravel road and cycled the remaining 7kms into Karala. Sure enough, as we entered the tiny pretty village, there was the large yellow community centre, with the key in the door. We called the lady from the cafe and thanked her, she let the caretaker know that we had arrived and the caretaker herself arrived shortly after. We had no language in common, but managed to communicate the essentials, leave a donation in the ceramic chicken and, yes, we were allowed to take a beer from the fridge.

We were a little tired, but all in all it was a good 72.84km day. We were much further on than we had expected and were looking forward to a much shorter day three.

Maps

Introduction

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Kit

Peddling the Dirt
Day 1
Sauvere – Sääre

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Our chosen start/finish line for this adventure was the Peetri Tourist Farm guest house in the tiny village of Sauvere. Heavily-laden with five days of food and five litres of water, we set off along a wide smooth gravel road, turned south along the main road, rode a couple of kilometres and stopped for our first photo. Saaremaa is scattered with many lovely, still and silent historical windmills.

Within minutes of returning to our still-supple saddles, we were off them again, taking refuge inside one of Saaremaa’s many immaculate bus shelters hiding from a light downpour.

Within twenty kilometres we were entering the capital city of Kuressaare. We stopped at the post office to buy a map and slowly rode through the town looking for a cafe. Before we knew it we were out the other side, a U-turn was necessary for a second ride-by. Kuressaare is a beautiful quaint bink-and-you-miss-it old town consisting mainly of a slow winding road flanked with cafes suitable for tourists but not for us. We settled for a small terrace down a minor cobbled alley outside the Saarte Sahver health food shop. They gave us good service, free internet and good plunger coffee. We ducked inside to avoid another shower and then returned to the terrace to finish our coffee.

Castles; if you have seen one, you have seen them all and I am a little sick of them. We almost cycled past Kuressaare’s humble castle, I did enjoy cycling over its lovely draw-bridge through the wall right up to its iron gates and paywall. Keen to keep our money for further coffee, we meandered a little before exiting via the southern door.

Upon exiting, Sharon, my wife and cohort in the adventure, a little unsteady with new panniers, was forced to do a slow dance with a dreaming pedestrian. As she veered left to avoid him he would walk left, then when she veered right, he would walk right. It was all very humorous and became very clear that this strange little man was teasing my wobbling wife. As we rode past his comfortably embarrassed wife, she let out a little apology in perfect New Zealand English. We kept cycling.

We continued south along a collection of immaculate cycle paths and quiet excellent roads. Hunger drove us through the sand-dunes to the beach somewhere near Järve, where we found a peaceful table and benches set amongst dancing marram grass and sulking clouds. Before leaving on this trip I had purchased a second bike-stand and here in the soft sand, was very thankful that careful parking and two stands together allowed my trusty Lithuanian Panther to stay upright. We broke out my battered Trangia stove, a can of beans, tortillas, salsa and cheese and feasted. I was still hungry at the end so topped up with some perfectly disgusting and adequate instant mashed potatoes.

We continued to cycle south, stopping at Salme to buy some food for supper and opting not to get water until the next shop.

Supper was spent at Massa, flanked in lowland forestry in a bus-shelter conveniently equipped with a picnic table. Tuna sandwiches in the twilight.

Our goal was to cycle an average of fifty kilometres a day, however I had read on Warren and Esther’s blog that there was a good camp-site somewhere down south near the lighthouse. We never found it, ending up sleeping beside a bunker on the side of the road near Sääre. Some kind person had even left a fire pit stacked with firewood. We finished our 76.98 km day resting in the glow of a setting sun, rising camp-fire flames and the dim glow of a local lighthouse.

Maps

Introduction

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Kit

Introduction

For me, Saaremaa was a hidden, windy Baltic gem. I totally enjoyed our relaxing 326km five day cycle around the island.

Mr Google was a bit reluctant to give out much information about this north-western Estonian island, consequently I am very grateful for the help of Andres Tatter and his local knowledge. I also learnt much from ‘The Sportswool Diaries‘, a tour cycling blog by Esther Tacke and Warren Sanders. And thanks also for the literary encouragement of cycling authors, Mark Beaumont and Anne Mustoe.

I am also thankful for the advice from our host at our farmstay and to fellow guests who happened to be members of a random Estonian film crew who among other things fed me excellent smoked fish plus beer. Also thanks for not waking us up, when you rose at 5am.

Because our cycle trip was a holiday and studying history, culture and language is just too close to work, I totally neglected to do so. Consequently I cannot offer you any factual historical or geographical information on the area that you cannot already find in a two minute on-line search.

However I can tell you that we drove north-east from Klaipėda, Lithuania, around Riga, Latvia, got lost travelling through Pärnu, Estonia, and arrived at the ferry from the mainland to Saaremaa at dusk.

After a peaceful night and a fantastic cooked breakfast we set out on the road. I am not sure what time we left, but it was probably somewhere between nine and ten am.

Please do continue reading.

Maps

Introduction

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Kit