In what was my longest (100 miles) and hottest (mid 30s centigrade) I made it to Poznań! After yesterday afternoon’s ride into Toruń on an uncomfortably busy road, I made it a point today to seek out smaller secondary and tertiary roads. Let’s just say that I succeeded…and then some! More on that in a moment.
I departed early and spent some time riding through Toruń’s old city, which is a spectacular UNESCO World Heritage site. Toruń’s historic city core is, like many others here, closed to cars and busses, with tables and chairs lining the streets instead of parked cars. How pleasant and peaceful an urban experience this produces. I wonder why we don’t do this at the Pike Place Market in Seattle? 

  
  
 
Shortly after leaving Toruń, I jumped onto a beautiful side road winding through farmlands that would connect me to smaller and smaller roads, one prettier and more primitive than the next. Much of the day’s riding was simply joyful, with beautiful scenery and very little traffic. 

 
    
 This guy might be carrying more than I am.

  
He almost certainly is.

 
OK, this might have been a bit too much of a back road! 

At virtually every one of the small towns I passed through today, there were well maintained Catholic shrines adorned with fresh flowers and ribbons.  

Catholicism certainly seems very alive in Poland. Being sandwiched between Germany and Russia has produced unfathomable amounts of suffering in this country over the years, but the country’s Catholicism has served as a source of distinction, resistance and strength and still plays a central role in Polish society. I am not a religious person but I love to visit places of worship and today I had a wonderful lunch of black bread and delicious sauerkraut (practically religious for me as a sauerkraut enthusiast) under a huge and gently swaying shade tree on the grounds of the Saint Jacob Church in Mogilno. 

 Dessert was a real, brine cured, dill pickle! 
 
At a quick water stop, I enjoyed watching this inter generational chess match.

   
By the end of the day, 20 km from Poznań, I was seriously tired. As thoughts of “where could I just pull over and camp?” rattled around my brain, a young Polish cyclist on his ride home from work came up beside me. His name was Mateusz (Matthew) and, in Scottish accented English, graciously offered to “take some wind” for me. And that is precisely what he did, pulling me in all the way, distracting me with observations about the world and regularly looking back to make sure the pace was fine. 

As we said our goodbyes in Poznań, I was once again struck my the amazing hospitality and generosity of spirit I have found here in Poland.