This took my eye as we went on our cycle trip today. ”Ouch, that hurts’ I said. But honestly speaking we were surrounded by rolling fields of rich colors such as Van Gogh’s favourite, yellow, and blue skies heavily laced with white. Our route would take about 4 hours of cycling along gravel and sand paths and delving into marshy not oft trodden pathways. All this in and around beautiful Kruklanki.
We packed everything into two overburdened backpacks. The sausages for our lunch, a knife for honing our ‘kiyek’, or long sticks to you and me fashioned from sturdy sticks. What else, oh, wet wipes, map, energy drinks and snack bars for the children, bread for toasting, matches, ketchup and assorted extra items of clothing.
We stopped in Kruklanki itself for the essential ice cream and couldn’t pass up the chance for a pic of my new mighty steed. Then back onto the road and on into the forest again. This time we headed for a spot by the lake known only to us, and the two carloads of screaming families that turned up! We built our fire and sharpened our roasting sticks.
Then ignition and that wonderful primeval feelin’ of fire and meat in the great outdoors, and ketchup of course!
Replete with meat and additives we cycled for a couple of more hours past rolling fields like these, so easy on the eye.
Before going back into Kruklanki we took in and old Prussian built single rail line, duly destroyed by the German Army, well no, they planted the explosives but it was the locals who actually detonated them as they, the locals, wanted to stop the Russians taking everything, or taking everything into their hands. The detonator was hidden in a shelter on an adjacent hill, over which the rail line itself traversed a small gulley, via a bridge. See below. Imperialism.
And home with plans for the Sunday already afoot.