Monday, June 8th, 2026

Distance ridden 367 kilometres

At least we had a kettle in our room and Lucie had somehow concealed some milk about her person – so, although we did not get a breakfast, she did get her coffee and I got my cup of tea. Still, not eating sped things up a bit and, by eight o’clock, we were debating the best way to strap our new luggage to the Harley. It is a very useful piece of kit, but whilst fitting it on is easy (it has a loop that goes over the backrest), tying it down, to Lucie’s tightness specification, takes time.

All secured, we left Sobáčov and set off into a bright, warm, morning just before eight-thirty.

The D35 motorway was very close by and, in only a few minutes, we were bowling along it in our normal, relaxed, fashion. When touring, we rarely exceed 100 kph and this tends to confine us to the slow lane as people hurry past on our left hand side.

We wanted something to eat to get us going and Lucie had spotted that there was a Shell Service Area about sixty kilometres along the motorway. After I initially took the exit before the area, we regained the D35 and, minutes later, the familiar Shell logo loomed above the bushes.

No sooner did we arrive and start filling the tank, than a school trip entered the service area and a horde of children hurried into the shop. That meant we needed to make a very quick selection if we did not want to wait in a long line of children, individually buying a bag of crisps and a fizzy drink.

Despite the rapidity of our selections, we scored. Lucie, being a “continentale” had a sweet creamy pistachio “dessert” to go with her double espresso.

I had a bagel, filled with ham, egg and cheese that was warmed up. It was unexpectedly good !

Filled up, in every sense, we set off again. To meet our time goals, we kept on the D35 until it eventually merged with the D1, coming up from Prague and Brno and we kept heading North.

Some way before the town of Ostrava, we branched off to the East towards Frýdek Místek and, ultimately, Poland. This fit in with our plan to approach the Slovak Route 66 from Poland and, by doing it that way, miss not one centimetre of it …..

We crossed uneventfully into Poland.

We were heading towards the town of Zywiec, where Lucie intended us to have our lunch near a lake, behind a dam. Some crazy driving (not by me) on the highways S52 and S1 made it a tiny bit fraught, but we found the lake easily enough. There were plenty of people at the lake – but nobody seemed to want to sell them (or us) anything to eat or drink.

We quickly gave up and headed to a Google™ recommended place about ten kilometres away, but we had no joy there either. In fact, it may have been quite early in “the season”, but there was absolutely nowhere to get anything to eat at all. We were heading in the direction of our next way-point along a fairly major and quite busy road (946). But, there was absolutely nowhere to get lunch and it was not until we came to Sucha Beskidzka, about forty kilometres further on, that we found anywhere that was open.

Even then, it was principally cafes, that were not serving food, but, eventually, we located REZO (Adama Mickiewicza 32, Sucha Beskidzka), on the fringe of a small shopping complex. It seemed very new and a tiny bit trendy, but it had an English menu to go with its English speaking waitress. Our selections of beef with potato pancakes, called “Hash Browns” on the menu (me) and chicken breast with broad beans and carrot puree (Lucie), were both delicious. There was a good, alcohol-free beer too !

We ate outside, far enough from the homicidal driving on the road through town to be safe, but near enough to “Ooooh !” at the constant near misses. Polish drivers appear to be just as mad and arrogant as their counterparts back home.

Sadly, when we closed the panniers after lunch, the securing latch on one of them broke and it could not be fastened at all ! We managed to secure it with one the sets of our springy luggage “spiders”, but it was no longer secure and we were afraid that it might also let in water if it rained. I guessed a visit to the dealership beckoned on our return home. In the meantime, we would have to be careful what we left in it.

Off we went again, into the mayhem. We were now on Road 28 which had lots of narrow stretches where overtaking was impossible. Not that this fact prevented the van, which sat behind me for over twenty-five kilometres from stationing himself about twenty centimetres from my brake light. It was very nerve wracking, particularly when, as happened a lot, the traffic came to a dead halt. On one occasion, he put his wheels up onto the path to avoid hitting me – but did that move him back a bit when we were moving again ? Have a guess !

Finally, we came to some motorway, the S7, whereupon my shadow immediately turned off. Go figure. This new road climbed and climbed and, although it was still sunny, it became noticeably cooler. The High Tatras appeared in the far distance in front of us. A long  line of majestic peaks that filled the whole horizon.

We left the motorway and took Road 47 towards our next destination, the border town of Jurgow and thence into Slovakia. The traffic through the next-but-last conurbation, Nowy Targ, was horrendous beyond belief, but finally we emerged, still unscathed. We changed to Road 49, which would, as we crossed the invisible line of the border, morph into a Slovak road with that most magical of numbers “66”. Finally, we passed through Jurgow and down the hill, quite literally, to the border.

We came down a long slope to the line of the border and, although there was no immediate sign, we were on Route 66 at last.

We had to stop, if only to take a few cheesy pictures at the border.

The countryside, as we approached the High Tatras, was quite dramatic.

As soon as “66” actually showed on a signpost, I had to stop !

Then we  proceeded towards the small town of Ždiar, where we were to stay overnight.

I have to say that, above Ždiar, the road surface of Route 66 is absolutely appalling. A continuous patchwork of non-contiguous repairs that made for some very worrying cornering indeed – and we were not going very fast – I do not think we could have ! At Ždiar, the surface did improve, no doubt because, heading North, it is the last town and is also quite a big skiing and recreational resort.

Oddly, our plan for the next day was NOT to ride down Route 66, but to visit the famous lookout point above the town of Tatranská Lomnica which was only about twenty kilometres further on (most of those on the 66 – and then on the 537). This high place occupies a semi-mythical place in Czechoslovak folklore and was on Lucie’s “to do” list. The ascent would involve a staged climb in three, separate, cable cars and we went to try and buy advance tickets. Sadly, weather uncertainty meant they were reluctant to sell us any, because they are non-refundable. I have to say the online information was not very clear about how to navigate the whole, quite complicated, process. On the way into town, we were stopped at a Police checkpoint – and breathalysed …. I wish !

The weather radar indicated that it rain the following afternoon. That would mean another early (which we can cope with) and breakfastless (much harder) start, if the weather was OK, in order to be there again for an early ascent !

We rode back up the hill to Ždiar and found our lodgings, the Hotel Sova (Ždiar 460, Ždiar).

We had a nice little room and it was a quiet and pleasant place to stay.

Ždiar is actually a mini tourist mecca. In the Winter, there is skiing, but Summer attractions include an impressive look-out tower (with a net walk over the central void for those with a strong constitution) and a walkway high in the trees.

In the evening , we ate in the in-house restaurant. I had the pork medallions, which were excellent and Lucie had the Slovak “standard”, halúsky. We forgot to photograph them …..

Our beers, both with and without and without an alcohol content, were from the Upirner brewery (which we had never heard of) but were completely OK.

You know what happened next !