Yesterday at 14:00 I headed out to the Daugavas Loki nature park. I can't translate it — my memory is failing me. Loki is when a river loops, and Daugava is Daugava even in Africa (in Russia it's the Western Dvina, though, Russians have big egos, they're allowed to). The park is located about 25 km from Daugavpils, where I live. I took pictures of whatever was there, so don't judge me, we're not in Norway where absolutely every spot is a masterpiece of natural beauty.
Map of the trip
Turns out, they're moving hardware stores out of town here too now
No comment
This is how our people have fun. Dragging home any random crap they can find.
And they force animals to guard this giant junk, the monsters
But if that's the dog's kennel (on the right), then she gets paid adequately for the job
A police major died here in 1970 while in the line of duty
Curiously enough, the monument is standing right where it was, and the inscription isn't even in the state language . We don't have fascism here, see!
People live well in the countryside
Since they can build a decorative bridge over a pond they dug themselves
Here are those very loki, I'm currently in Naujene
Some random baznica, in other words a church
The plaque says that the Poles gave their lives for Latvia's independence in 1919-1920.
This cross is clearly a modern addition - since there's no Russian translation.
And here's the loks itself. I apologize, but there will be way too many views of the Daugava coming up.
The little boat is new, though
I was too lazy to go back the same way I came, so like a mega-biker I forged straight ahead along the shore, where trails used to be - back in prehistoric times. As a result, the grass in some places was like this:
Almost a point-of-view shot
And this is how the bike looked in it
Curiously, even through such brutal grass (didn't know "ordinary grass" could reach such heights) you can more or less ride a bike.
Here we go again
Sometimes it even got like this
For starters, I decided to pay a visit to the ruins of Dinaburg Castle, which is where my city originated from, as well as the German settlement of the local area. At school they taught us it's located 19 km away - turns out they didn't lie.
The walking trail to the ruins
As soon as I arrived, a girl ran up and offered to buy a ticket for 0.4 Ls, which is $0.80. I didn't refuse such spare change, to make a contribution to the development of tourism in my homeland. Curiously, there was a tour bus and a couple of cars in the parking lot, meaning I wasn't the only maniac out in the freezing cold checking out sights of questionable interest. Truth be told, there's not much to look at on the route, and it takes 15 minutes tops, but it works for local history purposes, it's a short ride there.
Sigh, I really need a proper camera
There they are, the ruins. It's embarrassing to even call them ruins.
At least they made a reconstruction, good for them
They even put up little posts around it to make it look legit
Like a proper weirdo, I started jumping across the coastal rocks
A gorgeously swamped-up Daugava
Somebody thought they were funny
Micro-frogs were sitting on the rocks, and once there was even a micro-lizard, but nobody wanted to pose
Oh, my tin-can life
To the swamp with it
On the bright side, there's a rest area there, even with a bunch of benches and a grill.
A rock garden, Teutonic style
I don't know what this is. A fire pit, maybe?
Down by the river I picked up a plastic bottle and threw it into the trash can thoughtfully placed at the rest area. By the way, that's where I first saw the mysterious sign Privatipašums, meaning Private Property. Why put up signs like that in places specifically designed for public access is beyond my understanding.
Little crosses in honor of a former cemetery
There used to be a cemetery on this spot, but during preparations for building a hydroelectric power station, it was first "ravaged" (in the terminology of the info posters) and then reburied. These fanatics are going to clutter the whole earth with crosses soon — people do keep dying for now, and everyone needs a cross, even those who haven't done anything useful their entire lives.
Ironically, the power station project was buried too — because hey, we gotta protect nature. I'm all for it, only the green psychos now want to bury the project for a new nuclear plant in Lithuania as well. And where are we supposed to get electricity from? From the frogs we have here in endless numbers?
How are the ruins of a cowshed any worse than the ruins of a castle? Here, some stuff actually survived
Rode out to god knows where
There are Vlads everywhere now, my name has become mainstream. Not like the old days — how many people do you know named Vladislav over the age of 25?
But then there was an interesting story. I rode off to who knows where, because I despise paper maps, and I can't be bothered buying a GPS for the sake of rare bike rides. So a nasty surprise was waiting for me - I ran dead into a boom barrier with the sign: Privatipašums, Trespassers W. But since I'm not the most ardent supporter of capitalism, but am in a way a supporter of spontaneous, ill-advised actions, I gave zero damns about the sign and boldly walked around the barrier. It's a good thing the pine tree on the side hasn't had time to grow yet. The decision turned out to be the right one - the brazen capitalists grabbed one of the best slices of the Daugava for themselves, and even landscaped it.
They scattered stones and idols around, though I somehow forgot to take pictures of the latter
There are no buildings on the plot, by the way. I wish I lived like that!
The view is very pleasant, there are even murmuring rapids, which is a rarity on the Daugava
Here's one, not an idol though, but a sailor
Then, in my usual fashion, I pushed along the upper bank through the woods, and a barely passable path led me to this marvel.
A gazebo for meditating under the moon, totally
Right on the shore, as it should be
Ooo, the bourgeoisie have settled in nicely
These folks have good taste — there's even a weeping stone
I mean the painting about Alyonushka, yeah. And also O'Toole in "The Goblin Reservation" had a sitting stone, if that rings a bell for anyone. The novel is absolutely brilliant, by the way.
Rode past the sign — don't have to expect a load of salt in the butt anymore
And this is a picnic spot for everyone
A perspective for frogs
Having struggled back to the asphalt road, I decided to call it a day. But after climbing back up the hill where I'd set a new top speed record - 57 km/h, I saw another tourist sign, of which we have plenty, courtesy of the European Union. The sign teased a certain observation tower and a hiking trail taking a whole hour, and I couldn't resist, even though I was already pretty wiped out. The worst part was that I had to ride 9 kilometers on a washboard gravel road — the great enemy of the cyclist.
A perspective from the point of view of frogs
And giants
As you can see, I made it to the tower, right in the middle of the dirt road, too. There was another "Privatipašums" sign there, this time carrying at least some weight: it stood under a "Brick" sign (No Entry), which I can boldly call that since I don't have a driver's license. Otherwise my traffic rules instructor would probably turn over in his grave. Under the tower, by the way, ignoring the sign and bundling up in jackets, young dudes and broads were drinking beer.
Man's best friends wouldn't eat the apples, but weren't in a hurry to leave either
They liked the camera more than the apples, apparently — they sniffed it with pleasure
Eventually, I also reached the promised Markova trail, but the cashier's booth was closed since it was past 6 o'clock. So I had to hike the trail as a freeloader.
Deceived again — the sign says "Markovo hillfort". There's no hillfort in sight
We're pretty bad at throwing dust in people's eyes — the Japanese would have built a dedicated hillfort for tourists and written "Date of creation unknown". Given their diligence, they probably would have actually erased the date from all the documents, too.
In places the trail was a bit gloomy, it even gave me the creeps
The end point of the route, or maybe not, who knows
In any case, there was another "Privatipašums" sign here again, so I didn't go any further. I had no time, my camera battery died, and most importantly — I could barely move my legs, and I still had 30 km to go.
I rode back like a hardcore slacker (in biker terminology), taking breaks every 5 km. The main problem was that it was cold and very windy the entire trip. On the highway I can ride 30 km/h, including small hills, and on big ones my speed drops to 25-20 km/h. But here I barely managed to roll along at 15-20 km/h, on hills even 10. Fortunately, I did make it home, snacking on apples from a free orchard along the way.
I got back home at 21:00. In total, I rode 75 km in 7 hours, and walked about 4 kilometers over heavily rough terrain. The average speed according to the bike computer was 12 km/h, but you can't trust it — I kept forgetting to turn it off during rest stops and hiking trails.
Overall it was great, but next time I'll take the train to my destination if possible — it got way too cold and windy, and the highway is scary with the cars, even though they give me a wide berth.