I'm supposed to be writing about Turkey, but instead I'm going on bike rides. Guess I haven't ridden enough yet. We accidentally rode exactly 100 km and 6 meters today, with 20 of them being on dirt roads. We were in motion for 6.14, meaning the average speed was 16 km/h, and the whole ride took a whopping 9 hours. I realized that after Turkey, I'm not afraid of anything — I can ride all day from morning till evening. By the way, we saw the oil storage facilities in Ilūkste. Also, an angry young lady at the freight railway station angrily chased us away, threatening to call the police.
How we rode
By the way, we were only planning to ride to Ilūkste and back (50 kilometers at most), but my restlessness led us all the way to Šēdere, and then past Svente.
There, a businesslike 10-year-old boy on an ancient bicycle thoroughly interrogated me about the purpose of our visit, and about how much my bike costs. First, of course, he asked my name and introduced himself as Artur. Then he complained that Šēdere is ugly, even though I told him the exact opposite. He also sensibly informed us that it usually gets dark around 9. We had plenty of time, even though Šēdere turned out to be completely out of the way, and too close to the border.
In the evening, a muscle in my leg started hurting near the knee — strange. I rode around Turkey for a week — everything was fine, but here in my homeland — it flared up right away.
There's no GPS track of the route, due to the fact that the iPhone has a crappy GPS receiver.
National wealth. The punk and anarchist took a pic because sap is flowing there, but it's hard to see here
There's a pond next to the school
Kids probably have it good growing up here. But I get spooked by such forgotten places — I love civilization
A little swamp