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[sultanstrail2020]

[sultanstrail2020]

Read from the bottom up

The vagaries of the blog software mean for best results please read from the bottom up. Scroll down to read the blogs in correct date order. The most recent post is at the top so scroll to the bottom and read the lowest paragraphs first

[sultanstrail2020]

Corona Virus

I left England as the virus was just rising in awareness in our country. It had already taken hold in Italy but things seemed reasonable enough for me to set off. I would be walking through rural parts of Austria, Slovakia and Hungary in the first few weeks so there didn’t seem any great issue with tootling along quietly as the world dealt with the problem.

The first few days had been walked in perfect isolation as I had hardly seen anyone or spoken to anyone. On Wednesday I had seen Slovakia was going into lock down and not admitting foreigners to the country. I was pretty certain I could walk my way into Slovakia with the route taking me via the quiet banks of the Danube rather than on main roads. Once in I could just carry on walking the rural byways and highways.

Arriving into Petronella Carnuntum at lunchtime I stopped tor a well deserved half litre of pilsner in a local bar. A text arrived from my hotel in Slovenia. It stated my reservation had been cancelled and politely explained I wasn’t welcome.

This time last year I escaped a war zone in Ethiopia to emerge into the Sudanese revolution. I returned home to be airlifted off a Scottish mountain as the lady with whom I was walking broke her leg.

Fast forward 12 months and being trapped on the Austrian/Slovakian border didn’t seem a great option either. Hotels cancelling my bookings and the global pandemic striking everywhere.

I wouldn't mind but I haven’t seen a soul in four days of walking and I sit alone every night in restaurants. I am already in self isolation.

 It dawned on me that my ‘keep calm and carry on’ mentality wasn’t necessarily going to help me through if everything around me was falling down- or shutting down in the case of hotels and restaurants.

Checking the internet further showed that even if I made it into Slovakia I would most likely have to spend 14 days in quarantine.

Reaching my hotel I booked a flight home for Sunday and at 4.30pm went to the hotel foyer to enquire about trains back to Vienna. The masked and gloved bar tender said Vienna was in lock down, the airport could be closed at any minute and his hotel was also closing on Monday. All local bars and restaurants were shutting from tonight also.

It was clear I had walked out of isolation into a maelstrom. I needed to leave and leave now in order to avoid being stranded. I headed back to my room and using the joys of phone based internet was able to find a flight that left Vienna that night at 8.15pm to London. I made the booking and within 30 minutes was in a taxi heading to the airport.

By mid night I was holed up in a cheap London hotel ready for my journey to the north of England in the morning.  I have managed to walk 84km in a bubble but the harsh realities of corona virus life have over taken me. I will hunker down and then return either this year or spring 2021 to carry on.

[sultanstrail2020]

[sultanstrail2020]

Friday 13 March day 4

2133km to go. Distance walked so far 67km. Distance today 17km

I awoke to dark and gloomy skies, rain and general dreariness. I would like to say the weather matched my mood but as always I was bright and bubbly and full of life and excitement for the day ahead.

It was a short day’s walk that ended at lunchtime by passing through the triumphal Roman arch of Petronella Carnuntum.

One small worry was a painted flag on a tree at the halfway point. A central horizontal white stripe with single red horizontal strip above and below it….surely not a sign of the Jerusalem Way?

[sultanstrail2020]

[sultanstrail2020]

Jelly on a plate

The long country road stretched for miles behind and ahead. The flat landscape was dotted with open fields and wind farms. No cars ventured down the rough farm byway.

The tinkle of a bell from behind alerted me to the arrival of two passing cyclists. A male and female, both in their early 60 wobbled by.

Using the now accepted Austrian way of doing the ‘Right Thing’, they stuck religiously to the correct side of the road despite the fact there was no one else around.

Unfortunately their over large backsides spread across each bicycle seat like my mother’s gigantic blancmange placed on a small saucer. Each cheek hanging down either side of the seat.

I wanted to shout after them. “You should have started riding 20 years ago. It’s too late now. Lay off the wiener schnitzel instead.” But by the time I had computered how to say this in German they had both wobbled on the correct side of the road for 20 yards. All that came out was “Gott in Himmel herr and frau wobble bottom.”

TOO MUCH AUSTRIAN FUN

At an early tea in the small market town of Brucker der Leitha close to the Slovak border, I enquired of the English speaking waiter about what there was to do in the evenings here. His reply summed up the Austria attitude to fun. “There is a pizzeria up the road with a square outside.  There are some seats there and you can stay out till 1am”

[sultanstrail2020]

[sultanstrail2020]

Falling apart

I came across this magnificent building. Like me it was majestic in the past but is now crumbling, falling apart and needs complete renovation. Only 97 days to go!!

[sultanstrail2020]

Thursday 12 March day 3

2160km to go. Distance walked so far 40km. Distance today 27km

I awake to blue skies and sunshine. Snow capped mountains stood at my back. The first hour’s walk was a delight for anyone interested in rural economic wastelands.

Walking alongside juggernauts transporting gravel in a cloud of dust, I pass by sand pits, quarries and other post apocalyptic holes in the ground. Eventually I emerge into open countryside teeming with deer and gambolling rabbits.

STRAIGHT TO JERUSALEM

A faded Sultans Trail sticker was spotted early on. But as I progressed through the day I realised that I had not seen any Jerusalem Way stickers. I quickly conclude the reason was obvious. The Jerusalem Way people won’t be on this route. The Sultan’s Trail is all about culture, social interaction and taking the path less travelled. Clearly the Jerusalem Way will be taking the direct route to Jerusalem. There won’t be time for detours. ‘Let’s just get straight there as there are so many miles to walk,’ will be their approach.

Our joy is in the journey. Theirs is in the arrival. Well good riddance to them it will make my journey a lot less stressful.

[sultanstrail2020]

STOP GO STOP?

Outside Vienna at a busy suburban intersection, I stood attempting to cross a four lane road- with two lanes in each direction. I stood with two others and at the opposite side with three  pedestrians coming my way.

The pedestrian crossing light showed red so we all stood and waited patiently for the green man. I looked up and down the roads in both directions. There was not a car in sight. I looked at my fellow crossees. They looked back. I looked up and down the roads again. Nothing.

The others looked open mouthed as I stepped into the road way to make my crossing. I truly expected a car or motorbike to emerge out of nowhere and knock me down. But no, I crossed safely and carried on.

About 60 seconds later I heard the beeping of the crossing saying it was safe to cross. Old habits clearly die hard.

[sultanstrail2020]

No oompah

I ask at the reception desk of the hotel in Rauchenwarth where to go for an evening meal. The lady says there is a one man band pizzeria down the road and two small traditional Austrian hostelries just passed the church in the main street.

To be fair, I’ve eaten enough Italian food this week to definitely have caught the virus.

So, a small, traditional, Austrian hostelry is just the ticket.

There may not be a full oompah band but I’d expect a trombone and a drummer in the corner. I would also take one member of staff, male or female, in lederhosen stood beside an inviting roaring fire.

At the very least I will be greeted with a flagon of pilsner, probably in a pewter tankard.

I wander down the deserted high street and check my watch. It is 7.40pm and literally no one about.

The first establishment on my left is closed but the owner points to two large gates between high walled buildings. I cross over the road and push one gate open. On both sides of the long covered courtyard are small squat stable like buildings. A room on each side is lit with bright lights.

I go left and push a door open and emerge into a fully stocked wine cellar. If this is the stock room then it’s going to be rocking in the main bar!

I see the entrance opposite but can’t hear any noise, no band or singing. Maybe its quiz night? At least I will get to see what goes on behind closed doors. I push the door open.

It’s a long, brightly lit room. Virtually silent.  My eyes readjust to the light and see a line of tables down either side of the room. It’s a perfect line up for a bier keller. But, unfortunately, it’s like an up market motorway service station. Instead of beer drinking raucous groups, there are tidy family clusters chatting serenely or a couple of older people filling in their crosswords.

Directly opposite the door is the self service counter. On the wall to the right is a blackboard with the list of food options. All the mains courses end in schnitzel and all the puddings in strudel.

“Give me something Austrian” I ask.

I’m handed what looks like an over large dried breaded fish cake and a bowl of cold sliced boiled potatoes.

“A large beer too please.”  “We only do small bottles” was the answer. Ah, no wonder everyone is subdued.

[sultanstrail2020]

[sultanstrail2020]

THE SHATTERING OF IYDLLS

By early afternoon I had left Vienna behind and entered open country. Windswept flat fields surrounded by small lines of trees.

The only sound in this new rural Idyll was the waft of lorries on the adjacent motorway and the roar of planes 200 yards above me as they banked sharp left during the take off and climb away from Vienna airport.

I crossed over the motorway on a purpose made bridge and was faced with a fork in the path. Left or right? My windswept watery eyes couldn’t focus on the phone app properly.

I looked up and saw a wooden pole straight in front of me. There was a sticker signposting the route. The first visual signage I had seen in my almost two full days of walking.

I felt a hammer blow on the back of my head, an arrow straight through my heart and my legs buckled beneath me as if a scimitar had cut my legs off below the knees.

‘The Jerusalem Way’ pronounced the sticker. With a small arrow pointing right.

The Jerusalem Way! God knows what that is. Or should that be Jehovah?

It’s not a route of which I’ve heard, but, it doesn’t take long to deduce the walk is probably twice the distance of my Trail. My Sultan’s Trail.

How dare they! These walking groups are continually playing at one upmanship. Don’t they realise it’s not about distance but about the journey one step at a time?

I can already see my nights out being ruined. I’m in a tavern deep in rural Serbia. I’m impressing the bar maid with how I have walked 500 miles and now have 500 more to do. It’s the kind of small talk that goes down well round here.

Then suddenly they’ll be a chap stroll to the bar. “1000 miles pah.” Istanbul is nowhere. The only thing that matters is Jerusalem. That’s another 1500 miles from here at least! And I’m walking them all.”

At that he’ll lead the bar maid over to his table leaving me to slink back to my corner. I will be left with trying to figure out the solutions to medium difficulty seducco puzzles. They are  in the book that Maggie gave me in order to keep me occupied and away from impressionable bar maids on my nights out.

No. Don’t rise to it Paul. Lets coexist. It’s too soon to make enemies. It’s only day two. I’m on a walk of peace. Time to relax and to spend that time in quiet contemplation. Just accept it’s wonderful that others are following this special route too.

A couple of hundred yards further on I spot a bench in the distance. I will use that for a rest stop, have a drink, eat a Mars bar and recharge myself for the final hour’s walk.

I step wearily to the bench and place my rucksack down beside it.

My eyes are drawn to the short round bench leg. To my delight it has a Sultan’s Trail sticker on it. Large, light blue and white with a black stick man walking with rucksack and a message saying ‘walk in the footsteps of the sultan’.

The blue is a little too light blue in a 1980s Manchester City light blue way. Nice to look at but a little wishy washy and wimpish. But I shouldn’t complain. At least I am on the right track and we’re on the map.

I look again. I don’t believe it! Sticker wars!

On top of the large Sultan’s Trails sticker is the smaller red and white horizontally striped sticker of the Jerusalem Way. In the middle of the sticker is the dove of peace.

That’s taking the biscuit. You can’t be slapping the dove of peace on top of your rival’s sticker.

Anyhow since Western Europe decided to bring war to the middle east 1000 years ago Jerusalem isn’t a place I associate with the dove of peace. It’s still a boiling pot today. But let’s be charitable and say the dove of peace is aspirational.

All the same I need to re-evaluate things. It’s been a day of emotional turmoil. You just don’t know what’s right or wrong any more. Or who your friends are.

I also need to reconsider the Sultan’s Trail logo. Yes we are celebrating the Sultan’s Trail but maybe we need to embrace the rationale a little more. Be a bit more assertive too.

How about a line of slaves being led away in chains? The Vizier’s garrotted head. A sword and scimitar clashing. Or even a scimitar with a red drop of blood dripping from its tip?

I finalise on a slashing scimitar with dove feathers5 floating peacefully to earth either side of the blade. I feel it’s a nice compromise.

Give me a bundle of these stickers and the Jerusalem crew won’t know what’s hit them. It will all be done with love and peace. We can’t reject the past so we might as well embrace it. And it will give us a much jazzier (and intimidating) sticker for the next benches I come across. There is also the implied warning that despite only walking 1000 miles, us STIs are not to be messed with!    

[sultanstrail2020]

The Sultan’s Trail

As I meander along lonely with only my phone app for company (which shows me the way to go), I begin to think about The Sultan’s Trail. I’m walking it, but what am I? In this day and age we all need a label, a motto, a reason d’être. Don’t we?

I muse on this. Perhaps I’m a Sultana? That works. The Trail could use the sultana emblem a bit like how our National Trails use the acorn.

I’m sure there’s mileage in being a Sultana. But maybe the imagery isn’t totally right.

I like the idea of a chopped off head in a turban. This would represent the Grand Vizier who was garrotted and beheaded by the Sultan’s enforcers once news of the defeat in 1683 had reached Istanbul.

I’ll muse on the imagery.

I could be a Sultan’s Trail Inductee. Yes, a walking STI. If I slip back into the 17th century and use traditional vocabulary… I could be a walking STI seeking to have as much intercourse as possible with the local population.

[sultanstrail2020]

OOPS- POST RATIONALISATION ONE WEEK ON

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I write this report with the benefit of hindsight almost one week after the event. Was Austria almost in lock down from the Corona virus? Was I stumbling along oblivious to the emerging emergency? On the bright side, I had hardly come into close contact with anybody! So I am safe as houses.  Although thinking back, I did eat in several Italian restaurants so I presume I am virtually guaranteed to have caught the virus!

[sultanstrail2020]

Understanding Austrians

Do they have fun? Are they happy? Although if your only contribution to world culture is highbrow opera, waltzing and dancing horses I can see why living here can’t be a bundle of laughs.

But surely, behind closed doors they are having fun? I’ve tried my best to find out, but by the time I’ve knocked on two or three doors I’m getting some funny looks.

Arriving into Rauchenwarth village justifies my thoughts. It’s a small community near Vienna airport. I walked 1km through the village to my hotel. Two cars drove by but otherwise I didn’t see a soul in 10 minutes.