My wife and I once rode our bikes to Budapest, Hungary from the little village in Poland where we lived. It was a three-day ride on bikes packed heavy with clothes and cameras. (Yes, I was an idiot and took more equipment than I needed. But how many times do you go to Budapest? Well, in our case, “twice” turned out to be the correct answer, but I didn’t know that the first time, so I took everything.)

We were aiming for Banska Bystrzyca our first day – an unrealistic goal, as we eventually found out. Things were going well until somewhere around 80 km, when the road began sloping upward. The gentle slope soon became a several-kilometer camel’s hump with the serpentine road around it with no end in sight (or imagination).

The day started rainy, then turned to muggy/steamy when we hit the major mountain leading up to Donovalay.

First, there was the rain, which made it necessary to wait in Oravski Podzamok for some time. Once we got back on the road, there were several memorable villages. After 101 km, we called it a day and got a nice room for a nicer price in Donovalay.

This is an example of how not to write: dull and flat. Here is how it should have read.

The ride