{"id":37773,"date":"2026-08-05T15:54:06","date_gmt":"2026-08-05T15:54:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hopcycling.pl\/?p=37773"},"modified":"2026-08-05T15:54:08","modified_gmt":"2026-08-05T15:54:08","slug":"bylem-na-mtb-w-gorcach","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hopcycling.pl\/en\/bylem-na-mtb-w-gorcach\/","title":{"rendered":"I was MTB in the Gorce Mountains."},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n\n

A famous psychology experiment conducted by Timothy Wilson and Dan Gilbert showed that people would rather experience pain than be alone with their own thoughts: participants in an empty room without phones preferred themselves electrocute<\/strong> out of boredom.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

This perfectly visualizes the thought process I was going through at my desk when I was planning a trip to Chisinau, but Piotrek approached me with a suggestion of a visit to the Polish mountains. I go cycling with Piotrek once every few years... and that's probably enough. Sometimes it's very cold and far away (Norway<\/a>), sometimes very warm and far away (Morocco<\/a>). This time it was supposed to be normal, only with a mountain bike. And interestingly, I've only been to the mountains on a regular mountain bike once. Once, in so many years of riding and so many years of racing mountain bikers. It was almost 10 years ago at the Bike Marathon<\/a> in Jelenia G\u00f3ra, when przemekzawada.com<\/a> He lent me his expensive bike. I read this post and was reminded once again that some conclusions don't change over the years. For example:
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n
"What bothers me about MTB is the fact that the bike needs to be serviced. This is especially painful in Warsaw, because a trip to the service center costs half a day and half a wallet."

"Well, in retrospect, these events always seem fun. If you had asked me somewhere between mile 40 and 70, my answer would have been: NEVER AGAIN."

"I spend about 15 minutes in the shower, fully clothed, trying to wash off the mud and shame. I don't even take my shoes off in the bathtub."

"The wall of rain gently cools my body, the road becomes slippery, and the mud flying in all directions repeatedly distorts the lenses in my eyes. Beautiful life, beautiful weekend, perfect choice. I'm proud of myself."

"The route is difficult. The descents often consist of rocks that I not only can't ride over, but I can't even carry the bike over."

"The calculations begin \u2013 I take my current speed, divide the remaining distance by it, and it turns out I won't make it to work on Monday."<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
And our three days of riding were exactly the same this time. I'm almost certain the first few dozen kilometers were the worst cycling kilometers of my life. And they were definitely among the best.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
Silesia.<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
I leave the house in the rain. I boldly assume this will be the last rain I'll see on this trip. It was a brilliant plan, and let the meteorologists stick their you-know-what, you-know-where for their weather forecasts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
I'm taking the Pendolino to Silesia \u2013 it's the only train that still has room for a bicycle. Maybe if I'd bought the ticket well in advance, instead of on the same day, it would have been better. My appointment with Piotrek is so strange that I have to go to Zawiercie or Sosnowiec. My colleague would call it a "trash vs. garbage" meme. But that wouldn't be true. Despite my Katowice roots, I think Sosnowiec is a pretty cool place. The ticket might cost a hundred z\u0142oty more than the Intercity, but I get there a good fifteen minutes faster\u2026 and I get a small water and a waffle cone. It also turns out that a night in Zawiercie costs about as much as a luxury hotel in Bali. I'm a bit tempted by the 300 z\u0142oty apartment aptly named "Husband's Hideout," but in the end, Sosnowiec wins. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
A few minutes from the station are two hotels: the Art Hotel and the Butique Hotel. Google Maps suggests they're a good choice, as they're located halfway between "Zrozumie\u0107 Psa" and "Zajebista Pizza Sosnowiec." As it turns out, they even share a reception desk\u2014the only difference is the exit direction from the elevator. I opt for the Boutique for 200 z\u0142oty. Well, the most boutique breakfast was probably a sausage, bacon, and egg breakfast. At the entrance, I'm greeted by two rather tipsy gentlemen who look like they've just finished their shifts at the power plant. A classic Thursday, 10:00 PM dialogue between them and a soaked man on a bicycle, with luggage under his saddle:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 Did you come from far away on this bike?
\u2013 No, from the railway station, through \u017babka on the way.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
Route.<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
Piotrek draws a 270km route. Split into three days, it feels like a luxurious, extended weekend. Photos, attractions, hills, views, chilling, and generally embarrassing yourself on Strava in front of strangers. Back then, we didn't know (or I didn't know) that exceeding a net average of 10km\/h could be a challenge. Piotrek's route analysis (which differs from the original because we were weak) looks like this, and if anyone understands what I mean, congratulations:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
Piotrek says this route brings out the best of both \u0141ossody and Carpatia Divide, with a touch of his own creativity layered over it. Or maybe the opposite, I don't know... In any case, please don't take it. The actual map of the route we took looks like this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
\"\"
Screenshot<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
Stage one, the wet and dirty one<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
We set off on Friday after work. Thanks to the generosity of my employer, it's about three hours earlier than on a normal Friday, the kind that isn't summer. On the way, we stop at Decathlon to buy inner tubes. We both leave with new sunglasses and new jerseys. They're the same, so we'll look like twins, because our bikes are identical, and our helmets are black. But that's good \u2013 we can take pictures of each other and both say, "I'm on them." We buy a Rockrider Cargo 500 cycling jersey through the app for 55 z\u0142oty, even though it normally costs 130 z\u0142oty. Who wouldn't be tempted? Of course, we need the cashier's help, because these new technologies are beyond us. Luckily, Decathlon seems to be too, because to issue the jersey, the lady has to wrap it in an envelope, print a label, seal it, and go to the pickup point to leave it. Explore 900 photochromic glasses are also available at a discount \u2013 1 groszy without the application, several dozen zlotys with the application, although no one has to pack them anymore. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The glasses are great \u2013 for the first time, the world looks worse through them than it does in person. Thanks to their blue (or gray, as the packaging claims) lenses, the perceived temperature is about 10 degrees lower than it actually is. The first day it's bad, the second day it's good, and the third day it's very good. Besides, they darken so much that when I enter a forest clearing, I might as well close my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
We leave the car in a remote parking lot, near the old Zakopianka street \u2013 next to the Circle K. It's a steady 11 degrees Celsius (54 degrees Fahrenheit) and a light drizzle. The main rainfall is forecast for about two hours later, but we know well that forecasts in the mountains can be tricky, so we boldly assume that the heavy rain is just falling from the sky. Of course, that wasn't the case. We pack up two golden Canyon Lux backpacks, pack a few clothes into bags, and set off along the blue trail, which begins about 3 meters from us. Straight up, straight down, straight through mud and sand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
Just a few minutes later, I'm soaked through. Every available space on my bike is clogged with mud, and my clothes look like I spent the last nine months with Forrest Gump in Vietnam. Of course, I'm not riding, but pushing the bike, scuffing my elegant Rapha shoes on the slippery rocks. I'll be descending them a bit further, because I've decided to live to see my retirement someday. Every day I worry that, as probably the only person in this country who spent every single day of his life in IT at the State Protection Office, I won't live to see my retirement and it will all be gone. Piotrek has a business, so he rides bravely. He rides so bravely that he has to wait for me every few moments. Sometimes he even gives me a head start and lies on those rocks for a while. I'm too slow to see it. I'm reminded of a joke:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
Winter, Alps, ski slope.
The guy starts down the mountain at full speed. He bounces on a mogul, spins, flies, somersaults, and slams into a tree in a snowstorm.
Skis in one direction, poles in the other, teeth knocked out, nose bleeding, legs bent as much as possible.
Opens his vacant eyes, takes a deep breath of mountain air and says:
\u2013 And fuck, it's still better than at work.<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
So I stand there, cold and wet, carrying a bike weighing over 15 pounds, and wondering if I'd rather be drinking my 17th cup of coffee in the office. I have no answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This whole cycling and downhill thing is a bit like a certain anecdote from my life. I spent years learning (through trial and error) to ski in Ma\u0142e Ciche. When my parents first took me to Austria, I went straight to the Harakiri slope in Zillertal. Two minutes later, my pants had a hole in the crotch; I had to plow so hard with my skis. On a bike, the less afraid you are, the looser you are, the less you brake \u2013 the better you descend. I do it all the other way around, so around Turbacz, there would have been at least two descents (or rather, rafting runs) where I thought I was going to die. I didn't die, because I'm still writing here, but inside, inside Maciek, something must have died. After that trip, my pants also ended up in the trash: they'd survived practically every trip for the past five years, only to rip while pulling them up in the forest. Likewise, my Hammerhead counter ended up in the trash the very first night after its display failed. They don't make any of these things anymore. Sleep sweetly, angels [*].<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
We pass a few people along the way \u2013 they all look like walking garbage bags and have the same smile on their faces. I think they're called "smiles in Polish." I'd rate my satisfaction a solid 1 out of 10. Everything's sticky with mud, my shoes are chafing, and it takes as long to carry the bike up and down as it does to ride. On every climb, Piotrek pulls away from me. I don't know how that's possible; I'm not that weak, after all. As an experienced cyclist, I look for the reason for this in the equipment \u2013 I'm reminded of a visit to the steep climbs in Lesotho, and a theory develops in my head. Piotrek is riding with a small seatpost and a backpack. It's like with the Tailfin, which is mostly loaded at the very end (so my dropper can lower the seatpost), and it's also quite high up. This means that on steep gradients, it takes quite a bit of weight off the front wheel, and I lose my balance. I'll have to think about this for the future. This is the first time in history that I think the Tailfin isn't the best bikepacking invention in the world.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
We avoid Turbacz because visibility is zero. We also avoid Luba\u0144 for the same reason, even though we practically pass right by them. We end our drive in Tylmanowa, because that's the only place we can find accommodation \u2013 the only one that makes sense on Booking.com. Calling random places found on Google Maps, we discover that everything is already booked for Friday evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
We sleep in Rivent Sport<\/a>It's somewhere between a workers' hotel in Zawiercie, a recreation center in Kocza\u0142a, and a student dormitory. We don't mind. We're made up of 80% of mud, 15% of sweat, 5% of proper humanity, and 0% of dignity. The facility is clearly geared towards kayakers practicing on the adjacent track on the Dunajec River, but importantly: \u017babka is nearby, and our room is located directly above a pizzeria. So we go to dinner barefoot, but in soaked and muddy pants. Two pizzas (double-sized, so perfect for one person in this condition) cost 117 z\u0142oty. We spend the rest of the evening rinsing the mud and sand from every crevice \u2013 from our clothes, equipment, and bodies. I'm also ready to say goodbye to my camera: the now-increasingly expensive Ricoh GR II, because it's making a noise like it's biting sand. I'm shocked \u2013 it's going through this adventure, and after a dozen or so photos, all the moving parts are moving again. And in the axes they should be! Let me just remind you that this camera is over 10 years old and not known for its durability. I'd be very sad if it died, because I think it's getting more expensive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We fall asleep quickly, still knocking each other down with our loot from Frog. I fall asleep just as quickly as I'm woken at 1 a.m. by the occupants of the next room. I'm sure the occupant of the room has fallen into a spiral of laughter and can't stop. She giggles for a good half hour until I finally hear a knock on her door. I think, "Finally, the occupant of the third room down the hall is going to flush her first." I hear the dialogue:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u2013 Good evening, it's the middle of the night. Could you please be quieter?
\u2013 (a moment of thought) NO CHANCE, BUT YOU CAN JOIN.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

For the next half hour the laughter gets even louder, then I finally fall asleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n
That day I seriously consider selling MTB and forgetting once and for all that such a sport even exists.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n