Students and teachers from the Khristov Botiv Middle School meet us on the shore.
Starting out
Arriving in Ljubičvac, Serbia, Billy, his friend, and Zerka quide me to our night’s lodging.
Boating fun
A farmer in Vetern, Bulgaria offers me a seat in his cart before beginning the swim to Sulistra.
Upon our arrival in Galati, Romania, this thoughtful woman waits quietly near me as I answer the media’s questions. When the crowd disperses, she taps my shoulder and hands me this lovely bouquet of flowers. After giving her a quick hug, Kelsey takes a picture. It is one of my favorites.
There are few to no sanitary landfills in Serbia, so garbage is dumped into the river. It wasn’t fun swimming up to this, but it was the only way out of the water.
Swimming past Turnu Magurele, Romania, an industrial port with a large fertilizer plant pouring acrid fumes into the air and dumping toxic-looking waste into the river.
Beatrice’s mom, Heidi, dresses in traditional Bavarian garb and feeds us a delicious homemade dinner complete with a tasty birthday treat.
Stopping to eat and drink. Meals were quick; the water was too cold to tarry.
After the Linz Kayak Club follows us into Linz, they entertain us with conversation and food.
Kelsey scans the scene at Persnnbeug lock and dam to decide on a spot for a safe entry.
Kelsey pauses for a photo op with the kayak on a carrier similar to what is found at every large dam in Germany and Austria.
Swimming past a few of the buildings destroyed by bombs in Vukavar, Croatia.
The Serbian fisherman, Jovi, who gifted me a picture of him and his wife before they were married. The pictures are a treasure.
Coming into Tekjip, Serbia after one of the longest days on the river. A group of men welcomed us with hot coffee before volunteering to carry our kayak and supplies to our guesthouse.
The Black Sea…These are the men that said, “After WWII, we waited for the Americans, but they did not come. The Russians did. Now, after fifty years, they are here. YEA!” We shared a liter of Romanian beer via a cup rinsed out between servings in the Danube River.
Vasco takes a picture of us at the wheel of the Radetzky before presenting me with a book of Khristov’s poems signed by him and stamped by the captain with the official seal.
We arrive in Baikal to an enthusiastic group of students and teachers from Khristov Middle School. A girl dressed in traditional Bulgarian garb greets us with a traditional bread and a delicious dipping mixture of paprika and salt.
Two Bulgarian police posed with Kelsey near Grandma Mita’s place. Our cabin for the night is in the background.
Evel and Kelsey display antique tools in Nedelcho and Nadia’s garden. “This is how women used to carry water from the river to their home,” Nadia says, positioning the bowed wooden rod on Kelsey’s shoulder. “If the woman is cute,” she says, “a man will ask her for a drink of water from her pots.” Kelsey responded, “If the woman is cute, how does she get home with any water?”
Silistra, Bulgaria. The mayor and the community overwhelmed us with food, great lodging, and a multitude of traditional Burlarian gifts. We needed a flashlight for camping in Romania but the mayor refused to let us purchase one. Over dinner, the mayor presented me with a flashlight. He said it was important for him to get it for us because he wanted to know that even after we left his country, Bulgaria could still light our path. It does.
Lucian follows Kelsey and me into Galati. Lucian said communism is worse than prison. “In prison,” he said, “you can share your thoughts with the other prisoners. In a communist country, your thoughts can be shared with no one.”
Fishing on the Danube Delta at dusk.
We say our difficult goodbyes to Sonja.
Kladova, Serbia. Zerka, of the Kladova Kayak Club, offers to help us after Sonja leaves.
The Linz Kayak Club does a colorful job of escorting us into Linz.
The Chief of the Svishtov river police greets us. Gencho Stoyanov is our interpreter who takes us to dinner and offers us a tour of the town.
Our kayak can barely be seen as we leave Svishtov for Stilpiste.
One of my favorite pictures taken at a store in Bela Crkva, Serbia. I thought we’d entered a National Geographic magazine when we entered this town. Our driver moved off the road for a sheep farmer herding his sheep home and again for a dairy farmer herding his cows to the barn. These guys were great, anxious for the picture!
Peter, Corrodo, Felix, and Kelsey guide me into Tuttlingen, Germany.
Wider Than a Mile 