Day 18 - Welcome to Hell

Elaborate hotel breakfast in Nový Bor features hard bread, old fruit, leaden oatmeal, dense egg mass, iffy meat, and slimy cheese. A jukebox-sized coffee machine has buttons labeled kava, espresso, latte, cappuccino, all of which squirt out various foul combinations of instant coffee, non-dairy creamer, and sugar -- very slowly. Not to complain, of course.

Outside, no trace of last night's crazy storm other than a couple of collapsed party tents on the hotel grounds. We exit Nový Bor (a thoroughly enjoyable town, breakfast notwithstanding) through a large town park and along paved country roads, soon arriving at some fun-looking cliffs.

It seems that people around here like to carve these cliffs. Sometimes just a little graffiti, sometimes a bit of art, sometimes a balcony for a clifftop house...

or a mountaintop outdoor theater

or a little chapel

After a nice spell in these augmented mountains we venture along little roads to a pleasant paved bike path which leads us to the city of Česká Lípa.

(A splendid snail on the bike path; we're a little worried about him...)

It looks like there might be some nice stuff in Česká Lípa, but the trail consterns us a bit by staying right between a dinky river and a noisy highway. We try to detour into the "old town" for a nice meal to spook off the memories of breakfast, but the main square lunch joints shutter closed as we approach. Instead we head to Kaufland, a giant, disorienting German supermarket. The PA system keeps singing "Kaufland!" in a loop and it's a wee bit maddening. We manage to get out with a little cheese and crackers, but still can't find a lunch place.

On the way out of town, it's getting late, and we duck into a rundown Merkur hotel. We enjoy asparagus and schnitzel and a few drinks too many at the hotel bar, a comfortable, smokey dive (the Czechs are holding firm on the pleasures of indoor smoking) peopled with local sad sacks and sympathetic barwomen. By the end we're so jolly and brave that we skip the hotel and march off into the sunset. Dazed and a little lost on the way out of town but we finally find our way past the industrial outskirts and back into the woods.

Soon the cliffs resume, and the cliff art:

Might be Stalin but it's probably Ladislav Lis, a popular politician who retired to this area to raise sheep and goats.

The cliffs begin to rise steeply on both sides and the ground begins to be quite swampy. Sturdy sections of boardwalk help keep the trail walkable.

It's clear we're in a special place. As it happens, we're in Hell! It's a conservation area called Peklo Park, which translates as Hell Park... but honestly it's pretty nice. Maybe the funky sandstone cliffs resemble Hell geologically, but they're also a lot of fun. The trail winds around the little canyon and sometimes takes us right through the wall

People have been living here since the Iron Age, carving their homes out of the soft cliffs. Our best guess is that we're probably not supposed to be camping here, but since we're unable to make it out by nightfall, it will have to be home to us as well, for now.