In no-man's land between East and West

In the end, it's just nature and me. Lapland's taiga glows in all shades of yellow, red, and purple under the gray, cloudy sky. The further north I cycle, the lonelier the landscape becomes. I hardly encounter anyone; only reindeer cross my path. Above the Arctic Circle, temperatures are below freezing, and the icy northern wind is so cold that my face freezes into a painful mask. And it's not even mid-September yet. All my gear is soaked from the never stopping rain and smells musty, with an extra hint of smoke from the campfires where I warm myself each evening before slipping into my sleeping bag. Despite all my precautions, the cold finds a way to creep under my merino underwear during the night. I hope the crackling embers will at least keep away the bears, wolves, and wolverines! In the morning, the tent is frozen stiff. I have hardly any food left. There are hundreds of kilometres between the few shops — usually just a petrol station or a museum store. I’m only holding on because I know it's just a few more days until I reach my destination.

But how did it all start?

The beginning and the trail

Five months earlier, I began my journey at the other end of Europe, on the Black Sea in Bulgaria. From there, I cycled through nineteen countries, passing seas, plains, mountains, and countless borders. Despite the differences between these countries, they share one common thread: they are all connected by one of the longest cycle routes in Europe, EuroVelo 13 - Iron Curtain Trail.

This trail follows the former Iron Curtain, the line that once divided Europe during the Cold War. NATO countries and those of the Warsaw Pact stood opposed, facing each other with hostility. Where the no-man’s land of the border and death strip once stretched across Europe, there is now a cycle route dedicated to the history of the Iron Curtain and the Cold War.

EuroVelo 13 - Iron Curtain Trail leads from the Norwegian-Russian border on the Barents Sea to the Bulgarian-Turkish border on the Black Sea. I cycled the other way round, starting in the south so I could reach the far north before the onset of winter. When I began, it was spring and nature was just beginning to come alive. Everything was blooming. But the temperatures soon started to rise.

Orthodox chapels, mosques, and simple villages marked my route through the Balkans. I shared the roads with donkey carts, cows, goats and sheep. In Türkiye, I stop at every cai bar to refresh. Ayran, feta cheese and shopska salad become my staple food. In a Bulgarian village, I am woken up in the morning by a serenade from the local women's choir. At this early hour, the old ladies’ paper cups are filled with red wine instead of coffee. Their archaic singing is unusually rough and throaty.

Dogs, mountains and abandoned villages

What makes the tour more difficult, especially in the south, is the constant dog attacks. The worst were the huge herding dogs! Moreover, the route traverses the Balkan Mountains with an exhausting series of ups and downs. Sometimes the trail is narrow, steep and rocky that I literally have to carry the bike myself over the mountains. And even some of the descents are a hell of a ride, as they mostly consist of gravel and sand tracks.

It quickly becomes evident that the old watchtowers and border houses of the Iron Curtain have fallen into disrepair. Thanks to the Schengen Agreement, you can cross the green border almost anywhere. However, the former border still cuts across Europe like a poorly healed scar, marked by poverty, decay, and emigration. New fences, walls, and watchtowers now stand — where people were once unable to leave, they are now unable to enter. The victims of the Iron Curtain have now been joined by those of Europe's borders.

Where the route does not run along the EU's external border, you can see how the former no man's land is being renaturalised as a transnational habitat. You can revisit the villages in the Czech-German border area whose inhabitants were once expelled, though often only cemeteries remain. There are numerous museums, monuments and memorials along the way, and many original artifacts such as barrier installations, column paths and watchtowers. On the Baltic coast, the old watchtowers now only overlook the hustle and bustle which happens on the promenades of the old imperial spas. Upon reaching this point, I have completed 5,000 kilometres — exactly half of the route!

Baltic Sea coast and the new Iron Curtain

For the next 3,000 kilometres the route follows the Baltic coast, from Germany to Finland via Poland and the Baltic States. Twice, EuroVelo 13 - Iron Curtain Trail crosses Russian territory: the exclave of Kaliningrad and the bay around St. Petersburg. Russia's invasion of Ukraine has made the tragic history of the Iron Curtain more relevant than ever since its fall. The former lockdown has, in some ways, become a reality once again: many border posts are closed, barriers are being reinforced or newly erected, cross-border passenger traffic has been halted, and goods deliveries blocked. Despite the travel warning issued by the German Foreign Office, I chose to cycle these segments as well.

After cycling through Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia, I arrive in St. Petersburg, where fear lingers even within private homes — people hesitate to speak freely, afraid of being heard and denounced. The atmosphere is heavy with tension. As I cross the border into Finland unscathed, I breathe a sigh of relief and count my blessings.

The finale

The land of a thousand lakes and saunas lies before me and I plan to hop in as many as I can! Now, only around 1,800 kilometres remain until I reach my destination: the Norwegian coastal town of Kirkenes. In Finland, I marvel at the beauty of nature, even though the loneliness and cold are beginning to take their toll. But then the moment arrives: the sign of Norway suddenly emerges from the gray fog — I have reached the last country of my journey! Only one more stage separates me from my destination! When I hear the horn of a mighty Hurtigruten ferry, I can't believe I've actually made it! I end my journey right where the great fishing fleets of the Arctic Ocean are anchored. Only now do I fully realise what I've accomplished. And believe me, every bit of effort was worth it!

Written by Rebecca Maria Salentin (www.rebecca-salentin.de), all images courtesy of the author