Muddy Boots, Military Chats & Tarmac Tantrums: Another Three Days on the Polish TET
Dates covered 08.06.25 – 10.06.25
Right then, saddle up, dear throttle wranglers—this post’s got everything: muddy boots, barbed wire fences, divine detours, and more wet weather than a Scottish summer. We’re diving into the next leg of my Polish TET adventure, covering three glorious (and occasionally soggy) days of riding through a land that loves Orthodox churches, random roadworks, and ferry services that work as often as a teenager with chores.
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Day 1: Fence-Side Chats and Freshly Paved Frustration (08.06.25)
The day kicked off promisingly with something rare on this trip—a proper breakfast. I’m talking early bird type stuff here, the kind that makes you believe today’s gonna be the day. I rolled out of Siemiatycze around 08:30, belly full, spirits high, and tyres ready to chew through whatever Poland threw at me.
First up: muddy forest roads. Nothing crazy, but enough wet dirt to remind me I’m not riding a Vespa. The trees were lush, the puddles were cheeky, and the birds probably laughed as I fishtailed my way through the underbrush.
Unfortunately, the rest of the day turned a bit… well, meh. Mostly tarmac. Nice tarmac, mind you—suspiciously new, suspiciously smooth tarmac. I’m fairly certain a lot of what used to be gritty, adventurous TET trails has been swallowed by the creeping hand of road development. Smoother ride, sure. More fun? Not really. Felt like my knobbies were crying.
But then—plot twist! I found a sneaky little track leading straight to the Polish–Belarus border, where I came face to face with The Fence. You’ve probably seen it in the news: barbed wire, steel posts, and a grim reminder that yes, Europe still draws lines in the sand (or in this case, forest). Not here to rant politics, but standing there, bike idling behind me, I felt the weight of division. That said, the Polish military post nearby brought the vibe back up.
Yep—met some Polish soldiers. Their initial look said, “What the hell is this mud-covered lunatic doing here?” But after a few minutes, we had a cracking chat. Respect where it’s due—they’ve got a tough gig, and they were nothing but friendly once the shock wore off.
The day wrapped with more rural cruising—orthodox churches popping up like medieval mushrooms, each more beautiful than the last. I bloody love this kind of architecture. It’s like every onion dome’s trying to one-up the other in a slow-motion beauty contest.
Then came the rain. Because of course it did.
Managed to slide into Siemiatycze just before the heavens opened like a busted hydrant. Found a room and tucked the bike under cover. Victory.
Distance: 210 km
Mood: Damp, slightly philosophical, satisfied
Highlight: Accidental military diplomacy
Lowlight: Too much tarmac, not enough “yee-haw”
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Day 2: Detours, Downpours, and Dull Vibes (09.06.25)
Woke up like a man with a plan. Early breakfast? Check. Early departure? Check. Spirit of adventure? Slightly dented.
Today was one of those “riding between cities” days, which sound useful on paper but feel a bit like commuting through a cold shower. The weather returned to its usual “here’s some wind, maybe some rain, and no sun for you” standard Eastern European program. Grey skies, grumpy clouds, and the kind of cold that makes your throttle hand feel like a frozen fish stick.
The route was a mix of dull, duller, and hey look, a dead ferry! Yep, tried to cross the Bug River but the ferry was shut down tighter than a Monday morning. No signs, no warning—just a barricade and a detour that added 50 km and 90 minutes to the day.
At this point, even the cows looked bored.
Still, silver lining: I did manage to dodge most of the heavy rain. Just as the sky was about to open fire, I stumbled into a small inn in Klimki. The locals looked mildly horrified at my mud-splattered boots (sorry, carpet), but they handed me a room key anyway. Good folk.
Distance: 185 km
Mood: Wet, a bit grumbly, thankful for radiators
Highlight: Not being caught in the rain (barely)
Lowlight: River detour of doom
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Day 3: Grass, Grit, and a Taste of Old Poland (10.06.25)
Sun’s out. Birds are chirping. And for once, the weather didn’t suck. That alone made today a winner.
After a lazy start (breakfast at 8, rolling out by 9:30), I was back on the trail—and folks, the trail finally bit back.
Started tame, sure: tarmac, gravel, the usual suspects. But then came something new—grass tracks. Actual grassy fields pretending to be roads. Slippery, wet, and absolutely ridiculous after the previous day’s rain. The grass was slick, the mud beneath it soft, and the puddles? Well, let’s just say I had a few moments of “is this puddle ankle-deep or bike-swallowing?”
It was like riding in a swamp with pretensions. But I’ll tell ya, it was FUN. Challenging, slippery, unpredictable—exactly what I signed up for.
Had to cross the Weichsel River (aka the Vistula) next. There’s a ferry, but after yesterday’s ferry flop, I took the bridge detour. Probably the right call—I’m not emotionally ready for another watery betrayal.
Then came TET Section 3, and with it… sand. Glorious, soft, occasionally evil sand. It was like seeing an old frenemy—you’re happy for the challenge, but also slightly panicked at the thought of eating dirt.
Rolled into Lipsko around mid-afternoon. Found a budget gem of a guesthouse just outside town—€30 for a room near a petrol station and a restaurant? Bargain of the trip.
Dinner was good ol’ Polish grub. Think meat, potatoes, gravy, and carbs that could rebuild nations. I washed it down with a cold beer and spent the evening congratulating myself on not crashing today. It’s the little victories.
Distance: 175 km
Mood: Muddy but smiling
Highlight: Grass swamp chaos
Lowlight: Sand. Always the sand.
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Wrap-Up: Three Days, One Fence, and a Bucket of Rain
These last three days weren’t full of death-defying climbs or deep-river crossings (thank God), but they had their own flavour—the slow burn of solo adventure. You know, the kind where you don’t almost die every ten minutes, but you learn things. Like how quickly a ferry can ruin your day. Or how warm food tastes 100% better when your socks are still squelching.
If I had to sum it up?
• Poland’s paving its trails—so enjoy the wild bits while they last.
• Military border guards? Surprisingly chatty.
• Orthodox churches? Stunning. Like accidental cathedrals hidden in the woods.
• Weather? Still crap.
• Beer after riding? Always excellent.
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Tomorrow? Who knows. Depends on whether the weather wants to play nice or slap me around again. Either way, I’ll be on two wheels, chasing the next story, the next puddle, and the next perfectly fried Polish pierogi.
Rubber side down, ya filthy animals.
Got your own ferry fails or muddy misadventures? Drop ’em in the comments—let’s trade stories and compare bruises.
#dustysocks
