Last day in Krakow and after packing the bike and paying off the sour faced car park attendants I headed for Oskar Schindler’s ceramics factory. To get there I had to cross railway tracks and I could help but wonder what these tracks carried during the second world war. The factory was close to the tracks but closed on Mondays. I spoke to one of the Museum employees who give me a description of what was inside; the factory facade had been preserved over the years but the factory itself had largely been redeveloped and most of it has been turned into an art gallery with a small section, that sits directly behind the facade, retained as the factory museum.
I said farewell to Krakow and headed South West towards the Czech border. Before reaching the frontier I had planned to visit what remained of both Auschwitz and Birkenau concentration camps. Getting there turned out to be an adventure of sorts. My GPS navigation worked out the shortest route but some of the roads it brought me down were barely passable, and a couple were impossible to even walk let alone drive. I travelled all but a couple and had a lot of fun while pushing the bike and myself a lot farther than I had expected. At one point the road disappeared into a forest, another road disappeared into a river but luckily there was an ancient chain ferry that brought vehicles back and forth.
There was a very steep embankment that led to the river water level and I signalled to the lone ferry operator if I should descend, it would be a mammoth effort to get back up the bank if I couldn’t get aboard to ferry platform. He signalled yes and I gingerly began my decent. The approach road was unpaved, uneven but so far under me! I had little traction for my wheels but I made it to the waters edge safely. The ferry platform was several inches higher than the bank and covered in oil from years of carrying cars and tractors, so once both wheels mounted the platform I then had to avoid sliding off it into the river.
I managed to get onboard without incident and was pleasantly surprised to find that the ferryman spoke pretty good English. He was really surprised to have an Irish motorcycle on his ferry, this place was way off the beaten track. We exchanged stories and when we reached to other side I asked what I owed him only to discover I had no money but he gave me a break and let me off saying that he’d never had an Irish bike on his ferry.
Getting off the ferry was just as risky as getting on and once I had both wheels on dry land I still had to scale this bank to reach the paved road above. I made it with a few scary wheel spins on the way and waved goodbye to the ferryman as I headed on my way.
After about 10KM of riding through rural and beautiful Polish countryside I saw something in the distance that didn’t fit. It looked like a full size commercial passenger jet but there was no sign of an airport. I carried on fully expecting to find some kind of airfield but no, nothing… just a huge jet in a field. It looked in pretty good condition, its landing gear down and windows sparking in the sunshine, but how it got there was a real mystery. It was facing a tiny country lane and behind it was a row of mature trees and some buildings. It was obvious it hadn’t landed in the recent past, and looking at what surrounded it now I would guess that the plane hadn’t moved for the best part of 20 years. Someone was looking after this machine, it looked clean and maintained. There wasn’t anyone around to ask so after a little head scratching I carried on towards Auschwitz.
The road to Auschwitz was almost all single lane country roads and reminded me of rural Mayo I knew from my childhood. It was so exciting to be so deep in rural Poland, passing through villages and past farms that haven’t been swept aside by progress. The architecture of some of the churches was breathtaking and but as I crossed a railway level crossing I couldn’t help imagining what happened here so may years ago.
I arrived at Auschwitz and immediately noticed a huge sign for fast food inside the fence and near the museum entrance. I guess people have to eat but it didn’t look right and for some reason I can’t explain I felt uncomfortable taking a photograph of it. The museum insisted that I join a tour but if I arrived after 3pm they’d let me explore on my own and suggested that I visit the less popular Birkenau until then.
Birkenau was not what I expected. It shook me to my very foundations. I rode around the perimeter of the camp before going in. This camp is huge, bigger than I imagined, this is disturbingly big and knowing what happened here I began to feel emotional and physically ill as the horrors that I had understood were instantly multiplied.
I parked my motorcycle next to a tall concrete corner post that supported ancient barbed wire and electric fencing and walked into the camp. It felt bigger inside. There were was seemed like an infinite rows of chimney stacks that represented all that was left of countless wooden huts that each housed hundreds of prisoners. Some huts were preserved as museum pieces but most had to be let go, there were so many of them.
I walked along the railway tracks that once carried thousands of prisoners through the camp gates. I walked for a long time, passing row after row of huts. I began reading my guide-book… 90% of each transport were immediately murdered. I had to thinking about that… there were countless huts that only accounted for 10% of the people carried on each train… this was staggering, shocking, unbelievable, I really don’t have the words.
I carried on walking along the tracks until I came to the most horrific part of the camp. Nestled in a its own quiet space, surrounded by trees, I found the remains of the gas chambers. They were partly destroyed but retreating SS guards in an attempt to cover up the unimaginable horrors they were responsible for. The space they occupied was vast and filled with what I can only describe as memories. Memories of everyone who passed this way, thousands upon thousands of people, everyone wrenched from their lives and transported to this place of death. I felt something, something tangible, more than a feeling, it was deeply moving.
I walked slowly to the entrance, walking slowly through huts and other buildings on the way. Each structure contained rough wooden bunks that were crammed into every available space with the most basic sanitary and heating facilities. I passed a lot of people who day, no-one spoke, I was surrounded by people in shock.
I returned to my motorcycle and after a few moments I began to drive back to Auschwitz, stopping once to look back along the railway tracks to the arch that an unimaginable number of people passed under to their deaths. Auschwitz was a different experience, it was a museum and had well-preserved artifacts and buildings. It told the story of this death camp and the people who suffered in it. Auschwitz was a Polish military barracks before the war and the Germans reused the buildings as prisons. Today many of those buildings house exhibitions, galleries, and artifacts. The gas chambers and crematorium survived the war undamaged and are on display, walking through those two adjoining rooms are a stark reminder of how efficient and evil the Nazi’s could be.
I left Auschwitz feeling emotionally drained. It was getting late in the afternoon and I had a long drive to Prague ahead of me. I had no time left for sightseeing and made straight for the nearest motorway. Crossing the border into the Czech Republic was marked only with a sign and the roads improved somewhat. I did come across an old soviet era airfield that ran parallel to the motorway that had tightly packed military jets and helicopters in storage. If I stopped I knew I’d be there for hours and it was getting late so I forged ahead.
I finally made it to the outskirts of Prague after the sun had set. Riding into a strange city after dark is always unnerving but my GPS did it’s job perfectly and I arrived at my hotel a little before 10pm. The hotel was a family affair, no frills but everything worked. They let me park my motorcycle in their secure underground car park so once I unloaded and locked it I could forget about it for the next two days. I was starving and the hotel’s kitchen was long closed but they sent me down the street to a local bar that served food late and what a find!! The people were so friendly, the food was great, it had a huge sleection of beer and best of all was the price – obviously this was not a tourist area! I ordered food, sat at the bar drinking a local brew reading my rough guide to Prague and planned the next two days… exciting!!!