Outside Vilnius’ neoclassical Presidential Palace a freestanding sculpture proclaims “#LT100”. It commemorates100 years since Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia declared independence from Russian Empire in 1918 (although the USSR would rule them again from 1940 to 1991).
A set of sunken footprints in the ground nearthe city’s Italianate cathedral symbolises theBaltic Way protest of 1989, when a human chain of two million, spanning 675km across the three Baltic states, linked arms to denounce Soviet rule. Two years later, the USSR collapsed and independence was finally regained.
My own Baltic Way was an 11-day cycling tour from Vilnius north to Tallinn, via Riga. I joined a group of six, led by Lithuanian guide Mindaugas, covering 35 to 60km a day on cycleways and quiet roads. The flat terrain, frequent coffee stops and luggage transfers between three-star hotels ensured an easy, stress-free exploration of the strikingly pure Baltic coastline and architecturally rich capitals. Yet equally fascinating were insights into life under Soviet occupation.
Cycling west of Vilnius towards the Baltic Sea took us through extensive pine forests and past round-turreted medieval castles. We followed an almost continuous stretch of impossibly scenic, deserted beaches on a 60km stint along the Curonian Spit, a Unesco world heritage site, pedalling through birch woods inhabited by elk and red squirrels. The ride ended at Nida, famous for its amber jewellery, a stone’s throw from the border of the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad.
Mindaugas had arranged a home-cooked meal in nearby Vente in the flower-filled garden of Rimatas Rimkai. For €9 we feasted on pumpkin soup and blinis (yeasted pancackes) stuffed with spring onions. “Life was tough during Soviet days,” recalled Rimkai. “I was an ‘actor’, pretending all the time to be happy with the system.”
The next day we were driven to the Latvian capital of Riga, and were based in the old town for three nights. The Hotel Konventa Seta has rooms in several historic buildings on Kalēju iela – I had a large 19th-century apartment above the Museum of Porcelain. Riga is a mix of ornate architecture reflecting prosperous spells under Swedish and Russian empires: from baroque churches to fanciful German art-nouveau.
From Riga we made day cycles to explore the countryside. Deep inside Gauja national park’s valleys of oak and linden we visited Gutmanis Cave. Local lore tells of the Rose of Turaida, a young woman who died here in 1620, rather than give in to an assailant, and became a metaphor for passive defiance against Soviet rule. In Saulkrasti we visited the Bicycle Museum where among a collection of 700 mainly Latvian bikes is a penny-farthing from 1887. “My father started collecting in 1977,” said his son Edward. “But the Soviets declared collecting bikes as ‘re-selling’ and he could go to jail. But despite this threat he was determined to preserve Latvian history, not Russian.”
That evening we wandered Riga’s cobbled streets that were buzzing with alfresco drinking and ate succulent slow-cooked beef cheeks, washed down with local, dark beer in underground cellar Folkklub Ala Pagrabs.
We crossed into Estonia the next day to cycle the country’s largest island, Saaremaa. The swathes of pine forest remained familiar but noticeably different was the signage; Estonians use a Uralic language similar to Finnish. Mindaugas said close links with Finland had enabled Estonia to become the most prosperous of the Baltic nations. Our base, the modern beachside Saaremaa Thalasso Spa Hotel offered comfort, with its minimalist Scandinavian design and passion for saunas. Perfect for weary cyclists.
On Saaremaa’s remote Sõrve peninsula we rode through wild flower meadows surrounding wooden farmsteads, some with Ladas parked on the driveway. Windmills remain in use and the bus-shelters are endearingly hung with lace-curtains.
In the past the area was less tranquil – it was the site of battles in 1941 and 1944. I explored a military museum packed with red banners marked “CCCP” and portraits of Stalin, while at Tehumardi cemetery a neo-brutalist concrete memorial, shaped like a sword, commemorates 200 Soviets who died in the battle of 8 October 1944. Before finishing our tour of Tallinn we dined at Vinoteek Prelude. This sophisticated bistro in a rural community offers oysters, local cheeses, wild boar and catch-of-the-day fished by restauranteur Margus Metstak.
“The building dates from 1768 but when we created the restaurant 12 years ago it had been a Soviet storehouse,” said Metstak, lighting our table’s candelabra. How tough was the transition from communist to free market economy, I wondered.
“Ah, it was easy,” said Metstak. “Anything would be after being forced to serve in the Soviet army.” Such fragments of the legacy the Baltic countries are slowly exorcising had made for an absorbing two-wheeled odyssey during their centenary of statehood.
• The trip was provided by UTracks. The 11-day guided Treasures of the Baltic By Bike tour costs from £1,170, including B&B, bike rental (e-bike option extra) and baggage transfers but not flights to Vilnius and from Tallinn
Flights
Going out: Ryanair flies to Vilnius from Luton, Stansted, Liverpool, Leeds and Birmingham; Wizz Air flies from Luton, Belfast and Doncaster/Sheffield.
Returning: Ryanair flies from Tallinn to Edinburgh and Stansted, easyJet to Gatwick and Wizz Air to Luton.
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