The Vistula and the Gassy Ferry

Warsaw is divided into 18 districts. We are living in Wilanów, which is a district in the south end of Warsaw, bordering on the left bank of the Vistula River (Wisła). From the map below you can see Wilanów in red and that the Vistula River bisects Warsaw flowing from southeast to northwest. It is from Wilanów that our first adventure begins.

Districts of Warsaw, Wilanów in red. Source.

By the time Kościuszko and I got organized and out the door it was already after 11:00 and the temperature was hovering near 32ºC (89ºF). It was very hot by my standards, but I was too excited to care. I met up with Stewart M., a former colleague, who is now working in Warsaw. Our initial plan was to explore the quieter country roads of southern Wilanów, but this plan only lasted all of 20 minutes before we refocused ourselves and decided to head for Gassy Ferry, a small ferry crossing some 4-5 km south of the Warsaw city limits.


The initial road conditions were difficult. This was our (Kościuszko and my) first encounter with Polish cobbles, Polish gravel, Polish dust and very large Polish construction trucks. That first half hour was more than enough to feel the greatest of admiration for the cyclists of the Paris-Roubaix! We soon found exceptionally wonderful road surface, however, and eventually arrived at the small, four-car Gassy ferry on the Vistula river. Resting for a while, we watched the lone ferry make the crossing from the right (east) bank to the left, then returning home by roads more suitable to Kościuszko's design as a road bike.

Cabbages. Obórki. Summer.

I am sure that for many people this ride in the country may be no big deal. There was certainly a pastoral beauty, but nothing more. After all, if you've seen one cabbage field, you've seen them all, right? Not for me. I soaked in everything; those farms, fields, old stone walls and waterways brought life to the (hi)stories of Poland that I knew had taken place in the area. At the ferry I mused about the historic difficulty of river crossings. This is no mean feat, and although the Vistula is not the widest of rivers, it still presents a formidable barrier for those wishing to cross.

Gassy Ferry on the Vistula.

More armies than I care to count have made crossings of the Vistula (and the Poles have been caught in the middle). Two of the greatest invasions in history were launched just east of these shores: Napoleon's invasion of Russia (1812) and Hitler's invasion of Russia (1941). In both cases the area around Warsaw served as a major hub for supplies during the invasions. And, as we all know, both Napoleon's and Hitler's armies tumbled back across that same river, defeated.

So, for me, you see, it's not just the cabbages of now. I see Napoleon's agents "requisitioning" cabbages for the Grande Armée at the expenses of the local population. For me, it's not just four cars crossing a quiet river, but a feeling of ebb and flow, invasions and migrations back and forth across the river, across the centuries. If only rivers could talk.

The Vistula (Wisła) is the longest and largest of Poland's rivers and the origin of the name is of some interest. (You may not know that I am a linguist by training and that my specialty is historical linguistics, hence the interest in etymology.) Anyway, the name of the river is recorded as early as late Roman times and comes from the Indo-European root *u̯eis, which can mean several things: flow (away), ooze (out), grow or sprout slowly. There are a number of words in English that are related to this river's name and share the same root: ooze, weasel (yes!), virus, viscous. Other languages have some surprising correspondences to this root, as well: the Greek word ἰξός (mistletoe) comes immediately to mind. Etymology, however, is a field that can be rife with speculation, so let us leave the word games at that.

In the end, Stewart and I rode for over 90 minutes, covering nearly 40 km, having wonderful conversation along the way. Riding with someone certainly makes the adventure more satisfying and the time pass all too quickly!

It was a great first day out on the bike and when I got home Valerie (my wife) and I both needed to eat, so I turned myself around and we popped into a quaint little Italian place in Wilanów called Quattro Canti. There we shared a caprese di bufala, Valerie ordered an insalata con pollo e verdure grigliate and I satisfied my post-ride need for carbs with a simple, but elegant fettuccine aglio e olio.

What a wonderful way to end the ride.