I first met Oskar while reading his water-stained diary penned eight decades earlier. As I got to know him, I tried to imagine how I would cope with the challenges he faced. This research, coupled with my subsequent experiences, not only gave me a perspective of what the journey would have been like for Oskar, but also revealed what had changed and what has endured over the last 79 years. My first challenge was not the rapids and whirlpools that Oskar experienced, but getting past 35 dams that now punctuate the Danube, using locks or portage routes. In the first week I had to traverse 18 small, self-operated locks. Each involved 30 cold minutes of standing in the breeze in wet paddle clothing. Oskar and I both used a network of kayak clubs on the Danube for accommodation, support and the companionship. In Austria I was lucky to be launching in Linz on the same day as two German kayakers, Patrick and Johanna. I was intrigued by their retro folding kayak, which was similar to Oskar’s, and they were an inspiration to me as we paddled big-kilometre days together through Austria, Slovakia and Hungary. It was a very hard day when we had to part ways early one morning in Budapest. My friends packed up their kayak and took the train home, as I went off alone into Serbia. Oskar had at least two dogs during his voyage, and what I found most remarkable was how he had paddled the 35-nautical-mile crossing from Turkey to Cyprus with a young puppy in the kayak. During my first night camping alone in Serbia, I found myself wishing I had a dog with me for companionship and security. On my last day on the Danube, I met Brza. She arrived in the morning as I was packing my kayak, and pursued me a kilometre down river until I finally gave up and let her climb on board. She was the perfect kayak dog and eventually found a place to sleep on the back deck, with her head curled around my waist. With sadness, I returned Brza to her hometown, Brza Palanka, at the conclusion of the 18km trip to my take-out point. I didn’t think the border police would let me take her across and I was unsure if she would survive the whitewater on the Vardar. I was not even sure I would.
“Oskar’s craft wasn’t designed for the ocean and, surprisingly, he couldn’t swim. When he got worried he would tie himself to his kayak with a rope.” The Serbian kayakers I had become friends with in Belgrade assisted me with passage from the Danube in Serbia to the Vardar in Macedonia, and provided the contacts I would need to paddle this river that is little known outside of the Balkans. On a one- or a two-week expedition, you can plan every detail. A four-month journey is another situation entirely. Sometimes you simply have to take things as they come. Prior to the expedition I couldn’t find any information about the Vardar. In Germany, paddlers asked me how I planned to get myself and my kayak from the Danube to the Vardar, and I surprised and worried them when I said I didn’t know. Having undertaken huge journeys before, I was confident it would work out. When you follow your dream, things often just fall into place in ways you could never imagine, so I continued to paddle into the unknown until the day I arrived in Novi Sad and met Jugo. We sat down for a coffee and to my utter delight and surprise he said: “It’s all arranged.” It seems the bush telegraph is not unique to Australia, and the Serbian paddlers really did have everything sorted, from route plans to contact details of English-speaking people in every town I would stay in as I passed along the Danube in Serbia. The mayors of some towns had been made aware of my impending arrival and I even had the name and telephone number for the chief of police. The icing on the cake, though, was contacts for paddlers in Macedonia and a detailed description of the Macedonian section of the Vardar River. I was humbled by my experience of Balkan hospitality. If you only paddle one part of the Danube River, then I urge you to go to Serbia.
Top left image With Brza on the Danube in Serbia. Bottom left Sandy cuts a lonely figure leaving Antalya. Photo by Seyfi Yilmaz. Top and bottom right archive images of Oskar Speck, courtesy Australian National Maritime Museum 35