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1716 While I face the Dakar in the direction of Plzeň (Pilsen) I roll through small villa- ges. The small houses and their crooked roofs hug the main road. The power lines stretch from house to house like puppet strings. Once outside the villa- ges I let my play instinct run freely. Numerous gravel paths without any threats of prohibiting signs lead radiate star-shaped in all directions and invite enduro discovery of the landscape. The E49 keeps me going at a brisk pace. The numerous sad- looking prefab houses which dominate the suburbs of Plzeň don‘t really fit into the scenery. The famous beer alone is not tempting enough to battle through the traffic chaos. The small roads shown on the map in the vicinity of the city appear far more attractive. I follow route 177 to the southeast and soon smell the sweet resinous fragrance of untouched forests. Rožmitál and Příbram appear quickly on the horizon and disappear just as fast. I follow the wide course of the Orlík dam to Milevsko. In Strakonice in southern Bohemia, I park the Da- kar in the shade of the town‘s massive historic fortress which dates back to the 13. century. Instead of tethering a four-legged means of transport as in the old days, I simply let the steering lock. I take off my helmet accompa- nied by the musical welcome of a flourish of horns and get ready to take a bow. Howe- ver, a closer look showed that the musical cacophony emanated from the car of a wildly gesticulating driver sounding his horn

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