We wake up early. Today’s ride promises hills and (or so we think) a brisk, energy-boosting trip around Prague. Past the Museum, over Nusel Bridge, scootering to Vyšehrad, then along Rašín Embankment by the Vltava, passing Mánes and the Dancing House, and back to Charles Bridge. Johny, ever the strategist, loads up on breakfast. No room for chances today. Especially since we start with a bit of grumbling—uphill. Our Vyšehrad Odyssey on a footbike begins beneath the Žižkov TV Tower.
Žižkov Tower
This iconic structure features David Černý’s crawling babies, fittingly named “Miminka.” (means babies) Dystopian sci-fi? You’ll spot them again on Kampa. Fun fact: the tower was initially meant to jam Western radio broadcasts. Communist tech could block signals, but today, the Observation Deck offers an uncensored view of the city. Plus, for €537 per night, you can stay at the six-star One Room Hotel. We somehow decided to skip this luxury.
Hats, gloves, and footbikes ready—go! We roll past the church, heading toward the beautifully named Rajské Zahrady (Paradise Gardens). Sounds great, right? Who knew they’d be completely fenced off? We slip down Seifertova Street, take a shortcut near the train cars at the main station underpass, which we adore for several reasons: no wind, it’s warm, no cars, and the smooth marble floor lets us glide effortlessly. Oh, and the snack bars on the other side? Lifesavers. If it rains, we’re coming back.
Prague’s Main Station
A place where trains don’t always leave on time. I remember when the Slovenská Strela used to zip between Bratislava and Prague in just over four hours. And I also remember the time it was delayed by a glorious 480 minutes—unforgettable because my girlfriend was on that train while I was stuck in military service.
Once known as Wilson Station, Prague’s main train hub boasts Art Nouveau architecture. Few people know that Albert Einstein, during his Prague days, would sometimes sleep here. But we keep moving—scooters aren’t built for overnight stays.
Museum
Coffee break before heading to Wenceslas Square. The upper part of the square is under construction, looking less than charming. In front of the National Museum, we recall Soviet tanks rolling in during 1968. Bullet marks on the façade remain. A few photos, a few leg stretches, and off to Nusle Bridge.
Do you know it? The rebound leg moves in the axis of motion by swinging back and forth. The pendulum effect achieved naturally prevents a violent stomp when the rebound foot contacts the ground, generating kinetic energy in the process. The entire musculoskeletal system is in regular motion: the deep stabilisation system is activated by the back and abdominal muscles. We manage the kilometre or so of slightly uphill stretch on Kostka footbikes without complications.
I just wonder how those people next to the main road can breathe and what their eardrums think of the constant noise? You’d think living downtown would be a win. The on-ramp to the Nusel Bridge is spectacular.
Nusle Bridge
A leap into the unknown? Zuzka pauses at the railing, wind puffing her jacket like she might take off. “This would be the perfect photo,” she mumbles. The light is ideal, the sky pure blue. If only the railing were still just a meter high instead of today’s towering barriers. Maybe she’d be floating mid-air, capturing the ultimate Instagram shot: “Between Earth and Sky. Still got it.” But the barriers stay.
Originally, the bridge was car-only. Later, they squeezed in a subway tunnel. Engineers had to make sure it could handle Moscow-grade metro train (read: three times heavier than planned). Just before opening, they noticed vibration issues. The solution? Rubber pads to absorb shocks. And to be sure, they tested it with tanks. Sixty steel beasts thundered across to prove it could hold. It did.
Today, thousands of cars and trains pass above, but few consider its history. Like an old soul with countless stories, but no one asks. Once infamous as “the suicide bridge,” more than 300 people—or maybe more—took their final steps here before the barriers were added. What made them cross the line? What made them ignore the promise of another sunrise?
Maybe if they had ridden a Kostka footbikes… Every rider I see is smiling, eyes alight with joy.
Palace of Culture
Like the concrete Titanic of Prague. The Congress Centre, also known as the “Palace of Culture”, was a megalomaniacal communist project. Its construction gobbled up huge amounts of money and by the time it opened in the 1980s it was already a symbol of unnecessary luxury. Today it is a concert hall. The palace is orphaned. We are moving on, because Queen will not be performing here anymore.
It’s a wonder how we’re riding so far. We take a slight downhill scooter ride to Vyšehrad.
Vyšehrad
Legends say this was the seat of the first Czech rulers, though it never truly held power. The Cathedral of St. Peter and Paul dominates the skyline, transitioning from a Romanesque basilica to its current neo-Gothic form with Art Nouveau frescoes. Near its entrance lies “The Devil’s Boulder,” supposedly hurled here by an angry demon.
Vyšehrad Odyssey on a footbike? Cobblestone streets versus smooth paths along the fortress walls with stunning views. Guess which we chose? Once defensive strongholds, these walls now offer the best panorama of Prague. Every glance sparks a memory. As Czechoslovak nostalgics, some of us still struggle with the idea that Prague is no longer “our” capital.
From these walls, Folimanka Park looks different. Same trees, same paths, yet the perspective shifts. Instead of looking down, we look up. Searching for Strahov, the Hunger Wall, Petřín Tower. The Vltava curves in the distance. The wind hums gently. Just this moment alone makes life worthwhile.
Slavín Cemetery
Resting here are Bedřich Smetana, Antonín Dvořák, Alfons Mucha, Karel Čapek. Their grand tombs feel more like art than graves. Some say, after dark, whispers float through the air. Wind, perhaps? 🏰✨
Even here, we spot an investment opportunity—plots for sale. Not much space, but eternity doesn’t require square footage. And having Vlasta Burian as a neighbor? Priceless.
Legend has it that Vyšehrad was home to a headless Templar knight riding at night. We only encountered tourists, cyclists, and joggers—all with heads intact.
Down to the Vltava
Navigating the descent proves tricky—stairs are not scooter-friendly. We seek a smoother path but find ourselves in a labyrinth of ups, downs, and dead ends. Sweaty and out of breath, we finally hit the right trail. A half-hour later, we roll onto the embankment.
Mánes & the Dancing House
Gliding along the Vltava is our reward. We pass Mánes, a place where Bohumil Hrabal once dined and drank—a writer equally devoted to literature and beer. Further ahead, the Dancing House stands like a concrete Fred & Ginger. Initially controversial, it’s now a Prague icon. Everyone stops for a selfie. So do we.
The Grand Finale: Charles Bridge
We end our scooter ride at Charles Bridge, where legend says the architect’s ghost still roams, unpaid for his masterpiece. Given the quality beer nearby, it’s no wonder. But we prefer the tale of egg yolks in the mortar. We also wonder—where exactly did they shoot the image for old socialist 100-crown banknote?
By the time we reach the Karel Zeman Museum (yes, the creative one), we feel accomplished. 28 km, 360 meters of elevation, and we’re still rolling.
So, ready to take the Vyšehrad Odyssey on a footbike ride yourself?
