Transfăgărășan Sunrise (day 53-60)
Day 53-60 (4th - 11th Oct)
5381 miles
Budapest - Transfagarasan - Sofia
One of the factors for coming into Budapest, as British as it sounds, was to restock on Yorkshire tea. I was down to my last 3, and still had many weeks to go before home then discovered there’s a British store in Budapest. Another factor was how cold I was in the night camping near Suloszowa and riding in the rain the next day, I realised I had no layers I could add to my lower half when I need to at altitude or in winter. I'd met an Argentinian in the hostel the previous night and been talking about my trip to South America next year, so had planned to meet up in the afternoon and get some pointers of places to visit. I set off for tea and thermal leggings, then spent a few hours in a cafe catching up on the previous week's riding and exploring.
I met up with Yas and had a walk around parts of Budapest in the rain, learning about the communist monument they couldn't remove but surrounded by trees to obscure, and how the US embassy placed three bronze casts of notable US figures symbolically surrounding it. There's also a statue errected by the Hungarian government which was done in an manner the community of Budapest didn't approve and is quite controversial. It has Angel Gabriel and an eagle, depicting a lack of choice with the actions Hungary took during WWII, and is seen as attempting to re-write history - there have been protests against it for the past 10 years from the Jewish community, the literature explaining it all is very interesting and moving. We stumbled into an Oktoberfest party with live band for a few hours then finished the night with Langos - fried pizza dough with toppings added after. It doesn't sound healthy, pizza isn't famously healthy in the first place, but it is so tasty!
The next morning I sorted out my stuff for an hour or so then went for a run around the city to do a quick 'drive by' of the parts I hadn't had chance to see. The city felt vibrant and bustling, with walking tours congregating around the main sights, food markets in the streets and people milling about. I've been here 11 years before and still feel like there are many things I haven't seen, so need to come back in the future with more time. I got back to the hostel, making a final stop for breakfast at a bakery then said farewell to folk I'd met at the hostel and headed toward a cave in the hills in north east Hungary.
After a few hours of riding with the sun on my back, I turned off the main roads and started to look for somewhere to stay with Tom remotely hunting via Google Satellite as my logistics officer. I've found that I'm generally best in hills because theres fewer people and more concealed roads, tracks and trails I can explore and find a clearing to make camp without being seen. Dark was setting quickly and the clouds lowered until I had almost no views or visibility but I managed to find somewhere quiet to camp, conscious I am now in bear territory for the first time this trip.
The next morning I packed up and headed up the rest of the mountain pass to Szent Istvan Cave (St Stephen Cave), booking the next available tour. It was all in Hungarian, but I had some English literature to read beforehand, describing the archaic method cavers name aspects of cave they discover which amused me thinking of the areas of Rowter named by members of BBPC. The flowstone and stalactites and stalagmites were very impressive, it would have been a treat to have discovered this system - the tourist section is 170m through natural caverns and chambers with concreted paths and lighting systems but the full cave is 700m long and requires 'specialist equipment and qualifications' to explore - vague enough to pretty much cover any activity in any discipline there.
From here I headed south toward Deva in Romania and the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. For the first time this trip there was an actual border, with passport checks and security, I knew Romania was part of the schengen so was surprised by the formality but later read there were still checks for Bulgaria and Romania at land crossings as they hadn't been fully 'naturalised' by the EU. The delay and my stops for coffee/food/fuel meant I didn't manage to get quite as far as hoped before night started closing in again, but I did win an extra hour back crossing the border/time zone. My mileage per litre of fuel was starting to change, I had been aware of a leak from the top of the return cap on the tank and could smell fuel, but was managing it by monitoring how far per fill up, as the only reliable way of knowing how much fuel I was carrying and my full range. This had changed from always getting more than 10 miles per liter, to fewer, so I needed to address this soon.
In hunting for somewhere to stay I found a farm track heading between fields toward some woodland, I made my wobbly way up the clay bank which was a bit precarious and uneven, and eventually found a spot of unfarmed land in the corner, concealed from view. I made camp then decided to have a closer look at the fuel leak, so in the field by torchlight, I removed enough of the bike to get a view of the quick release connection and see if I could suss out which bit had failed. The o-ring for the quick release had a tear in it, which won't be helping matters, but eventually I found the main issue that the tapered pipe thread of the quick release going into the tank was weeping. Satisfied I had a better idea of what I needed, I reassembled and went to bed with the familiar smell of petrol on my skin.
Its amusing now, but the night's sleep was not at all restful. I heard a noise outside the tent and lay very still trying to listen to what it might be, decided it was nothing then heard it again. I got up, went outside with torch and tried to find the source but figured whatever it was had gone and went back to bed, a few minutes later, the noise again. This time, it felt like it was in the tent, I moved, it stopped. I lay still, it happened again. I spent an hour trying to find the source until I realised it was a mouse under the ground sheet, nudging at me and scurrying around. It wasn't going to kill me so I could sleep, but its very annoying to lie there and be pushed and nudged by a mouse going about its business below you, all night. I realise I was in its territory and I tried to be the most amenable guest I could be considering I'd pitched a tent on top of its landing or forecourt or whatever it was, but that doesn't help catching up on rest!
I dropped my bike for the first time the next morning, checking I'd not left anything on the ground before leaving camp. With the bike on sidestand facing down a hill I forgot to put it in gear, it rolled off the stand and hit the deck. The answer is - I can't lift 340kg easily. In the end I removed the untrapped pannier, topbox and bag of water and was able to right the bike, a useful exercise in warming myself up in the morning. I made my way down to Deva, and found a B&Q equivalent (Dedeman) to buy a role of PTFE tape for £0.22. I tried to find a place to buy petrol resistant o-rings and didn't manage but I had made a temporary o-ring by cutting a thin segment of fuel overflow pipe which fit and worked well, so have left that for now until it becomes an issue again. Armed with PTFE and the sense of needing to change my front tyre after the wobbly efforts last night I spent 3 hours at a service station, changed the front tyre for fresh rubber and finally stopped the leak properly. Satisfied the bike was in a happy state again, I set off against the setting sun to find somewhere to camp - again.
I was 20 minutes too late to get the full benefit of the rich sunset on the horizon but I managed to find a camping spot up a very steep clay track in the lower hills of the Carpathian Mountains miles from anywhere, yet still had the soundtrack of wild dogs barking sporadically through the night. I have been surprised how many wild/stray dogs there are all over Romania, I knew they had a problem but its every single street in every village and town. They are mostly lethargic and malnourished looking, but I wouldn't put it past any of them to be a little less friendly if you annoyed them, and I've had a few instances of being chased by road-side guardians as I made my way through Romania.
Something I noticed as a difference in Romania to most other countries I've been through so far, is that the main thoroughfares haven't bypassed towns and villages, they go straight through. Even though I'm on the major national roads, I have regularly been in 50kph zones tootling past grandma's and grandpa's sat outside their houses letting the days pass them by, or overtaking horse and cart on their way to drop something off or unload their goods. It has given me a better sense of what the villages and life is like in the country, but it must be annoying for the residents to have HGVs and traffic constantly droning past - its also absolutely destroying the roads which are possibly the worst I've been on so far.
The benefit to being at a campsite tucked away on a mountain side is the ‘out of sight out of mind’ approach to my own safety, I can't be bothered by people if the people don't know I'm there. The downside to it is that if something does happen to me, I'm pretty exposed. The latter point is something I've been actively conscious of with trying to avoid doing anything too risky on the bike which I would otherwise have a go at if I was at home, but also that I need to be more aware of my surroundings the more remote I am. It takes some internal reminding when I'm in dark strange woodlands that the noises and movements are probably an acorn falling or a branch giving up, the wind moving or maybe a little deer/mouse going about its business. Something I'm still not sure of, is what caused the sound of hooves galloping toward me from behind as I made camp at the top of a hill in the woods. My skin went cold, I span round and put my headtorch on full beam, to see nothing there. Maybe I've been on the road too long and have finally lost my mind, maybe it was log falling and breaking rhythmically, either way it got a decent response from my heart rate monitor on the Garmin.
That night the sky was completely clear, had remarkably low light pollution and the moon was tucked up for the night which afforded an incredible view of the Milky Way. I stayed up way past my bedtime until my camera battery was dead, photographing the stars through the trees and capturing shooting stars - it was mesmerising to see the purples and whites of our galaxy so clearly above me.
It was a ‘two cups of tea’ kind of morning as things aired in the sunshine the next day and I sorted some photos and videos out before I set off for the Transfagarasan. In the centre of the Carpathian Mountains, the road ascends to 2,042m (6,699ft) above sea level with lake at the top, before going through a tunnel and ultimately down the other side of the range. I'd still not shifted my day round enough to maximise riding with the earlier evenings so got to the summit just before dark, and found a camping spot below the top at 6000ft. The evening was clear, which gave me another night of making photos of the Milky Way as I hatched a plan to catch sunrise the next morning from the summit of the tallest mountain I could. Tom helped remotely with some of the planning of routes and predicted times, then I set my alarm for 5:30am and packed everything I needed to get to the summit for 07:28, and agreed a call out if things went wry. Waking early in the dark to get dressed and climb a mountain is a hard thing to convince yourself to do when you're cosy and tired, but I knew I'd regret not doing it so pushed on and was moving by 6am, armed with a banana, camera kit and a towel/soap for the bath I desperately need in the lake at the top.
The ascent was pretty much straight up for 1 hr 30 and the skies turned from deep purple to reds and oranges as the sun got closer. I made the summit of the first mountain with 10 minutes to go before sunrise and a short distance to get to the summit of Vanatarea Lui Buteanu at 2,507m (8,225ft). I hadn't expected the 1.5m wide knife edge ridgeline and chain-climb to the last section which added a bit of spice to the experience - in the end I was there with a few minutes spare to sit and watch as the sun crested the horizon and the mountain tops below me. It was stunning.
I continued along the ridgeline to the next summit which overlooked the Transfagarasan itself, then took in one more mountain summit before rounding back down to the tarn in the bowl of the mountain. I had been too cold at the top to think I'd go through with it but the sun had warmed me enough so I set to it and had a very fresh wash at 7,000ft, with water cold enough to give brain freeze as I rinsed my hair and had to stand still until I was stable enough on my feet to move again.
I returned to camp, packed up and set off back down the Transfagarasan the way I had come up, aiming for a monastery I wanted to visit which was carved into the face of a cliff - Manastiera Rupestra Sinca Veche. It was interesting to see but there wasn't much literature in English so I mostly just absorbed where I was rather than understanding much of the history of it. As an archaeological site still receiving some attention, a wooden roof with tarp had been constructed over it to protect the site, and most of the enclaves were supported with acro props, so it felt a little had been lost in showcasing the site sympathetically to how it would have been. There was some confusion with whether photos were allowed as I'd observed the 'no photography' sign, then assumed we were to disregard as everyone was taking pictures on their phones with the tour guide aware and unconcerned, but very animated when I tried to take a photo with my camera. Apparently cameras bad, phone cameras good - your guess is as good as mine with the difference in 'observing the sanctity of the site' relating to the type of equipment you use to take a photograph.
I hadn't had much of a plan after the Transfagarasan so did some hunting of things to see in Bulgaria to set the direction I was going to head, and found some caves north of Sofia which looked interesting. Google took me through the town of Bran to get there and coincided with my needing somewhere to stay, so after a failed attempt of getting up into hills to wild camp again, I went back down into the town of Bran and stayed at 'Vampire Camping' - a nod to Bran Castle and the association to Count Dracula. It felt strange to pay for camping, I think the last time I had with my bike would have been in Germany maybe 7/8 weeks previously (or 5 weeks ago in Lofoten without bike).
The next morning I stowed my things on the bike and tucked it up near the Castle then went in to have a look around. I was a little exposed to someone 'borrowing' all the untethered items off my bike so I carried the helmet, tied the riding gear to it, wore the boots and moved all the electronics into lockable containers where I could.
The history of Bran Castle was really interesting, linked to the main trading and customs point between Transylvania and Wallachia in the AD1200s channeled by the mountains and valley to become a very defenable point and built by the people of Brasov. There have been various Royals occupy it over its 800 year history, its changed shape and purpose in that time too, and it's link to Dracula is connected to Count Tepes who formed the basis of the fictional vampire created by Bram Stoker in 1897 who used a blurred history of truth and fiction built on Tepes' reputation and mystique.
I returned to my bike to find everything still there which was a welcome surprise, and offered to help the owner of a beached Mercedes who had tried to drive off a steep curb and landed on the cills of her car, jamming the entire town as it blocked access for HGVs in a traffic management system whilst they resurfaced the roads. I was dismissed and waved away, with the explanation that she had phoned the police and they'll fix it. The police turned up and his suggestion was to 'bounce the car off the curb' - a brilliant idea considering it was beached on the cills, so there would be no bouncing. I was waved away and dismissed again so gave up trying, suited up then set off south, aiming for Bulgaria. The day peaked at 28 degrees which is plenty, and included some fairly ropey roads which dropped down 2-3 meters from the natural height of the asphalt to some rubble surface then back up again a few car lengths later, a reminder that these roads have surprises and to avoid riding at night when this would have been entirely unlit and quite a surprise at any speed.
The further south I rode the flatter and more 'occupied' the land became, but I found some woodlands on Google to aim for in hope they would give me some seclusion to camp. I was treated to another deep sunset as I got close to my goal, and settled just inside the edge of the new oak woodland, which had strong Blair Witch vibes about it. I caught up with the parents for a bit, made dinner with the bike to my back having gotten into my own head with the eerie atmosphere, then whilst photographing the stars through the trees noticed a red hue to the sky. I left the woods and focused on the north and discovered that I could see the Aurora! Staggered that even though I was further south than Bordeaux I could see it again, I spent a few hours photographing it before heading to bed - an absolute treat and testiment to how strong the solar storm is this year.
I set off the following day to cross the border and into Bulgaria, but I had checked the weather and noticed a storm coming in for a few days. I made the booking for a hostel in Sofia which gave me a target to aim for and afford a day to catch up with digital stuff, I figured from there I could make Istanbul in a day if I get up and get on with it. I've been really looking forward to Istanbul, its historically such an important place globally, the gateway between the East to the West, and rich with culture - a milestone destination to overland to from the rolling hills of Derbyshire. After a quick check from a logistics perspective, my phone data woukdn’t work in Turkey so I'd need to get an eSim, my motorbike insurance doesn’t cover me so I'd need to buy this at the border, and the timer on how many days I've been in the Schengen would stop as I leave the EU. Assuming I get to Turkey on Sunday 13th Oct - 2 months after leaving the UK - I’d have 28 days to come back through Europe and get home. Thanks Brexit.
I got to the Danube again, this time serving as the border between Romania and Bulgaria, and was advised the next crossing would be in an hour. I made some lunch in the company of truckers and a few foot passengers, before getting through passport control and paying the 3.5 euro crossing toll. After a relaxed crossing in the sun and similar passport checks the other side, I was in my 14th country of the trip and starting to feel quite far from home. Bulgaria uses the cyrillic alphabet which means I can't read roadsigns anymore and adds to the sense of how far I am, most signs are doubled into Latin alphabet but not all.
Bulgaria feels quite similar to Hungary, its hard to describe the difference but Romania felt a little more edgy to me, whether thats fair or accurate I'm not sure, but Hungary felt calmer and relaxed, and Bulgaria has a similar sense to it. I rode for a few hours in the sunshine toward Prohodna Cave which is famed for two openings in the ceiling known as 'Gods Eyes'. It was relatively late in the day with only a handful of other people there. It was a very impressive cave, open at both ends, 270m long with a ceiling 30-40m above the ground and the high-pitch clicking squeal of bats throughout. It wasn't exactly on my route from Transfagarasan to Istanbul but its one of the most impressive natural places I've been to and was very pleased I included it. From there to Sofia was another 1hr30, I left the cave at sunset and the weather I had anticipated started to close in. I stopped at a services to zip everything up on my jacket, change my gloves and have some food so I wasn't racing against a hungry stomach to get to the hostel. I'm not much of a 'talks to themselves' type - generally I go about my days in silence if I'm alone but I sat on the bike as the rain got heavier, in the dark, and pep talked myself - 'just get there safely'.
The speed limit on Bulgarian motorways is 140kph (87mph), which is high. They don't use cats eyes to mark the edge or contours of roads and away from population they don't use street lights either. The country sees a lot of heat, which melts tarmac and has a lot of heavy lorry traffic which cuts deep grooves into the road after the sun has worked its magic. So - I broke my rule, I rode at night, in storm rain, on a motorway with no discernable edges, and deep grooves I couldn't see, surrounded by high speed traffic, to Sofia. I had to ride with full beam on to see anything quite a few times, and generally followed cars to give myself the benefit of their tail lights illuminating the road to show bigger puddles or where the road changed direction. I rode past two cars which had been crashed on my side of the road, and a fairly significant one coming the other way which produced a multi-mile tailback of crawling traffic, all adding to the effect of removing my night vision. I counted down the kilometers the whole way and was very grateful to arrive in Sofia, park outside my hostel, and check in.
