5 Jul 2014

12. Budapest to Istanbul.


This blog post has turned out to be rather lengthy so
maybe it’s best read over two sittings! Either way, enjoy!  ;-)

The five day break at Budapest was a refreshing pedal pause.  With some social time, a few sights visited, my clothes and bike thoroughly cleaned it proved just long enough as my feet had started to itch, rearing to get back to some pedal-power.

Fortunately it was a Hungarian national holiday on the Monday I departed, so the city streets were as relaxed as one could as for.  With the terrain of southern Hungary being relatively flat I made good progress and soon arrived at the town of Szolnok.  This made a reasonable stop point as firstly, at 109km was within my daily preferred distance of 100km, and secondly, with a river running through it I new I’d find a river park area relatively easy where I could camp. 


As with most of the countries so far, Hungary proved easy to get clean drinkable water by way of these road-side, blue cast-iron water points.  Most of the villages had them, normally at either end on the main road, something one would be pushed to find in my home town of Stony Stratford, or any of the other towns that constitute Milton Keynes county.


The remaining two days in Hungary were very similar, long flat empty roads trundling past crop fields, albeit the towns becoming further apart as I got closer to the Romanian border, finding a quiet, scenic camping spot proved simple enough.


On day three I reached the border village of Tornya, my passport was border-patrol checked and I was soon cycling along on Romania tarmac.


Still surrounded by crop fields as far as the eye could see, the only difference I needed to address was the currency.  With the city of Arad just 20km from the border I new I’d soon find either a bank or money changer.  Hungary uses the Forint, being 371 to the pound, whereas Romania has the Leu, with 5.4 to the pound (albeit it I was exchanging Euro’s).

Arad was a big busy city, trams running along the main streets, traffic galore, shoppers ambling around, and a large central park area with a big central pond / lake having a stage erected onto a floating platform for a forthcoming event.  I think I’d passed through at lunchtime as finding a park bench in the shade, out of the midday’s heat was not so easy.


 For a few days I’d be taking an easterly direction toward the city of Sibiu, whereby just after, in the Carpathian Mountain range - the second longest range in Europe - I’d swing south on the Transfagarasan mountain pass route (the last ‘S’ has a tail, and is pronounced as ‘Sh’).  According to ‘Top Gears’ Jeremy Clarkson (so it must be fact) is said to be the best road in the world….okay, he drives sports cars, not bicycles, but nevertheless it would be great to say I’d experienced it and ogled at the awesome scenery awaiting me. 

Rather than simply following the main road east, where possible I used the quieter village roads.  Many of them had villagers sitting in the shade of a tree, staring in surprise as the alien cyclist purred through.  Some of the tree’s even had horses, goats or donkeys congregated under the shade!




At Savarsin the country road lead back onto the main road, noticing it was market day I had a wander through, stopping at a food vendor.  It turns out the owner had actually worked in London for a year on a building site so was keen to talk to me.  He said he was happy to return to Romania due to the English weather…but wasn’t really sure what he was talking about!


It’s always interesting noticing subtle differences from country to country, here in Romania, of all things, it’s the hay bales! Something that’s even shown on front of the Michelin map I was using! In all of the villages I had seen the hay piled up in the same way, left to dry. The bale, or stack, is built up against a central branch, with further branches added at angles as it’s built up to ensure its stability.


On the third day, en-route to Sebes [Sebesh] three touring motorcyclist’s passed by.  An hour or so later, calling in at the town’s Lidl supermarket, I notice the bikers also stocking up on food.  Walking over to them I ask where they’re from, and going to.  They were Polish, and heading to Albania.  Seconds later another man spoke to them, hearing his voice I said “hey, you’re from England?”  Roger was from England, but had lived here for 20 years or so, initially coming over to help Romania orphans.  Living in the neighbouring mountain village of Loman he had bought a plot of land and built his house, along with a neighbouring guest house “Casa Roger”.  Upon listening to my adventure he invites me to stay at his guest house, being a Friday he suggests I stay the weekend if I like.

The ride up to Loman most certainly was up!  Thankfully I’d been pre-warned, and even had my load lightened as Roger suggested taking my pannier bags in his car, this proved a blessing in disguise as I always try to avoid a climb last thing in the day – it was about a 400 metre climb, but knowing I’d be able to take a refreshing evening shower wasn’t a problem.  I had to walk the last 1½ kilometre as the route past the village was quite steep, loose gravel.  The guest house is on the left, whilst Roger’s is on the right.


Roger had appeared on local TV a few times so was well known in the area, “The Englishman who lives on the mountain”.  Along with his private English tuition, from time-to-time he also teaches at the Lucian Blaga College, in Sebes.  The following day (Saturday) he was hosting a barbeque for the pupils of the classes he taught.  Here is a picture slideshow of the day’s events;


On Sunday we walked around some of the local trails, calling in to check on a house that some of his relations were having built, the land and build price is ridiculously low, and with such amazing scenery.  After the fall of the Iron curtain the country started to flourish, although the 1989 revolution stunted its growth it is now in full blossom so prices will inevitably increase and is most definitely a country well worth visiting…a country I’ll definitely be returning to…but more on that one later!

As someone who prefers plans, the weekend - being unplanned - caught me off-guard, but with such a tour flexibility is essential, regimental plans just don’t work as there’s too many variables.  I added a new skill to Roger’s photographic portfolio, showing him how to patch photographs together for a panoramic photo’s, and adding some cool text effects. 

Monday morning inevitably turned up and with a few fairwell photos I was back down the mountain heading on again. A big thanks to Roger and all I met that weekend for some great memories. (If anyone is interested in visiting this excellent Romanian mountainous area then here is a link to Roger’s guesthouse).

Heading south toward the village of Sugag a touring motorcyclist passed by, tooting as he went by, acknowledged with a wave from myself.  A kilometre down the road he had stopped for a break.  Cristian was from the country’s capital, Bucharest and was on a short mountain tour, and had crossed the Transfagarasan Pass the day before, and was now heading for the Transalpina Pass - a route I had been informed was well worth seeing.  After a brief chat we suggested meeting up when I arrive in the capital, 4 - 5 days away.  

Continuing along the deepening valley, at the village of Sugag I swung a left, hairpin climbs soon began up through dense forest covered mountain side, eventually bringing me to the village of Jina.


A typical view of the village houses I passed by.

Later, after returning back to main roads, the city of Sibiu was soon reached, with a Lidl food restock I was back out and continuing.  The start of Transfagarasan was slightly further than anticipated, namely due to the low scale maps not showing the true waviness of mountain routes, so after cooking and washing at a village spring I headed out found a place to camp, just off the main road, next to a rail line….I guess if I was a train driver I’d also toot my horn as I passed by an unexpected pitched tent!! (Note the clouds in that photo!)

The morning after the grey clouds had further blanketed the sky…not a welcomed sight in the mountains, especially when climbing them! Oh well, I’m British, soldier on.


The following picture slideshow saves the words…


This was my tour’s second high mountain pass, and the second grey covering.  I was well and truly gutted about this one.  Seeing other peoples photos and YouTube videos, and Top Gears world rating of the route, to say it was a let down is a real understatement, the view was absolutely ruined, dense misty fog, at times just making out the last metre of tree’s that dropped away over the steep roadside slopes, such a shame, and myself damp and cold with perspiration ;-(((

Through the course of the climb many touring motorcycle groups passed by, one or two tooting, along with a wave or a nod, which I reciprocated.  A few kilometres from the top a solo motorcyclist passed by and tooted, then slowed down and pulls over. As I get close I realise it was Cristian, from the day before.  He new I’d be plodding along and decided, after riding the Transalpina route, to head back over this pass.  He said he’d always wanted to do a bicycle tour and asked in exchange for him buying lunch and beers at the summit restaurant would I tell him some of my stories…warm up in a restaurant? Eat food? Drink beer? I promptly shook his hand!

The last few kilometres now seemed a breeze, albeit as the photos show, the climb was relentless until the very top.  We spent a good two hours in the warmth, but with it now about 4pm and with a long twisty descent (Photo: left-hand oval highlight) I had to crack on.  To make matters worse camping wouldn’t be too much fun as the tent, unable to air dry that day, was still damp from the morning’s drizzle. 


After finding a roadside lay-by to camp in, the following morning the descent continued, lower down so slightly drier, yet still passing through some appreciable scenery all was not lost, a case of make the best of what one’s offered?  Upon reaching Curtea de Arges I intended to head north-east to the village of Bran, where Count Dracula’s magnificent castle is located.  This was a good day’s ride away, but going back up into the mountains was no longer appealing, and also being against my intended south-easterly direction to Istanbul decided to give it a miss.  The above right-hand oval highlight shows how twisty and windy the route is.  This is the reason I’ll be returning to Romania, a week’s tour to ride the Transfagarasan in [hopefully] better weather and also including passing through Bran and the Transalpina Pass…more on that one in a few years!

The horse and cart is still widely used within many eastern European countries, most are made using old car axles / wheels under a wooden frame, as seen:

Out of the mountains was certainly warmer, although being busier, and flatter, finding a good place to camp was not so easy.  From what I could make out the Romanian bus service is no longer operational and now taken care of by smaller private mini-bus companies who arrive within the towns and villages tooting their horns to alert potential passengers, as such, the bust stops have become derelict but appeared like a reasonable place to camp. One such ‘shelter’ - I don’t think was actually bus-stop but with reasonable space and a roof  - looked ideal for the night.  Bike inside, bags unclipped and tent fly-sheet pitched I was ready for the night.  Earlier someone had come over to investigate, but upon explaining my intentions I was left alone.  

Just on the verge of dropping into la-la land I was disturbed by voices from two people and a torch / flashlight.  It was PC plod, along with an older villager.  He was a young guy, who spoke good English and said the villager was not so bothered about my camping there but more-so about my well-being.  A while later and I’m deflating my mattress, rolling up the sleeping bag, de-erecting the tent then loading my bags into the police car and chase behind him the 5km (8!!) to the police station where I’m permitted to stay banged up for the night within a rear room.  I think the accommodation was unofficial as I was told I’d need to leave at 5:30am!  Being evicted at that unearthly hour, from the rear entrance of a police station, onto the damp, dawn streets of a Romanian village .  “And for everything else there’s MasterCard” ?...Some things money just can’t buy, and that was one of them! Thankfully I look back at these moments and laugh. 

The 70km ride into Bucharest complimented the night ab-so-lu-tely perfectly.  Grey clouds, drizzle, roads that got busy and a rider who was head-to-toe damp, even my socks were squelchy wet!  As I arrive in the centre of Bucharest, pausing at the train station I contently chuckle to myself as this is one of the moments I realise why I choose to do this.  Starting early it was still only 11:30am, and needing to [somehow] call my pre-arranged warmshowers host decide my first night in the city will just be easier to find a cheap hotel.  Walking around the corner a large sign above a hotel entrance states €22.  After my previous night this would be a palace!  With WiFi, and use of reception phone (to call my host) I was as happy-as-Larry.

The following morning I arrived at my host’s apartment block.  I’d only been inside five minutes and Ludmila and her flat mate Valeria served up an excellent breakfast of eggs, toast, tomatoes and cucumber ;-))) Their flat was on the 14th floor and this gave an excellent view of the city.

Ludmila said with the following day being Saturday she would gladly show me around some of the city.  There was a park just minutes away with a national festival taking place with traditional costumes being worn by folk representing their villages, food stalls, jewellery sellers, beer tent’s.  Later we walked around [some] of the Parliament building (the second largest building in the world).

On Sunday I met up with Cristian, and liking his beer we soon nestled into the old part of the town at a bar with street tables, people-watching while tucking into the biggest plate of Nacho’s I’ve ever seen, and being told I need to drink faster to match his stereo typical image he had of a true Englishman!  Later on he said he’d like to join me on my tour through the following country of Bulgaria, up to the Turkish border.  

Ludmila, along with her flat mate Valeria, said she / they would like to cycle to Istanbul one day so hopefully the next part of my tour can be inspirational / of use to them in plotting their route.  On the Monday morning I said fairwell to Ludmilla before Cristian guided the way out from the city centre.  Once past the city boundary the traffic quietened down nicely and we were soon on relatively easy-going roads.  Southern Romania is separated from Bulgaria by the mighty River Danube and on the second day, upon reaching the river port Cristian decided not to continue with me through Bulgaria.  I think it was predominantly due to lack of planning and not having the best suited gear for it, for instance a long sleeve top and a full brim hat make the world of difference to one’s comfort when on the saddle, in the sun for 6 – 7 hours each day.  Nevertheless it was a ferry ticket for one man and his bike to cross the river.  Through the Bulgarian border patrol with no hassle I was now in country number six.


The Bulgarian language is known as Indo-European, and does not use the Latin / Roman alphabet, but letters that a typical westerner (as myself!) would see as Russian, but is in fact a branch of the Slavic language, using the Cyrlicc alphabet system.  Since becoming a member of the European Union both alphabet systems are used on road signs so at least I could pass through without too much of a problem.


I felt quite at home after finding a Lidl supermarket within the border town of Silistra (Bulgarian: Силистра), with my food needs attended to I was soon pedalling away from the city, on relatively quiet roads, climbing up 2-300 metres.  Soon grey clouds on either side edged in on me and in the distance I could see the downpour from the eye of the storm, stopping for a while under the shade of some tree’s as the storm’s periphery had just reached out far enough to get me.  Later in the day after cooking my dinner just off the road I hunted for a patch to camp, heading off the road onto a field’s tractor trail the bike sunk into what was unbeknown to me soft mud!!  Later on I was to find out that Bulgaria had suffered several weeks of torrential rain and had caused major damage to people’s homes, roads and trees, hence the sodden ground.  With the bike now caked in mud, reminiscent of the Congo! I back tracked to the road pronto!  The tyres, rims and brakes were caked in mud!..Choice words were used that I best not repeat here!  

Pressing on I later stopped at what appeared to be a large scale farming complex and, using the finest sign language asked some workers ambling around if I could camp at the side of the building.  After setting up the tent a friendly man whom was the boss appears and suggests I can take a shower inside if I like, soon they, also with sign language, inform me it will rain tonight and I can camp inside, it turns out that camping wasn’t what they had in mind.  After leading me inside the big building, up two flights of polished granite stairs and down a corridor he opens a door to a room with two beds inside!  Each bed complete with a bathroom towel.  He implies me to take a shower and then come down for some food.  Sometimes I have to pinch myself at the amazing hospitality I receive from total strangers, quite surreal!  After removing the splattered mud from my calves I make my way down to the dining area.  Soon there are nine of us in all, tucking into bread, cheese, various meet and potatoes, washed down with coke, beer and even whisky!  Bulgaria’s good!!  By now the aforementioned rain had arrived, it was cats and dogs, claps of thunder, and a lightening illuminated sky, I was most certainly one fortunate cyclist! 

To say the least (excuse that pun) conversation at the table was restricted but my smile of contentment said it all.  On two occasions my sign language failed so the boss called his English speaking niece who reassured me all was okay as I was amongst good people, something I’d most certainly not even doubted. 

Having made no plans to see anything specific in Bulgaria it proved a relatively quick country to cross, making my way south-east toward the coast of the Black Sea, firstly through Dobrich, then onto said coast at Albena.  Upon arrival I Intended to celebrate with a short (60km) day, but unfortunately the campsite was closed due to flood damage from the recent rain, so headed on to another just 15km further down that gave an excellent view of the sea.

The traffic towards Varna soon became congested, and continued thereafter for a fair distance - typical of costal roads - so as normal, at the nearest possible chance I departed onto quieter roads, with at worst with just one car every five minutes, the hot tropical-like moist air being reminiscent of Gabon.


The route led through a gentle forest-covered greenery-galore mountain area with a few sleepy villages.  Fortunately toward the end of the day one had a spring / tap so as normal I paused to cook dinner, wash, fill my bottles and then headed out a kilometre or so and found an idyllic spot to camp, I was soon spotted by a sheep-herding shepherd, more curious than concerned so giving a wave he soon wondered on with his woolly mammals.

  The following day the road descended back down, with villages becoming bigger and busier I eventually arrive at the city of Burgass.  Recent changes to Turkish visa’s meant one has to book online at a cost of $20, before arriving at the border, not sure whether the reply would be instant or several hours I decided to book in at a cheapish hotel…finding out it takes just minutes to obtain I could have used the WiFi from one of the many petrol stations along the busier roads!

Deciding to take the scenic Strandza National Park route toward the border village of Malko Tarnovo was a let down.  The map shows it as a green area, of which it was, but with most of the roadside lined by tall trees and hedges gave a restricted view and the road condition became terrible meant the I had to carefully snake my way around pot-holes and bumps galore. 
One of the many doggy friends I made, contently watching me cook my dinner…or more like awaiting for any left-over, which he most certainly won.

With Bulgaria’s remaining tarmac down to single figures the next morning I climbed up a few hundred metres through early morning mist toward the Turkish border.

Country number 7!

Okay, I’d only just stepped foot into Turkey but I was immediately impressed with their roads.  A wide hard shoulder, just occasional cars, some good music playing and a slight tail wind I was beaming like a Cheshire cat!  Soon I noticed another touring cyclist heading toward me so we stopped for a chat.  He was a Frenchman and fortunate enough to be cycling back from Iran.  Again, reiterating what a wonderful country it is to cycle through, with the hospitality being second to none,  it’s such a shame my country’s politicians have poked their noses where not required and upset the balance between the U.K. and Iran, leaving me with no choice but to circumnavigate it….easier to write than to do!


The road condition and excellent views continued.


After reaching the city of Kirklareli and obtaining some local currency the first job was to buy some food and then join the intended road.  As opposed to the Kamikaze route many cyclists seem to take to Istanbul the D020 route offers a somewhat relaxed, safer, smog-free ride.  Istanbul, signed as 230km away, would be reached within the third day.  An hour or so into the D020 I notice another touring cyclist coming the opposite way.  As part of his big three-month European tour he was now heading back to France, having just visited Istanbul, riding a homemade recumbent bicycle, good going!
  
The route to Istanbul was pleasant enough, through rolling countryside on roller-coaster style up ‘n’ down roads, taps and spring water points were plentiful along with villages to buy the basics. The people were as friendly as I could ask for; stopping for a break next to a large polythene greenhouse a man beckons me over, then hands me a bag containing a few small cucumbers.  At another village I’m invited for traditional tea at a café’, and then food at a neighbouring café’.  Here I was informed about a new airport that’s being built, said to be the world’s largest, along with a new north – south canal that's to parallel the Bosphorus Strait.

The final day to Istanbul I awoke to a misty covered field, the tent and bike covered in mildew. 


The evening before the road had turned into a three lane + hard shoulder, all in preparation for the new airport. Tipper trucks - moving soil and aggregate for the new airport – were out in force, there must have been several hundred that passed by that morning, like soldier ants to and from the nest, performing their obligatory task.

Believe me, this was still the D020 I was on, not a motorway, this particular section was unopened, well, except to bicycles!


Istanbul! Where the main chapter begins….




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Unfortunately both the long bridges that cross the Bosphorus Strait over to the Asian continent are motorway roads, so therefore I have no choice but to use one of the 15 minute ferry crossings. 

As Turkey is a relatively wide country to traverse I have several tourist sights I intend to visit, so be sure to stay tuned for my next blog-post to see what they are, I intend to write that whilst upon the eastern side of the Black Sea, in Georgia….. rest assured it won’t be quite as lengthy ;-)


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