Blog – Travel log

Generally,  I only have a rough outline of my route which I refine it as I go along and talk to local people I meet along the way.  A few people had told me about the Buzludzha Monument.  My very first Couchsurfing host even showed me some photos of it.  It was like nothing I’d seen before and I added it to the list of places to see.

To get there I first had to climb to the 1,190mt Shipka Pass and then on to Buzludzha further up the mountains. The day was grey and wet and I cycled all the way to the pass in total cloud. The road a black ribbon and the trees either side of the road like tall vertical black columns reaching for the sky.  The black and white monochrome was only broken by the rusty colour of the fallen leaves and the green of some weeds refusing to die with the frost.  The scene reminded me of one of those arty photoshopped pictures in black and white with a few notes of colour.

I climbed the hairpins of the road slowly and steadily on the lowest gear.  I relished the feeling of my body working hard,  the power of my leg muscles taking me and Foxtrot up the steep hill, the tickling sensation of the rivulets of sweat trickling down the middle of my back and dripping into my eyes and down  the tip of my nose in spite of the low temperature (3C). I was totally in my body.

Without any conscious awareness I was listening out for traffic on the road. The cloud distorted the sounds and at times I couldn’t tell whether the cars were coming towards me or from behind me. The fog was so thick that all I could see were their ghostly headlamps when they were just a few metres away from me. And yet I felt really safe under the blanket of the cloud.

It was nearly dark by the time I made it to the Pass. I knew that there was a hotel at the Pass and I headed for it.  The place was locked but as I could see fire glowing in a wood burning stove inside I knocked at the door.  A woman opened the door and let me in. As I stepped in my senses were instantly assaulted by colours,  everything  looked very bright after the hours I had spent in a black and white world.

That night as I was going to sleep I thought about how lucky I am to be able to get myself in the warm at the end of the day without overly worrying about money.  Age has its advantages!

In the morning the world was again covered in cloud and was raining heavily. The silence was so intense that I could hear a buzz in my ears.

Taking advantage of  a break in the rain, but still in thick fog,  I started the 12 km climb to the monument. The road was very steep and I focused on steering the bike to the bits with the shallowest potholes. After what it felt like a lifetime I reached the end of the road and but still I could see no sign of the monument.Then the cloud lifted a little and I could see what looked like a massive UFO towering just above me and small, muddy path leading to it.

Gingerly,  step by step I got myself and Foxtrot to its base. When I got my breath back I lifted my eyes and was amazed by the scale of the place. Graffiti covered the concrete which was crumbling in places.  I circled the monument a couple of times not quite believing what I was seeing.  Big stairs,  which I had managed to miss in the fog,  led from the road to the main entrance which was blocked.  Just round the corner of it someone had made a hole in the concrete  and it was possible to climb inside.  I considered it for a moment but being alone decided it wasn’t wise to enter the crumbling building.

As I started going back down the fog lifted and the mountains showed themselves in all their glory and Buzludzha stood proud on top of one of them.  I stopped,  looked at it and laughed aloud,  how could I have not seen it until I was right on top of it!

Then I turned around and cycled down the hill to continue my way South towards Greece

Ever since I heard about the painted Monasteries of Bucovina I’ve wanted to see them. Many of them are UNESCO sites. Their painted exterior walls are decorated with elaborate 15th and 16th century frescoes featuring portraits of saints and prophets, scenes from the life of Jesus, images of angels and demons, and heaven and hell. The purpose of the frescoes was to make the story of the Bible and the lives of the most important Orthodox saints known to villagers by the use of images.

Something else I wanted to do was to stay in one. I knew it was possible because a few people had told me so. I just wasn’t sure how to go about it. The opportunity to try it out arose on my way to Galati where I was going to get the train towards Bucovina, quite a long way away from the Black Sea

The colours of the Autumn were just stunning and getting better by the day. It wasn’t too long before I arrived at Cocos Monastery.  I decided to try asking for accommodation.  I was a bit nervous,  I just didn’t know whether I  could make myself understood and what the response would be and it was  getting late to find an alternative place.

From the  distance,  the Monastery was beautiful. Nestled in the forest with shinny metal roofs.  A monk was tending to a herd of goats in the middle of well looked after vineyards. As I approached,  I  saw another monk looking after a flock of turkeys and yet another two after some cows.

I left the bike outside the gate and went in. There was no one in sight.  I went into the church hoping to find somebody.  It was beautiful and peaceful inside but still no one to be seen.  I heard  a voice coming from what I thought must be the monks rooms and found  a monk talking on a mobile phone. Such modernity looked out of place  in this space where it seems time has stopped.  When he finished,  I asked by signs if I could stay and right away I was taken to a whitewashed room with a couple of beds and left on my own.

Soon after a monk was calling to prayer with a wooden tool.  The tradition started during the siege of Moldova by the Ottoman Empire when the Turks forbade the ringing of bells. The striking of wooden or metal bars, known as <em>”toaca”</em>, replaced the ringing of bells and thus, became a tradition. On that day the bells were also ringing in the belfry. Those two sounds were mixing with the tweeting of birds,  the pitter patter of rain and the noise of people walking.

 

Sitting in the dark outside my room,  I was transported to a  ritual that could  have taken place centuries ago.  It was  very dark,  the only light in the place coming from the Monastery and by now it was raining so heavily that the water was bouncing back from the stone floor of the church courtyard.  Monks clad in black cloaks willowing in the wind and the rain  were hurrying towards the church. All I could make out were their dark shapes entering the church and when they crossed a shift of lightof light,  their long beards and their hair tied in a ponny tail.

The service started and the sound singing from the church filled the whole space. Every now and again a few stragglers crossed the courtyard and later on two women dressed in long  black skirts and headscarves joined  the service.  I was entranced and felt privileged to be there.  That night I went to sleep to the sound of Monks chanting.

I stayed in other Monasteries – Pangarati,  Sihăstria and Sucevita and each was different and special.  The last one,  Sucevita,  is one of the famous painted ones.  A community of nuns lives there.  One of the nuns,  sister Stefania, took me under her wing.  She offered me food in the communal dinning room,  aa simple meal of polenta,  cheese and milk. The cheese and milk came from the Monastery herds.  The flavour of the milk took me back to my early childhood  when I used to sneek in the pantry to drink the milk that had been brought by the farmer that morning.

That day I joined the nuns in the service. Some nuns were kneeling,  others sitting and standing.  The priest in big robes and a hat with a big veil on it went round the room with an incense burner,  whilst the nuns chanted. Once again I was mesmerised by the whole thing. A magical experience.

When I left the following day,  Stefania gave me apples, cards with images of the icons,  a cross and a little money to buy bread.  I was moved to the core by her generosity.

On the road to Transylvania feeling the luckiest,  richest woman on earth having the opportunity the live all these experiences.

I really wanted to see the Danube meet The Black Sea. It’s  Delta  is the largest and best preserved of Europe’s deltas and it is a  UNESCO World Heritage site,  definitely a place to see.

To get there I cycled along the coast from Bulgaria,  entering Romania in Vama Veche.  At this time of the year,  nothing was opened and the beach that in summer is full tents  of people camping was windy and deserted.  I’m afraid to say that I broke an unwritten rule: anyone visiting Vama Veche should always camp on the beach and boycott the new hotels and businesses in order to restore the place back to the old look and hippie feel.  I was too cold and wet and had a nasty cough.  At least that’s my excuse.

I went pass Constanta, a town with a lot of history and the largest  port on the Black Sea.  In Constanta I  had my first taste of  wonderful Romanian hospitality.  I stayed with Marius, a  nice  young man who showed me around the  town and told me  about  it’s history and it’s people.

The following day,  I cycled through flat land.  There  was nothing but the stubble of crops as far as the horizon. As I went by on my bike I disturbed huge flocks of birds that took flight in unison forming huge clouds that soared and turned in themselves,  bestowing the most  incredibly acrobatic displays on me.

I went through villages,  with  houses lining the road,  that seem to go on forever, kilometres between the sign indicating the beginning of the village and the one indicating it’s end.

And everywhere  I went,  I continued to be blessed with Romanian hospitality: kindly being allowed to camp in the terrace of a café and offered  steaming coffee in the morning, being shown around Tulcea by Aurora, my Couchsurfing host and her husband and leaving their house with fruit from their garden and delicious home made preserves and having a house to myself  in the middle of the Delta that belonged to a Warmshowers member.

To get to the house I took a catamaran  from Tulcea to Sulina,  a village  in the the mouth of one of the three branches of the Danube that make the Delta. The catamaran  was full of villagers returning home with huge amount of luggage from shopping expeditions in the town. Everyone settled for the journey,  the men in the back of the vessel smoking and drinking beer and the women inside with the children running in and out.  I closed my eyes to absorbed the  hubbub of music,  laughter and conversations mixing with the noise of the engine. I love human noises, find them really comforting.

Either side of the waterway there were villages and everywhere there was life on the river –  people crossing from one side to the other in boats,  people fishing,   transporting goods and going about their daily lives.  I was amazed at the ease with which they went about in the river using it as  I would use the road and the streets.

To get to Dan’s house I had to cross the Delta from it’s middle branch,  the Sulina branch,  to a village called Periprava in the Chillia branch,  in the north, the longest, youngest, and most vigorous.  In Sulina I was warned about the wolves and jackals and other wild life that  roam in the Letea forest,  the northern most subtropical forest in the world, and about the ‘bad people’ that may attack me seeing me on my own.  In addition to these new perils,  I knew I would encounter quite a lot of sand.  It was my first inroad into real wilderness.

I was a bit apprehensive and I wished I was travelling with someone else. In times like this I am sure it would be much easier to dispel the fear of the unknown. Weighing the pros and cons and working things out on my own should be getting easier but the cold and the early dusk seem  to be slowing down this process.

I  cycled first on a good track by a side water canal in brilliant sunshine. Birds everywhere,  reflections of clouds in the water,   no one around and a tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach,  a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

I went pass tiny villages with reed roofed houses,  saw lots of snakes sunning in the track and going into hiding went I went by.  I also saw lots of water, wild horses in the Letea forest,  big open spaces, and the forest itself silent and beautiful. I had a very special day,  stopping often to admire the beauty of my surroundings.

Fourteen kilometres before Periprava the sand tracks started and it was impossible to cycle so I pushed and pushed my heavily loaded bike until I arrived in the village tired but elated.

The little house exceeded all my expectations.  It had all I needed and more –  electricity to charge my gadgets,  a cooker were I made a hearty lentil stew,  a drop toilet and a little cane enclosure where I had a shower with water from the well. I spent a wonderful day there tending to my bike and to my knee which was getting a bit sore.

I  left Periprava on a very early catamaran,  this time on the Chilia branch which forms the natural border with Ukraine.  I felt really good and looking forward to cycling to the famous Bucovina Monasteries.

 

 

I’ve been in Romania for nearly two weeks now. It was a bit mad going North when the weather is getting wintery.  My sensible side was telling me to go South before it gets too cold but I doggedly refuse to listen to it.

I wanted  to see  the Danube Delta. Having seen the river  being born in the Black Forest and followed its course through several countries,  I wanted to get to where it meets the Black Sea. 

But there was more to Romania for me.  There is the language too.  I was told that it is accessible to Spanish speakers and I was looking forward to being able to talk to people I meet along the way.  One of the things I’ve found the hardest is my inability  to communicate properly. I use sign language in shops,  markets and cafes and when asking for directions and that is OK,  but I miss having proper conversations. More and more I’m coming to realise that this inability to communicate will be the most challenging part of my trip. 

Meeting my friend Carol,  staying with some pretty special people and arriving in the Black Sea have been the highlights of Bulgaria.

Carol came over to Plovdiv,  the second biggest cit in Bulgaria.  We chose it because it was in the right place and we just liked the sound of its name. We spent a lovely   week together exploring the old town,  visiting Monasteries in the nearby mountains,  going to the Opera in the old Roman theater,  ambling in gardens,  drinking coffee in small cafés,  having leisurely breakfast in  the balcony of our apartment and talking,  talking.

Bulgaria has been the country in which I’ve ventured into Couchsurfing.  What a discovery! I have met the most generous,  kind people  who bought echinacea for me when they saw I had a terrible chesty cold,  cooked a  delicious BBQ and showed me some amazing sites.

My favourite site was this incredible concrete communist monument in Varna at the top of a hill.  The entrance was bricked in but someone had knocked some of the bricks off. Tienne,  my couchsurfing host and I, armed with torches climbed in. The inside was a maze of stairs, rooms and corridors,  some covered with graffiti . Nothing was  at a straight angle,  Here and there were openings to the outside letting in the grey light of the day. At some point we discovered we weren’t alone  as smoke  started to come up from the basement rooms.  We decided it was better to leave before we had an unwelcomed encounter.

I’ve had a great time in Bulgaria and I’ll be back when on my way to Greece once I’ve explored a bit more of Romania.

 

 

 

 

Foxtrot and I crossed the border into Hungary!  I was not quite sure what to expect.  I am aware that  I am getting further and further away from familiar territory now and I have all sort of pictures in my head about the countries, pictures influenced by my education and the media.  All my stereotypes are slowly dissolving away and it feels good.

I have loved Hungary.  The villages are prosperous with water points everywhere,  the woods feel friendlier and more gentle than those in Germany or Slovakia,  the small roads I ride on are well paved,  drivers are considerate,  people are really friendly and the weather has continued to be kind to me.

In Budapest I was joined by two friends and had a special few days  visiting  the sites and enjoying  a whole day in some beautiful thermal baths all in the company of my gorgeous friends.  To top it all up, I was able to enjoy the luxurious floor of their 5* hotel room,  the fluffy towels and hair conditioner. What a difference from the bedbug infested hostel I had booked myself in.

From Budapest it was lake Balaton,  thermal villages,  swimming among waterlilies,  meeting the Danube again and  staying with truly special Warmshowers hosts on my way to Serbia 

A few people are asking me about my days and the kit so let’s start with food!

Tomorrow  will be two months that I’m on the road and the days are developing some sort of rhythm.  I wake up early and faff around quite a lot. Those of you who know me well,  will be able to tell that I am a morning ‘faffer’.

Coffee comes first,  I make a whole flask of it and sip it slowly whilst writing my journal or deciding where to aim for that day.  After coffee l take down the tent and pack the bike.  No matter how much I try (and really I don’t try very hard!) this process never takes less than one hour or one hour and a half,  by which time I am ready for breakfast!

I take to the road and after a while I start thinking about what food to cook in the evening.  Funny how the basics take so much headspace when there in nothing else to clatter your day. I always try to have enough food with me to last me a couple of days just in case.  Shopping is easy.  I park the bike outside the shop,  lock it up and go in.  To start with I was nervous to leave EVERYTHING unguarded outside but as another bike tourer told me,  who is going to want to take a heavy monster of a bike for a joy ride? Now I trust that all will be OK and no one will touch my belongings and so far so good.

At some point I get peckish and it is time for an energy bar only that my energy bars take the shape of whatever the local bakers produce,  in Germany and Austria they were mainly big pieces of cheesecake,  in Slovakia some cheese filled pastries and here in Hungary I  devoured the chocolate variety.  At the end of the day I enjoy cooking my evening meal as I always did at home. My stove is brilliant and I am making all sort of things: lentils (which I put to soak in the morning), chicken stews, curries, paella, pasta – you name it!

More about kit next time!

 

 

 

I had a few days before my friend Babs joined me to go hiking together in the Tatry.  I decided to head North and follow the Slovakia section of the Iron Curtain Eurovelo 13 which follows the river Morave from Bratislava to the Czech border.   It was a different world from the well trodden Rhine and Danube cycle trails.

From Bratislava I went to a nearby small village called Devin, obviously thriving,  with art galleries and wine cellars.  This changed the further I went, from the capital to empty small villages with one tiny shop which  had hardly anything on it and huge forests untouched by humans for over half a century. 

 Left over signs of what it must’ve been like where dotted all over the landscape –  bunkers and memorials to those who fought for change.  I kept on thinking about what those majestic trees must’ve seen and I longed for them to tell me the story. 

Memorials to the First World War where also everywhere.   I found the one in Hor Oresăny particularly moving.  I sat by it for a while thinking about the young men in the photos that never came back to their village and wondering when we will learn the lessons of history.

I  had my first wild camp experience on this trail. I went down what  I thought to be a small road, instead it was a sandy track that went through the middle of a huge acacia forest. It was getting late so I camped in a small clearing. There were hardly any sounds but as night started to fall,  the place filled up with the noise of thousands of  insects.  I felt a bit apprehensive,  there is something about forests that I find unnerving. In my sleep bag I used all kind of techniques to try to relax but my ears refused to switch off attentive to the smallest of sounds. Finally I went to sleep only to be woken up shortly after by the sound of movement and breathing by the tent. I laid very still scared to move whilst my imagination went wild. It was a very long night and in the morning I saw the footprints of what must’ve been deer not  to far from the tent. It would have been so much better if I hadn’t been on my own! 

It was exciting meeting Babs and together we headed for the Tatry.  Tatranska Magistrala,  there was something about the name that I found irresistible when in London and it didn’t let me down . The hike was tiring but pretty wonderful,  striking mountains,  wildlife,  flowers, staying in mountain huts…   I was in my element,  after all mountains are my first big love.

Then,  sadly,  it was time to say goodbye to Babs and collect Foxtrot who’d been resting for a few days. My next port of call was  Spišský Castle,  one of the largest castles in Eastern Europe. An impressive sight siting on a hill rising above the plain of Western Slovakia.

From its ramparts I could see the hills I’d cycled over and the ones to come as I head for Hungary for my next rendezvous with friends in Budapest.

 

 

 

Soon after the last post I met my friends Iñaki and Mariaje and their son Eñaut.  We’ve known each other since the mid seventees.  We don’t see each other often,  them being in the Basque country and me in London,   but when we do it is like if we had been together the day before. I love it when it is like that.

It was a treat being with them.  I got a holiday from the panniers which allowed us to do longer distances and have time for talking,  sightseeing,  cake eating,  swimming, more talking,  drinking AND they brought all sort of Spanish delicacies that were eagerly consumed. We also discovered that cheesecake is as effective as energy bars and way more enjoyable. 

I had some time off the bike in rural Austria and in Vienna with some good friends of Iñaki and Mariaje. They took us to really special places – a lake with pity black water and an old fashion spa where you swam in mineral water that gets bottled in the plant next door! Places I would not have been able to find on my own. 

We parted this morning and for a bit I felt a bit lost and lonely and now here I am sitting in a hostel bed in Bratislava.

I can’t believe I’ve made it to Eastern Europe.  This afternoon I crossed the point where the heavily garded Iron Curtain was. Now it is just a rusting blue gate that is always open.  From the road in Austria you can see Bratislava with its castle on top of the hill and I wondered what it must have been like for people in both sides so close to one another and at the same time so far.

I went wondering around Bratislava this evening.  The old town and the castle are beautiful.  The place is full of cafes with people sitting outside trying to cool down,  not surprising as it has been very very hot,  over 40 centigrade at lunchtime.  Luckily I’m heading for the Tatra mountains to do some walking with a friend from Bristol who is coming out to meet me.  Lucky me!

After Strasbourg I went in search of the source of the Danube in the Black Forest, next to a small chappel called Martinskapelle. I was a bit nervous because it was going to be my first encounter with hills and I didn’t know how me and Foxtrot would manage.

I was a bit lighter though, as the second parcel had been sent home from Strasbourg with more things that I thought I would need. It felt liberating to let go of things that anchored to my ‘normal’ life.

For the first time that day I felt a bit apprehensive. I was leaving the security of the guide book and the well trodden path and finding my own way across the Black Forest.

Before I got to the big hills, I stopped at a tiny campsite that couldn’t be more different from the one in Strasbourg. Instead of the customer-care-trained-receptionists in their ‘casual’ uniform, I was greeted by an older woman with painted nails and full make up, dressed in a fleece with prints of howling wolfs. I instantly knew which campsite I preferred.

The first climb WAS hard but both the bike and I survived it and I was elated when I got to the top. It was there,  where I met Helfried, another cyclist on a day out and we quickly got into quite profound conversation. I am slowly getting used to the deep conversations that happen in those brief encounters on the road.

The downhill was exhilarating but not as much as the cake I gave myself as a reward for the climb.

I spent that night in a youth hostel all on my own. A huge rambling building full of noises. I was seriously creeped out and was grateful for the nature documentaries in my tablet that took my mind of Hitchcock  type murders.

The Danube is very beautiful, forest of deciduous trees, tall cathedral spires, nature reserves, big rocky outcrops, campsites in working farms… Life continues to be good.