005 CYCLE TOURING HUNGARY

 

By Eddie Carter

5 HUNGARY

810 Kilometres – 19 Days

11 July – 30 July 2007

MAP

PHOTOS 

11-12 July – London, UK – Budapest, Hungary

Our flight touched down in Budapest early on 11 July. From the start, I was smitten with this beautiful city with its plethora of gracious old buildings, cobbled streets and views of the mighty Danu River. I instantly understood why it’s referred to as “the Capital of Architecture”. To this day, it remains one of my favourite cities as it is beautiful, culturally rich and the people immensely friendly.

Hungary is the land of paprika, cabbage and sausage, and the food was delicious and the beer good. In fact, nearly all the food in Hungary includes paprika in some form, from the homey goulash to the Porkolt (meat stew) and Halaszle (fisherman’s soup).

An additional day was spent exploring the city’s famous attractions and buildings. First thing in the morning Eddie and I sauntered across the chain bridge, the first permanent connection to span the Danube between Buda and Pest. Once on the opposite bank, a funicular took people to the castle district and Buda Castle. Finally, we strolled towards the Fisherman’s Bastion with its panoramic view of the city, from where we feasted our eyes upon Budapest’s magnificent architecture.

If today, I would’ve lingered longer, but as was my nature, I’d bees in my bonnet and wanted to move along. As is the case with nearly all “new” cycle tourers, I was destination minded. It took me years until I rid myself of the habit and could enjoy the touring part of cycle touring, which, in my mind, is what cycle touring is all about.

 

13 July – Budapest – Esztergom – 80 kilometres

Following a day of exploring, we cycled out of Budapest. At first, our path followed the famed Danu River past vast fields of sunflowers and timeless villages. Then, our chosen path spat us out in Esztergom’s ancient town, where the day’s ride ended. However, there was no missing the city as a massive basilica (the 3rd largest church in Europe) dominated the city. It sits atop a hill above this bustling town and overlooks the Danube River.

Esztergom’s history goes back many years. The town was established around 972 AD and was the first Hungarian King’s birth and coronation place. Esztergom was further the capital of Hungary till the 13th century. As a result, there is an abundance of old buildings of both Royal and religious nature.

 

14 July - Esztergom – Győr – 95 kilometres

The route between Esztergom and Gyor was picturesque as it ran along the Danube through countless settlements. In these communities, we filled water bottles from wells using hand pumps. The ride led past vast fields of sunflowers, making a pretty picture against a cloudless sky.

 

15 July - Győr and surrounds – 80 kilometres

As the campsite in Gyor was comfortable, we stayed two days, allowing exploring the countryside. It became a fun day cycling past tiny hamlets, farmlands and more fields of sunflowers.

 

16 July - Győr – Papa – 58 kilometres

The next day our route left the river and headed toward Lake Balaton. Being mid-summer, the weather was sweltering. Again, the friendliness of the people impressed us. An older man who spoke no English must’ve noticed us suffering in the intense heat. He promptly invited us in, offered us ice cream, and gave us two slices of smoked meat; how kind of him.

Papa is a historical town with an ensemble of old buildings. The entire town centre is today a protected area. Papa is also famed for its thermal baths, but the heat was too intense and instead, we opted for a cold beer on a shady veranda in the historic part of town.

 

17-18 July - Papa – Balatonfüred – 64 kilometres

Eddie and I left lovely Papa in the morning to cycle the final stretch towards the lake. The day was another blistering one and relatively hilly. I’d no idea the mercury could rise to such levels in Hungary. Balatonfured is the oldest of the towns situated on Lake Belton’s shores. It is another city renowned for its spas, but this was no time to visit spas.

 

19 July - Balatonfüred – Badacsony – 48 kilometres

The oppressing heat made riding exhausting, and we could only manage a half-day of biking. Upon reaching Lake Balaton, drenched in sweat, we called it quits and set up camp at Badacsony, a small village with a population of barely 2000. The lake was immensely touristy, and the beaches were littered with campsites that made easy overnighting. I wasted no time diving into the lukewarm water of the lake. Sunset was a perfect time to sample the region’s good wine.

 

20 July - Badacsony – Fonyód – 56 kilometres

Packing up was at leisure as there was no rush to go anywhere. However, the heat remained debilitating. It took practically the entire day to cycle the short distance to the resort town of Fonyod. The road made its way along the lake’s shores and the heat made cycling in bathing suits and stopping numerous times to swim and drink beer. Finally, the day’s ride finished in Fonyod, where camp was on the lake shores. Once the tents were pitched, we could enjoy the town’s well-known mineral water (bottled nearby) before moving on to their renowned wine.

 

21 July - Fonyód – Balatonszemes – 32 kilometres

The next morning, we emerged to a tad of a breeze, making the unrelenting heat almost bearable. Then, unfortunately, the wind picked up, which made grinding into the wind to the next campsite. But once in Balatonszemes, the wind subsided, and we were back in paradise.

The campsites, 20 all around the lake, were well equipped with access to the lake, shops, bars, restaurants, and loads of entertainment, especially for children, including waterslides, games, cable skiing, and paddle boats.

 

22 July - Balatonszemes – Siófok – 32 kilometres

I thought Lake Belatan was the closest place to heaven. Blue skies, lukewarm water and no wind, made the place swarming with tourists. The lakeshore was extremely shallow and excellent for floating in its lukewarm waters. Shops, restaurants and bars were scattered about, adding to a great holiday atmosphere.

 

23-24 July – Siófok

Siofok meant we’d cycled around the entire lake and thus spent the day lounging around and enjoying the sun. Siofok is the largest town along the lake, with a beach stretching nearly 20 kilometres, making it an extremely popular holiday destination.

 

25-26 July - Siofok – Budapest – 110 kilometres

Once around the lake, we returned to Budapest to collect my Romanian Visa. Again, it turned out a day of easy riding. We thus slinked into Budapest in good time, where it took weaving through the traffic to find accommodation. The following day I collected my visa and we once again strolled Budapest’s cobbled streets.

 

27 July - Budapest – Kesckemet – 90 kilometres

With passport in hand, we cycled out of Budapest in the direction of Romania. The ride was a pleasant and relaxed one, in perfect cycling weather. Kecskemet sported an immense and beautiful City hall and an extremely convenient campsite in the centre of town, signalling the end of the day’s ride.

 

28-29 July - Kesckemet – Szeged – 65 kilometres

The way to Szeged was another enjoyable day of riding along a flat road. Szeged, home of the paprika, had a smattering of old buildings of which the Saint Nicolas Serbian Church, built in 1781, is the oldest. Szeged further had a great location along the Tisza river with an excellent campsite and a thermal bath. Hungary is well known for its thermal baths. At the town of Szeged, we set up camp and stayed two days, floating in the warm water of their well-known thermal springs before crossing into Romania.

 

30 July – Szeget, Hungary – Arad, Romania – 78 kilometres

Departing Szeget was with a stiff tailwind which became a near gale force crosswind, making it challenging riding, especially with the many trucks and heavy traffic. Upon arrival at the border, I found my Hungarian visa wasn’t what I’d envisaged, but 2 x 10-day visas, (where did that come from?). Therefore, I overstayed and after attempting sign language and being shunted back and forth from building to building; I was eventually allowed to leave. Phew!

I was immensely excited to see Romania. It finally felt like I was getting into my stride. Since childhood, I’ve been intrigued by gipsies and understood there were still genuine gipsies in Romania. Add the mystery of Dracula’s castle and place names like Transylvania and I was virtually bursting out of my skin.

As always in a foreign country, the language remained a considerable obstacle, everything (as expected) was in Romanian, and truly little English was spoken.

Our arrival in Arat was late, searching for the camping spot indicated on the map. Still, all that remained of the campsite was an abandoned field. By then, it was raining and dark, and we weakened at the sight of a pension.

004 CYCLE TOURING THE UK - IRELAND

 

4 IRELAND

793 Kilometres – 14 Days

8 June – 11 July 2007

 

MAP

PHOTOS

 

8 June – Glasgow, Scotland – Belfast, Ireland – 6 kilometres

Getting to Ireland, involved cycling from Esther’s house to Glasgow Central station to catch a Stranraer train. The day started promising, but upon looking around, I was horrified to see Esther on the ground bicycle on top of her, resembling a beetle, legs kicking in the air. All this happened in peak hour traffic, but Esther was undeterred by the staring eyes. She stood up, dusted herself off, looked them in the eye and laughingly declared, “Take three”.

At Stranraer, the ferry to Belfast took us across the North Channel. Our arrival was around 16h30 (peak time) and Esther proceeded to fall over once more. The reason for all this falling over was Esther’s bike being too big and her legs too short to swing over the middle bar. By the time her foot was on solid ground, the bicycle was past the point of no return. It was hence not so much falling off the bike but falling over. We laughed so much, tears were streaming down our faces and thus, surprising, we managed to cycle the 6 kilometres north to set up camp. By evening Esther referred to her bike as Silver. He bucked and kicked and appeared somewhat unwilling to see Ireland.

 

9 June - Belfast - Cushendall – 69 kilometres

The next day, it dawned bright and sunny. The weather was beautiful, and there wasn’t a breath of wind. With Ol’ Silver loaded and packed, our route followed the coast, an incredibly scenic ride, especially in such glorious weather. The road continued past numerous coastal communities and steep white, limestone cliffs. The coast was littered with ancient ruins from the Red Bay Castle to the ruins of the Ardclinis Church

Esther must’ve fallen over at least five times before arriving at the coastal village of Cushendall. At camp, she didn’t bring the bike to a halt as most would but instead flopped over, to the surprise of the other campers. Good thing, she wore a helmet. Still, 43 miles (70 kilometres) were managed that day.

 

10 June - Cushendall – Ballycastle – 32 kilometres

Packing up took forever, and late by the time the two of us cycled out of camp. Shortly beyond the village of Cushendall, a sign indicated a scenic route via Torr head, which sounded rather lovely. However, the warning, “Not suitable for caravans and coaches” should’ve forewarned us. This part of the Irish coastline is separated from Scotland by the North Channel and the views were spectacular. Still, our chosen path came with incredibly steep hills. Esther claimed she didn’t fall over that day as she walked her bike the entire way, resulting in blistered feet.

The descent into Ballycastle, a small seaside town at the north-easternmost coastal tip of Ireland, was pure pleasure. After waiting at the bottom longer than usual, I rode back up to see if I could find my friend. I came upon her walking down the hill due to a flat tyre. The surprises were never-ending as we soon discovered Esther’s bicycle wheels had no quick release and thus required a spanner. Not much one can do but walk the bikes into town and onto the campsite. Every man in camp had a suitable spanner, and soon the wheel was off, and Esther was given a lift into town to buy a new tyre and inner tube.

 

11 June - Ballycastle – Castlerock – 64 kilometres

The following morning started in its usual way, with Esther providing all the fun and drama. Loading up Ol’ Silver, a bungee cord slipped and hit her upon the lip. She was covered not only with bruises and scratches from falling over and lumps and bumps from the “Wee Buggers” (mosquitos) but also a fat lip. Leaving Ballycastle, the first stop was at the bike shop to purchase a spanner and new front tyre for Esther’s bicycle, which looked equally worn.

The coastline of Northern Ireland is magnificent, and we stopped at Giants Causeway to explore this fascinating area. The causeway consists of about 40000 black basalt columns resulting from an ancient volcanic eruption. Weathered by 60 million years of wind, rain and storms, these unique rock formations form perfectly shaped horizontal sections. However, I found the legends of the area even more intriguing. The story goes, a giant Finn McCool had trouble with his Scottish rival Benandonner. Furious, Finn grabbed chunks of the Antrim coast and threw them into the sea to form a pathway for reaching Benandonner. Benandoonneer was, however, larger than expected, and Finn fled with Benandoonneer in tow. Finn was saved by his quick-thinking wife, who disguised him as a baby. On seeing the baby’s size, Benandoonneer thought better of it and returned to Scotland.

After a particularly long hill, Esther declared the trip was killing her and it would’ve been easier and quicker to have taken an overdose at home. Still, she continued a further 40 miles, and spotting a campsite at Castlerock, we packed it in. The lady managing the campground looked at Esther’s face and allowed us to camp free.

 

12 June - Castlerock – Quigley’s Point – 32 kilometres

The following day, feeling refreshed, the first stopped was at the Mussenden Temple, built in 1785 as a library; this tiny building was modelled after Rome’s Temple of Vesta. A short ride led to Magilligan Point, from where ferries departed to Greencastle. Unfortunately, our map indicated a track beside the ocean, which was non-existing and left us slightly lost. Reaching Quigley’s Point, the tents were pitched at the first opportunity to give Esther’s backside a rest. Once camp was set up, there wasn’t a great deal more to do but frequent the pub for a pint.

 

13 June - Quigley’s Point - Portsalon via Letterkenny – 91 kilometres

It rained all night, and on emerging, it took packing up in the rain, reaching Buncrana sopping wet. We intended to take a ferry to Rathmullan. Still, to our dismay, the ferry only started operating in three days, and I thought June was mid-summer.

I loved the foreign-sounding names of towns as we biked from Quigley’s Point to Portsalon via Letterkenny, a remarkable distance of 91 kilometres. Esther was getting stronger by the day and wasn’t falling over as much. Ol’ Silver was nevertheless still creaking and squealing, and extremely unwilling on the uphills. Still, Esther showed no mercy, and pushed on. From Rathmullan to Portsalon, the distance was only about 19 kilometres. Still, we took the scenic route and encountered a few nasty hills before a serious descent into Portsalon. By then, Esther’s one hand was numb and entirely useless.

 

14 June – Portsalon

The weather turned even fouler overnight, and the conditions weren’t only cold and raining in the morning, but an icy wind blew in from the North. Nevertheless, the weather made it easy to stay put, and we both crawled back into our sleeping bags, zipped up the tents and read books for the remainder of the day.

By 5 o’clock, we had enough of lying in the tents and headed to the pub. The place consisted of a shop and pub (all in one), where a few people were sitting at the bar. Soon the singing began and the evening became a jovial affair. It was three in the morning before arriving back at our tents. I guess it will suffice to say we had a good time.

 

15 June - Portsalon - Melmore Head – 59 kilometres

For obvious reasons, there was no rushing in packing up and 12h00 before eventually getting underway. The weather was horrendous; it drizzled, a strong wind blew, and the weather became bitterly cold. Still, we proceeded to tiny Carrickart, where we received information about a hostel not far from there. In arctic conditions, we headed in the direction pointed. I was frozen stiff; even Esther was in long sleeves. The Hostel was considerably further than led to believe. Still, we soldiered forward up a steep hill to an extremely basic and remote hostel. At least inside, the place was warm as toast.

 

16 June - Melmore Head - Letterkenny - Belfast and Larne – 72 kilometres

Esther needed to get back to work, and we made our way back to Letterkenny to see what public transport was available. Once in Letterkenny, a bus departed in 20 minutes to Derry and another bus straight to Belfast. A shock, however, awaited in Belfast. Belfast was packed full; each little nook and cranny was fully booked due to a major international boxing event. Every B&B and hotel was fully booked, from the cheapest to the Hilton (we even considered that one). By then, the time was ten o’clock and the weather freezing. I suggested cycling the 6 kilometres north to our first camp, but Esther refused point-blank to get on the bike. The staff at the train station was extremely friendly and directed us to a B&B in Larne to get a ferry to Glasgow. They even phoned to book the B&B and the ferry and helped us on the train. Wonderful people.

 

17 June - Larne - Oxford Island – 91 kilometres

We emerged to a lovely breakfast at the B&B; what luxury. Our guesthouse had a great location across from the harbour, making easy access to the ferry. Esther hopped on the 10.30 ferry. After waving her goodbye, I pointed my mobile home toward Belfast and onto the road leading south.

The weather was good and being Sunday plenty of cyclists were out, all stopping to have a wee chat (as they say in Ireland). I took the recommended path south, which followed the River Lagan, to Lisburn. From there a minor route ran via Moira to Oxford Island and onward to Lough Neagh. I even came upon the Orange Order marching, band and all, in one of the smaller villages. I couldn’t believe they existed in real life. I would’ve thought their supremacist values illegal in our modern-day. They most likely were practising for the annual march held around 12 July.

 

18 June – Oxford Island – Ballyronan – 72 kilometres

Fortunately, most Irish are friendly, even offering dope. What lovely people.

Lough Neagh is a freshwater lough and one of the largest in Western Europe. I thus decided to follow its shore to Ballyronan, situated along the northwestern shore of Lough Neagh. The path continued along tiny country lanes and minor roads, past small settlements, and farms. The lake has an interesting legend. It claimed the lake formed when the Irish giant Finn McCool scooped out an earthen clod to toss at a Scottish rival fleeing Ulster via the Giant’s Causeway. Finn’s shot fell into the Irish Channel and formed the Isle of Man.

 

19 June - Ballyronan - Kesh (Lough Erne) – 101 kilometres

As usual, I packed up in the rain, but the weather soon cleared, and it became a glorious day of riding. The route headed west, sticking to the foothills of the Sperrin Mountains, via Omagh to Kesh. In tiny Kesh it took biking, up a serious hill to the campsite, only to find the place wasn’t a campsite but a mobile home park with no camping facilities. Bummer. The owner was accommodating enough and allowed me to camp on a small patch of grass. He even unlocked a mobile home to use the shower and toilet.

 

20 June - Kesh and surrounds – 32 kilometres

Kesh is tiny, with a population of less than 1000, but with its location on Lough Erne, the village had a lively tourist trade. I decided to stay in the area to explore and cycled down the hill to another campsite where one could take walks around the lake and through the forest. I uncovered dried fruit, yummy, and proceeded to eat the entire bag. Talking about food, I considered myself the Queen of carbs. Still, I had nothing on the Irish, as I found them serving macaroni cheese accompanied by a portion of French fries. I kid you not! Another dish I thought surprising was a baked potato topped with beans, something I considered a carbo overload.

 

21 June - Kesh - Donegal (Dun na nGall) – 72 kilometres

The way to Ballyshannon followed Lough Erne, and aided by a tailwind, the route appeared downhill. At Ballyshannon, I turned northwards along the coast to Donegal, still with a tailwind. My arrival was reasonably early and I set up camp at a hostel.

Soon afterwards, Eddie arrived by car. As he wanted to travel Ireland but didn’t bring his bike, we loaded the bike onto the roof and explored the rest of Ireland by car. Afterwards, I was sorry as the chances of ever getting back to that part of the world to cycle is practically non-existing.

In London, I tried my best to obtain a European visa, but all to no avail. I soon discovered the Schengen visa (for me at least) one of the world’s most elusive visas. Not only was it necessary to apply in one’s home country but the application needed a full itinerary and paid accommodation.

I felt frustrated as nothing was going to plan. As my idea of cycling Europe fell through, it was time for plan B. After much deliberation, the next best option was to fly to Hungary (which didn’t require a Schengen visa) and cycle Eastern Europe and see where the road led. So Eddie took time off work, and the two of us packed our bicycles and flew to Budapest, Hungary.

 

11-12 July – London, UK – Budapest, Hungary

Right from the start, I was smitten with beautiful Budapest and its ensemble of old buildings, cobbled streets and views of the mighty Danu River. I instantly understood why it’s referred to as “the Capital of Architecture”. To this day, Budapest remains one of my favourite cities.

If today, I would’ve lingered longer, but I had bees in my bonnet and wanted to get going, as was my nature. Unfortunately, as with most “new” cycle tourers, I was destination orientated. It took me years before I rid myself of that habit and enjoyed the touring part of cycle touring, which, in my mind, is what cycle touring is all about.