007 CYCLE TOURING BULGARIA

 

By Eddie Carter

BULGARIA

507 Kilometres – 9 Days

17 August – 26 August 2007

MAP

PHOTOS

 

 

17 August – Oltenita, Romania - Silistra, Bulgaria – 85 kilometres

Following a breakfast of fresh tomatoes and paprika from Peter’s garden, we hurried to the Calarasi border, before the veggies kicked in. This time a ferry operated across the Danube river towards Silistra. As can be expected, I was apprehensive about my Romanian Visa dilemma. By then, I was in the country for 20 days instead of the two days indicated on my visa. I didn’t say anything simply handed over my passport to border officials. They disappeared behind a screen. Later, they reappeared and returned my passport, all without a single word, I was relieved, to say the least.

I could tell straight away communication in Bulgaria would be an even bigger problem. Bulgarian is a Southern Slavic language using the Cyrillic alphabet. Bulgarian was further the first Slavic language to be written. A more modern version was standardised following Bulgaria’s independence in 1878. More confusing was a single nod of the head indicated “no” while shaking the head side to side, which indicated agreement. I can assure you that that isn’t an easy thing to become used to. I first discovered this behaviour enquiring about an abode. Again, the head’s side-to-side movement clearly indicated “No” and as I gathered my belongings, the lady produced the room key. I looked at her confused as she had, merely seconds earlier, indicated the hotel had no accommodation available (or so I thought).

 

18 August - Silistra -Balchik - 136 kilometres

Bulgaria measures 110,994 square kilometres roughly the same size as Malawi, a country I consider small. Eddie and I headed towards Balchik a Black Sea coastal town and seaside resort. The town’s location along the shores of the Black Sea made it a simple choice. Our chosen route led 136 kilometres through farmlands, cornfields and past vast fields of sunflowers. We slinked into Balchik late merely to discover the town had no camping. A further fifteen-kilometre cycle north brought us to Kavarna with camping at the lake’s shores. The place was lovely. No time was wasted submerging our sweat-soaked bodies in the lukewarm waters of the Black Sea, pure bliss following a long day on the bicycle.

 

19 August - Kavarna

The following day was spent at the beach. Where we again ran into the Baltic Cycle group, we encountered in Bucharest. It became a fun night of drinking and trying to communicate as almost everyone in the group spoke Polish and no English.

At first, I thought the Black Sea was a lake, but upon closer inspection, the map revealed a connection to the ocean via The Bosphorus Strait. The waters of the Black Sea first flow into the Sea of Marmara, which is in turn connected to the Mediterranean via the Strait of the Dardanelles. The Black Sea is a massive body of water measuring 436400 kilometres2, and I was surprised to learn it reaches a depth of more than 2000 meters in places.

 

20 August - Kavarna - Kancija via Verna - 96 kilometres

The next day we resumed our ride south in the direction of the Turkish border. Finding one’s way turned out a tad tricky as nearly all the signboards were in Hungarian. Nevertheless, a campsite in Verna was located. Albeit basic, the camp was a well-located one at a decent beach. Hence, we ran into Baltic cycles as they were searching out the most inexpensive camping. It again became a great night with these cyclists, who could party as hard as they cycled. The restaurant owner invited us over to sample Rakia, a strong fruit brandy, as well as homemade wine. I surmised the alcohol was offered to help tolerate the mosquito-infested campsite.

 

21 August – Kamcija

A day of leisure was spent shooting the breeze with the other cyclists at the beach. It seemed communication improved in direct relation to the amount of Vodka consumed and they fast became good friends.

 

22 August - Kamcija - Nesebar - 104 kilometres

We were by then well into our familiar routine of camping, packing up and cycling to the next place to do the same. At the campground in Nesebar, was a 70-year-old German gentleman pushing a bike and trailer around the world. He started a year prior to meeting him in Germany and was still going strong. His bicycle had no pedals, meaning he couldn’t cycle even if he wanted.

So good was the campsite, and so much fun was had in Nesebar two days were spent in Nesebar.

 

24-25 August - Nesebar - Yuk Camping - 96 kilometres

Good thing the Baltic Cycle group told us where they intended to camp as Yuk camping turned out to be one of the best in the area. En route, Pomorie and Sozopol made good places to swim as the weather was boiling and an excellent way to cool off.

The others moved on, but I spent the day at the beach trying to rid myself of my terrible cycling tan.

 

26 August - Yuk Camping - Border – 75 kilometres

Bulgaria is a country with a diverse terrain encompassing the Black Sea coastline and a mountainous interior. Once away from the coast, the road became extremely hilly. Being August, and thus mid-summer, most days were sweltering, making challenging riding. Flies were an added problem and buzzed in hordes around our heads, strangely reminding us of biking in Ethiopia.

Shortly before the Turkish border Eddie and I pedalled into a small village to pick up refreshments but decided to stay. Unfortunately, the village had no campsite or accommodation. Still, we were directed to the hospital, which doubled as a guesthouse.

 

27 August – Bulgarian Border – Kirklareli, Turkey – 50 kilometres

I’ve overnighted in unusual places but never in a hospital, and I thought it necessary to check that I still had all my organs before leaving. Once across the border we headed to the nearest town and bike shop. Eddie’s bicycle rim was buckled to such an extent, that cycling became impossible. Turkish people are some of the world’s kindest, and while waiting, we were offered tea, watermelon, as well as coffee. The rim took longer than envisaged to repair. It was raining when all was done, and we opted for accommodation in Kirklareli.

006 CYCLE TOURING ROMANIA

ROMANIA

959 Km – 19 Days

30 June – 17 August 2007

MAP

 PHOTOS

 

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

Eddie and I departed Szeget powered by a stiff tailwind that became a near gale force crosswind, making it challenging riding. The road was further congested by trucks and heavy traffic and I feared for my life. 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?). I thus overstayed and following 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 I was on my way and since a child, I was intrigued by gipsies and understood there were still real gipsies in Romania. Add to that the mystery of Dracula’s castle and place names like Transylvania and I couldn’t wait to explore.

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

Arad was reached late and searching the campsite indicated on the map revealed only an abandoned field. By then, it wasn’t simply raining but also dark, and we weakened at the sight of a pension.

 

31 July - Arad – Bârzava – 60 kilometres

Arad was a bustling town, sporting many old buildings, which for the most part appeared to need TLC. Fifty years of communism left its mark. There were numerous apartment blocks, all very unattractive and in a state of poor repair. Arad further appeared an industrial town and a transport hub.

Countries vary tremendously, and just as one became used to the how-where-and-when of one, it’s time to cross the border, where everything is vastly different. Suddenly, campsites were few and far between. Instead, budget accommodation was found at truck stops, who typically served inexpensive food and offered basic rooms.

 

1 August - Barzava – Deva – 100 kilometres

In the morning, I fixed the slow puncture that had been giving trouble for some time and then made our way in the direction of Barzava. The countryside was intriguing and dotted by small communities, real-life gipsies complete with horse carts and elderly ladies dressed in black. It reminded me of something from a forgotten era. However, the gipsies were a tad disappointing as they weren’t dressed like the gipsies I’d in mind. Think long, bright flowery skirts, blouses adorned by gold coins and headscarves.

Cycling was challenging and sometimes downright dangerous as the traffic was hectic and the main road jam-packed by trucks of all shapes and sizes. Nevertheless, the rural villages were quiet, and residents found us as different as we found them. Generally, communities only had basic facilities. Water was collected from a communal well and farmers worked the field by hand. Filling our water bottles resulted in stopping, lowering the bucket into the well and then bringing the full bucket up using a pulley system.

Overnighting was in Deva, situated on the left bank of the Mures River and dominated by the ruins of a citadel perched atop a hill.

 

2 August- Deva - Geoagiu Băi – 27 kilometres

Departing Deva was by following the tremendously busy and poorly maintained main road, making a nerve-wracking ride. At the soonest opportunity, we turned off onto a smaller path. A sign pointed towards a Roman thermal bath, and as it was a mere 12 kilometres down the drag, I thought it worth exploring. Geoagiu Bai was a small but lively town where camping was in someone’s backyard amongst chickens and dogs. The only facility was a rudimentary long-drop as a toilet.

 

3 August - Geoagiu Băi – Blaj – 91 kilometres

The following morning, we proceeded along a dirt track, past numerous small villages, farmlands, cornfields and even vineyards. The countryside was scenic, as the route twisted and turned over wooded mountains and across scenic rivers.

 

4-5 August - Blaj - Făgăraș – 135 kilometres

It wasn’t long before finding ourselves firmly in the heart of Transylvania. The name conjured up images of scary-looking villagers, wooden crosses and howling wolves. This mental image wasn’t entirely incorrect. We often encountered askew graves and wooden crosses where bunches of garlic hung from gates and doors. I was excited as a child to be in Romania and couldn’t wait to go exploring. The country offered fantastic riding through densely wooded mountains, medieval towns and fortresses associated with legends.

Fagaras didn’t disappoint, located at the foothills of the Făgăraș Mountains, it was home to the Făgăraș Fortress.

 

6 August - Făgăraş – Bran - 63 kilometres

Before getting underway, we attempted to find breakfast but at 9.30 am, it seemed too early to eat but not too early for beer. Individuals were drinking beer at pavement restaurants but at enquiring about food, the reply was, “Don’t know at this hour”. The ride was beautiful through heavily wooded mountains and along raging rivers. Upon arrival in Bran we anticipated finding clues to Dracula’s Castle but merely found the ominous-sounding “Vampire Camping”.

 

7 August - Bran

The following day was spent in Bran where a visit to Bran Castle revealed its real history. I learned the castle was constructed in 1388 and built atop a cliff offering panoramic views of the nearby hills. The castle served as a customs office and a fortress and was used to stop the Ottoman Empires expansion. Although the castle had many owners, it did indeed belong to Vlad Dracul or Vlad the Impaler, the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s vampire named Dracula.

 

8 August - Bran – Campulung – 59 kilometres

Eddie and I biked over the scenic Carpathian Mountains via Bran Pass. A stunning ride and the dividing line between Transylvania and Valencia. The language remained a problem. Not solely did I buy yeast instead of butter but a fountain pen without ink instead of a ballpoint pen and cream instead of yoghurt. The learning curve was indeed a steep one. Towards the end of the day, accommodation was at a pension in historic Campulung. Virtually all the places encountered had a long and fascinating history. Campulung was no different and had a multitude of beautiful buildings dating to the 13^th century.

 

9 August - Campulung – Targovista – 65 kilometres

The route towards Taragovista, home to the Chindia Tower built by Vlad Dracula in the 15^th century came with a brilliant descent. Reaching Targovista was early, but we considered it better to overnight instead of continuing to Bucharest still about 80 kilometres away.

“Pension King” became home that night but it turned out not much of a palace as the name indicated, as it was situated in the back streets next to a scrapyard.

 

10 August - Targovista – Bucharest - 98 kilometres

Biking into Bucharest was hair-raising, as is the case with nearly all cities, and came with horrendous traffic, especially on a Friday afternoon. However, a helpful taxi driver gave us directions to a campsite, located on the city's opposite side. Unable to find it, we popped into an internet cafe and found the campground. This meant retracing our steps to where we came from. The campsite was lovely but mozzie infested - at least it had plenty of trees.

Another look at my passport revealed my Romanian visa was granted for two days (valid for three months) and not three months as envisaged. There wasn’t a great deal I could do and intended to deal with it once at the border. Lesson learned, always check your visa. Who gives a visa for two days, anyhow?

 

11 August – Bucharest

Casa Alba Campsite had a convenient location and we did the usual, shopping, laundry and a tad of sightseeing. Included in our wonderings was a visit to the city’s iconic landmark, the massive communist-era Parliament building with its 1100 rooms, said the world’s second-largest building. Far scarier was we learned more than 10000 people were bitten by stray dogs in Bucharest each year.

Bucharest is a fun city with a long and fascinating history and a crazy mix of communist-era, neo-classical and art deco buildings predominantly adorned by oyster shell-shaped canopies. The hundreds of grey high-rise blocks of flats from the communist era were of particular interest.

 

12-15 August – Bucharest

I used the time to apply for both my Bulgarian and Turkish visas. Upon returning from the city, I found the campsite invaded, by what looked like hundreds of little tents. It turned out the well-known Baltic Cycle group, on tour from the Baltics to Cypress. They mostly spoke Polish, except for one Brit and one lady from New Zealand.

At the Turkish Embassy, I was informed a visa application had to be made in my home country. After phoning my sister Amanda in SA, she returned with the news that the Turkish Embassy in SA promised to contact the Embassy and I should try again in the morning. The next day I returned to the Turkish Embassy, and by 5 pm, I’d my visa. Hallelujah! I further phoned the Bulgarian Embassy and, yes, the visa was granted, and I could pick it up the following day.

 

16 August - Bucharest – Oltenita – 98 kilometres

The next morning, I was at the Hungarian Embassy at ten o’clock sharp, where I found a crowd of people milling about. There seemed no rhyme or reason in the procedures. After a while, an official pointed at me and took me to the front of the queue, where I was handed my visa. A 15-day visa was granted fair enough and by noon Eddie and I were on our way to the border. Instead of taking the highway to Giurgiu, we opted to cycle to Oltenita via a much smaller path. Still, we found no immigration office as indicated on our map. It seemed we couldn’t get out of Romania.

In the process, we met Peter, a Romanian chap, who invited us to stay at his house, a tiny 2-room wooden shack without a bathroom or kitchen. One could, however, take a wee in the garden amongst the chickens. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t quite figure out what to do about the bowel movements.

 

17 August – Oltenita, Romania - Silistra, Bulgaria – 85 kilometres

After a breakfast of fresh tomatoes and paprika from Peter's garden, we hurried to the Calarasi border, before the veggies kicked in. Luckily a ferry operated across the Danube river to Silistra, Bulgaria. As can be expected, I was apprehensive about my Romanian Visa dilemma. By then, I was in the country for 20 days instead of the two days indicated on my visa. I didn’t say anything simply handed over my passport to border officials. They disappeared behind a screen and later reappeared and returned my passport. All without a single word. I was relieved, to say the least.

I could tell straight away communication in Bulgaria would be an even bigger problem as Bulgarian uses the Cyrillic script. Add to that Bulgarians nod their heads for no and shake it sideways for yes—I anticipated a few misunderstandings.