The pair of us presently find ourselves in Romania, following the ride to end all rides. After finally leaving Chamonix, we headed east through the Alps for a couple of days, trying to use all the highest passes that were open. It was slow going and we were managing only about 200 miles per day thanks to the twistiness of the roads and time spent trying to get some good pictures for the magazine.
Although it has been mainly dry-ish, we've been in low cloud much of the time, so have been hanging around in places hopeful that the weather would clear a bit... it didn't. The night after leaving Chamonix we found a tent pitch near Lake Como, Italy and bedded down at around 11pm. Next day we rode epically challenging roads into the Italian Dolomites and the most spectacular scenery to date: sheer limestone cliffs, snow-capped peaks and icy lakes, breathtaking stuff.
So stunning was the pass (2239m) at Marmalade, near Cortina d'Ampezzo, that we stopped at an hotel for the night, hopeful that in the morning it would be clear and we could get some stunning shots. It was not to be, so we hung around for a bit trying to make some static pictures work with flash - it wasn't easy and the pictures aren't quite so good as we'd hoped.
At 1pm, we decided it was time to quit the scene and get some miles in. We were so far behind any notional schedule that a big ride was in order. It turned out to be a monster, the longest single ride I've ever undertaken...
We hit the motorway at around 2pm and just rode and rode. Through the Brenner Pass into Austria, then Innsbruck, Saltzburg, Linz, Wien and on. The Hungarian border was hit at a foggy midnight and on we went, reaching Budapest at 4am and continuing on to the Romanian border. Despite the fact it was only 7.30am, there were long queues and it took about an hour to get through.
I had been a little nervous at the greeting Pankaj might get at borders, and that at some point racism would rear an ugly. But he's always had fine reception; border guards and others who've understood what he is undertaking being encouraging and enthusiastic. The Swiss border guards even gave him a going-over, checking his zips and helping him get his cuffs sealed in torrential rain.
A German rider at the Romanian border asked if he could ride with us and I didn't feel I could refuse him, but later wished I had. About two hours into the country we were riding along at a fair clip and having a good ride, despite being a little tired, when we had to slow for some lorries.... Bang!
A car had rammed das Matey up the rear sending him into a wobble that ended with he and bike on the floor, both bruised, but nothing too serious. Lots of shouting, someone called the police, we were asked to stay as witnesses (I'd only seem him go down in the mirrors and didn't know what had happened) as the real witnesses all cleared off.
The police arrived and asked us to come in convoy to the police station with them, but instead stopped at a roadside restaurant were they began a farcical process. P and I were just hanging around in the background for an hour (we were never actually spoken to), but got the gist of what was occurring...
The only person who spoke any German was the guy who'd knocked das Matey off, so he translated the German's statement. Nobody at all spoke English, so we couldn't be any help. In the end it appears German paid the guy who'd knocked him off some money - and thus we were permitted to go on our way... without company, luckily. During the process the tiredness really kicked in and it was difficult not to drop off in front of the cops.
Still, we were now only a couple of hundred miles from Brasov, a town in mountain country that we had down as our target, so carried on. On the approach we were doused many times in disinfectant (an attempt to prevent the spread of bird flu which is rife in the area) so arrived smelling lovely at around 7pm, to be met by Terry Edney, an inlaw of mine (thank you Terry).
We were led to the abode of his friend Dan Bujoreanu, where we arrived at 8pm for beers and pizza. We had clocked 1020 miles in 34 hours, stopping for a couple of half-hour snack breaks, half a dozen coffee/ciggy breaks and the enforced malingering at the border and with the Romanian authorities (check out product tests for info on the ultimate arse-aid). Still, it seemed only reasonable that we sit up and get to know our hosts for a couple of hours before crashing until 11am next morning.
Since then we've been hanging around, enjoying Dan and Nicos' hospitality. Yesterday we changed tyres, fitting the Metzeler Karoos, that while road-legal are also adept at mud-plugging. The old rubber - still in good condition after the 4000 miles for which they've been fitted - has found a new home on Dan's bikes.
A hub of the Brasov bike scene, Dan has quite a collection: a Yamaha R1, Kawasaki KLR650, Suzuki DR650, Yamaha XT600E, Yamaha Super Tenere and Aprilia Pegaso. He organises a club, the Bull Bikers and has a very comfortable guest house from which he organises off-road tours of the mountains hereabouts. If you fancy a jaunt to Romania - and you should, because it's beautiful, inexpensive and friendly - then here are his contact details: club@bullbikers.ro www.bullbikers.ro tel:0040 268 362609.
Today we were interviewed for Romanian TV, which was a bit embarrassing, as we can't really answer very specific questions about our plans, because they're so lose. Tomorrow some local off-road fans that we've met have offered to show us some beautiful mountain routes, so we'll be off with them, returning here where we have internet access and a secure base. After that, not sure. Maybe we'll go into the city for a days' sight seeing, maybe we'll move on.
We certainly want to see more of the country, but without leaden eyelids. Romania is a strange mix of old and new, side-by-side. For transport, many people hitch (I think for a small fee), others drive ancient Dacia cars, and lots still travel by horse and cart. Many people wear traditional dress, including Roma gypsies. Some still scythe hay in the fields by hand and some still use horses for ploughing. There are a smattering of flash new cars, too, especially in Brasov, which is a very up-and-coming city. Lots to look at (some of it sad, like the girls working the laybys), lots of contrast. We'll report more when with have a more rounded picture of the place.
So, so far... France, Switzerland, France, Switzerland, France, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Romania. What can I tell you about Hungary? Very little. From the border to Budapest all I know is that it gets dark and foggy at night and smells of damp flowers. Oh, and old crow/women hallucinations can jump out of the mist after 16 hours of non-stop riding.
Budapest is a mix of stark and glassy new globalisation and, in the city centre (seen at 4am), charmingly dilapidated old-Europe. Tesco appear to have bought up much of the area. South of the capital, a plumb-straight road leads across flatlands to the border and that's about all we know. EU membership seems to have bought some wealth and there are more capitalist trappings than Romania.
No blog on this site can possibly be complete without information on P's goings to ground. He is now an expert on the subject of European road surfaces and has kissed more tarmac than the last three popes combined. I think, as a conservative estimate, we're talking around 18 now. That's including a couple off-road, but not when his bike toppled on mine at a petrol station with the fuel cap off. That could have been a very warm and premature end to the trip!
Of course it's not the falling over that counts, but the getting back up again and for this he must be applauded. It must be near soul-destroying to keep a'tumblin' when you think you've finally cracked it. Just as his confidence gets built back up, down it goes.
As a road-rider he has come on leaps and bounds, getting smoother and faster - while safer - all the time. He has come a very, very long way. When he arrived in the UK, P had never used a petrol pump, wielded a spanner, nor tackled a roundabout. He is now riding on the wrong side (for us) of the road for 34 hours at a time, taking roundabout in stride, can take out and replace his own wheels, adjust the chain, etc.
Of course he is used to the maddest of road conditions, but not at the kinds of speeds at which they occur in Romania, where everybody goes as fast as is inhumanly possible. The challenges, though, have been met. Next is some off-roading, at which he has been truly terrible so far - I'm hoping our Romanian friends can reinforce some techniques, like standing up on the pegs and accelerating out of trouble. We'll see. Wish him luck, please.
Apologies for the rushed and poorly-written blog, but always seem to have stacks of stuff to do.
Damon
