Andy
The first few days in Romania were mentally tough. We donned full
wet weather gear and ventured into the terrible weather that the first
day offered us. It was overcast, drizzle, cold and miserable. The road
away from the border was full of lorries, one after the other, spraying
bucket-sized amounts of water over us. In the morning we cooked a huge
meal at a bus stop and washed pots in a puddle next to bemused-looking
people waiting for a bus.
The geography was flat and featureless,
the weather unforgiving. However, it was culturally and visually
different, which kept me intrigued. I could often see a shepherd with a
herd of sheep and dog by his side drifting across the land, a horse and
cart drive past, or small farmstead that looked like it was from
hundreds of years back in time. Workmen moped about around
half-finished building projects. Bleak industrial yards chugged and
ground away as we cycled past. I felt like I was in an George Orwell
book or a David Lynch film.
Our bikes and luggage more frequently attracted looks of complete
disbelief from car and lorry drivers and people we passed. It was
difficult to find good campsites in wide open spaces of flat farmland
and plains with little shelter. We resorted to staying the night in a
cheap motel, where we took the opportunity to wind down after the
stressful border crossing, wash ourselves and clothes and do some
guerrilla cooking with the MSR (watch the podcast to see why). We
treated ourselves to a spicy curry and some well-deserved beers, which
had markedly dropped in price since Western Europe - an added bonus.
Refreshed, we were eager to put some miles in with the stubborn
weather giving us no reason to hang around and the beckoning of the
distant hills. I had little idea of what to expect of Romania culture
but I was starting to get a taste. The topography became more hilly.
Villages would have a mixture of buildings in various stages of
construction and random pieces of wood cobbled together for farm
outbuildings. Usually the houses were fronted by a gate from which an
old lady or man would be looking out upon the world moving by or
selling some of her vegetable produce. By the side of the roads,
domesticated animals were often wandering about, seemingly without an
owner. Hens, geese, goats, cows, horses, all grazing the grass under
the shade of apple and plum trees lining the roads, oblivious to the
road and the people going about their daily lives.
We made good progress and cycled into progressively hillier terrain,
with a plan in mind of visiting a thermal bath in the mountains.
However, the weather closed in on us again and we were enamored to once
again try to ignore the weather by pressing on. We followed a road
which, from the map, we guessed was a small tarmacked road. However, we
were soon to find out that in the Romanian mountains this particular
type of road most certainly meant a fist-sized, rock-covered, rutted,
dirt track.
Equipped with our Kona Explosif mountain bikes, Tom and I were
enjoying the challenge of the terrain, our Extrawheel trailers
perfectly tracking along behind us. I could barely believe that Maria,
on her 25 year old racing tourer hybrid managed to cycle at all.
However, she possesses an ability to kind of float over anything, I
have come to discover. With barely any brakes at all on wet rims, she
often resorted to white knuckle, freewheel, downhills using wet thorny
bushes and shoe-floor interfaces to slow down. On one particular
instance Maria had been filming Tom and I. She then followed us down
the downhill. We waited at the bottom to see her come speeding, like a
wailing banshee, directly toward us, shouting “I can’t stop, I have no
brakes,” to which Tom and I shouted frantically “use the bush,”
pointing off the track, hoping to avoid being included in a collision
which would result in a tangled pile of bikes. Luckily, Maria landed
perfectly square in the bush, emerging with a big smile on her face and
fits of giggles, and much hilarity was had by all.
That day was hard and we got soaked to the skin. However, news
emerged that the weather was to improve on the weekend we planned to
head into the mountains. Magalie rejoined us, taking a train from the
UK to meet us in Sebes - a grey place with one large road through the
middle.
After cycling 50km off-road in the wet and cold, a random stranger
at a petrol station offered us accommodation. We followed him to his
house in the outskirts of the town in a rundown part of the
neighborhood. We were taken in, given hot coffee, fed and a bed for the
night. The next day we were offered showers and washing clothing. This
didn’t materialise initially, but then the girls headed off to the
house belonging to the mother of the wife in order to shower and do
their laundry.
While they were gone, Tom and I were left with the host. He beckoned
us to sit down with him at the table and produced a piece of paper
which he started scribbling down various numbers and additions.
Complaining that he had no job and money to buy food, he signaled
hunger by running his hand across his stomach. He asked us for the sum
of 200 Euros for our stay at the house. I initially felt angry that we
had been asked for money after believing we were being looked after
through generosity and kindness between human beings. We hadn’t been
told we would need to pay. We explained firmly and calmly that we had a
very small budget for our trip. We gave him money for food and quickly
left.
In retrospect, I don’t blame the guy for trying. We had expensive
bikes and cameras. We may well have had money to throw away. It was a
one-off occurrence.
We were glad to leave and head once again into the mountains. We
picked up some second hand clothes from a charity shop which was having
a sale. Every item was the equivalent of around 30p. The mountains
immersed us in a sense of calm and security. That night we were invited
into a villager’s home and, in the morning, fed freshly picked, deep
fried, battered wild mushrooms.
Crossing the mountains, the beauty and wildness of the countryside
exceeded my expectations. The road degraded into rough dirt track.
There were only a few cars and regular logging lorries stacked up with
freshly felled timber. We noticed a number of logged areas which were
the only eyesores on otherwise beautiful areas of untouched forest. We
ascended to 1700m. The downhills on the other side were breathtaking,
winding through forest-covered valleys in glorious sunshine.
We met a farm manager and his wife who we stayed with in Pitesti.
The farm happened to grow grapes, so there was plenty of the local
alcohol flowing, and we ate a traditional Romanian dish which consisted
of, I must admit, a huge variety of different types of meat. We
exchanged stories and began to get a little more insight into life in
Romania.
The following day we cycled 101km into Bucharest, making it our
longest day so far. We slept in the airport that night, feigning that
we were going to fly out the next day. In the morning, the security
guards looked on confusedly as we removed our luggage from the trolley
and reassembled it on the bikes.
We visited WWF Romania after cycling through crazy traffic in
Bucharest. They are working to educate timber companies that logging
can be both profitable and sustainable, if done in the right way. In a
situation where a country has a lot of resources available and wants to
trade them to drive economic growth in the post communist era, NGOs
like the WWF have a lot of work to do to encourage implementation of
sustainable environmental strategies and protect the environment. We
also discussed how the traditional community ways of living and farming
that still exist in Romania are helping to be preserved.
Our timing was again impeccable - we arrived in Bucharest on a
national holiday of the foundation of the city and the start of
European Mobility week. The central main road was closed off and many
cyclists, rollerbladers and other non-motorized modes of transport
could be seen using it.
We used Couchsurfing.com
to find a place to stay, and are stopping with Radu, an environmental
science student who has been a fantastic host. He showed us around the
city and helped us to sort all our administration out. We have also
stayed with another Couchsurfer called Alex, who is a professional
violinist. We are looking forward immensely to watching him in concert
tomorrow in the mountains.
The lifestyle is offering an incredible experience at the moment. I
am really looking forward to seeing Istanbul in a few weeks. It is in
the back of my mind that the weather will be becoming colder. However,
we have extra clothes and we can choose to head south more quickly if
we can pick up visas in Istanbul instead of Ankara.
Please tune into the podcast, and if you have some spare cash lying around, why not donate it to our supported charity, The Wilderness Foundation, using the link on the top right of the front page of our website ride-earth.org.uk.
