Hair Care - The Final Episode

Hello.
Yesterday I washed my hair - 115 days after its last shampoo. That's 16 weeks and 3 days - just over 4 months.
Nobody can say I didn't wait patiently for my luscious locks to appear. They never did, so I gave up waiting.

As I washed away 4 months of sweat, grease, grime and a whole array of other things I  was probably unaware of, I felt as if my hair disappeared down the plughole along with the shampoo. I hadn't realised just how thick my hair had become!
Afterwards I felt very bald - a large part of 'stuff' that had coexisted on the top of my head had gone.
Departed.
Vanished.
Ceased to be.

I am left with a head of very fine, very silky, very shiny hair. Some may even call it luscious.
I'm not sure how I feel about it, I may be returning to my experiment again in the future - it wasn't all bad, but then neither is this new, clean feel...

Tough as old boots, Gold Award.

And finally, I would like to mention and pay tribute to this years winner of the coveted "Golden Tough as Old Boots " award.
Now I'm the first to admit that there was only a few worthy nominees, and the voter(s) a little thin on the ground, and possibly a tad biased, but nonetheless, my bird, Julia, aka Rodney, is the unanimous winner.
She pedalled in the cold, wet, windy, hot, minging hot, up hills, up long steep hills, down hills, smooth roads, rough roads, dirt roads and fell off a bit.
She camped anywhere, cooked anything anywhere, washed anywhere, peed anywhere, and above all put up with me.........all without complaining, unlike some of us.
Julia has made the trip possible, bearable, and enjoyable, and managed somehow to keep me sane and get to the end.
Thanks Rodders and here's to the next trip.

Hair Care 5

Hello.
Its been 11 and a half weeks since my last hair wash.
I'm still not experiencing luscious locks, but the "sticky mat" feeling improved with less helmet wearing and more sea swimming.
I was sure I was going to treat my hair to The Grand Wash on our last day, but when the time came... I just couldn't do it.
Maybe once the cycle ride finished it was the last bit of the trip I could hold on to, (or maybe it was the fact we didn't have any shampoo and conditioner to hand).
Whatever it was, I have brought my manky head of hair home for inspection. It has been smelt and felt, and the reactions have been better than expected!
I WILL wash my hair sometime soon, but for now the bump back to earth is enough. A shiny, tangle free, sweet-smelling head of hair would just be too much to cope with...

Days 71-74

Our bodies survived this arduous ride
Our bikes have fared pretty well too,
But the biggest surprise of the whole of the trip
Is to find out The Black Sea is blue!

Shumen - The Black Sea (Varna, Bulgaria)

The heatwave gave way to a tremendous storm, clearing the air and making riding conditions, at last, extremely pleasant again. What a difference 10° makes!

I would like to tell you that our surroundings also improved - but they didn't. Tumbleweed still blew through most of the towns and villages (although a little damper now), and the condition of the roads were as they had always been, though perhaps a little quieter.

From the looks we were getting it would appear that we may possibly have been the first cyclists to use the StevieVelo route. Some folks seemed so shocked to see us they didn't know what to do so simply turned away and pretended we weren't there. Others thought it highly amusing and returned our smiles and waves.

I also have to mention here that Steve had 2 more punctures on consecutive days bringing his total on this trip to a grand 7. There are no photos of me attempting to change an inner tube because... I haven't had ANY punctures!

We passed through one gypsy village where horses and carts were parked in driveways instead of cars, and the dark, sinewy people went about their business as if we didn't exist at all. Although we would have liked to, we didn't feel comfortable asking for a photo of their transport, and didn't fancy our chances of cycling out alive if we were caught taking a sneaky picture, so you'll just have to imagine how it was.

The StevieVelo route was much hillier than we've been used to, and on one of the days the climb continued for almost an hour.
On the last day we met a fellow biker - the only other cyclist we've encountered in Bulgaria! Alberto, from Spain, joined us and it felt good to share our moment of arrival at The Black Sea with somebody else.

Foolishly he stayed with us, as the beach hut we had booked was only another 10kms south of Varna. The map didn't quite show the final descent to the beach, which was an extremely steep hill through the forest, with 58 steps to negotiate!
At times it took all of us to manhandle the bikes, but this only made our arrival (and the cold beer) even sweeter!

Now we are here in Galata, enjoying a few days rest, before negotiating the road back to Varna, which we are assured is almost as steep as the forest route!
From there we shall pack up the bikes for our flights back to UK.

It certainly doesn't feel like we've cycled over 4000kms to get here, and there is no sense of jubilation, just a little trepidation that we've nowhere left to cycle. We are definitely more sad than glad now it is all over, and are already talking about where the next trip will be...!

Days 66-70

You have to be adaptable
As any traveller knows,
Sometimes the way you wish it was
Just ain't the way it goes...

 Negotin (Serbia) - Shumen (Bulgaria)

And so we made it to Bulgaria, another "hard" border-crossing, which we arrived at by 7am, and had to go looking for the border police as I don't think they expected anyone that early.
Things immediately felt more run-down; not a EuroVelo sign in sight, and all signposts were in Bulgarian with little or no translation of names, so it was a bit of a lottery to pick the right road. People were more than willing to point us in the right direction though, as if they didn't want us stopping in these depressing towns they lived in.
My first thought upon entering Bulgaria was, "how is this a country in the EU?" It seemed more 3rd world than some 3rd countries I've seen.

One image that has stayed with me is of a half finished, half falling down 3-storey brick building without windows or doors, and would-be balconies without railings, just straight drop offs.
Derelict, I thought, until a skinny dog came out and halfheartedly barked at us, and above, a level higher, through an opening appeared a very old, very bent, peasant woman. She hobbled to the edge of the balcony to see what the disturbance was.
(Obviously not much goes on here normally).
We raised our hands in greeting, unsure if she could even see properly, and hoping she knew where the edge of the balcony was. She raised her head, which was resting on her chest, to a jaunty angle, lifted a hand and gave us a toothless grin.
It was quite horrific to imagine her living there.

Nothing improved much over the next few days; the roads were bad, the towns continued to feel derelict and depressed, and the temperature was rising to a "red" weather warning. The hills didn't help matters either, but the traffic continued to amuse us...

We contemplated crossing the Danube to the Romanian side, where it was flatter, but there are very few places to cross, and the map showed there was even less infrastructure over there, making the chances of finding a room impossible. As we were finishing riding by about 10am, when temperatures were already reaching the high 30's, putting up the tent to shelter in was not an option for us.
Also, realising now we actually might make it to the Black Sea, it made more sense to head for Varna than Constanta because of the flight issues.
And so, we decided to head for Sofia, the capital, and fit in one more "Steve's City Bike Tours".

True to form, he got us around all the main sites; including the Alexander Nevsky cathedral and the beautifully decorated Russian church, all in very good time. Sofia is very small for a capital, and pleasantly calm and quiet.

And of course,there were lots more derelict buildings...

It was a great shame that during our stay it was like living in an oven. Most of the time was spent lying down, sweating, underneath the mini-fan we were forced to buy.
As it was impossible to do much we decided to hop on a train. This was no mean feat; a bone-shaking, hot and sticky ride with stern, grumpy conductors who told us where to put the bikes, then told us off later because we'd left them there. Luckily it was all in Bulgarian!

Steve was most impressed to learn from the driver that the engine, which is electric, was from 1972, and still going strong...

It was quite amazing we managed to get off at the right station, as there was no such thing as an announcement, and station names were often only in Bulgarian. Also we've noticed that the Bulgarians have the same habit as the Indians - they waggle their heads instead of nodding when they answer in the affirmative, making things a tad confusing...
We felt more exhausted than we had after any cycle day, and our headaches lasted well into the evening.

And so to the final stretch. We are the pioneering the "Stevie Velo 1" route, unchartered territory other than what we can decipher from the map.
At least the heatwave appears to be over...!

An Ode to the Road...

We wake each day at half past five
By six we're on the way,
In hope to reach a place of rest
Before the hot midday.

There in France, so long ago
Back in the month of May,
We stopped to snack and ate our meals
And made 50k's per day.

Now before it's 10am
We leave 60k's behind,
On just one cup of coffee
Because food is hard to find.

The people all are " lacklustre"
The dogs are quite aggressive,
And the poorness of the villages
I'm finding right depressive.

The houses all look derelict
Abandoned, falling down,
And communistic blocks of flats
Still fill up every town.

The river that we're following
Is often out of sight,
The road is sometimes very good
But mostly...it is shite.

Uncovered holes and drains we pass
Could swallow up a man,
I try to miss these manholes.
(And lorries. If I can).

We spend all day just lying still
Hoping time will pass...
The heat has made me sweat, and caused
Some rubbing on my arse.

Do I know where I am going?
Do I care? Not me!
I just keep pedalling in the hope
One day I'll reach the sea...

Days 62-65

Now I don't mind a bit of heat -
A nice suntan and toasty feet,
But 40+ for any fool
Is wholly unacceptable!

Veliko Gradiste - Negotin (Serbia)

And so we begin possibly the most amazing part of the whole trip so far - The Iron Gates. A series of gorges that extends for about 120kms (from Golubac to Kladovo on the Serbian side), where the Danube goes from 5kms wide to just about 100m. Cliffs reach 500m high, and both sides of the river are national park - Derdap National Park on the Serbian side, and Iron Gates Natural Park on the Romanian side.
Two hydroelectrical dams with two power stations, Iron Gate 1 and 2 mark the end of this amazing stretch.

A lot of bee keeping goes on in this area due to the biodiversity of the region, and it is an ingenious method that they use. Old trucks are converted into bee-hives, which the owners park up near the fragrant Tilia trees, then drive on to fresh pastures when the flowers have been exhausted. The owner of this truck was very happy to show us around, and even scooped out some honeycomb for us to chew on and taste the deliciously sweet, new honey. Sometimes he sleeps in his bed above the cab with his bees, other times he goes home - there are no rules, he told us.

It was a long, hot climb to the highest point of the road, and where the sides are too steep to make a road, tunnels have been gouged through the rock, some more than 400 meters long, and these make the already exhilarating ride even more exciting, if you make it through alive... For inside the longer tunnels it is pitch black, you cannot see where you are going, and our measly cycle lights don't shine much light on anything in there. My heart started racing more than during the hill climb when I heard the thunder of wheels coming round the bend behind me. My little back-light was frantically flashing its feeble red glow, and Steve's head torch in front was the only thing I could see to follow. Trying to get to the side without crashing was no mean feat, as we stopped and breathed in, trying to flatten ourselves against the rock face. Luckily the car saw us, and luckily this road isn't very busy, as there are 16 such tunnels to contend with. Not all are so long and dark, but I'm just saying, it's not for the faint hearted!

I won't begin to try and describe the spectacular beauty of this place, just bear in mind the photos don't do it justice...

After two days of amazing biking the landscape flattens off again, and it's back to roads and regular scenery. We rented a 2 bed apartment in Kladovo for about €12 from a lovely woman, who included beer and cake upon the handshake of the deal, and we thoroughly enjoyed chilling out for the rest of the day and parted like old friends at 6am the next morning.
Now we are in Negotin, in possibly the nicest guest house we've ever stayed, with hospitality you could only dream of. No wonder Guesthouse Stanisavljevic was awarded 9.6 from Booking.com last year, and it's only been open a year!
Bojan, the lovely owner, is very keen on tennis and built the first tennis court in Negotin so he could coach his son and train himself. It's at the back of the guesthouse which is 100 years old and once belonged to his grandfather. The whole family are all equally lovely, and they fed us extremely well too! It will be hard to leave tomorrow...

If you are ever in the area make sure to book a room:
bojanstanisavljevic67@gmail.com

Now we are contemplating the next part of our journey without much enthusiasm, as temperatures appear to be soaring here, reaching a whopping 45° at the weekend!
We have also discovered (thanks to Information Dave) that it's nigh on impossible to fly out of Constanta, so we may have to divert our finish on the Black Sea to Varna, Bulgaria, instead.

Days 56-61

Sometimes a change is as good as a rest
And porridge won't always suffice,
When a traditional Serbian breakfast
Can be found at such a good price.

Kopeçevo (Croatia) - Veliko Gradiste (Serbia)

And so it was we had a lovely time at the campsite in Croatia. All us cyclists ended up staying another an extra day due to the over-generosity of the campsite "Boss". His whiskey came out at 10am, which, according to him was NOT too early -6am is too early - and was followed regularly throughout the day with compulsory shots of homemade schnapps. Later he pulled out bottles of rosé wine, and regularly supplied us with whatever he happened to be preparing  - biscuits/eggy-bread/plates of cheese...
Tempted as we were to stay for the "Hungarian Friends party" he was throwing the next day, we all managed to get away before the 10am " open-house" began again. We had witnessed the amount of food and drink brought in the previous day and knew things could get very messy...!

It was a shame we only cut across the top of Croatia, but the river goes that way and that's what we are following this time. There was no mistaking the Croat/Serb border as there were exit and entry buildings, and we even got a stamp in the passport as Serbia isn't in the EU.
Immediately there were cycle signs, with useful information like which direction you were going and the number of kms to get there. The main problem was a lot of the time there is no alternative to the road - which is noisy, busy and perilous.
Another unexpected surprise was the hills. Yes, HILLS!! (Well, it is another big wine growing region). 8% decline down into the town, a glimpse of the river, then 8% incline up the other side. Again. And again. And again, zapping the last of our energy that the 35° heat hadn't yet taken.

Belgrade was a great surprise. Not only to arrive in one piece - the road in was nothing but madness - but also because we stayed 2 nights in a cool, quiet hostel near the old town, and eating out was very affordable.
Skadarlija Street is a famous Bohemian area, full of restaurants and groups of locals playing traditional music. Its quite a cacophony of noise in the evenings, but not to be missed. Young Romany types play accordions and violins in a slightly less professional manner...

We did another "Steve's City Bike Tour" and once again he managed to get us to all the major sites: Republic Square, National Assembly Building, Belgrade Fortress, and various churches and back in time for lunch at a local market.
It's all a bit shabby but still charming in its own way.

After leaving Belgrade we finally got our wish of getting off the busy roads...




It was marginally preferable, but the thunderstorm the night before had made the going heavy. Still, it was far more peaceful, with only the sound of frog song echoing across the silent marshes, and although the traffic can still be a little precarious, it's far slower moving...

Our new regime of up and away by 6am is the only way to cope with the heat. It's only a balmy 29° at that time, but by midday we are running with sweat and looking for a cheap hostel to sit out the rest of the day.
The locals continue to be super friendly, genuinely interested in us and very helpful - explaining menus, recommending local dishes and often paying for our drinks.

We took another ferry across the Danube to continue on the Serbian side (the other being Romania).
It's great to be back on the river again after endless hellish roads, and the scenery is beautiful once again, all marshlands and mountains, and here the river reaches a width of 2kms.

I've just got to add this...
It's finally cooled off here in Veliko Gradiste, and we decide to take a beer to the river to watch the sunset. There is a spectacular electrical storm occurring on the opposite bank above the mountains, and we watch in awe. No thunder or rain though, just a few black clouds rolling closer - it's a splendid light show.
Suddenly the winds arrives, fast and furious it tumbles over the river, bending trees and blowing great clouds of dust into our faces. Everyone who was enjoying the cool, calm of the evening has legged it. We, stupid foreigners, leap behind the bench to take shelter and see what happens.
It gets worse, so we down the beers (in true English style) and pedal like the wind as the thunder starts, and the rain spots.
We make it back to the room just in time to save the washing when Steve suddenly gasps,
"No!"
He's left the phone on the bench...
And I thought last time we pedalled fast!

Steve's Serbian Surprise

The end of a long, hot day's ride in Serbia, 60km from Belgrade, wearily looking for a likely place to pitch the tent. A sleek, black Mercedes pulls along beside me. Window down, the attractive female driver sporting a generous cleavage says,
"Room?"
Did my new beard arrangement and longer hair-do suddenly make me irresistible? My foreign air trigger lusty feelings among the local women?
Flattered, I slow and say,
"Sorry?"
"I have rooms. Ten euros each. Follow me!"
Oh well, I turn and gesture to Julia to get a move on and we tear down the hill to see what's on offer.
Very nice too. And so it was, after haggling the price down a little we spent our first night in 8 weeks without putting the tent up.
Luvly jubbly.

Serbia has been quite liberating. No familiar shops or coffee houses, homegrown fruit and veg sold all along the roadside, horses being used as forms of transport or to pull machinery. Old cars, trucks and motorcycles being employed as useful forms of transport which in other countries would be labelled; collectable, vintage, or an investment.

Combine harvesters are parked regularly on the drive...

Each time we stop for a breather, or to buy some food, very friendly people stop to say hello or offer directions, or just chat. The latter proving a tad difficult as neither of us know what the other one is talking about.

However, as a cycle route, so far, it doesn't work. We've spent 3 days on perilous, narrow main roads. Trying to negotiate potholes, tarmac ridges, broken glass and humps, whilst avoiding being flattened by noisy, noxious trucks, buses and cars is exhausting and stressful. Add 35° heat to the equation, and to be honest...I've hated it and wanted to quit. On the positive side, it seems the route continues off tarmac roads from here.

Right now we're holed up in Belgrade, waiting for it to cool off before we venture out to explore the city and hopefully find some dirty street food!
I love to see what the locals are eating.

Talking of food, I am eating for England, France, Germany and the rest of them, and I'm still losing weight. I've discovered I have ribs and shoulder blades, items of my anatomy which have long since been concealed. The other bodily novelty by the way, is the ridiculous suntan one develops, resembling the same T-shirt and shorts tan of a certain outdoor tennis coach I know.

Julia is a bit like a solar panel and thrives well in the heat, whereas my metabolism is more vampirical - my energy and faculties nose-diving with the sun and its warmth.
So, to be able to continue, I've persuaded Julia that we must have even earlier starts to our riding days if we are to cope with the conditions.
Not sure if I'm going to get her out of the campsite by 6am. I'll let you know...

Days 47-55

Pepper, chilly, paprika,
By many names it's known,
But Kalocsai-Sarkoz in Hungary
Is the true Paprika's home.

Komarom (Hungary) - Kopçevo (Croatia)

Hungary is a country of contrasts: East meets West, rich meets poor, hot meets cold, and perfect signs and newly made cycle paths meet... well, to call them "token gestures" would be generous.

The path or track you are faithfully following can at any time suddenly stop, or become a field, or disappear, or be going the wrong way. You have to constantly scan all around for glimpses of a sign, which could be on the floor, twisted around a lamp post and pointing the wrong way, or hidden by thick overgrowth. They are hard to spot, especially when you have to keep your other eye on the road or you'll end up down a pothole. Add to this 35°heat, few shady spots to stop and even fewer villages, and it makes for a challenging ride.

Esztergom is the town on the Danube Bend - where the river turns south to head through Hungary. The Ezstergom Basilica ranks first among the churches of Hungary and dates back over a thousand years.

We didn't hit Budapest on a national holiday -just my birthday- so it was hot, busy and precarious to cycle around, but interesting non the less.
The "Ruins Bar" section was great to find, derelict buildings made into funky bars...

...another contrast to some of the grand buildings there, especially their Parliament house that was based on the Houses of Parliament building in London.

However, urban camping in the middle of the capital is a noisy affair, and the hot sun shines on the tent from about 4.30am, so sleep can be hard to come by. Better to cross the river on one of the local ferries and find a peaceful spot on the Danube somewhere...

There were campsites, and the ones we found that were still in use were very nice. If not, you could always rely on some kind Germans to let you put your tent up on their terrace!

I'm not sure where this town got it's name, but it certainly summed up the way i felt when we eventually arrived there after an endlessly hot ride...!

There was no doubt this time when we crossed the Hungarian/Croatian border, as there was a proper border crossing, with queues, passport control and surly, gruff officers.
Croatia felt immediately different - the roads are very good, and very quiet. Rundown rural houses are dotted all around, as is an abundance of food growing everywhere. Benches under the shade of trees are in the quiet villages, and the people are very open and friendly.

The camaraderie between cyclists is different here too, as anyone who has made it this far, whichever direction they are headed, knows what others have been through.
Some are cycling to Beijing, some have come from Iran, and some are following the EV 6. Everyone has their own stories to tell...