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...

Hair Care 4

Hello.
It's been 8 weeks and 1 day since my last hair wash. That is WAY past my 6 week expectation to be appreciating long, luscious locks, and quite frankly... I'm still waiting.

Possibly the uncontrolled conditions I am performing my experiment in aren't helping. Its been very hot and humid, so an uncanny amount of sweating has occurred under my helmet, and the wind and sun are constantly baking my plait, leaving it bleached and frazzled.
Yet that is the easiest part of my hair to brush - and the closest I've got to resembling anything remotely luscious.

The other part - the head-part, I shall call it - is still thick, sticky, hard to detangle and impossible to style.

I only sport the plait or the pony-tail look, unless I am wind-drying my hair after a shower or a swim. However, it doesn't float gently like a thousand strands of silk blowing in the breeze, it moves as a whole piece - more like a cheap toupee.
Or a door mat...

Still, I don't think I'm in danger of buckling now, and I will continue hoping for luscious locks, and will let you know if, and when it happens.

And so I persevere...

Keeping abreast of things...

And so I finally threw all my toys out of the pram, amongst them the dynamo, which you may remember was originally employed as a source of power to charge my rather thirsty phone whilst cycling.
No medals or awards have been forth coming for my ceaseless efforts in trying to extract the odd volt, amp or watt from this miserable device, but someone still might recognise my efforts...

So it was our saviour, and very own man from Del-Monte, Dave, who swooped into Vienna in his large silver bird and like a caped crusader brought the solution in his gloved hand.
No, not an enormous extension cable, but a shiny new portable, foldable, carriable, put-in-the-panniers-able solar panel charger.
And hey ho...it works a treat! Well, in the sun, of course, and we do seem to be getting our fair share.
Cheers Dave!

Talking of Vienna, our final approach into this astonishing city occurred on a Sunday, when every Austrian in the whole country got their bikes out and took a ride on the Euro Velo 6 in the opposite direction to us.
Mums, dads, kids, grannies, dogs, 3-wheelers, 1-wheelers, tandems, skaters, all charged towards us with no particular lane in mind. An endless army of Sunday thrill-seekers.

If you've ever watched the slalom on ski-Sunday, well, that was how we rode. 10kms, 20kms, it's a blur...

To compound the hazards in our path and also enjoying the Sunday route, are the great clouds of midges that hover at head height, temporarily blinding anyone travelling through them. Also, if the unprepared rider has failed to do a spot of man-scaping, and shaved his arms and legs, these tiny aerial annoyances will stick like chocolate sprinkles on a Mr Whippy ice cream, especially if you've liberally smothered on the old factor 30 prior to leaving.
I observed many a serious rider sporting the fashionable trend of shaved limbs to avoid this phenomenon.
(I'd always assumed it was to gain speed...)

I arrived in Vienna looking like Velcro-Man.

Mind you, by the look of the hairy bikers we shared that night's campsite with, I think man-scaping could be a good topic to bring up over the campfire.

Now, where did I put my razor...?

Days 44-46

Hembroke went a-cherry pickin'
Kilos he did pick...
Don't eat too many cherries
Or you'll end up feeling sick.

Vienna to Komarom (Hungary)

No longer are our hazards wobbly tourists on uncontrollable E-bikes. We have entered a world where road markings are a thing of the future, pot-holes have as much right to be there as anyone else, and tree-roots constantly break through ageing tarmac. The currency is unfamiliar, and the language incomprehensible, but a smile still costs nothing, and unfortunately so does the locally brewed fire-water!

There was no question as to when we crossed from Austria into Slovakia, as the derelict buildings still stood, redundant now, but a reminder of when borders were still used here. Everything became instantly cheaper, and a little shabbier.

Bratislava, the capital, was a pleasant surprise. With only half a million inhabitants its historic parts were easy to walk around and soak up the atmosphere in one of the numerous original cafes that line the cobbled streets.
It is the only capital in the world located on the border of three countries, and we know it, as we breakfasted in Austria, lunched in Slovakia and dined in Hungary!

However, exactly when or where we entered Hungary is still a mystery to us. Steve noticed a lot of money exchange places in one town, and upon investigation we discovered that Hungary uses the Forint not the Euro, and that was that, we were in.

I can't tell you which country this horse drawn plough was in, except it wasn't Austria!

It will be very interesting from here on, as WiFi doesn't seem so readily available, English is hardly spoken, the cycle signs vary from slightly official metal ones to hand drawn paper arrows, and no sign shows any distance in kilometers to anywhere!

We left our first Hungarian campsite at 8.30am, and arrived at the next one at 6.30pm, having crossed every type of terrain possible - pot-holed roads, dirt-tracks, woods, fields and even tracks that were still being made as we pedalled over them. The worst thing was, we'd only travelled about 40kms as the crow flies!

Our bones are shaken, our knees are swollen and our bodies exhausted. Hopefully our rest day has prepared us for whatever lies ahead.

It feels like our warm-up period is over. Now the real adventure begins...

Days 39-43

The campsite in Vienna
Was full of vans, and hikers,
So we squashed in between festival goer's
And a bunch of hairy bikers!

Linz to Vienna

Now, as you know, I don't like to harp on about all this spectacular scenery we are seeing, but Austria has been...well, spectacular! The all round vista, at all times, has been lush green mountains covered with tall trees, with the occasional grand baroque tower poking out if the tree tops. Every village and town had been picture perfect, all houses in perfect condition, gardens in full bloom, elder flowers scenting the air and not a blade of grass out of place. (This is mostly due to the automatic robot lawn mowers that are constantly prowling the lawns, frantically searching for that stray blade.) Add to this idyllic lakes for swimming, the best cycle path signs so far, and a fantastic wine growing region, and I think I've harped on enough.

The main disappointment for us budget travellers has been the expense here, and the difficulty in free-camping. Their are physically few places you can pitch a tent, due to the proximity of the river to the trail - usually only a few feet - and on the other side the steep slopes of the valley, and the only possible places have been signed "VERBOTEN" and a picture of a tent with a cross through it. I am taking an educated guess that this means forbidden, not welcome.

We are constantly scanning the tree tops for spectacular castles and ruins that could otherwise be easily missed. However, the towns are so full of great buildings it would hardly matter if you missed one.

The Wacchau region was unknown to us, but Austria's wine growing region is well known here. We found a "heuriger" - for local wine tasting, after a cooling dip in the Danube after a long, hot day's cycle. The chilled white wines were delicious, and very different from anything we've tasted before, as was the red we tried, which they've only been able to grow in the last 10 years due to increase in temperatures here. The Familie Rinner were happy to explain about their wines and schnapps they sold at their "Heuringenschank" as we sat on the terrace overlooking the vineyard. Every wine had to be grown within 10kms of where it is produced, giving it a completely pure taste. Even the water they served tasted different, fresh from the mountains.

And so we reached Vienna. After 8 long, hot days in the saddle out bodies are very ready for a rest. My knees start to swell after about 5 days and Steve's sense of direction goes a bit random. And guess who we met here for some Wienerschnitzel?
Dave!
He also brought along a solar panel that Steve had ordered, finally deciding to give up the ghost with the dynamo, which has never charged a thing in the 6 weeks we've carried it around. So far the panel is working splendidly.

We spent our rest day cycling around Vienna, which once again, unbeknown to us, was a public holiday, making it very easy to circumnavigate. Its difficult to describe what Vienna is like, you have to see it for yourself to appreciate the vast array of magnificent buildings, one after another, after another...