Romanian Bike Tour

Constanta to Brasov

October 28, 2019 by admin

The train from Constanta to Brasov was sweltering, I stunk, and the woman next to me was understandably annoyed when a couple of passengers and I talked for most of the five-hour journey to Brasov.

The train was not bike-friendly, to put it nicely, but the conductor didn’t give me a hard time about leaving the Green Machine in between cars so, in the words of MC Hammer, it’s all good.

Once in Brasov, Liviu (who recently I learned is my great uncle thrice removed), met me on the platform. We jammed my bike into the trunk of Liviu’s trusty Dacia, Romania’s national car, and zip-tied it shut.

Liviu reached out to my grandfather, Victor, about five years ago after conducting a search of all the Tulbure’s in northern California. Perhaps unsurprisingly, my grandpa was the only one who fit the bill, so Liviu emailed him. Since then, Liviu has opened his home to host my grandpa (who flew to Romania for the first time in his life at 81 years old) and my parents too.

After a five-minute car ride from the station, we arrived at Liviu’s apartment. His wife, Coca, greeted me with sarmale (perhaps the greatest all-around dish in the world), pickled cabbage or grape leaves filled with grains and often meats.

Liviu and I proceeded to “Get to work” on at least four shots of 110 proof homemade tuica chased with beer.

A couple drinks in and Liviu and I were off and running, but we still “Had work to do,” according to him, so I soldiered on. Coca’s food was delicious. I was thrilled to see that she’d prepared some mamaliga to go along with the sarmale. All the better to sop up that tuica.

Eventually, we called it a night and Liviu and Coca’s daughter, my cousin, Cristina, picked me up and took me to her nearby apartment where there was an extra room.

I felt immediately that I was with family.

Baneasa to Constanta

October 26, 2019 by admin

I ended up writing this post two days after completing my trip.

The day I finished I was so high on happy emotion that sitting down to scribble in my journal seemed as impossible as setting off back towards Saint Nazaire, France did.

I walked into the Black Sea alone. No friends or family cheering, no one else around with any reason to care that I’d reached my destination. Just me. And it felt really really good. So good in fact, that after I’d cooled off in the water, I hurried up to the bar on a seaside cliff and promptly ordered two large beers to mark the occasion.

As expected, the last day of riding was absolutely vicious—ceaseless climbs and horrendous headwinds. For 10km, there was an actual windfarm with crushing crosswinds. I faced bad traffic for the last 20km and riding and merging onto an actual four-lane freeway about 10km out from Constanta, but holy shit did it feel good to ride to the finish! Aside from my ride through the wind farm, I had a smile on the whole ride.

It was only fitting that I crossed paths with the Green Riders one last time. They encouraged me to finish the ride with them but I put some distance between us over the next set of climbs instead. I wanted to finish this trip alone.

As I rode into Constanta and saw the Black Sea break onto the horizon I couldn’t help but laugh out loud like a spastic.

All the effort, uncertainty, fun, and everything else that I’ve experienced on the trip all brought me to this place: The Black Sea, Constanta, places on a map that I’ve been mouthing a few times a day for the past few months whenever someone would ask me my destination.

The Atlantic Ocean
The Black Sea!

There was no anticlimax for me. Reaching the Black Sea felt even better than I expected it to.

After spending about 15 minutes trying to find my way down to the water with The Green Machine, I finally said, “Screw it,” and just left my bike up on the road then hurried down to wade into the water. What a feeling. To have done it. To have ridden my bike across Europe. I felt (and still feel) a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

I was beaming. But no rest for the excited. I had a train to catch from Constanta to Brasov in Transylvania. So I hopped back onto The Green Machine in search of the train station. I bought a ticket for the next train out and met yet another French couple who’d just completed their ride from Budapest.

We commiserated over the traffic. They could tell I was overjoyed. Then I was off for some, you guessed it, pastries before the train.

Tutrakan to Baneasa

October 25, 2019 by admin

Today I was back onto the busy 21 Freeway. I couldn’t take the alternate route suggested by the map because the dirt roads are unpassable after yesterday’s storm. I’ve got to be careful. No more crashes.

Today was one hilluva ride. Huge hills on the Bulgarian freeway. This sucked because slowly creeping up a hill as cars fly past you feels way worse than cooking along at 20km under the same conditions. But once I crossed back into Romania for the final time the roads get a lot less scary. I can’t say the same for the hills. But to be honest, at this point in the ride the challenging hills feel good.

The final border crossing was at Silistra, Romania. The maps mentioned poor road quality from there onwards but all the cobblestone roads have been paved since my maps’ publishing, apparently.

I do not recommend stopping in Baneasa. There is nothing there. I found a weird but nevertheless well-appointed hotel where I stopped for the night.

Pretty soon after paying for my room found that the water heater was broken. I went out to look for someone to fix it but the building was empty save for me. The front door was locked from the outside too so I was trapped. By some dumb stroke of luck, two young women studying local mosquitoes—I kid you not—walked up to the front door as I knocked on it from the inside. They opened it just as a hotel employee came speeding into the parking lot to check on the water heater.

As I passed the 100km to Constanta marker, I let out a guttural joyous yell. Then a BMW quite literally almost killed me with an errant swerve out of his lane into mine. A big fuck you to each and every asshole driver, most of whom drive BMWs and Mercedes. That’s a fact. An anecdotal fact. Square that circle.

Tonight it’s Resevoir Dogs, a block of cheese and stale bread for dinner from the only store within 5 km.

Tomorrow it’s Constanta and the Black Sea!

Turnu Magurele to Ruse, Bulgaria

October 23, 2019 by admin

Today’s route was much better than it had been the past few days. I rode for the first 30 kilometers with a French couple I met last night.

Francis, Nicole, and a burning heap of trash

After nearly calling it quits in Giurgiu, I rallied and decided to cross back into Bulgaria to explore Ruse for the rest of the day.

This was the right call. The bridge that crosses into Ruse did not have a shoulder and the pedestrian walkway was off-limits so it was a bit hairy. One lane was under construction on half of the bridge with predictable head-on traffic as a result.

Ruse is flush with Belle Époque architecture and pedestrian plazas that make it a lovely place to just sit around and people watch. I ordered a big Bulgarian savory pancake filled with beans, cheese, corn, and hot sauce, then sat and shared a meal with the mosquitos.

There was one hiccup on today’s ride, one of my rear panniers ripped going over train tracks. The screw holding the clip system in place on the bag stripped out. I jury-rigged it with a bungee cord to secure it in place. That’ll have to do until I get home.

Today’s Miscellany

Bechet to Turnu Magurele

October 23, 2019 by admin

Today was all headwinds and 34C heat. For whatever reason, I have always associated wind with cold weather. Today disabused me of this belief. I intended to make it all the way to Zimincea but instead stopped for a rest in a park at around 1 pm in Turnu Magurele and never got going again.

So I booked a room at a spot called Rustic House. STAY HERE! This was one of the best stays so far. Rustic House is the home of a wonderful Romanian couple with an extra building where guests stay. It had AC and came with a delicious home-cooked meal for just a few euros more. I met a French couple there named Francis and Nicole.

The owner of Rustic House was an able mechanic and offered to take a look at anything wrong with my bike. He helped clean my chain and removed the sticks and stones that inevitably found their way into my cogs. A godsend.

They even helped me run a load of much-needed laundry

After a wonderful vegetarian dinner (pea and potato stew preceded by a flavorful soup) and lot’s of my own storebought cookies, I passed the hell out.