Romania

the wilderness calls

04.06.19

Only 50 km to the Romanian border. As I had never been to this area before, I had a bit of a sinking feeling about the country at the beginning, but this was to be cancelled out at the border. Very friendly border officials and people everywhere who approach you and want to know where you come from and where you are going. Cool, I like to be surprised like that.

The next surprise, however, was not so pleasant - for all those who complain about the mass of trucks on German motorways - try driving on the main roads in Romania. What has to be said, however, is that almost everyone behaves very politely and respectfully. They move to the side when someone wants to overtake, give signs when something is coming or the "race control" is standing somewhere again and there is actually no stress - bravo Romania.

In spite of everything, we have a nose full of diesel and we take the small side road through the villages, which is much nicer anyway.

In the villages you are catapulted back in time, I think that's how it looked in Germany after the war. There is a certain spirit of optimism, but with means that are probably no longer known in our country.

Manpower is probably the right word for it. They all help together when a driveway is paved or a wall is built, I am impressed.

Nature is extremely beautiful, wild with rolling hills, the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains and a railway that is nostalgically unparalleled.

I am slowly becoming a Romania fan.

Since there are only two motorways, which we don't use, we drive on the country roads, which are built like a highway. Almost always two lanes when going uphill and lined with ever wilder nature. There are always roadhouses at the side of the road and the food there is very good and above all rich, both in terms of quantity and calorific value.

We only pass Cluj Napoca because the guys from Heavy Duty are not there, we actually wanted to pay them a visit and I wanted to thank them once again for the help they gave me in getting my bike ready.

So we head for Fagaras in Transylvania to have a look at Dracula.

After a 300 km drive we look for petrol and a place to stay. In a run-down industrial district we suddenly see a restaurant that looks so la la from the outside. But when I go to the reception, it knocks my socks off. A posh place, 4 star hotel and as luck would have it, only one room left.

Easy costs us 30 euros and we are checked into a room with a balcony and a direct view of the bikes. We could leave the luggage on it, because they have 24-hour security.

05.06.19

7.00 a.m. the alarm clock rings, we pack our things and go to breakfast, which is very rich. From fruit to French toast, everything is there, so it's 10 o'clock again until we finally sit down on the mopeds.

06.06.19

The plan for today is to visit our old buddy Dracula and his vampires and then to ride the Transfagarasan. The alarm clock rings at 7.30 a.m. After a certain start-up time with water and café, we go to the bakery for a nice breakfast.

Freshly fortified, we arrive at the Castelul Bran "Dracula's Domicile" and are shocked to discover that we are not the only ones who want to visit him so early in the morning. From Chinese, South Africans and Arab Emirates to Germans and Swiss, everything is there.

Anyway, we park the motorbikes at the entrance to the tourist mill and meander through all the stalls selling food, souvenirs, ghost trains and all kinds of junk that has something to do with the Count - apparently. If he really did die, he will probably turn over in his grave.

Let's be honest, historically Vlad III "Dråculea" was voivode of the principality of Wallachia between 1456-1462. He probably inherited the epithet Dråculea (Son of the Dragon) from his father, who was a member of Emperor Sigismund's Order of the Dragon.

In Romanian, however, Dracul means "son of the devil", which fits his cruel nature better.

Due to his resistance against the Ottoman Empire and its expansion in the Balkans, he was called the Butcher of Men. Another epithet is Tepes, which means impaler or was also called Kaziklu Bey or Kazikli Voyvoda by the Ottomans themselves.

His hobbies were:

Roasting children and all kinds of executions, preferably impalement, which I won't go into here because you can read all about it in Wikipedia.

Well, back to the tourist part - the castle.

We stand in line for the entrance, 80 Ron or Leu (=17 Euro) for two people, later we are inside.

The castle is amazing, it has so many different rooms, all on different levels and connected by rustic staircases. Thick stone walls and gnarled old beams adorn the whole castle. On the different floors, there are always small balconies that either face the inner courtyard or invite you to look out over the surrounding area.

We spend almost 1 1/2 hours in the castle and come to the conclusion that it probably wasn't Dracula who lived there back then, but.....

...exactly, Alice Cooper is much older than he looks.

We stroll through the castle park for a while before we make our way to the pass.

We walk to the motorbikes in good spirits and are surprised to see a group of Chinese gathered there. When we arrive, a flood of photos breaks over us - Well, that's how a rock star feels.

After trying to explain to them that we are neither Dracula nor Alice Cooper, we are finally allowed to leave after the 111th photo.

The sun has just hidden behind a cloud, but 40 km later it turns into a full-blown thunderstorm.




07.06.19

At 9 am the engines are humming, we have an early start with beautiful weather and we head towards Focsani. For a while, the road is nicely uphill and we have the idea to make a little video. So off we go onto a dirt track and a little further into the wilderness.

"You can watch the video as soon as I have a good internet connection again."

I made the video, stowed my guitar away and drove on. Suddenly I saw a sign: Caution: Deer - Wolves - Bears.

Yes, I've seen that a few times on my hike from Bellinzona to Portofino and think nothing of it. Felix has a good move and rushes through the woods as if the devil himself is chasing him.

I'm strolling along a little further back when I see a car in the middle of the road after a bend. So I take my foot off the accelerator, put on my indicator and as I want to overtake it I see why it has stopped there.

A young black bear, probably in his teens, is scurrying through the bushes.

I stop for a moment and think about taking a photo, but unfortunately my camera is still in my backpack and my mobile phone in my pocket.

And to be honest, I almost pee my trousers, because Peter Pelz is about 5 metres away from me. I watch him as if spellbound and try to find out where the shaggy one is going. Ok, he's coming my way and I just think - forget the photo, first gear and step on the gas, who knows, maybe Mamabär isn't far away.

When I finally catch up with Felix, at least so far that we have contact via intercom again, there is already too much distance between us and the bear.

We have got hungry and take a break in a small village consisting of 3 restaurants, 5 houses and a pizzeria.

After eating, we get back on our steel horses and ride on.

Focsani is slowly approaching, but so is fatigue. I radio Felix and tell him to stop at the next opportunity.

He does, only he enters a dirt road that turns into a mud massacre after a few metres. We just managed to get through the first two mud holes, but at the third I sink in so deep that I step on the gas to avoid getting stuck.

The machine pushes forward, but it doesn't go in the right direction.

Then it goes really fast, the next thing I see is tall grass and suddenly I'm 3 metres deeper in the ditch. Shit.

First I turn off the engine and crawl up out of the ditch and see Felix running back. Then the torture begins, because it's not only the temperature that gets to us, but also the invasion of mosquitoes that take real pleasure in two sweaty tourists.

Result: First I have a drink and check if everything is still there. My knee hurts, but that's from the accident I had 3 weeks before the trip. So nothing new and nothing happened. Then unpack the mopet

Such die Yami

Abflug in den 3 Meter tiefen Graben, zum Glück alles heil geblieben, nur der Schweis läuft in Strömen....

Nach der Bergung im Hotel

Ein Wunder das die uns überhaupt reingelassen haben. Wir waren von oben bis unten voller Dreck

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