Im just a sweet Transvestite

horse n around

Mt Moldoveanue 2544m

I thought to myself. "you know what, I should get off this bike every now and then and do something other than ride hard" or ride into the sun set as a certain JM told me so. It was at the end of a long day in the sun and I had just ticked over 100km when I decided to supply up and head into the mountains on foot. Well thats not entirely true. The 'walking track' was far more of a 4wd track for the first 4-5km that I took Doris for a bit of a jaunt through the forest. Dirt roads are like cigarettes for Doris, you cant immediately see the damage but you know each one is taking a couple of weeks off her life. I dirgress. Stashing my girl in the forest I ran to the hut where there was no one about so I washed in a glacial stream and frollocked al natural in the grassy meadow. The next morning it was an early start and up to the highest peak in the Carpathian mountain range. Mt Moldoveanu at 2544m was a place and a half for a lunch break and as the morning cloud cleared I looked out over hundreds of kms of forested land and hills. What a place to explore.

I headed north to the famous painted monestories and did my best to see each one for the subtle differences from the previous one. Managed to get caught in a couple more thunderstormes and at one stage had a concerned local come and move me and my tent from the rising waters of the river I was camped next to.

Doris is running ok, there have been a couple of minor things go a mis, a spoke or two a puncture and a broken chain all happened over a couple of days. It seems that each 1000kms she does a bit of a funcky dance and breaks something but I suppose thats not too bad in the whole scheme of things.

Dorris getting Fixed

In the next couple of days I will move from the painted churches and seemlessly cultivated lands of romania to the unknown quantity, at least for me of Serbia. Of the minimal reading I have done it would seem that each change of address needs to be regestered with the police so I am not sure how wild camping will go, I may just have to bike the bullet and pay for somewhere to stay.

Rain and wind flowers

Painted Church

It will be nice to get to Macedonia where I am meeting a good friend of mine for a month or duel riding. Sounds more heroic than riding together, even as I said that I hunched my sholders forward. It will be great to have another perspective and to have someone to chat with. Especially someone that will somewhat understand what I am trying to say. With that I will ride off and get this sore butt out of the cumfy chair. You wouldnt believe how sore I was after I wandered up that hill. You would think I had not been doing any exercise.

Under a bridge

Crossing to Romania

I had the good fortune to have a man chase me out of a petrol station and insist that I talk on the phone with his daughter so that I may come and stay at their house in Bucharest, Romania's capital. That was all well and good except that I was already looking for a place to lay my head and Bucharest was another 40km away. But then again, a wash and a hearty plate of food is always appreciated. I stayed with these people and they of course were lovely and we got on just fine, me telling fibs about biking around Europe and them asking questions which keep finding me out. Its truly amazing what small things (small for me) that people get fixated on and will continue to come back to. In this case it was eating, they wanted to know what how why and then because I had mentioned that I had eaten more food than I can manage on most days they took away my plate and instead put the entire salad bowl in front of me and insisted I cut out the middle man and get er done.

The family from Craiova

Continuing on from here I was a healthy 70km out of the capital when I stopped for a sleep and a drink. Upon rousing all groggy and lagged as one does from sleeps in the middle of the day I jumped on and peddled out of the small village I was in. Let the fun begin. First stop was a silly woman going irate at me for peddling in my lane, even though she was overtaking and well on my side so I flicked her a cute little birdie and rolled on. Down a hill around a corner and over a bridge the road took a turn for the worse. Generally pretty goon In Romania, it was pitted and rutted and bumpy and cobble stoned you get the drift. It was so bumpy that it caused the Stap holding my tent on the rear rack to bounce off and fall on the cassette on the back wheel. As you can probably establish it is not always a great idea to put a hook and a piece of elastic near a turning wheel. Needless to say it caught in the spokes before I had a chance to react BAM, 4 spokes gone just like that. Like I need to break 4 spokes on the middle of god damn nowhere.

As if the cycle gods were playing a cruel game I came to find my spare spokes (4 to be exact) gone. fuck fuckety fuck fuck. How the hell did I lose the spokes, the one thing that could have got me got out of the mess. Incidently the wheel at this stage would not have held its shape had I jumped on not to mention its inability to go round without hitting the frame.  So I tried my best with what I had and tried and failed to do a repair job were I might be able to ride to the next big town.

Doris under a bridge

So enter George into my life. Watching over his minions at the bridge upon which I was hiding from the curious eyes of passers by and from the warming sun to ask how my situation was. He speaks English very well and loves to bike so he said he would do what he could. What other choice did I have, I needed a big helping hand, and there was a big warm hand coming my direction. Upon his return he had asked at the small village down the road of a cycle man as every village has one. Kinda like an ancient medicine man he suggested. Anyway, we went to find this chap and managed to scrounge some spokes from the local everything store, not comparable to what I had but they would suffice. A man with only a smattering of fingers put my wheel back together for a nominal price and we could have been away, but it certainly was a gamble and he had not spliced the spokes correctly so George invited me back to Bucharest with the promise of a better mechanic and a beer. Sold.

Cleaned my drink bottle

This morning I was dropped at an unlikely store where an overweight man tinkered and mused over my rear wheel. He did however impress me with his workmanship (although the proof will be in a few hundred kms from now) and when I asked for some spare spokes he said I will never need any more after the job he is doing. So from a bridge to a village to a dungeon in the middle of a thriving city Doris is patched and ready to rock and roll...again.

Bucharest 

Bucharest. A very old history 

Something about a silver lined cloud. Here I am in a double bed having a beer on the lively streets and my bike is as good as new. Tomorrow we face the music again and see where the road takes us.

Bugger

To be writing another entry in consecutive days means once again I have weasled a place to stay. Unfortunately it was because I had some really bad luck and had a bit of a show stopper of an accident. More will follow but know that for now and the immediate future I have my tail between my legs and will be holed up in Romania's capital getting Dorris seen to my a medic.

Alls fair in love and war

Doris a Snake and a wild goose chase

So there I was peddling on a sunny afternoon through the Bulgarian countryside heading towards the ferry boat boarder crossing to Romania when I damn near ran over a snake of about a meter. Didnt even see it till it was too late. Fortunately for the snake it saw me with just enough time to coil and throw a strike at Doris landing its teeth, or at least its head in an attempted Dublin Kiss on the front heft pannier bag. No dramas. Later that same day I was accosted by a Goose that took offense to me and chased as I idled past, it had a good head of steam up by the time it quit off the chase.

Romania has been good to me. This is my third night and I have stared and growled down any would be dog pursuers and I have twice been invited into peoples homes, tonight being one of those nights. They have lent me clothes so that none of my stash goes unwashed this evening. We drink Romanian wine and fumble with conversation over good hearty salt of the earth food and then they send me away in the morning after some photos and all that good stuff. They even tried to pawn clothes off to me as I left. I must be the stinky kid at school.


So there you go, just a short update to let you know that stories of Romania's bad lands are so far unfounded.

mud grass and churches

Doris hiding from the rain

fruit and veg stall

So there I was, plodding my solem way through the wheat fields of Northern Bulgaria when I thought of camping. Again the side of the road had just enough appeal for me to opt in but then the strangest thing happened. Sitting there I pondered my current situation. For all intents and purposes I could have been sitting in the railway reserve outside my parents house in Nelson. There was nothing particually Bulgarian about where I was or what I was doing so I chose to try and do something about it. I locked Doris to a tree (only to come and get her soon after) and went to find some people to have a chat with  in a neighbouring small village. As is typical with Bulgarians there was a group of social drinkers on the side of the cobble stone street, so I stopped, bought a beer from the corner store and parked my sore bum beside them. As curosity grew through the village I was inundated with visits from people both young and old. The usual rigmarole ensued where I had no idea what they were saying but agreed full heartedly usually to an explosion of laughter and a pat on the back. After some time I was invited with Doris to watch a gave of footy between Bulgaria and Macedonia in a drinking hall not unlike the rugby changing rooms of the late 80s. Stale ciggy smoke wafted just below the cealing as the crowed became more and more animated as the game wound down to a 1-1 draw. I was invited to an elderly mans house when he discovered I had nowhere to sleep, so at the end of the evening we wandered to his place in desperate need of a make over and I rested my head on a bed for the first time in a while. The morning light painted the walls in red and orange as it came through the painted glass. A wardrobe better suited to a story book with a big cat and a mean lady took up the remaining space in the room and the cobwebs suggested bugs could be plentyful through the summer. Two industral radiaters gave the sence of a very chilly and long winter in the disintergrating room. Still, this man had nothing and gave it all to me, a huge high five for that chap.

Off roading

Doris and I have been for some accidental off roading and had ourselves knee deep in grass and spoke deep in the stickest mud available. Unfortunately the dirt road I had used to camp on had turned into a slip and slide with the torrential rain brought on by another mid afternoon thunderstorm.

We have covered just over 3500km now and doris is streamlined and good to go, at least I hope. So far so good. Its amazing when you treat a lady with respect and she repays it, interesting life skill for one to stumble on when embarking on a trip solo.

Old building typical in bulgaria

I was into my second hour of a climb the other day and I thought hmmmm, this is a pretty big hill, still we kept going and some time later and a bucket or two of sweat I had creasted a pass of just over 2000meters above sea level. The most beautiful vistas overlooking the plains were casually akin to the high alpine meadows of the rocky mountains. Jaggered rocks pierced the mountainside and gave the feeling of remotness. What does one do at such a time?? Of course you do what any normal warm blooded person would do and you dangle your feet over a cliff while you eat you pasta meal setting up your tent for the night time chill to come and greet you.

In the morning I woke to a misty and invigorating morning and upon walking back to the road I pushed off and did not need a single peddle revolution for 20.83km. So in summation, it was in fact a big ass hill. One day I would love to come and walk around these beautiful mountains and spend some time on the open mountain pastures.

I head to romania in the morning after a night in Sofia, Bulgarias bustling capital. Thank you for all your comments and emails and the text messages, its awesome to hear what you time and the inspiration it gives me. Believe me, when you wake to a wind and the imminent rain on the dark side of another climb, you need what you can get.

Some ants

Rila Monastery

On getting to Sofia I had a man come to me while I was reading my map and trying to work out where I was heading. He was a physisist amd wanted to know everything about the bikee, the ride what I ate, where I camped and proceeded to walk me back in the direction he had come from to make sure I had a place to stay. He insisted on giving me his cell number and his email and asked if we could go for a bike together the next time I was riding in Bulgaria. A gesture well received at the end of a long day.