Month: June 2015

An early breakfast ($2 with hotel room), I headed out to Tourist Information. Closed, with nothing on the door to indicate opening time. While waiting, I headed over to Baba Vida Fortress – open!

Baba Vida Fortress was spectacular, everything I like about a castle. Restored, but not managed to extremes. I could wander (mostly) where I wanted. Examining the castle, I could see the different changes through the ages, as well as different architectural and construction feature. I wandered in and about, my years of playing Doom nd Quake coming in handy for keeping track of where I was wending my way though stairs and passageways (though I didn’t find a Blue Key).

By the time I completed my explorations of Baba Vida, Tourist Information opened. I need to take the ferry to Romania. No bus tour to Belogradchik. They walked me 100′ down the street to point out the map store.

I currently have two maps of Romania. One is northeastern Romania at 1:400,000, and another is a map sent by the Romania Tourist Authority, at probably 1:1,500,000. Amazon and the local bookstores didn’t have other offerings. Neither one works well for planning a route through southern Romania. I have a GPS, but not the same (and electronic vs. paper).

I wandered off to the map store. The owner said, “no” to  my request via Google Translate for a detailed map of Romania, and then proceeded to dig through all of his maps. Spain he has. The country across the Danube? Not so much. But my question piqued the interest of another Bulgarian in the store. “Auto?” he asked? I replied “Velo”, gestured with my hands to indicate cyclist, and pointed at my bike. He gestured for me to follow him. Having almost made a career of following random strangers in random countries, off we went.

We first cycled to a news stand a few blocks away, where the words “Romania”, “carte” (map in most languages) and “American” featured prominently. Conversation then led us to our second destination, the Romanian Tourist Bureau, which was unoccupied.  More “Romania”, “carte”, and “American” engaged a couple more people outside. Peering in
the window, one read a phone number to another, who then handed his phone to my erstwhile guide. A brief discussion (more “Romania”, “carte”, and “American”), and my guide spoke the first English of the day, “5 minutes”.

So we waited ten minutes, and we added another gentleman to the mix arriving by scooter –  the person who should be in the office. By this point we’ve added a couple more people outside, and we all crowd into the office. He rummages about, and finds a picture (still in a frame) from a stack on the floor, of Romania, and proceeds to start pulling the picture out of the frame.

Now the picture is probably 1:2,000,000, worse than either of the maps I have, so I touch his arm and say, “no”. His response (in broken English)? “No problem, make copy”. What do you say to that? He rummages about for tools, carefully pulls the picture out of the frame, and hands it to one of the ever-growing number of people in the office, who comes back and presents me with a photocopy. I gave the only response you can give under those circumstances, an enthusiastic thanks. The crowd disperses, the gentleman in the office and my original random stranger shake my hand, and I’ve made their day, even without  a map I can use. I think I’m going to frame the copy.

The grey sky and weather forecast intimidate me a bit, but bouyed by my success at Baba Vida, and the reminder of the joys of unloaded touring, I decide to make a day trip to Belogradchik, another fortress about 52 km away in the wrong direction, and straight back into the mountains, with a 600 meter elevation change. The farthest cycled in a day this trip is about 90 km. Unloaded, while I’ll take the repair kits (both bike and first aid) and a lot of calories, the remainder of my safety nets (such as camping equipment) are left behind. The weather is menacing, but the day is warmer, and I decide to risk it. Most of the route is highway; while that generally isn’t fun, I’ll make good time.

I started making unloaded side trips during our honeymoon tour in Ireland. Marnie wanted the occasional day of rest more often than I, and the occasional extended wandering in the local town. We developed a pattern where every few days she’d stay put, and I’d range out to places not directly in our path.

During one of those treks, I cycled to Birr Castle to see the Great Telescope. I was waiting in line behind a large Polish family, the patriarch of which was aggressively haggling with the ticket desk over the price, the value to his family, the number of people there, and that he didn’t want to be there anyway. When the desk finally relented, and dropped the price (by almost half), and added up the cost, they included me! A look passed between the patriarch and I. He paid for my entrance, and I paid him back once we were inside. I then spent the day wandering about the park with the family. We had lunch. I carried the daughter on my shoulders. Fun all around.

In Vidin, I extend my hotel stay, and set off for Belogadchik around 11:15. To ensure I’m back before dark, I commit that if I’m not there by 4, I turn around. As I set off, the weather turns, and a light rain starts to fall. While the rain stops shortly thereafter, after the first hour I’ve gone only 14 km. The first flat 8 km are followed by 6 km of roads graded like hills – steep. While finally in shape to climb that grade, the slow going tempts me to turn around, given that I’m on the fastest leg of the trip – I’m just not going to make it to Belogradchik in time.

I have nothing else to do, so press on. Shortly thereafter, the grade changes to mountain-class, long gradual rolling hills, and I start making better time. At the 30 km mark, I stop for lunch, and take the turn for the secondary road up the mountain. It’s both inspiring and horrifying when you take a turn to go uphill, and the gentleman standing there claps in praise.

The climb starts in ernest. Graded well, but winding ever upwards. I grind and claw my way up the side of the mountain, begrudging every meter of occasional down, knowing I’ll have to climb back up again to reach the final elevation. I’m in better shape (and unloaded); while my speed drops, I drag myself ever upwards, with the occasional pause for rest, water, and calories. While resting by the side of the road at one point, I was standing beneath a wild pear tree. I knocked a few pears free and added them to my caloric intake.

“Wait. I think I made it. I hadn’t really expected this to work. Yes, up on the hill, that has to be it! ”

Belogradchik? Also awesome.

In addition to the fortress, rock formations a lot like those I’ve seen from Utah.

All that remained was the trek back to the hotel. The weather forecast called for rain at 4 pm, and I left at 4:30. On the way back I saw the selfsame pear tree I’d meddled with on the way up. More successful this time, I continued my downwards trek with a handlebar bag filled with wild pears.

I could see the rain behind me, and about an hour later the edge of the storm caught me. When that happens,  you can either try to outwait the storm, or outrun it, and in this case I had gravity on my side. Arriving back in Vidin, tired but dry, a leisurely dinner capped off a great day.

Romania tomorrow.

Today began early  – places to go and things to do. After unsuccessfully wandering about in the local park (including a zoo, tennis courts, amusement park), I found the path to Sorgozia Fortress, on top of (of course) the nearest hill. A good example of medieval wall construction, but not much else.

Even unloaded the bike still handling poorly, and testing the night before showed the tire still in true. Back to the hotel to gear up to get to the bike shop opening at 10 am. While I had time to go to the bike shop and back before time to check out of the hotel, the gear on the bike provides a certain amount of street cred.

The shop owner spoke no English, and wasn’t that interested in me. We finally managed to identify a tire (“Czech Republic”) and chain lube. I brought both outside, removed all the gear from the bike, pulled out my tools, and started working on the wheel. The shop owner wasn’t up for that. He took the new tire and wheel from me, and quickly swapped everything out for me (including a new tube). I cleaned and lubed the chain, and the bike is  now functioning within normal  parameters. I’ve never had a tire fail by separating; to affect the bike that way the tire was in rough shape.

Next, to Vidin, with the only intact medieval castle in Bulgaria. Vidin is about three days cycling in the wrong direction, as I have to then reverse course to where I want to go in Romania, and I’m a bit behind my general schedule. While the cycling should be along the Danube, I hadn’t found much else to see along the way, and six days means I have to skip over something later. The forecast today is rain; while I’m working on it, I still don’t have rain gear, and lower temps makes that significant. None of which makes cycling to Vidin today a great plan.

The. Only. Intact. Medieval. Castle. In. Bulgaria.

Stopped by the bus station, but the only bus to Vidin left at 3 pm, and I couldn’t determine if my bike would fit on the bus (always a question depending on bus size, and how much luggage is already on the bus) – a lot of sitting around with an unreliable return. The train station across the street on the other hand had a train leaving in 30 minutes, with a ticket cost about $10. With the usual worries about getting on the right train at the right time, I was on my way, my bike stored in the handicapped bathroom at staff insistence. Paying attention to the map, the rail tracks split at about the halfway point. Good thing I paid attention, because I unknowingly had a  change of trains. Another last-minute rush switching trains, and the remainder of the trip completed uneventfully with me not arriving in Sophia.

Trains in Bulgaria follow the same norm as everything else. You can’t judge the inside from the outside – a good reminder for life.

Several security folks today have checked on me and the bike. At the bus station, one of them took the effort to convey said he’d watch my bike for five minutes while I was inside. On the train, one of the Rail Police  confirmed I was keeping an eye on the bike. On the flip side, while leaving the rail station, Security stopped me to check my passport –  always a heart-stopping moment, even when uneventful.

I made a hotel reservation from the train, and found the hotel without issue. I unloaded everything, and spent the late afternoon and evening wandering about the town. Found dinner and Tourist Information (closed but handy for tomorrow). Also found an abandoned church, so a bit more urban exploration along the way. The Baba Vida Fortress was closed for the evening, but a good start.

Today (both this morning and evening) served as a reminder that cycling unloaded is a blast. Just a matter of getting my rhythm right. Show up, set up camp/hotel/whatever, then into town, and prep for the morning.

This tour already has a ride by car, bus, train, and the ferry to Asia. My first tour had only the (mandatory) ferry over three months. Part of that decision at the time was financial, and part pure stubbornness. Since then I’ve slowly added other modes of transport to my tours, to solve specific problems, and make  the trips be more about seeing what I want to see, and less pure cycling. That behaviour is a bit unusual among cycle tourists, but I’m ok with that.

Haven’t quite decided what tomorrow will bring. At the least I must figure out how to get to Romania with a super-highway in the way.

With the tour at 11 am, the morning started slowly. I ate a large breakfast with Timos, packed everything (well, theoretically everything at the rate I’m going) onto the bike, and we four headed out for the walking tour, loosely accompanied by others from the hostel. Interesting but unspectacular, a journey wending our way through the city viewing monument after monument dedicated to failed and successful revolutionaries. With our final walk down Gurko Street (which we four traversed by car and foot at least five times) we returned to the hostel, only to all go our separate ways around 2 pm, by bus and bicycle.

As expected, the first 10 km cycling  were excessively traffic-filled, but also unexpectedly up, before cycling into the nice flat countryside. Planned as a short day, I arrived in Pavlikni around 6 pm, and as expected, the expected campground wasn’t there. As not expected, the hotels weren’t there either. I searched longer for them than I should have, and by the time I was back into the countryside it was getting late. Reviewing my options, I found a spot off the side of the road and set up camp.

I was awoken at 2 am to the sound of rain starting to fall upon the tent, and nature’s call. After dashing out and back in, I went to fall back asleep when I heard hoofbeats on the road outside. As the rainfall increased, I couldn’t tell if the hoofbeats stopped on the road outside my tent. I didn’t get much sleep after that, and was up at 6 am, and on the road by 8.

Today was a simple ride – long straight, partially shaded roads.

With a forecast for intermittent rain, and the sky cloudy and often threatening, I kept an eye out for bus stops, gas stations, and other covered areas as fallback areas for potential shelter against the rain. While I felt a few rain drops from time to time, nothing substantial ever fell. 

In Bulgaria, small villages often have a central square. Sometimes that square is just a large area of open concrete. Sometimes that area is a shaded park, and a great place to stop for lunch. Today a couple of those squares had a different monument:

The roads had been “improved” for the final few kilometers into Pleven. The backroad I’d selected from the map was now a 4-lane highway. Frazzled, I found my way to the hotel, and settled in. Wandered about the town, found the central square, picked up groceries and dinner, and found the fortress’s location.

My rear wheel has been giving me trouble the past couple of days, with the bike feeling unstable. First suspecting the tire being out of true, in actuality the rear tire has delaminated. I found two cycle shops in my wandering (in true Eastern Europe style, across the street from one another), and a visit is in the order of business for the morning. The shops don’t open until 10, so I can visit the fortress first.

I’m usually comfortable within my own head, but the past few days things have continued to rattle around, and I’ve used The Martian to drive them back a bit. Marnie and I both normally function well on our own, with the joy of knowing we have each other for support.

I’m often asked about cycling alone, both from a safety and solitude perspective. I’m rarely alone for long when cycling, with the people I meet along the way. A higher than usual number of hotel stays this trip haven’t provided as much company as I’m used to.  The group experience in Veliko Tarnovo (and our trek to Budludza) typifies the comraderie I find among other travellers. All very different people, we still have that bond in common. Everyone going their separate way reminds me that I’m alone again, and the disparity between the two states is always jarring.

On my first tour the world was different. I was totally on my own, without the connection via the Internet I have today. I remember being in a hostel, alone, somewhere in Switzerland, the day after one of those group experiences, and sitting next to a juke box, feeling alone and listening to “Stand by Me” over and over. Now I’ve even got that tune on my phone.  

At least I’m not on Mars.

The plan for today? Take the walking tour of Veliko Tarnovo, and Tsarvarets Castle.

I spent the evening yesterday and this morning hanging out with Timos (Germany), who wanted to go visit Buzludzha 60 km from Veliko Tarnovo. Buzludzha is a monument built by the Bulgarian communist regime in 1981, which has fallen into disrepair and closed to the public in 1991.

Bruna (Brazil), and Alexandra (Chile) also planned on the walking tour of Veliko Tarnovo today, and Buzludzha tomorrow. Timos leaves tomorrow, so everyone juggled plans, Bruna rented a car, and we drove to Buzludzha as an expedition of urban exploration.

Timos drives twice a year, Alexandra doesn’t drive, and Bruna didn’t like driving after three different people navigating drove her crazy, so I drove, staying in the zen of the Bulgarian driver (with a few white-knuckled moments).

There’s closed, and then there’s closed.

So we crawled inside. The inside is disintegrating, but after clambering in we could explore.  I enjoy climbing up and down stairs, and wandering in and out of abandoned chambers.

Like any experienced urban explorers (or castle explorer), we brought a flashlight and two headlamps, an absolute necessity in this case, as we worked our way underground, and then 31 flights of rusty iron stairs and ladders up in absolute darkness to get to the top of the tower.

After surviving the experience, hunger required lunch. A drive to a nearby cave and monastery were next on the agenda.

An awesome day, interacting with everyone from different cultures and travel experiences. A fairly long drive meant we had the chance to get to know each other a bit, and discuss difference cultural differences (display of religious iconography was but one example).

The hostel will do my laundry tonight, I’ll take the walking tour tomorrow, and then see how far I can cycle for the rest of the day.

At least that’s the plan.

Nothing happened today.

Slow start up this morning. The weather was cool, and I like letting the tent dry out. I also did not have far to go today, only about 50 km to Veliko Tarnovo. I started out fighting  headwinds today between 4 and 5 on the Beaufort Scale which should be a miserable day cycling, except for one thing – payback. The first 30 km were down, enough to offset the winds. Still blew me around, but wildly better than wind matched with up. About the point the road leveled out, the winds died down. Score!

During one of my regular snack breaks, I bought water and a new soda, a cherry sour something or other. I like trying random soft drinks – flavor and calories. On my first swallow the expression on my face was likely priceless. I took a second swallow, and thought, “How do they drink this?”  Peering intently at the label (which of course is in Bulgarian), I noticed 1:20, and the adjacent word I translate to “Concentrate”. My drinking water will be now be cherry sour flavored for a while. . .

I was within 15 km or so of the city by noon, with the downhill and highway making great time. The last leg heading into a big city on the major highway normally causes a significant uptick in traffic, so finding an alternate route can be key. I found another route coming in from the north of the city. Likely a few kilometers longer, and with some hills, but an acceptable trade.

Not today. Veliko Tarnovo is in a valley, and I wasn’t coming in with the water. That final road coming into town was straight UP, as a mountain between me and the city. OK clearly not straight up, and not marked for grade, but well past my ability to climb, so about a 3 km hike up with traffic whizzing by. The final descent into town was clearly marked as a 10% grade, and the grade uphill in comparison was significantly more. I don’t know where I’m going next, but it’s unquestionably whereever is downstream!

Coming into town, the fortress rises up along the crest of the mountains I’ve been cycling over, dominating the landscape. An inspiring sight, and worthy of both my quest for castles, and the mountain I crossed to get to it.

With cobblestone roads, the next day cycling will start as a pedestrian. The hostel rests at the bottom of the valley, and I don’t think there’s a point in this city that doesn’t involve moving vertically to get to it, with the city built into the sides of the mountains.

I’m spending the night in an amazing hostel. Not only gorgeous inside and a community of travellers, but $12 and includes all-you-can-eat breakfast and dinner (All-you-can-eat takes on a whole new meaning when cycling).

I walked over to the fortress before dinner, and for some reason the entrance was free today. The all-day walking tour of the city and fortress tomorrow makes tomorrow a “rest” day.

I arrived in Veliki Preslav to a donkey chained in the middle of the highway, traffic swerving back and forth around him. I’ve mentioned before the common practice of chaining your equine to the side of the highway for grazing, but the middle of the highway? Closer examination showed that the donkey had pulled free, with a chain still wrapped around one hoof. The chain was long enough to be tangled up in his feet; every time he moved, the chain would hobble him. While he was undeterred by traffic, he moved away from me, so (avoiding being hit by the traffic myself) I herded him off road, and left him munching grass by the side. Hope that worked out.

Looking for a hotel, two options presented themselves. One nearby and expensive, the other 3 km outside of town and at least reasonable in price.

At the end of the day, once I stop, I find myself disinclined to start moving again, but sometimes that’s how it goes. As I turned to head back out of town, across the street the building had a big sign – Guest House. Clearly not expecting guests (and the host was in the shower when I arrived), a mad scramble later I had a room for the night, bike securely locked in a storage shed.

I woke early this morning, with no one was around to set my bike free. While I waited, I worked on route planning. I had two choices: one route close to the mountains, the other much longer but farther from the mountains. The mountain route clearly had some climbing, crossing a contour line and having a section of road that looked suspiciously like switchbacks. A single front pannier doesnt work. Once my bike was set free, I spent about an hour Macguyvering my remaining pannier into a trunk of sorts. Likely won’t hold up over weeks, but solid enough for now. Ready to go.

First things first though, I visited the old city and palace ruins of Veliki Preslav, the reason I cycled to this town in the first place. On the other side of town of course, and uninspiring.

I left town in a weird headspace, with too many things rattling around  in my head. To clear my mind, I started listening to “The Martian”, which kept me preoccupied most of the day. That preoccupation served another purpose, because today was all about up. The mountains I avoided the other day had their vengeance. Most of the day was cycling < 10 kph, slowing crawling my way up into the mountains. I’m clearly in better shape tho, and just keep going. I ended up with some great views.

That much climbing meant it was a long day of not going very far. At 60 km (almost all up) and 6 pm, I looked ahead on the map to find my options for the night. I’d been cycling with a planned destination of a campground on map, but the last few spots I’ve passed that should have been campgrounds weren’t, so I was a little skeptical. And if the campground wasn’t there, the town nearby wasn’t big enough to likely to have other options.

So I’m here.

Every trip, at about a week on the road, I hit a wall. One where I think, “Why am I doing this to myself?” A wall where I think, “I can’t do this”. A wall where I’m just ready to go  home. Every trip at this point I know that wall’s coming, and I just have to push through it.

This trip took longer to get there. I had two days at the beginning in Istanbul where there wasn’t any cycling. I normally leave the city I land in; since I’m cycling in a circle I visit at the end of the trip. Before I arrived in Sunny Beach I was beat, and sick. Then I had two days on medical leave in Sunny Beach, feeling miserable and physically ill. I’ve rarely been that sick, and never on tour. 

Most of my tours have been 3-4 weeks, with few issues. I’ve never really had gear trouble. I’ve never really had anything stolen. I’ve never really been sick. I knew going into this trip that more issues would arise, because statistically it was more likely with four trips worth of time, and because riding a lot of miles between maintenance / replacements means more likelihood of equipment issues. But I wasn’t planning on packing those issues into the first two weeks!

Yesterday was awesome. Today, cycling mostly downhill, again with beautiful weather, I thought to myself, “This blog is about to get really boring.” Reporting, “Yup, bicycled again today, nothing happened.”

So much for that plan.

Packed up and left this morning, successfully not leaving anything behind. Uphill out of the local village, and expecting more across the day as I cycled along the edge of the mountains, but still following water and rail lines, so mostly downhill. Reality exceeded expectations, and the day was a whole lot of cycling flat and down. The roads were tricky, but light traffic permitted me to weave back and forth missing the potholes and breaks in the pavement (mostly).

I stopped for lunch at a water point, propping my bike up against the wall. Bulgaria (and Turkey to a lesser extent) have water points along the road at (semi-) regular intervals. Not consistently so that I can rely on them, but a staple of the local culture. Locals use them for everything from water for their local household (filling up jugs), to watering horses, to washing their cars. I believe the water is coming from local springs.

My bike doesn’t have a kickstand – a combination of weight reduction, and kickstands don’t work in soft ground anyway. Instead of a kickstand I use a combination of propping up against the panniers, and using the pedal as a kickstand against the curb. I always lean my bike against the right side, so my gear aligns to that when I’m thinking about it – the things I need for lunch are on the left side.

Onward I traveled, making regular stops for water and snacks, leaning my bike up against whatever was handy: wall or guard rail.  At one point, munching away on a nectarine, I passed a mule tied to the side of the road, and thought about giving him half, but decided not to stop because of nowhere to prop up the bike. Within the next minute, I slammed into a break in the road. While I managed to stay upright, and not blow the tube, I dropped the tangerine. Figures. Sorry mule.

Shortly thereafter I stopped at a shop to resupply. When I came back out, I realized my right front pannier was gone.

I looked around quickly, but the two elderly gentlemen near by seemed non-suspicious. I realized I’d made a brief pitstop about 4 km outside of town, and likely my pannier detached and I hadn’t noticed. I dashed back at high speed (nearly leaving my hat!), but the pannier wasn’t there. I retraced my steps all the way back to lunch (through about three stops and 15 km), but no luck. I’m positive I had that pannier at lunch. I’m actaully positive I had it at every stop, because it’s part of my routing. Sad and depressed, I headed back to be on the road again. As I passed that selfsame mule, I remembered that bike-jarring lurch, and only ~200 m from where I initially realized the pannier was missing. I scoured that area, to no avail. I’ll bet the pannier was still there initially but in my mad initial dash I missed it.

And there things stand. I’m confident the pannier was jarred off the bike. I must not have locked it on well this morning. Someone along the way found it by the side of the road and picked it up. I staying in the area, cycling back and forth for a while, on the off chance someone would see me and put two and two together. I also tried to explain to the two local shops that I’d offer a reward, but language in those small towns is a real challenge, where the population is generally 65+.

One of the questions I’m oft asked is, “what will you do if your bike/gear gets stolen,” and my answer is that I’ll either go home, or replace the gear. Well, I’m not going home.

I know exactly what’s missing. I re-ordered the missing gear tonight. Most of that gear was brand-new replacing worn out gear (*sigh*, so at least some of the reorder wasn’t difficult. That pannier carried my inclement weather gear; as long as the weather doesn’t turn cold or rainy I should be ok. Sadly it also had my camera.

The cargo space I lose from that pannier, and other space I lose to reorganize will be the biggest pain in the interim. Once everything arrives at the house, Marnie and I will figure out where I’ll be, and ship the gear in front of me. 

Marnie laughed at me for losing a pair or underwear this trip, and pondered whether by the end I’d be cycling naked. I’m beginning to thing she’s not far wrong.

The question of the day (the same question we ask every day!):  how to get there. Local Tourist Information advised my selected route would be across mountains and steep hills, and that further across the plains would be a better route.

My map for Turkey is 1:550000, a terrible ratio for cycle touring. The wide-spread rebuilding of the roads makes the map accuracy even more suspect, and overall not useful for clever routing. My map of Bulgaria on the other hand is 1:350000. Not my preferred 1:200000, but the topo detail appears quite good. Rechecking my plan, today’s path followed water up, and then back down. A rail line ran in parallel. At the point above the water, the rail line crossed at what I assumed was a pass. The roads were much smaller. Everything lined up.

The risk for contours is climbing 99 feet, and then dropping 99 feet, without that showing up on a contour map with 100 ft. contours, and doing that all day. Looking at the presented alternative, the route was on major highway, and that path into the mountains was not only a large highway, but much deeper in the mountains, so the overall elevation change more extreme. Also the only nearby route, that highway serves as a critical corridor to a big city.

The alternate advice from a non-cyclist, and tired of heavy traffic regardless, I decided to follow the route of my own devising.

In leaving the hotel, the owners presented me with a Bulgarian curio with rose water, Bulgaria being known for roses. In the context of our discussion the night before, “Not made in China”.

End result of today? Awesome. Class I-II cycling. Gradual and even grade, light traffic, and good (for varying definitions of good) roads. Mostly cloudy and much cooler. I had headwinds part of the day, but only about a 3 on the Beaufort Scale, and part of the day more of a cross-wind than headwind. Unlike Turkey, intersections were well-signed, in two languages. Construction had not turned the roads into a gooey mess.

Mountains rose to my left and right, as I cycled up the valley in the middle.

I passed crops of various things all day (grapes, wheat, corn), but my favorite was the sunflowers:

The walls closing in as I reached the pass, I was through and on my way back down before I realized it.

The plan was two days of 70 km, with the potential for heavy climbing most of day. Instead, I easily cycled 90 km before 5 pm (with a few nice leisurely stops along the way). I’m supposed to be recovering from my medical interlude, so started searching for a place to stay, and ended up with a room at a lake-side hotel (picture off my balcony):

Like Turkey, Bulgaria as a country is clearly undergoing an economic surge. I’ve seen the same thing in Ireland and Poland when they were relatively new to the EU, which provides a massive influx of cash for infrastructure improvement. New developments are springing up around the lake, but the surrounding area hasn’t caught up. The photo looks great until you know what’s at the edges. The streets in front of the hotel overflow with trash. Construction has chewed up the edge of the lake. But the view from my room is great.

Five years from now, Bulgaria will likely be a changed country. For now, the throes of change are all around me.

I am fine, but the photo is exactly what it looks like – an IV into my arm. “Acute viral infection.” I had stomach trouble yesterday, which I initially attributed to dairy, but that became a high fever, so I went to the doctor.

The doctor brought my fever down, and I’m weak (not having eaten since yesterday afternoon) but feeling better. The doctor said to take it easy for two-three days, so I’m stuck in the beach/party central spot on the Bulgarian Black Sea for a two days. And the day after that? Rain in the forecast.

Yesterday morning I rebuilt the front brakes (including replacing the cable), and resolved the front brake issue (again). Rear brakes also adjusted. The hostel owner formerly owned a bike repair shop, so we bonded during the repairs and he helped clean and oil my chain from the mud the day before.

My repair kit depeted, I cycled to a shop to replace the cable, after some discussion with the shop because my cables aren’t standard. After a while of unfruitfully cycling around town, cycled to Tourist Information to ask about a shop to buy underwear (a pair being lost in the great laundry fiasco of the day before). Always glad to provide entertainment.

Now fully resupplied but a late start, I arrived at the walled city of Nesebar by 2:30. I’m trying to be somewhere by 2:30, and be off the road until 4:30, skipping the peak heat of the day. Nesebar is no Visby, Gotland, but pretty enough.

After lunch, things went south. Failing to find a campground where the map indicated, I’m in this hotel. The larger, 5-star hotels have doctors on staff; the staff here called around, and someone picked me up. First American to be treated here.

The worst part I think is the wireless in my hotel is poor to non-existent. But there are cherry trees outside.