In addition to all of the cycle tourists, the campground this morning included a couple touring the Donau by kayak.
Last night’s misadventure? Cooking the dehydrated potatoes I’ve been carrying since somewhere in Bulgaria. I bought bratwurst from the campground mini-restaurant, but still felt the need for more calories. Someone had built a campfire; to conserve fuel I borrowed space on their grill to boil water. I no longer had the instructions for the potatoes (in Bulgarian, not helpful anyway), so the plan was to add water until the consistency felt right, but I had more potatoes than and space in the pot. Eventually I had something vaguely like mashed potatoes, but I made a real mess of everything. In the future, perhaps not start with all the potatoes.
Shortly after leaving the campground this morning, I passed a supermarket, and reloaded supplies (not to include potatoes). Groceries are substantially more expensive in Austria, I spent almost $10.
The first castle of the day, Castle Spilberg, started out making a poor impression, appearing just a remaining wall. As I wandered about, my interest continued to grow. Like most ruins, the castle is being reconstructed. As best I can tell, the reconstruction team consists of two or three older men. I would guess the castle abandoned in the late 16th century, and shows signs of three distinct periods of construction, with an inner keep, an outer keep, and a later extended wall as the needs to the castle continued to grow. At this point when I find a castle, I navigate to an apparent entrance by GPS, and in this case (and often actually) I end up arriving from the back.
I saw castle number two on one of the tourist information signs that litter EV6 (now relabeled R1). As you arrive at the outskirts of the town, a large, usually green, sign includes a map of the town, and pictures of items of interest. The picture didn’t hold much promise, but early in the day, especially buoyed by an earlier find, I’m more optimistic. Dominating the town from above, and clearly a tourist attraction by the size of the parking lot, a steep climb followed by a “closed” sign (with no indications of “open”).
I bucked down, and headed to Linz, the large town ahead that should have been my actual stop yesterday if the last few days hadn’t been short. The castle walls in Linz now include a very modern museum, which Dali would be proud to have designed. While the museum had the usual limited displays of weapons and mail, their special display of soldiers during WWII left me disinterested.
Entering more elevated terrain, the Donau begins to wander a bit, and the path along the river looked about 15 km longer than the straight line. The GPS showed the path to Passau at 65 km, where the EV6 signs showed 99 km, showing how much farther the EV6 path can be. While now entering the mountains, I decided to take a short cut across the mountains. Besides potentially saving some distance, I tire of the flat, monotonous EV6 route.
Unsurprisingly, that path included a lot of up. What I hadn’t noticed when I plotted the path was that path degraded into foot paths/ logging trails. The path up, all on roads, I geared down and slowly climbed. The path down on the other hand would have made mountain goats happy. I came down with the brakes almost locked to hold my speed down; the descent at the same speed as the ascent, the rear tire occasionally locking up and breaking traction. The few hikers I slid past clearly thought me insane, with little argument on my part.
As I emerged back onto highway, I noticed the front head on the bike rattling. Hopefully I can tighten that in the morning, otherwise I’ll need a bike shop. I found the campground where I expected. I considered an additional 10 km to the next one. Good thing I didn’t – I learned later that one was closed. 112 km today, great distance considering the multiple stops and exploration.
Successful castle visits do not feature prominently today. People on the other hand…
Last night while setting up camp I met Marcel, from Germany, another solo cyclist. He’s cycling to Vienna, and then spending a week hiking. He injured himself recently because he met a girl (isn’t that always how these things start) who happens to be the #2 Austria wake boarding contender, and asked her if she could teach him to wake board. That experience went less than optimally, and at the very least he bruised a rib. Marcel represents a company which sells a device much like the Kindle, but with a strong presence in the Eastern Europe and Russian marketplace. I found it refreshing to meet another professional instead of the usual myriad of university students. I wish he’d been headed the other way!
Having put off doing laundry for far too long, I also spent a large portion of the evening washing everything, which desperately needed it.
Rain fell on and off throughout the evening, but the morning started the day with sunshine! Ed, another solo cyclist from Scotland joined Marcel and I for breakfast. Ed’s headed the same way I am, but at a speed I can’t match even if he didn’t have zero interest in visiting castles.
The two castles I planned to visit a few km further down the path didn’t pan out, nor did the next three on my map, a combination of closed, private, and non-existent.
Progress slowed by wandering back and forth, the last 50 km of the day had few attractions, so I buckled down to the ride. After a brief photo shoot, I restarted to find Max at my side, cycling at an identical pace. Even with limited English, Max and I conversed for a while, stopped for coffee together, and given that he lives near the campground, added an extra 4 km to his day to ensure I arrived ok and checked in with no issues.
I’d actually been thinking I could stretch the day to the campground 20 km down the road, but Max insisted this camground was much better, and given his efforts it felt impolite to move on. At least here has wi-fi. Maybe an early start in the morning.
I pass playgrounds every day, and I’m struck by how much fun they appear, containing all sorts of amusements (including zip lines), and how they’d never pass in the US – too dangerous I’m sure.
I woke in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of heavy rain falling on the tent. A quick check showed everything still dry, and I fell back asleep. I woke in the morning to the merry sound of light showers. Assuming my rain jacket, I made myself breakfast, and prepared myself to wait for the rain to stop. I’ve been using my new pair of cycle gloves for a couple of days to be sure they didn’t cause any issues, and today threw out my old gloves.
I haven’t had much rain this trip. When I wake to rain, I normally wait for the rain to stop. If appearances are the rain won’t stop, I gird myself for rain and wander into town. I have to reach my breaking point to set off in the rain; in this case the rain fall was clearly reaching an end. The Italian group camped nearby headed out in the rain. By 10 the rain had stopped, and by 11 I had everything dried out and headed out onto the open road.
EV 6 split to both the north and south side of the Donau, with rare opportunities to switch sides. While on the south side at present, I switched sides when I could, as my analysis showed the majority of historical sites were on the northern side. That decision I found to have a major flaw, and I made little progress today.
While the Donau and EV6 convincingly portray the world as flat, I’m headed into the mountains. Each time I headed off to one historical site or another, Austria enforced the perception that the world, regardless of the bicycle path, not flat. Yet with a lot of time (and kilometers) gone by since my initial struggles with hills, I can now climb with, if not merry abandon, little issue. But I did too good a job selecting the side for historical sites. A few sites off EV6 I climbed to – some good, some less interesting. Yet as the day progressed, every time I looked at the mountainside ahead, I found another ruin or castle. Forward movement slowed to a crawl, as I stopped to examine each site.
The first site of interest, a ruin on a hill, took the usual climb to get to.
The second site of particular interest took steep bike climbing (causing a few looks of awe, I’m happy to report) and then additional climbing by foot. Durnstein Castle held Richard the Lionhearted when he was captive and held for ransom. This reality is part of the myth of Robin Hood, disparaging Prince John who ruled in Richard’s stead until the ransom was paid.
Something of interest would appear every 5-10 km. After a while I began to skip those sites that, on the surface looked less interesting and, sad to say, when a castle showed up on the other side of the Donau, it was with some relief that I realized there was no ready way to get to it.
All told, between the late start and plethora of stops, I made but 60 km today. Although I remember when that was a good day, it falls short of current planning. From my earlier estimates of arrival in Geneva a week late, I’d pulled that date in by four days. The trip to Brasov took three of those away, and the last couple of days have been slow.
I stopped today around 5. The weather looked like rain (and it started raining at 6), with the next campground 15 km ahead. Two additional sites within 5 km of here also deserve some attention, so I have a plan for the morning. The somewhat early evening also meant finally doing laundry, and catching up on a few other things. I spent the evening talking to Marcel, the cyclist “next door” in the campground, an IT salesman taking a couple of weeks off to bike and hike.
I took a slow lazy morning packing up. Simon wished me luck and headed out to work. I first wandered down the street, changed all of my Hungarian and Romanian currency to Euros, and stopped by a supermarket for supplies for the day. Then I finished up repacking everything from the night before, dropped Simon’s keys in his mailbox, and ventured forth. The heat wave ended, in cooler weather I headed to the nearest post office, about 3 km away.
I’ve collected quite a number of tourist booklets, brochures, and postcards, as well as maps from Romania and Hungary. The third package of a half pound of things I don’t want to carry, and vulnerable to getting wet. As they handed me the customs forms, I actualized that the Post Office included a MailBoxes Etc. I had decided I would just hang onto the spare pannier and jacket instead of dealing with shipping them, and give them to Andrew in Geneva, but with a Mailboxes Etc. in front of me, I didn’t have to deal with getting a box, tape, transporting to the post office, etc. And about to ship something already, the cost would be less.
That task complete, and about 3 pounds lighter, I headed to the EV6 path, identified from earlier excursions in Vienna. I lost the path only a couple of times, for only a few meters each time. Once well on the road from Vienna, a never-ending stream of cycle tourists resolved most questions of where to go. I passed (or was passed) a few cyclists going the same direction as myself. In the other direction cyclists flowed past, the occasional soloist, families with children, tour groups, collections that were all men or all women, couples. People towing their kids. People towing their dog. People with the bare minimum, being supported by EuroVelo (labeled as such on their handlebar bag). People laden with gear piled high on the front and back of their bicycle. Trailers. Panniers. Mountain bikes. Tandems. Recumbents. Tandem recumbents.
For most of the day I rarely cycled alone; other cyclists (tourists or locals) in sight. With no exaggeration, hundreds of people all touring. Improved signage and detailed guideposts make cycling a snap. Signs show campgrounds, hotels, restaurants, swimming, winerys, etc. They even show recharging point for electric bikes!
Yet in that overwhelming number of cyclists, I was alone. In these numbers, rarely do cyclists even wave or nod. In large groups they cluster amongst themselves; any group that started social certainly overwhelmed by the influx. Most of EV6 also runs next to the Donau along the top of the dykes. Nothing but the occasional field on the river side, and little on other as well. While the quality of the cycle path and lack of traffic make EV6 a pleasure in some ways, the path is quite banal in others.
I arrived at my intended campground at 5 pm, 60 km from Vienna. A bit farther than I had planned, but I go where the campgrounds are. The next campground on my map was another 15 km away, presuming it exists at all (although indications from several maps implied the existence, none of that is certain). Yet as I pulled into the pleasant looking but very small campground, I could smell the unpleasant agrochem from the fields adjacent to the campground, and wondered whether I should move on. First Down. As I spoke to the person at Reception, I asked about the wifi. “We don’t have wi-fi”. Second Down. “There’s no wi-fi anywhere in this village.” Third Down. “The closest campground with wi-fi is 15 km away, they have over 2,000 sites. But that will take you over an hour by bike.”
An hour later I pulled into the next campground, after following a number of very small back roads instead of following EV6, with a shorter path. Life’s little ironies; this campground about the same size as the other, also no wi-fi. Just a small 20m x 20m field, which I share with ten or so Italian cyclists. He must have meant the other way. Oh well. No one at reception, I set up camp, cooked dinner, had my shower, and relaxing by my tent when someone came by to collect.
It’s ironic that as I move “west”, Internet access is less ubiquitous.
The train arrives in Brasov arrives on time – 7:15 am. According to the on-line package trace, my package is held at Brasov Postal 3. Unfortunately, it’s unclear exactly which post office is Postal 3, so I’m going to Postal 1 to see if I can track everything down. Plan A (which is followed by plans up to about E), catch the 9:30 am train back to Bucharest, gear in hand.
I have to get to the post office by 8:00 am when they open. Wait, one of the other post offices is almost in path. I should check it on the way. Nope, Postal 9.
I reach Postal 1 at three minutes to 8, and head to the window that previous experience taught me would have my package. A quick check, and I’m told the package is indeed at Postal 3. I ask where to find Postal 3, and am told she doesn’t know.
Doesn’t know? You’re the POST OFFICE, and you don’t even know where the post offices are?
I ask again, more insistently, and am directed to Window 8. There is, of course, no one actually at Windows 8, just a button for a bell to summon the supervisor. I ring the bell, receive no response, wait politely for a couple of minutes, ring the bell again, wait a couple more minutes, and still no response.
I knew I didn’t like Windows 8.
I don’t have time for this. There’s only a few post offices, I can check them faster than this.
I flag down a taxi and direct him to my next best guess for Postal 3. As we head that way, I carefully watch the meter (Romanian taxis having a reputation for vastly overcharging). Upon arriving at the next post office, the taxi driver carefully points out the nearby taxi point, and drives off.
9 am? They don’t open until 9 am. No indication which post office. This office looks too small and unimportant. If I find this is it, I’ll just come back.
Another different Internet search turns up another Postal 3 near the center of the city, near Postal 1. I walk to the taxi point, and tell the driver I want to go to Postal 3 at this address (and point to the location on the GPS). He tells me that is a tax office not a post office.
Perfect, the package is held up to pay taxes, that’s likely why no one knows where it is.
The driver takes me to the office, and I head inside. At the first desk I explain that I’m there to pick up my package at Postal 3, and am asked in return if I own a business. I re-explain what I want, and am told to wait while she checks.
Checking. good sign.
She returns, we discuss again, and again she wanders off, only to return and takes me to another office, labeled Information Technology, and quickly discusses with those in the office.
OK, at least now I’m on familiar ground.
They speak English, and I explain. They let me know that this is not Postal 3 – why would I think it is? I show them my phone, and they say that information is wrong, and look up Postal 3. After asking if they can show me where Postal 3 is on my GPS, I’m told that’s too hard, and to follow him. We wend out way through the office, past multiple people and doors, out to a car, and off we go. En route, I’m told he’s seen on TV (on their version of Candid Camera I presume) where tourists make crazy requests and they film what happens. I laugh, and tell him I’m just a crazy American tourist. We pull up at a building clearly labeled Postal 3.
We’re at Postal 3. We’re at Postal 3. Arg, it’s past 9 am.
We park illegally, and he explains his mission to the police officer nearby, and escorts me into the post office, where he proceeds to explain what we need to the person at the desk, who waves us next door. The door next door is locked; they don’t open until 11 am. Wishing me luck, he heads back to the office. I tell him to watch for himself on TV.
I am NOT leaving without the package. I am also NOT going to make my flight.
Goodbye train.
As I wait, I’m clearly not the only person expecting the office to open earlier; people keep showing up, trying the door, reading the sign, and then leaving. I wander off to find a market, having not eaten since McDonalds at 2 am.
Got to get back to be first in line.
People begin to queue up about 10:30. I engage some in conversation, and explain my story.
When cycling from Paris to Madrid, I crossed the Pyrenees on a small pass, and the border crossing point was closed. When I went to board my plane in Madrid, back to Paris, they noticed that my passport didn’t show how I entered the country, and were quite upset. As I tried to explain, in broken Spanish, exactly how I got to Spain by bicycle, we went back and forth. Finally, a passenger behind me, fluent in English and Spanish, helped out if only to ensure he managed to get on his own flight.
I planned to apply that lesson. If I ran into language problems, hopefully someone behind me in line would help, if only to further their own agenda. By the end of our conversations, someone volunteered to help if I ran into problems.
Plan successful. Now I need the office to open!
The office opened exactly at 11 am, I headed to the desk, and explained I needed to pick up a package. She can’t find me in the system. She asked for the note that the post office provided when normally delivering a package, and I explain why I would not have one, prompting her to rummage through a nearby stack of paper, where she eventually finds a piece of paper with my name on it, heads into the back room, and returns with my package.
My package, she has my package! I have my package!
Houston, we have touchdown.
Control, we have the package (insert Mission Impossible Theme music).
She hands me the package and directs me to the adjacent Customs desk. The Customs Officer asks my permission to open, opens the box, stares wonderingly at the contents, and asks what the contents are. As I try to explain, and fail, from across the room comes my volunteer, rapidly explaining my story. The Customs Office ponders a minute, and tells me I can go.
I can go? No import taxes? No crisis that I don’t have enough Romanian cash to pay the import taxes? It’s 11:08. I have to go!
Thanking everyone profusely, I head for the door, package clutched in hand, and head to the nearby Taxi pickup point.
No taxis. How do I get a taxi? Wait, that guy just jumped in front of me and took my taxi! Well, that’s how to get a taxi.
My instructions to the taxi driver are simple. Train Station. As we arrive, I pay the driver, carefully making sure I leave the taxi with my package, and head to the associated bus terminal.
My package!
Bus, or taxi. Bus or taxi.
I inquire about a bus to Bucharest, and am directed to a nearby assemblage of mini buses, one labeled “Bucharest”. Jammed full of people, the bus a cacophony of people purchasing tickets. I open the passenger side door, sit down next the driver, and request a ticket. He sells me a ticket, and I clamber into the back of the bus, still clutching the package. It looks like every seat is taken.
I can stand or the entire two hours to Bucharest, no problem.
Arguments break out. I think the normal process is everyone sits, and then pays for their ticket, a process I just circumvented. The driver works to sort things out, and loads luggage in the back. Unsure of my status, I do not hand him the package as I stand there in the bus. One of the passengers gestures for me to get out of the bus.
Not happening.
Things settle down, and I understand that he wants me to get in the front seat of the bus, along with him, as we’ll be wedged there. Fine. I sit, package in my lap.
I’m on the bus! I might make my flight!
We depart the bus station at 11:30 am. As we head for Bucharest, I track our progress on the GPS. Traffic is terrible. We get stuck behind tractors, held up for construction multiple times, and the small roads packed with cars make progress poor. No way are we going to be at the airport at time.
Why are we pulling over. Someone’s getting off? Someone’s getting on? We’re functioning like a normal bus. Are you kidding me?
The closer we get to Bucharest, the better the roads get, and the faster we go. The driver pulls out a tablet.
The driver is using a GPS? He doesn’t do this all the time?
On major highways, we’re finally making progress. Then we pull over, the driver gets out, and instructs everyone they can get out.
A rest stop? People are ordering drinks? If I can find a taxi, I could just take it from here. No taxi in sight. Why is everyone just standing around now?
Finally back on the road, the driver keeps checking the GPS. I pull out my GPS, and point to the airport. “Airport yes” he replies. I don’t know if we’re going to Bucharest, and then to the airport, or the airport and then Bucharest.
We’re pulling into the airport.
I grab my package from the back, leap from the bus, and rush into the terminal. I still have my boarding pass (from the day before), so I need only to head directly to the gate.
There’s no gate indicated on the boarding pass? The gate isn’t on the flight panel?
I head to the ticket counter, and the associated line. Getting the attendant’s attention, he reviews my boarding pass, and scribbles onto it, Gate 13.
13? Not a good sign.
Security in Bucharest works like Security in the US, you wait along with everyone else. We all shuffle forward towards our destiny, which might include me not making my flight.
My package is larger than the approved suitcase size, I hope it fits through the scanner.
My package goes into the machine, and I make it through the scanner unscathed. Security stops the conveyor, and starts reviewing the image in front of her.
What’s in the package that’s a problem?
The attendant pulls the person in front of me out of line, and we stop while they dig through their suitcase to find the offending item, which they hand to someone on the other side of Security. My package exits the machine.
We’re out!
Past security, I decide to grab a bit to eat, having only eaten a banana from the market hours ago, and about 45 minutes until they stop boarding. Food and package in hand, I head to the gate.
They’re not boarding yet.
I finally have the time to open the box, review the contents, repack everything into the panniers, and toss the box, bringing my contents to regulation size. We pull away from the gate on-time. The flight, train, and walk back to Simon’s uneventful, I work on repacking everything until I collapse, falling asleep on Simon’s couch.
In the end, for all of those who asked what I would do if my gear was lost or stolen, the solution remains the same, if entailing a bit more effort than I envisioned. By the time I returned to Vienna, my travel path was
tram > train > plane > train > train > post > post > taxi > post > taxi > post > tax office > guy in office driving me > post > package > taxi > bus > plane > train. Total travel time was from 1:45 pm to 6 pm the next day.
Bucharest, the city I never planned to visit, and indeed intentionally planned to avoid, I visited three times.
Simon and I started the day late. I wandered out to learn that supermarkets close on Sundays in Austria (all four near Simon’s place), and to use the nearby “free” wi-fi. After breakfast in Simon’s garden, we visited the permanent fair located in central Vienna. Just like being at the State Fair back home – with less crowd.
A quick stroll down the Danu, and back to the Metro/train station for my train to the airport. Missing the train we’d planned on by a couple of minutes (but the train runs every thirty minutes), Simon bid me adeiu after some advice for the airport stop. As I now had a few minutes, I stopped in the supermarket in the tram station to pick up fruit and snacks for the trip.
Look at this line. There’s no way I’m getting through this line before the train. Fine, I’ll just put things back.
Finding the train with no issue, I boarded for the airport.
Is this my stop? No, Simon said the stop would be after daylight and a tunnel. Is this my stop? Nope. Not this one. Not this one. Flughaven. That’s it.
There’s McDonalds in the station. I’ve got time before the flight, so I pick up something to eat.
Wow, this is a big airport. I need to check in. No luggage. Good this terminal is for my airline.
The automated sign in kiosk wouldn’t recognize my credit card. Or passport.
Where’s that email with the flight information? Did I remember to download it to be off-line?
Entering the flight information printed out the boarding pass for the outgoing and return flight. The terminal also warns about lithium batteries.
Darn it, I brought the battery for the phone. Euro airlines are more relaxed, but if they won’t let the battery on the plane I’ll have to throw it out. I’ll find somewhere to hide it.
I wander about a bit, trying to find somewhere I can leave it. Outside there’s a parking area, with those large concrete barriers. I sit there and finish my lunch, and covertly place the battery in the gap underneath one.
Hope no one thinks I’m a terrorist placing a bomb. That won’t go well.
Back inside, I quickly go through Passport Control and head for my gate. “Rick Stevens, please report to Information. Rick Stevens, please go the the nearest Information”. From years of experience, that’s almost certainly me.
Uh oh. The battery? No, they wouldn’t know my name. Now where’s Information, I haven’t see one in a while. Well, I’m close to my gate, I’ll just ask there.
Oh that’s interesting. Each gate has its own screening point.
When I get to my gate, I show them my boarding pass, and tell them I was paged. The flight attendant looks at my boarding pass, and tells me for ticket issues I have to go back to the ticket desk.
Once I had several flight delays in Amsterdam, with the stores and restaurants and anything else interesting on one side of Customs, and my flight gate, of course, on the other side of Customs. I’m not sure how many times I wandered back and forth through Customs while I waited for that flight, but by the time I flew out the Customs guys would just wave me through.
Back through Customs to find an Information point. In this case, I’m now in the Returning Flight path, down to Luggage Claim for Information. I report in, and after untangling the confusion about my name, find that in the back and forth for the Boarding Pass, I dropped (one of) my credit card.
Ok, plenty of time still. And I still have 3 other cards.
I work my way back out of the airport, and then back into the airport. Finding Information near where I was before, I reclaim my card, go back through Customs, and back to my gate.
Really strange, there’s no seating or waiting area.
Boarding is uneventful, until I find my seat occupied. Someone misread her ticket, but we just swap spots, and I drop into my new seat.
If we crash, I hope Marnie gets the right parts back.
A short flight, I remember to reset my clocks. While I now have no spare battery for the phone, my e-book reader doesn’t use much power, so I read through most of the flight. Landing slightly delayed, plus the usual delay at Customs, I arrive in Bucharest.
Ok, I just need to get there before tomorrow at 8. Unlikely I can make the 9:10 pm train, but worst case there’s the overnight train at 11:30 pm. Maybe I’ll just rent a car. Car rental was cheap in Bulgaria. $120 Euro + gas. Nope. The bus that will take me directly from the airport to the Bucharest train station just left, next one 40 minutes. Ok, I can still take a bus to City Center, and then switch to the Metro to the train station. I’ve got to get that train by 11:30 pm.
I purchase a bus ticket to City Center, and board the available bus.
Is this my stop? No. Ok, there’s a display that looks like a GPS. I can use that. Is this my stop, someone’s getting off. No. Wait, it looks like everyone’s getting off.
I ask the driver if this is Centru, and he says, “yes yes” and waves me off. I disembark, and the bus drives away.
Wait, I was expecting this to be the main bus station or something. I’m just in the center of town somewhere. How do I get to the train station from here. Where’s there Metro? I don’t see a Metro sign. Hmm wait I don’t know what a Metro sign looks like in Romania. There are buses gathered over there. Nothing that looks like a Metro. Maybe the GPS…
Tinkering with the GPS app on my phone provides an option to display all of the Metro stops. One 100 m away, I head down. It’s getting late, but someone manning the ticket booth sells me a ticket and says, “Down and left, down and left” in response to my query about the train station. There’s a train there, and I board.
Great, now how do I know which Metro stop is the train station. Or how to change to the train station. Oh good a metro map. Wait, it looks like there are two separate stops for the train station, and this line splits before then.
Is this my stop?
Why do they keep announcing the train station over and over. The sign doesn’t look like it’s saying the next stop is the train station. We’re at the split, maybe they’re telling me to change trains!
I leap off the Metro as the doors close. Having more time, and a better map display, and the overhead schedule, I decide there are two different trains that stop here, and figure out the next one artives in less than 10 minutes. Fine. I board and disembark at the train station stop. Emerging from the Metro, I recognize the train station across the way from my last time in Bucharest, and proceed to the ticket office. I ask for a ticket to Brasov, and am told there’s not a train to Brasov tonight. I show her my screen capture of the 11:30 pm train (I made screen captures of most of the information in case I didn’t have cell service). She shows me the computer display, and says the next train is at 5:50 am, arriving 8:30 am.
8:30 am means I won’t get to the post office before 9 am. Not a lot of time to lose!
Not willing to risk not being able to be on that train, I purchase the available ticket, and head outside to research the issue on my phone, hoping the cell service still works from the SIMM from when I was in Romania. I dig further into the schedule, and head back to the ticket office. I show her the schedule on my phone, where the train goes to Ploesti at 11:30 pm, and then (with a four hour layover) I change trains to arrive in Brasov at 7:15 am. Fairly sure she thought I was crazy, but she exchanged my ticket (and about $5 cheaper).
Finally, all set. And I’ve got a while since the train isn’t until 11:30 so I can go get something to eat. Hmm, wait, the ticket says 11:00. 11! That’s 10 minutes from now!
I rush over to the train platform, and, unsure of which platform is the desired train, I ask one of the staff, who waves me off.
I think that’s the same person that waved me off in the train station the last time I tried this. Ok, we can solve this. I’ll just check each platform for the train number on the ticket. Ok, there it is. No train on the platform. Perhaps I’ll recheck the sign. That looks right. There’s a main board here somewhere. Ok, that’s right too. Still no train on the platform. Ok, I’ll wait.
The train pulls in, and I get on the correct car, and find my way to my compartment and seat.
Why is it dark still? Great, the light is out in this compartment. Or maybe the light is out for a overnight train? Other compartments are dark, but not all of them. Is there a switch? Nope.
An older gentleman joins me in my car. Peering about, he asks me, presumably, about the excessive darkness. He doesn’t speak English, and my Romanian being somewhat lacking, the exchange is confusing, but we get there. He asked where I’m going, and I manage to convey that I’m headed to Brasov via Ploesti. He settles in for a nap. The train heads out.
Is this my stop?
I pull out my phone/GPS and monitor our progress aware that my battery life is limited, I have no way to recharge, and the phone is likely to play a critical part in the upcoming expedition. He notices what I’m doing, and tells me, “Not Ploesti”, and then keeps me updated until finally he tells me the stop is coming up.
Well this isn’t a very big station. No food here. No people here. Definitely Ploesti. Sign indicates train to Brasov 4:40 am, on Track 3. Good. No outlets for power here. This is going to be boring. Four hours in this station? And I’ve got to stay awake.
Outside the station, there’s a major street, with no traffic at midnight, leading … away. Looks like city parks on both sides, and a sign indicating “Centrum” down that main street. I know I’m at the Ploesti South station (both from using the GPS earlier, and the fact that the station is Ploesti Sud).
Nothing else to do, might as well walk into town. Maybe something will be open and I can find something to eat. As long as I stay on this street, I can’t get lost, and I have almost 5 hours.
I leave the station, and head into town. The walk to City Center is about 1 km, most of the walk along the edge of city park. I can still see folks wandering through the parks or sitting on park benches.
Ok, not completely alone. A but less likely to get mugged that way.
All the way into city Center I searched for food. I passed on a kebab/doner place on the way in, but I’ve been avoiding those since the food poisoning in Sunny Beach. Ploesti at night.
Might as well keep walking, nothing else to do.
On the far northern edge of town, I find a McDonalds. The apparent social hub of town, still open, I eat the first food I’ve had since about 3 pm, and head back to the station.
Is that a zombie? It’s dark but it looks like a zombie. I’m in Romania. Wait, that’s vampires. Ok, maybe just some drunk guy.
Back at the station not completely deserted by 2 am, with nothing to do. I didn’t want to use the phone, not knowing how much power I’d need to resolve everything. I didn’t want to sit still, fall asleep, and miss my train.
Hmm, surely there’s a power outlet here somewhere. Nope. Behind the ticket machine? Nope. Behind the .. AHA!
Behind the ATM machine I find a power outlet. Checking carefully to ensure I am unobserved, I connect the phone and position the phone and cable so to the casual eye it should be non-obvious, and kept wandering about, keeping an eye on my phone.
Is he moving towards the phone? What about? Nope. I hope the phone’s charging. I shouldn’t check how much charge and draw attention to it.
I counted off the minutes the phone had been charging, until the train should arrive. Inside the station the temperature considerably higher than outside, I regularly move to outside and then back in to check on the phone. Another at the station, moving about like me, I’m sure thought I was stalking him, as each time he would move where I couldn’t see him and the phone I too would move. I finally engaged him in conversation, and we discussed why we were both at a train station at 4 in the morning. A 400-meter dash runner running returning from the National Championships; no way I could have caught him even if he did grab my phone! He talked about visiting the US, and I gave him my email address.
As the time approached, I moved to the platform, and at 4:40 am I board the train to Brasov.
With a new day brings new challenges. The forecast showed rain for late afternoon today and Monday. In other forecasts, Romanian Post reports my gear has reached the final destination of Brasov. Looking forward along my trail, few options exist besides Vienna to get back to Romania without a significant deviation in course, or until I’m all the way in Geneva.
I reached out to Simon, my friend in Vienna that I first met at Dragon*Con through a mutual friend. Simon and I failed to hook up earlier in the week because he’d had other plans, but some back and forth this morning lead to a revised plan. I purchase a ticket for Vienna to Bucharest for Sunday, flying back Monday late afternoon. I stay with Simon Sat > Monday, and more importantly, a safe home for my bike Sunday night while I temporarily abandon it.
The only flaw comes when I purchase the ticket. My original ticket plan, flying out early Sun., is no longer available. The new ticket is also slightly more expensive (of course) and I’m now flying out Sunday afternoon. I have to get from Bucharest > Brasov > Bucharest. As long as I can still get to Brasov Sunday night, even late, everything should work out. Go to the post office, deal with customs, pick up box, and back to Bucharest in time for my flight. I know Brasov well, and the hostels. I still carry my Romanian currency, so exchange should not be an issue.
I took a quick walk to a nearby bookstore, as I need maps for Austria, Germany, and Switzerland; I’ve been using the upper edge of my Hungary map for Slovakia and Austria, but I soon leave that area. No appropriate scale maps for Germany, but I buy the marginal scale for Switzerland (1:400000), and find maps for Austria at 1:150000. Western Europe is much more densely populated than Eastern Europe, and more roads means I welcome the additional detail. I will also feel fast on those maps, given the scale difference.
When I go to check out, the Austria maps, with no price tag, belong to a set. I’d wondered that, but as the set was missing several of the maps, clearly an issue somewhere. The Austrians, very order-oriented, couldn’t sell maps that should be part of a set, even if they couldn’t sell the set anymore. Fortunately I’m now in countries with a better English foundation, and I finally talked them into finding the cost of the individual maps (which were not in stock), and selling at that price. Success.
I had an uneventful ride to Simon’s, but failing at the final steps of locating his place found me war-cycling through Austria looking for a hot spot until we connected.
The reduced traffic of Saturday provided a more relaxed ride than then initial ride into Vienna, and let me appreciate the cycle path and traffic system in Austria. While every road doesn’t have a bike path, a patterns emerges that, once familiar, I could readily cycle across Vienna on cycle paths, specifically set aside for bikes, with their own traffic lights.
On reflection, the integrated public transportation system here changes how you think about getting around town. The metro provides ready access to moving across town in big jumps, the trams in smaller steps, and a clearly defined bicycle and pedestrian system fills in any remaining gaps. At longer distances the train and bus network covers the countryside. Everything works because of the support of the other systems. With the discussion of a light rail system in the US, I wonder how well they’re planning for the totality of that system.
Simon provided some advanced wandering through Vienna, with interesting historical facts and quirks along the way. I added tram to my transportation list. I’m going to have to rent one of the horse-drawn carriages that transports tourists around town just to complete the set. We visited the National Art Museum, where much of the collection originated as the Emperor’s art collection. When you are the emperor, you build a separate building to store all the random gifts you receive instead of sticking them in the back of a closet like everyone else. Finally run out at closing, we went out to dinner and retired to his place.
A check of the Internet today showed Romanian Customs released my package. In a fit of excitement, I started checked trains and flights to Romania from Vienna. 20 hours by train. As plans go, shipping the replacement gear should have worked. Even leaving Brasov, I had five days of cycling directly along the rail line back to Brasov. Crossing the Schengen line I suspect causes part of the problem, and getting train transfers to line up causes the rest. Given that leaving today/tomorrow puts me in Brasov on Sunday (with the Post Office closed) and the package still isn’t actually at the final destination, moving on.
I received advice from a friend in Vienna on sites to visit, and spent the day wandering the city by Metro (and adding yet another mode of transportation to the trip). While I always have misgivings about transport via any method but bike, the Metro makes navigation easy. Signs clearly mark all the roads, so readily able to surface from my Morlockian travel and visit sites around the city.
Both Schonbrun Palace and Hoffburg Palace sprawl as only the residence of an Emperor can. Both visually stunning, still palaces, not castles. After that I worked my way through the cathedrals and churches throughout the city, adding in the occasional opera house or Parliament building. Church generally have no admission cost. While the increased civilization makes travel easier, that comes with a direct physical cost in both general living expenses and tourist admission prices.
Along my wandering today I found a movie festival outside the Rathaus Plaza, so I ventured forth and watch a movie on a big outdoor screen. Not what I expected, a video short about dancing with Nachos, and then a full-length feature of a re-interpretation of Swan Lake as the making of Swan Lake. Very strange.
I still need to pick up maps and some other shopping, so a late start and planning a short day, with the main goal just getting away from urban sprawl and back to the countryside.
Three countries in two days (Hungary to Slovakia to Austria). I feel like a backpacker.
The heat prevented a good night’s sleep (that and staying up far too late) – not a lot of energy. Further early grocery shopping led to a later departure than preferred. Uneventfully finding EV6 out of the city, I slammed into major headwinds, with forward progress being in the neighborhood of 10 kph actual. Gearing down and crawling forward, outside of Hainberg I found castles to my left and right.
The ideal time to go castle exploring – when not making progress anyway. A careful examination of the latter castle above shows the extreme elevation. Only stopping once, I climbed the monster hill, which I later found a 13% grade (!). Finding the parking lot for the castle, I carefully hiked up a long tortuous graveled path, to find the castle ruin at the pinnacle. On the way up, I passed two bikes parked close to the peak – more power to them! A pleasant and worthwhile hike, I wandered about and headed back down. The town was also a pleasant surprise, as medieval walls surrounded almost the entire city.
I never found the castle ruin to the right. I found another one along the way, more a jumble of collapsed stone. Now late in the day for the grand total of 20 km, I headed forth. On the exit side of Hainberg, the EV6 signs forked four different ways – two back and two forward. I cycled about 100 m out on each to check, and headed back from the third ran into two cyclists. Since I often use the incoming cyclists as the indicator for the correct path, I warned them I wasn’t quite sure where to go. Fortunately, they did!
David and Sonia, brother and sister, student and physiotherapist, cycled out of Vienna in the morning in a loop, and headed back invited me to follow them. Also the owners of the two bikes at the castle, they of course took the course I had decided was least likely! Their research took us to a completely isolated and flawless cycle path through the countryside.
While I cycle by default slightly faster, they took fewer breaks than I usually do, and we made good time to Vienna, where they pointed me on my way.
Vienna sprawls across the landscape, the centrally-located hostel being 8 km into town. Fortunately cycle paths abound, and the trip to the hostel uneventful. Beat from the headwinds, the constant pace, and the complete lack of sleep the night before I made an early night of it.
No longer on EV6, the campground last night was devoid of cyclists. With further investigation of the map this morning, I found a closer intersection to EV6 on the Hungarian side. Taking more care today, I never lost EV6 again for more than 100 meters(far enough for me to cross-validate on the GPS). The GPS comes in handy there. When following a cycle path, it’s easy to lose track of where you are when you drop off the trail; the GPS completely solves that.
With the transition to camping more nights, I’ve struggled with how to recharge the phone, as the campsites doesn’t always have power unless I pay more, and I’m trying to pick where I camp. Leaving my phone charging in the bathhouse works, but risks losing my phone. My current system involves showing up in camp, and recharging the phone from the battery, then leaving the depleted battery in the bathhouse to recharge. No problem so far.
None of the castle sites today played out, and I finally gave up counting the cyclists, although there was a definite bell curve to the rhythm of them showing up, as the route between Bratislava and Budapest has four roughly-even-in-distance sections, so cyclists generally stop and start in the same places. A touring company clearly supports people by providing bikes and gear for non-self-supported cycling as well. I did meet with a family from Edinburgh outside of Ghyr and cycle with John, Amy, and Fiona for a while before they stopped for lunch “for an hour or two”. As they didn’t invite me, I moved on.
About 20 km outside of Bratislava in the middle of nowhere, I cycled past what was clearly the local swimming hole, crowded with cycles and people. The hottest day so far, I took the opportunity to wash off the bugs and grime, and cool off before continuing on.
To get to Bratislava, I crossed the Danu. Given my storied past with crossing this river, I wondered how that would go. The bridge I crossed serves as a major thoroughfare, but a cycle path runs the entire length of the bridge, underneath the bridge. I hadn’t been sure I would make the ride to here, I hadn’t made any plans for a place to stay, although I knew there was a campground as a fallback. I stopped at a Macdonalds, and used the free wifi to find a hostel and reserve a room.
The hostel in Bratislava hops with excitement and energy. I met Christelle from western France at dinner and we spent the evening wandering the city. She’s lead a great travelling past, teaching in Chad, and having traveled extensively in Canada and Europe. Both unimpressed this evening by the castle (under massive reconstruction) I’m moving forward to Vienna tomorrow – a short haul but with a max temp of 99 degrees! Forecasts show temps dropping precipitously in about three days. Except for the rain that precedes that, I can’t wait.
I’m picking up time on my earlier estimates, but Google Maps shows Geneva 1200 km from here, but there’s an assumption there of straight lines and super highways. Given my usual path and 22 days to get there (and somewhere hopefully a trip back to Brasov) … One way or the other I’ll know the answers to a great many questions in the next three weeks.
In celebration of having reached Bratislava, I’m watching EuroTrip. Don’t tell Scotty.
