Team Ballistic - Romania '05
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Mr K
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We toddle down to the restaurant and blow our complimentary breakfast allowance by 10,000 Lei ….20p in effect…..between 2.
I am aware of tremendous aches and pains from my previous days bike wrestling.
We hit the road and meet Brian on the road to Arad and out of Romania.
We stopped just outside Arad and just short of the border with Hungary, at the world’s biggest petrol station and spent surplus Lei on pop and crisps and tatty souvenirs.
As we approached the border queues of trucks and cars hove into view. We cheated and drove nearer the front. I cheated a bit more and pulled up in a closed lane in the shade.
I suspect a work to rule was in progress, as there was a film crew and the customs people seemed keen to accommodate them.
Suddenly, it seemed that lunch ended and extra booths were opened and I suddenly became 2nd in the queue.
We re-grouped on the Hungarian side and continued.
We stopped for lunch and had a difference of opinion over where it should be taken, which resulted in Brian and I travelling-on without Paul until 2 night’s time. I guess 3 blokes in each other’s pockets for a couple of weeks is going to cause a little friction. It would work out okay eventually.
Szeged, Baja (Yes! I thought we were really lost too) Pecs and Borcs slipped beneath the wheels of Brian and I, finally depositing us at the Croatian border. The guards don’t give a monkey’s and I feel guilty for disturbing their siesta.
We wander into Virovitica and find a Pension in a residential street: “Villa Magnolia” is a large detached house surrounded by non-commercial housing:
I am aware of tremendous aches and pains from my previous days bike wrestling.
We hit the road and meet Brian on the road to Arad and out of Romania.
We stopped just outside Arad and just short of the border with Hungary, at the world’s biggest petrol station and spent surplus Lei on pop and crisps and tatty souvenirs.
As we approached the border queues of trucks and cars hove into view. We cheated and drove nearer the front. I cheated a bit more and pulled up in a closed lane in the shade.
I suspect a work to rule was in progress, as there was a film crew and the customs people seemed keen to accommodate them.
Suddenly, it seemed that lunch ended and extra booths were opened and I suddenly became 2nd in the queue.
We re-grouped on the Hungarian side and continued.
We stopped for lunch and had a difference of opinion over where it should be taken, which resulted in Brian and I travelling-on without Paul until 2 night’s time. I guess 3 blokes in each other’s pockets for a couple of weeks is going to cause a little friction. It would work out okay eventually.
Szeged, Baja (Yes! I thought we were really lost too) Pecs and Borcs slipped beneath the wheels of Brian and I, finally depositing us at the Croatian border. The guards don’t give a monkey’s and I feel guilty for disturbing their siesta.
We wander into Virovitica and find a Pension in a residential street: “Villa Magnolia” is a large detached house surrounded by non-commercial housing:
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Mr K
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….and just down the street. On the corner is a pizzeria – bonus!!
Paul rings to say he is safe.
334 miles.
Beer and pizza are consumed.
Day 11: Tuesday
Breakfast is overwhelming: A huge array of bread in various forms – way too much for 2.
There’s all the usual buffet stuff: Salami, the most potent garlic breakfast sausage yet and cooked in a pan coffee, like they do in Morocco.
The coffee is like sludge, it isn’t filtered so you get all the grounds too, when you take a slug. I try drinking through my teeth, but being English, the gaps are too big. Otherwise it’s a nice place: We are eating in the large kitchen of the house, half a floor underground. Out of the back door is pasture, shrouded in mist.
We saddle-up and I lead us, straight-away down a dead-end out of town.
We turn around and back-track.
I f*ck-up one more time and we finally suss the “main road makes a 90 degree right” in the middle of town routine.
Kutina and Popovaca pass beneath our wheels in a promising start, but all too soon we enter the “never ending village” zone.
I have a hidden agenda and in Sisak we spot a bike shop.
In Romania I had suffered a catastrophic glove failure: During puncture – hell my Alpinestars fell to bits:
Paul rings to say he is safe.
334 miles.
Beer and pizza are consumed.
Day 11: Tuesday
Breakfast is overwhelming: A huge array of bread in various forms – way too much for 2.
There’s all the usual buffet stuff: Salami, the most potent garlic breakfast sausage yet and cooked in a pan coffee, like they do in Morocco.
The coffee is like sludge, it isn’t filtered so you get all the grounds too, when you take a slug. I try drinking through my teeth, but being English, the gaps are too big. Otherwise it’s a nice place: We are eating in the large kitchen of the house, half a floor underground. Out of the back door is pasture, shrouded in mist.
We saddle-up and I lead us, straight-away down a dead-end out of town.
We turn around and back-track.
I f*ck-up one more time and we finally suss the “main road makes a 90 degree right” in the middle of town routine.
Kutina and Popovaca pass beneath our wheels in a promising start, but all too soon we enter the “never ending village” zone.
I have a hidden agenda and in Sisak we spot a bike shop.
In Romania I had suffered a catastrophic glove failure: During puncture – hell my Alpinestars fell to bits:
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Mr K
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We leave Glina to the south on a road that degrades rapidly. The road surface is chronic. As a sad-arse BT engineer I note the telephone and overhead leccy lines are down, houses are shot to bits. The cemeteries that we pass appear well maintained though……eventually I arrive to find Brian doing a U- turn. It appears we are attempting subversive entry into Serbia and a lone border guard with portaloo and barrier informs me “You must go beck…to Glina” and I guess that he’s right.
Back on the right road we stop near Gvozd and have beer and a pizza. The toilets in this delightful roadside pit-stop are squat-o-ramas and I wonder as I teeter whether Eastern European Gymnastic supremacy may have something to do with useage of such facilities from birth?
After lunch we do the endless village routine for a while through Vojnic, Tusilovic and the delightfully named Slunj. It is slow going: There are miles of 80,70,60,50,40,30Km/h limits, with no overtaking and crawling, plutonium burning wagons.
Eventually we turn off and are heading for the coast. The roads change and although every 3rd house is shot to sh*t with light and medium ordinance, the mood is changing.
[Top tip for Croatia: Do not buy a house on top of a hill….or near the embassy, in Zagreb]
As we approached the coast we began to climb over a range of mountains. What a treat to finish off the day with. The scenery was ace and even a KLE500 mounted cop ignores the fact that I’d overtaken 3 cars across solid white lines. The road rose over the mountain ridge and plunged in spectacular style to the coast.
We tried one hotel on the main drag which claimed to be full (their loss) and wobbled down to the coast and stopped in Posodarje, near Zadar, at a Pension where the guy almost ran into the road and dragged us from our bikes. His clientele appeared mainly German and although I made sure he knew we were English I was happy to do the deal in German.
283 miles today.
Back on the right road we stop near Gvozd and have beer and a pizza. The toilets in this delightful roadside pit-stop are squat-o-ramas and I wonder as I teeter whether Eastern European Gymnastic supremacy may have something to do with useage of such facilities from birth?
After lunch we do the endless village routine for a while through Vojnic, Tusilovic and the delightfully named Slunj. It is slow going: There are miles of 80,70,60,50,40,30Km/h limits, with no overtaking and crawling, plutonium burning wagons.
Eventually we turn off and are heading for the coast. The roads change and although every 3rd house is shot to sh*t with light and medium ordinance, the mood is changing.
[Top tip for Croatia: Do not buy a house on top of a hill….or near the embassy, in Zagreb]
As we approached the coast we began to climb over a range of mountains. What a treat to finish off the day with. The scenery was ace and even a KLE500 mounted cop ignores the fact that I’d overtaken 3 cars across solid white lines. The road rose over the mountain ridge and plunged in spectacular style to the coast.
We tried one hotel on the main drag which claimed to be full (their loss) and wobbled down to the coast and stopped in Posodarje, near Zadar, at a Pension where the guy almost ran into the road and dragged us from our bikes. His clientele appeared mainly German and although I made sure he knew we were English I was happy to do the deal in German.
283 miles today.
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Mr K
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We are 25 feet above sea level according to the GPS and my eyes.
We stagger into town after a rub-down with a damp flannel……….and fall in love with the beer. We sit outside an establishment that serves Ozujsko on draught and motor through a few demi-litres, so much so that Brian has to go find a cash machine to pay the tab….and we haven’t eaten yet.
Eventually we need food to soak up some of the suds and repair to a place we spotted on the stroll down to the harbour.
In our traditional English ignorance we order 2 mixed grills…..for 2…and that lovely beer, but bottled this time:
We stagger into town after a rub-down with a damp flannel……….and fall in love with the beer. We sit outside an establishment that serves Ozujsko on draught and motor through a few demi-litres, so much so that Brian has to go find a cash machine to pay the tab….and we haven’t eaten yet.
Eventually we need food to soak up some of the suds and repair to a place we spotted on the stroll down to the harbour.
In our traditional English ignorance we order 2 mixed grills…..for 2…and that lovely beer, but bottled this time:
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Mr K
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After which, my memory fails me, but I recall the traditional ”ply the tourist with the 110% fire-water” routine….and I may have broken into song on the stagger back to the billet.
Day 12 Wednesday
We have breakfast on the terrace in the sun. I have a first: Tomato marmalade. It doesn’t kill me and we head off up what I perceived to be a peninsula but is actually an island: Pag.
For me this was the most beautiful part of the trip. I know the former Yugoslavian coast was a big holiday destination, but the way the desert meets the sea is gorgeous:
Day 12 Wednesday
We have breakfast on the terrace in the sun. I have a first: Tomato marmalade. It doesn’t kill me and we head off up what I perceived to be a peninsula but is actually an island: Pag.
For me this was the most beautiful part of the trip. I know the former Yugoslavian coast was a big holiday destination, but the way the desert meets the sea is gorgeous:
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We tried to spend the last of our Croat money but got stiffed by a slim, dark-haired, brown eyed, sexy waitress at a pizzeria in the town and ended up with twice as much useless money as we wanted to be rid of. She was a minx though. And as it was Brian’s money, it was worth it.
On we travelled: Kocevje – Sodrazica – Cerkivica – Planina- Godovic – Bovic- Trenta and finally signs for Kranska Gora. However the work wasn’t over yet: The way we approached the town, over the pass requires conquering (if my memory serves me at all) almost 50 hairpin bends.
On we travelled: Kocevje – Sodrazica – Cerkivica – Planina- Godovic – Bovic- Trenta and finally signs for Kranska Gora. However the work wasn’t over yet: The way we approached the town, over the pass requires conquering (if my memory serves me at all) almost 50 hairpin bends.
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We found Paul in a bar and went to a restaurant which served the most divine mushroom soup (laced with garlic) and a fair mushroom tagliatelle and steak….and house red in 1 litre bottles. We had the place to ourselves. Beaut!
On the stroll home I remarked how visible Mars was, in the clear mountain air. This theory was quashed by the observation that it was the warning beacon on the top of a nearby TV mast, on the surrounding mountains. I prefer my theory. Bugger!
Day 13 Thursday
Starting to feel a bit “on the way home now”: Tarvisio, Bovec, Tarcento, Pinzano, Travesio, Cimolains, Longarone, Pieve de cas, Agordo, Gosaldo, Strigno and after a long time searching, the Hotel Spera overlooking the Trento valley, as a few drops of rain caressed our visors…
I looked at the place and it’s location and figured the view would cost. But it didn’t and they even garaged the bikes for free.
On the stroll home I remarked how visible Mars was, in the clear mountain air. This theory was quashed by the observation that it was the warning beacon on the top of a nearby TV mast, on the surrounding mountains. I prefer my theory. Bugger!
Day 13 Thursday
Starting to feel a bit “on the way home now”: Tarvisio, Bovec, Tarcento, Pinzano, Travesio, Cimolains, Longarone, Pieve de cas, Agordo, Gosaldo, Strigno and after a long time searching, the Hotel Spera overlooking the Trento valley, as a few drops of rain caressed our visors…
I looked at the place and it’s location and figured the view would cost. But it didn’t and they even garaged the bikes for free.
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Mr K
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Day 14 Friday
I sleep lightly and know it has rained all night, but as we breakfast it has stopped.
We set off and ride through varying degrees of wet. To tease us the sun puts in an appearance before the rain pitches camp. Going over one of the passes I am swamped by a horde of Austrian registered nutters and let them go. Paul doesn’t give up so easily and shows them how it’s done.
I lose sight of Paul and wait for Brian.
We suffer a GPS glitch that takes us off-route (which will cause us to lose Paul yet again) and delays us maybe half an hour.
Back on route we twiddle and twist over pass after pass as the rain increases. We drop back to the main road. A sign reads “Trento 20Km” ….I am stunned: We have been riding for 3 hours and done nearly 120 miles (in by now heavy rain) and yet are only 60 Km down the road from last nights stop.
It is my turn to spit the dummy: My pants are soaked through. Our scenic passes route should maybe have been knocked on the head considering the precipitation and I want a hotel!!!!
Fortunately Brian is prepared to indulge me and we find “Albergo Rolly” just off the main drag, south of Arco, nr. Trento – a Pension with it’s own pizzeria and bar.
124 miles.
The rest of the afternoon is spent hanging kit out on the balcony, searching for cash machines and plundering the local Spar for beer and crisps.
I am proud of the way we spent the evening: In true Euro–café style we secured a table in the restaurant, outside, under the canopy and had a few beers, had a starter, took a few more beers and maybe some wine, selected a main course, had more beer and wine, ate our main course……….and all the while these so-called relaxed foreign types hooned in and out of the place, eating at the speed of light and sprinting off…………
Day 15 Saturday. Good coffee
Notes are limited:
Passo de la Croce Domini: 6,350 feet. 5 stars.
Passo di Vivione: 6,200 feet
Passo de Eira: 7,200 feet.
I sleep lightly and know it has rained all night, but as we breakfast it has stopped.
We set off and ride through varying degrees of wet. To tease us the sun puts in an appearance before the rain pitches camp. Going over one of the passes I am swamped by a horde of Austrian registered nutters and let them go. Paul doesn’t give up so easily and shows them how it’s done.
I lose sight of Paul and wait for Brian.
We suffer a GPS glitch that takes us off-route (which will cause us to lose Paul yet again) and delays us maybe half an hour.
Back on route we twiddle and twist over pass after pass as the rain increases. We drop back to the main road. A sign reads “Trento 20Km” ….I am stunned: We have been riding for 3 hours and done nearly 120 miles (in by now heavy rain) and yet are only 60 Km down the road from last nights stop.
It is my turn to spit the dummy: My pants are soaked through. Our scenic passes route should maybe have been knocked on the head considering the precipitation and I want a hotel!!!!
Fortunately Brian is prepared to indulge me and we find “Albergo Rolly” just off the main drag, south of Arco, nr. Trento – a Pension with it’s own pizzeria and bar.
124 miles.
The rest of the afternoon is spent hanging kit out on the balcony, searching for cash machines and plundering the local Spar for beer and crisps.
I am proud of the way we spent the evening: In true Euro–café style we secured a table in the restaurant, outside, under the canopy and had a few beers, had a starter, took a few more beers and maybe some wine, selected a main course, had more beer and wine, ate our main course……….and all the while these so-called relaxed foreign types hooned in and out of the place, eating at the speed of light and sprinting off…………
Day 15 Saturday. Good coffee
Notes are limited:
Passo de la Croce Domini: 6,350 feet. 5 stars.
Passo di Vivione: 6,200 feet
Passo de Eira: 7,200 feet.
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Eventually, in Livigno, we met up with Paul again. Unfortunately it was bike week or summat and the Sports Hotel thought it could get away with 60 Euro a night each. Reception bint, who suddenly speaks English, claims this is the norm in town On the opposite side of the valley Hotel Europa with English speaking staff sorted us for 40 Euro with evening meal.
We go down in history as the first people to go to the bar more than twice, after dinner.
Day 11 Sunday
Missed church again. Filled with cheap petrol (88c per litre) and depart. We head south initially, out of the valley and north-west towards St. Moritz and the Swiss border.
We pass through Tiefen Kastel, Davos and Landqan.
This is my token Swiss picture:
We go down in history as the first people to go to the bar more than twice, after dinner.
Day 11 Sunday
Missed church again. Filled with cheap petrol (88c per litre) and depart. We head south initially, out of the valley and north-west towards St. Moritz and the Swiss border.
We pass through Tiefen Kastel, Davos and Landqan.
This is my token Swiss picture:
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Mr K
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In Zug we stop to refuel. I’m glad: I have been in danger of falling asleep and grab a Red Bull and a Mars bar too. We’re about 100 miles from our planned stop in Germany, in the Black Forest.
Somewhere, still in Switzerland, we stop at a T-junction to check the route and about 10 Porsches of varying types turn up the road we’re going on. Inwardly I grimace: I know Paul will want a few Stuttgart scalps….and it’s raining on and off. I can picture a big heap of smoking cars with a red 1200GS on top of the pile, just around the next bend.
Fortunately the Porsche Poofters are rubbish and even I pass the lot, in 2 goes, round the outside, on bends, on wet roads.
We carry on into Germany, through Baar, Brigg, past Titisee and Furtwangen, arriving finally in Oberwolfach, in the heart of the Black Forest. 300 miles.
We stay in individual rooms at Pension Grunach and go to the Gasthof Linde for our evening meal.
I wasn’t aware, but the place is run by a bike-loon called Klaus. He is definitely biased towards 2-wheeled travellers. In the corridor from bar to toilets was a large book-case filled with back issues of bike magazines.
Funny! I don’t seem to have a picture of Pension Grunach, as such , but the Bandikatzen soon arrived:
Somewhere, still in Switzerland, we stop at a T-junction to check the route and about 10 Porsches of varying types turn up the road we’re going on. Inwardly I grimace: I know Paul will want a few Stuttgart scalps….and it’s raining on and off. I can picture a big heap of smoking cars with a red 1200GS on top of the pile, just around the next bend.
Fortunately the Porsche Poofters are rubbish and even I pass the lot, in 2 goes, round the outside, on bends, on wet roads.
We carry on into Germany, through Baar, Brigg, past Titisee and Furtwangen, arriving finally in Oberwolfach, in the heart of the Black Forest. 300 miles.
We stay in individual rooms at Pension Grunach and go to the Gasthof Linde for our evening meal.
I wasn’t aware, but the place is run by a bike-loon called Klaus. He is definitely biased towards 2-wheeled travellers. In the corridor from bar to toilets was a large book-case filled with back issues of bike magazines.
Funny! I don’t seem to have a picture of Pension Grunach, as such , but the Bandikatzen soon arrived:
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