This was the day set to ride one of the most famous highways in the world. Made for petrol heads.
But of course I started by being confused about the time. Normally I wake up around 06:30. Its just something I do, semiautomatically adjusting for summer and wintertime, but the first day in a new timezone can be confusing. Especially if you don't realise your modern technology automatically resets itself.
Whatever the iPad and the smartphone said it was definitely an hour ahead in Romania. I knew this. Since September last year I've been to 18 member states of the EU, unfortunately not on the bike, but on a plane/taxi/hotel/taxi/plane conveyor belt.
This was visiting EU Member States, to help them spend our European taxpayers money more efficiently. It's interesting and rewarding and tiring. But you get used to new places and different timezones. But I did not realise my technology had reset itself over the wifi and I was on actual time, not Central European Summer Time. So of course I could have napped for an extra hour.
But I got up because it was going to be a big day.
With a slightly thick head I did some stretching/yoga, which for me really helps my balance on the bike. It is a lot easier with a YouTube video of some overly fit and supple female asking you to 'breathe into the intensity' (pain) and 'just put your foot behind your head', or some other completely silly concept. To get through tis takes a particular kind of stubborn. The ladies don't seem to mind the feedback, which is normally a rich mix of Anglo-Saxon and other west European.
So I stretched and showered and packed and dressed and slobbed around till 9, because I knew the hotel did not serve breakfast till 9.
It was 8.
So I want back up to bed and lay down for half an hour, but hunger won. So I got up, loaded the bike and set off to find somewhere else for breakfast.
The main square was slowly waking up, with backpackers imitating zombies as they faced a complete lack of anything to do but amble around, staring at uncomprehending buildings that stared back silently.
Maybe because it is in Transylvania, but in Sibiu nowhere serves breakfast before 9 am.
No early riser cafés, no dingy bars, no cheery greetings.
Having discovered the backwaters, byways and even the main roads around town, after half an hour cruising around on the trusty Tiger I ended up back at the hotel and enjoyed a big breakfast.
The bike was parked in one of those semi-legal, but not in anyone's way, places on the edge of the main square. If an overly keen official had spotted it while I broke the fast, they had not bothered with a ticket. Presumably the only way of extracting money from an Italian registered bike is to tow it, but that would not help tourism.
The road out of town was easy and I followed the signs for Fagaras. Presumably the Transfagarasan highway ended near there, though Google and MapMe said it was before the town.
There were no signs so I stopped in Fagaras, realised where the highway had actually started and rode back the 20 km to the petrol station (with free wifi) where I'd seen a large group of bikers, some 30 minutes before.
There were still no signs for one of the best known biking roads in Europe, (which was not registered as such on Google Maps) but the petrol station guys knew.
I still asked a couple of people over the next few kilometres, as it seemed quiet. Then the signs started, Biker Friendly Rooms they said, in English. That helped the confidence.
And the road steadily went countrywards. Winding towards the looming Carpathian mountains. Steadily leaving behind places that are on Google maps.
No settlements, just a road winding into the misty mountains. It reminded me very much of the Rohtang Pass, deep in the Himalayas, which was towards the end of a huge adventure with Alex Pirie and Nomadic Knights and in a blog last year.
The road was a lot more Eurotourist than the Rohtang. The trees disappeared, the mist got heavier, the curves curvier and you were almost expecting bagpipes hidden in the mist to start calling for your surrender.
Top Gear really liked it. Although it was more for racers than Adventurers, it was fun and interesting.
And cold, and as we got to the top, busier, much busier.
The fun of a bike is that you can skip up queues. Abbishek Bellie, Nomadic Knights outrider and sweeper upper showed us how to just keep going. India was good training for Romanian tourism.
There were a large number of English registered cars. A mystery explained a couple of days later. And as soon as there was a photo opportunity, or a place with parking, then the newly enabled, car owning, citizens of Romania were taking full advantage of a summer weekend to explore.
Soon after starting the climb with the famous curves there was no high rev roaring, just bobbing and weaving through the traffic. But the views when the mist cleared were stunning, however I was more intent on living the experience than recording it.
Close to the top the traffic was completely jammed. I edged through a flat part where lots of stands selling sausages and souvenirs lined the road. It was an absolute clusterfuck. Soon after was a tunnel, which marked the top, and once through the logjam the road was pretty open, going my way. The other way was solid traffic for several kilometres. It is easy to imagine the thoughts of the drivers and passengers imprisoned in their steel boxes, in a tunnel, without lights, or phone signal, at altitude.
The other side of the tunnel was a fire station, dynamited into the hillside. Presumably with medical experience as well. The emergency service for this highly remote spot. It seemed like very sensible planning.
My brother called while I was heading downhill. A late birthday chat. The reception was intermittent but tolerable. It was good to talk and highly amusing to think I was chatting through a motorbike helmet some 2,000 metres up the Carpathian mountains in Romania. Cool.
The way down was slower. It is harder going down than up on a bike. It takes longer to slow down and brake. Like skiing, the skill is being able to slow down and stop. Speed is easy, staying safe is more challenging. I far more enjoy riding uphill than the downhill. But you do get the views going downhill.
Similar to coming down the strange pass in Bosnia, the trees steadily appeared, it got warmer, there was more of a green colour and life became more gentle. At every wider space or clearing in the woods, cars were parked and families were picnicing. The growth of tourism in Romania must be staggering.
Not so many touring bikes were out but whenever I saw them there was a friendly biker wave, or a toot of the horn. It is friendlier in Europe. Driving on the right means the throttle hand is on the far side of the traffic. So you can wave, or raise an index finger, or come out with a biker/rapper hand gesture friendly greeting. In the UK you gesture to the pedestrians, or cars you pass, in Europe it is fellow bikers.
And they were a friendly bunch.
I found somewhere to stop for lunch, deep in a valley.
The signs for Dracula Camping seemed a little ambitious, this may be Transylvania, but it is the edge of it. Then the source of the publicity became obvious with another logjam of cars and coaches.
But of course I started by being confused about the time. Normally I wake up around 06:30. Its just something I do, semiautomatically adjusting for summer and wintertime, but the first day in a new timezone can be confusing. Especially if you don't realise your modern technology automatically resets itself.
Whatever the iPad and the smartphone said it was definitely an hour ahead in Romania. I knew this. Since September last year I've been to 18 member states of the EU, unfortunately not on the bike, but on a plane/taxi/hotel/taxi/plane conveyor belt.
This was visiting EU Member States, to help them spend our European taxpayers money more efficiently. It's interesting and rewarding and tiring. But you get used to new places and different timezones. But I did not realise my technology had reset itself over the wifi and I was on actual time, not Central European Summer Time. So of course I could have napped for an extra hour.
But I got up because it was going to be a big day.
With a slightly thick head I did some stretching/yoga, which for me really helps my balance on the bike. It is a lot easier with a YouTube video of some overly fit and supple female asking you to 'breathe into the intensity' (pain) and 'just put your foot behind your head', or some other completely silly concept. To get through tis takes a particular kind of stubborn. The ladies don't seem to mind the feedback, which is normally a rich mix of Anglo-Saxon and other west European.
So I stretched and showered and packed and dressed and slobbed around till 9, because I knew the hotel did not serve breakfast till 9.
It was 8.
So I want back up to bed and lay down for half an hour, but hunger won. So I got up, loaded the bike and set off to find somewhere else for breakfast.
The main square was slowly waking up, with backpackers imitating zombies as they faced a complete lack of anything to do but amble around, staring at uncomprehending buildings that stared back silently.
Maybe because it is in Transylvania, but in Sibiu nowhere serves breakfast before 9 am.No early riser cafés, no dingy bars, no cheery greetings.
Having discovered the backwaters, byways and even the main roads around town, after half an hour cruising around on the trusty Tiger I ended up back at the hotel and enjoyed a big breakfast.
The bike was parked in one of those semi-legal, but not in anyone's way, places on the edge of the main square. If an overly keen official had spotted it while I broke the fast, they had not bothered with a ticket. Presumably the only way of extracting money from an Italian registered bike is to tow it, but that would not help tourism.
The road out of town was easy and I followed the signs for Fagaras. Presumably the Transfagarasan highway ended near there, though Google and MapMe said it was before the town.
There were no signs so I stopped in Fagaras, realised where the highway had actually started and rode back the 20 km to the petrol station (with free wifi) where I'd seen a large group of bikers, some 30 minutes before.
There were still no signs for one of the best known biking roads in Europe, (which was not registered as such on Google Maps) but the petrol station guys knew.
I still asked a couple of people over the next few kilometres, as it seemed quiet. Then the signs started, Biker Friendly Rooms they said, in English. That helped the confidence.
And the road steadily went countrywards. Winding towards the looming Carpathian mountains. Steadily leaving behind places that are on Google maps.
No settlements, just a road winding into the misty mountains. It reminded me very much of the Rohtang Pass, deep in the Himalayas, which was towards the end of a huge adventure with Alex Pirie and Nomadic Knights and in a blog last year.
The road was a lot more Eurotourist than the Rohtang. The trees disappeared, the mist got heavier, the curves curvier and you were almost expecting bagpipes hidden in the mist to start calling for your surrender.
Top Gear really liked it. Although it was more for racers than Adventurers, it was fun and interesting.
And cold, and as we got to the top, busier, much busier.
The fun of a bike is that you can skip up queues. Abbishek Bellie, Nomadic Knights outrider and sweeper upper showed us how to just keep going. India was good training for Romanian tourism.
There were a large number of English registered cars. A mystery explained a couple of days later. And as soon as there was a photo opportunity, or a place with parking, then the newly enabled, car owning, citizens of Romania were taking full advantage of a summer weekend to explore.
Soon after starting the climb with the famous curves there was no high rev roaring, just bobbing and weaving through the traffic. But the views when the mist cleared were stunning, however I was more intent on living the experience than recording it.
Close to the top the traffic was completely jammed. I edged through a flat part where lots of stands selling sausages and souvenirs lined the road. It was an absolute clusterfuck. Soon after was a tunnel, which marked the top, and once through the logjam the road was pretty open, going my way. The other way was solid traffic for several kilometres. It is easy to imagine the thoughts of the drivers and passengers imprisoned in their steel boxes, in a tunnel, without lights, or phone signal, at altitude.
The other side of the tunnel was a fire station, dynamited into the hillside. Presumably with medical experience as well. The emergency service for this highly remote spot. It seemed like very sensible planning.
My brother called while I was heading downhill. A late birthday chat. The reception was intermittent but tolerable. It was good to talk and highly amusing to think I was chatting through a motorbike helmet some 2,000 metres up the Carpathian mountains in Romania. Cool.
The way down was slower. It is harder going down than up on a bike. It takes longer to slow down and brake. Like skiing, the skill is being able to slow down and stop. Speed is easy, staying safe is more challenging. I far more enjoy riding uphill than the downhill. But you do get the views going downhill.
Similar to coming down the strange pass in Bosnia, the trees steadily appeared, it got warmer, there was more of a green colour and life became more gentle. At every wider space or clearing in the woods, cars were parked and families were picnicing. The growth of tourism in Romania must be staggering.
Not so many touring bikes were out but whenever I saw them there was a friendly biker wave, or a toot of the horn. It is friendlier in Europe. Driving on the right means the throttle hand is on the far side of the traffic. So you can wave, or raise an index finger, or come out with a biker/rapper hand gesture friendly greeting. In the UK you gesture to the pedestrians, or cars you pass, in Europe it is fellow bikers. And they were a friendly bunch.
I found somewhere to stop for lunch, deep in a valley.
Weirdly for somewhere on a famous trail, but not so weird because we were deep in the countryside, there was no wifi, but the food was good and most welcome.
Burning through my precious cash reserves the salad and barbequed chicken seemed the closest I was going to get to biker ballast.
And it was onwards and downwards.
The signs for Dracula Camping seemed a little ambitious, this may be Transylvania, but it is the edge of it. Then the source of the publicity became obvious with another logjam of cars and coaches.
High on the hill above (only just visible in the selfie) and only reachable by some 1,460 steps, was the run down castle of Vlad The Impaler. But it seems anywhere with a castle is claiming to be connected with Dracula.
Still it seemed fun and could not be missed, though the selfie took only a moment, as you can see the helmet and Harley shades stayed on.
At least it was getting warmer, so eventually the bike gear came off, right when I took the first right, after 20 km, ready for the journey back to Sibiu. I got the right right, but took the next right too early.
I had hoped to ride the other massively famous road, the Tranalpino, but ended up on a road preferred by tourist coaches. The countryside was often lovely, but it was a constant stream of traffic, which requires a different riding style (filtering - or overtaking when possible) if you are ever going to get anywhere.
The great part of a friendly and respectful relationship with a Tiger is that, when asked, this beast just goes. The acceleration is glorious. I was a lot heavier than normal on the throttle and the brakes, but we had a job to do. get back to somewhere where we could bed down for the night.
It was late afternoon when we wearily sidled in to Hotel Weidner again, only to be told they were fully booked . As was every other hotel in Sibiu they knew. No worries, TripAdvisor and Airbnb and Booking.com were ready and willing, and told me everywhere else for at least 50 km around was booked.
But there might be somewhere in Alba Iulia, near the start of the Transalpino, on the edge of that 50 km totally reserved zone.
That seemed a good idea....
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