Of Bush and Beach

High up in the gums

Kookaburra laughs madly,

Magpie's notes ring clear.

Well, it's been a couple of weeks of culture shock but we've finally become accustomed (or is that enured?) to hearing the Australian accent, to cycling on the left side of the road and to having more than two sets of clothing to wear.

Relaxing at my mother's house in Brisbane's bayside suburbs, we were awoken early every morning by an avian chorus – magpies, butcher birds, kookaburras, rainbow lorikeets, scrub turkeys and top knot pigeons all vying for her attention and for food. 

Kookaburra on mum's front patio

Hungry magpie and butcher birds

At night randy koalas grunt from the tree tops and flying foxes chatter and screech in the trees out back. A couple of large blue tongue lizards roam the back yard. And there's a redback on the toilet seat. Only joking - the redbacks are in the garage.

It's nice to see wild life again.

Our first task once we arrived (after sleeping off the long flight) was to find a replacement bike for Neil. Unfortunately we had to leave Neil's bike behind in Istanbul. It was either that or pay €1000 excess baggage – we flew with Emirates and had to include the bikes in our 30kg luggage allowance. Despite bringing barely any clothing back with us, the bikes (boxed), panniers, camping gear and a few souvenirs had us weighing in at nearly 40kg each, sans carry-on.

At €50 per kilo for excess baggage, we decided it was easier (and cheaper) to replace one bike than our camping gear. So Neil's bike, having had the most problems along the way, lost out. We stripped off the Tubus and Old Man Mountain racks and the Brooks saddle before leaving the bike in a box with a sign 'free to good home'. Hopefully somewhere in Istanbul, someone is now enjoying riding a free mountain bike they found near the airport.

As luck would have it, the second bike shop we visited, on Middle Street in Cleveland (can't remember the name but it was something like RT's Bikes),  had a second hand Trek 520 touring bike for sale – one of the models we had been thinking of upgrading to. Neil snaffled that quick smart. We also got plenty of good advice on where to ride and where to avoid (very handy as Brisbane and Australia in general does not seem to have a good reputation for driver tolerance of cyclists – a couple of cyclist deaths in the first week we were back made us more cautious than usual on the roads).

After a couple of rides around Wellington Point, Cleveland Point and Victoria Point, I was keen to go further afield – to North Stradbroke Island. Or Straddie, as the locals call it. A large island in Moreton Bay, North Stradbroke Island has kilometres of sandy surf beaches - Main Beach on the eastern side is 32km long. After Fraser Island, it is actually the second largest sand island in the world. Point Lookout, on the northeastern corner, is at this time of year a popular place to watch for migrating whales. I hadn't been there since my university days more than 25 years ago and figured it was time to revisit.

We waited for my sister and her family to join us from Sydney, the kids on school holidays. Then we all trooped over one fine Saturday on the water taxi, to join more family already camped at Adder Rock near Point Lookout. They had already seen whales and dolphins off the beach near Adder Rock but we weren't to have the same fortune.

On the water taxi - Neil's bike's first proper outing

Neil, not happy at being on the other side of the camera

Keen to arrive at Straddie

The road from Dunwich (there is only one road) where the water taxi terminates is fairly smooth with a hard shoulder, that we used as a cycle lane, most of the way to Point Lookout. Through bush all the way, it undulates diagonally across the island for close to 20km. A lot of the bush has been regenerated after sand mining. The majority of cars passing us were four wheel drives, festooned with multiple fishing rods, kayaks, surf skis and surf boards. It is possible to drive along Main Beach by four wheel drive, after purchasing a permit. In the centre of the island is Blue Lake National Park, which we didn't visit this time.

However, we did enjoy a lovely refreshing swim in the surf under the warm sun (our previous sea swim was in Donegal last October which was hypothermia inducing rather than refreshing). And had some fun on the sand dunes at Cylinder Beach. Did I mention the Gelati van that comes around to the campsites? Mmmmm.

Toby digging in the sand while Neil and Ethan wait for a wave

Ethan and Sam catching a wave, Toby still digging

Lisha chilling out, Home Beach

Sam surfing the sand at Cylinder Beach

Riley, speed demon

Great view from the top

It's not as easy as it looks on the coke ads

Neil and Riley on the walk back to Cylinder Beach

We'll be back for a longer trip another time, I think.

Meanwhile, we have now decamped to Wagga Wagga via Sydney where we are catching up with Neil's family. And unfortunately the time has come to stop lazing in the sunshine and start heading back to the real world – to the rat race, to start looking for work. Where we will be in several weeks time is anybody's guess...

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words - Gabby, photos - mostly Neil

Byzantine wanderings

Evening prayer call
echoes around the meydan,
under full moon's light.

After a night that seemed to contain at least 24 hours, including two very interesting border crossings, we arrived at last in Istanbul last Friday morning. By bus. Yes, we cheated. We only cycled to the Black Sea. From Dublin. And frankly, considering the state of the Bulgarian roads, we're quite glad we caught the bus.

Leaving the bus station at first light we cycled along the shore of the Sea of Marmara until it became the Bosphorus, skirting the oldest parts of Istanbul until we rounded into the Golden Horn and located our pension - right by the old citadel wall. Expecting a navigational nightmare, we were pleasantly surprised at how easy it was.

Our first view of the Blue Mosque.

Looking over to the Asian side, along the Sea of Marmara. 

After a bit of rest and recovery (from both the bus trip and our cycle journey), we set out to explore the city. So the last few days have been filled with walking, eating, exploring, drinking tea, drinking coffee, eating, people watching, talking, bargaining and even relaxing. We've not enjoyed the feel of a city so much since Amsterdam or Paris.

The weather has been delightful - blue skies and mid to high twenties every day, the nights balmy. We've even had a full moon. We are staying in the tiny shabby chic Sur Pansiyon, a short walk from everything and if we are here mid-afternoon, our hostess brings up a tray with tea or coffee to our room. Then runs off as quick as she can so we don't try to speak English to her, though we get huge smiles when we try one of our three words of Turkish.

Comic ice-cream vendors, friendly cats, loquacious carpet sellers, smooth Turkish delight, crunchy baklava, spicy meze, interesting old buildings, coffee you can stand a spoon in and the simple fact that ducking out for a kebab can constitute fine dining. We won't forget Istanbul in a hurry. It's been a fine end to our journey.

I'll not badger you with any more details but here's a few photos:

Inside the Topkapi palace.

Outside the audience chamber, Topkapi palace.

Topkapi palace.

Blue Mosque from inside the courtyard.

Courtyard detail, Blue Mosque.

Colonnade roof, Blue Mosque.

Inside the Blue Mosque, beautiful decoration.

Gawking like a yokel, inside the Blue Mosque.

Sultanahmet - the Blue Mosque. It's just so photogenic !

Galata tower, over the Golden Horn.

Basilica cistern, built in the 4th century.

Typical Roman brick vaulting, Basilica cistern.

Inside the Hagia Sophia, showing the mish mash of Islamic and Christian decoration.

One of the stunning mosaics, Hagia Sophia.

Hagia Sophia mosaic.

Cat inspecting carpets in the Grand Bazaar.

Tomorrow we pack up the bikes and the next day, fly out to Brisbane for the next part of our adventure - living in the real world.

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words - Gabby, photos - Neil and Gabby

Pedal faster

Men showing bellies

expansive flesh on display

what is up with that?

Having checked our bank balance after a few more than expected hotel and pensiune stays in Romania, we came to the conclusion that in order to reach Istanbul before we completely ran out of money we had two options: pedal faster or eat less.

Naturally we chose the former.

And just as naturally, it wasn't quite that easy...

After leaving our plush hotel room in Drobuta-Turnu Severin last Wednesday we started our push. That day we broke three records – fastest downhill (54km/h), longest distance covered in one day (132km !) and most hello's in one village (in Poiana Mare we must have been greeted by nearly every man, woman and child as we cycled through).

The most common greeting was 'Buna', Romanian for hi, but we also heard hello, hola, salud and even one sawadee (Thai).

It was a long day, made even longer by our search for a quiet camp in the fields. There was no quiet corner anywhere – everyone was out in the fields from long before dawn to long after sunset harvesting then shucking the corn. By hand. Eventually we found a sheltered spot just off the road in a field that had already been harvested.

One more long slow hill, Romania.

The other problem with wild camping is the combination of extremely greasy factor 50 sunscreen, copious quantities of road dust and sweat coupled with a lack of water. So we decided to alternate wild camping with pensiune stays where camp grounds weren't available.

In most villages, the young boys would compete to see who could get close enough to high-five one or both of us. We just hope they washed their hands afterward.

Thursday night we stayed in a hotel overlooking the Danube at Corabia after a measly 113km, enjoying the shower and airconditioning as well as the cooked breakfast the next morning.

By Friday, as we got closer to Bucharest, the villages were increasing in size and showing a little more wealth. The houses had more land around them, with a few flowers - not just used for farming. We still passed flocks of grey and white geese by the road side. Plenty of turkeys and chickens as well, and carts drawn by horse or donkey loaded up with corn cobs. But there were also more Audis and Dacias (the Romanian Renault rip-off) on the roads now. 

Turnu Magarele, Romania.

Common to the rest of the world Romanian drivers, whether of horse and cart or brand new Audi, drive single handed – the other clasping a mobile phone to ear. Or even better, texting. We liked the way oncoming car drivers could simultaneously drive, talk on the phone, honk the horn and wave at us. We just wished they could stay on their side of the road while they did it.

Friday, we started to wilt. Neil's insomnia had been acting up and Iron Guts Gabby ate something that disagreed slightly (ok, it was more like a twenty round punch up than a slight disagreement but you really don't want the gory details). So we stopped at the only hotel for 50km in either direction after cycling only 88km.

Unfortunately it happened to be a four star hotel. With a bath. And wi-fi. And the hugest bed in the world.

Budget ? What budget ??

Friday night we both got worse so decided to stay another night. Slight problem - no more rooms, the hotel was fully booked. So we had to ride on to the next town – more than 60km away.

Naturally this is where we hit the worst stretch of road in Romania. Huge potholes and stomach cramps do not mix well. Travelling extremely slowly, it took us most of the day to cover the 63km we could normally have covered before lunch.

Once in Giurgiu we relaxed for two nights in the comfortable Hotel Sud (slumming it in three star) before heading off on Monday, 280km to go to the Black Sea coast. It seemed so close, an easy three days we thought.

Concrete apartment block next to our hotel, Giurgiu, Romania.

Not quite feeling recovered, we still managed to cover 117km over countryside becoming steadily more hilly. Another long day, another wild camp, another field, another stunning sunset, another wonderfully starry night. For the first time we were starting to look forward to finishing our journey rather than enjoying the journey itself.

Neil cooking dinner at sunset, wild camp near Calarasi, Romania.

Another peaceful sunset.

Dawn over our camp, in a corner of someone's field.

The long grasses are covered in tiny white snails.

The second last day, Tuesday, was the worst. After crossing the Danube by ferry to Silestra, we continued along the south side of the river before farewelling it, our companion of the last couple of thousand kilometres, and heading for the coast. At Silestra we met some new, unwelcome, travelling companions – cobble stones.

Cobble stones are pretty enough to look at and certainly lend an air of historic credibility to a village. But to cycle upon – well, printable words fail me. Between Silestra and Ion Corvin, where we collapsed on Tuesday night (in a bed), a distance of more than 50km, possibly one third of the road was cobbled.

Think of the saying 'cobbled together' and you have a better mental image of the roads we travelled. We didn't even take any photos we were so shook up. And after nearly 5000km of puncture-free cycling, I manged to get a puncture (through kevlar lined tyres) after a really rough section. There were also lots of hills. With cobbles.

Roadside workshop.

The scenery was actually quite nice - large expenses of grape vines, roads lined with walnut trees and a few enormous fields of sunflowers ready for harvest, that would have looked amazing in early summer in full flower.

Our last glimpse of the Danube, east of Silestra.

Interesting pensiune decor, Ion Corvin, Romania.

Wednesday. At last. Our final day on the road. Luckily there were no more energy draining cobbles after Ion Corvin, and after the first 40km even the hills started flattening out as we got closer to the coast. Then the busy roads started and we were among city traffic again.

Roadside picnic table, with accompanying rubbish tip.

Monastery near Adamscli, Romania.

Picnic lunch in the shade of a walnut.

Only 35km to go !

Last leg on a busy highway with no shoulder.

All we wanted to do was to get to the water, maybe have a swim, definitely have an ice-cream, then find a hotel. Naturally it wasn't that easy. Navigating city traffic with a really basic map (no street names) is never fun and at the end of a very tiring three days cycling, Neil made one last heroic effort and finally got us to the water's edge.

Traditional self photo - us by the Black Sea !

Congratulations !

Not to swim, but for an ice-cream. It was enough. 4963km from Dublin and we were finally looking at the Black Sea.

And the water IS almost black in colour. Unlike the Danube which was not blue.

Next stop, Istanbul. By bus.

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words and photos by both of us

Romania - it's been emotional

Flailed by hot dry winds,

covered in dirt, dust and sweat,

we struggle on, tired.

How many highs and lows can two people have in the space of six days ? Bucketloads.

Since leaving our cool, air-conditioned haven in Beska (Serbia)  last Thursday we have experienced extreme heat, battled horrendous headwinds, cycled through stunning river gorges, camped behind shrubs on the edge of a field and wallowed in luxury in a hotel.

Our hotel in Beska, Serbia - for a ludicrous €22 per night.

Hazy sunset, Beska.

We left Beska as early as we could after breakfast, heading for Belgrade, the Serbian capital. Even so, it was already 33 degrees Celcius by 8.30. Luckily we only had 60km to ride so we arrived before midday and spent the obscenely hot afternoon hours relaxing in the shade. It got to 40 degrees that day, but the good news was that it was expected to start cooling slowly over the next few days to the more manageable mid then low 30's.

Despite knowing that it was only forecast to be 36 on Friday, we decided to make an early start to get through Belgrade before too much traffic made it a nightmare for cycling. Leaving at 6.20am unfortunately wasn't early enough.

By the time we arrived in the city from the campground (on the outskirts) at 7.30 the streets were already teeming with cars and a nasty headwind was making itself felt. Signage, really quite good throughout the rest of Serbia, let us down in the city centre and we missed an important turn, spending an unfortunate hour meandering through the city streets until someone finally pointed us in the right direction.

We did however find a great little bakery right in the centre of town where we purchased some delicious pastries. These wonderful pastries kept us going all day. And a very long day it was.

Thirteen and a half hours after leaving that morning we pulled up outside a tiny restaurant with a couple of rooms to let, 105km from Belgrade. You do the maths, it's not pretty. Between Belgrade and Dubovac, for that was the name of this pinprick on the map, we battled ever worsening head winds, slowing us down to 9km/h at times (we usually cruise at about 20km/h).

We had planned to camp but the campsite marked on our map did not exist, so we had to continue an extra 15km along a dirt track, with a dust storm at our backs, until we found somewhere to stay. The air was extremely hazy from the wind and the Danube, quite choppy.

Dust storm across the Danube.

Dust storm, dead trees in the water and our cycle path.

We had a bit of a sleep in the next day and didn't leave until almost 9, with a good breakfast under our belts - hard sheeps cheese, boiled eggs, bread and jam with an excellent almost turkish-style coffee. Heading north and east toward the Romanian border unfortunately the head wind had not died down overnight, in fact seemed to have strengthened. Some gusts had us battling to stay on the road as it came in from the side. From the front it slowed us down to 7km/h at times. And then there was the huge hill not marked on our map – with a 12% gradient !

Bela Crkva, Serbia

Hills of Muntil Locva, Romania

To make matters worse we had to traverse east along one valley for 20km against the wind before turning around and coming 20km down the next valley in a westerly direction (luckily with the wind at our backs this time) just to reach a border crossing that we could use (the closer one was only open for locals). We relaxed once in Romania though, knowing that it is not just not illegal to wild camp (like in Croatia and Serbia) but that it is entirely legal to camp on public land.

Our next problem was money, the nearest ATM was in a town about 50km away, against the wind (you cannot buy Romanian currency outside of Romania) but we had forseen this and stocked up on food before leaving Serbia, so we could at least wild camp and eat.

And water – no taps or pumps visible on the streets of the villages (In Hungary, the pumps in the street were all bright blue, making them easy to find). Neil ended up asking a woman in a little one-roomed village shop for water and she gladly filled our bottles. And the next day as well, an old woman sitting outside her house in the village of Svinita helped us out with water.

In fact, we have found the Romanians to be even friendlier than the Serbians with their waving and their hellos. Though sometimes the horn honking can be a bit startling. We have not, as seems the norm with tourists to this country, included a photograph of horse and cart on Romanian roads. While we have seen (and even overtaken) horses and carts on the roads here (as we have in Hungary, Serbia, Croatia and Ireland), Audis are more prevalent.

Choppy Danube.

Hand-made haystacks, rather than machine made bales.

As we came back to the Danube from our 40km border crossing diversion we found the wind even worse than before. We struggled on as far as we could then made camp by the side of a field. We didn't sleep well that night because the wind did not abate one iota and the tent fly kept flapping noisily throughout the night. There was another stunning sunset with all the dust in the air and so many stars visible away from all the light pollution of towns.

Another stunning sunset

Up with the sunrise on Sunday morning and off early into the breach once more – this headwind thing was starting to wear us down. The prevailing winds along the Danube are generally downstream and this upstream gale had the river a mess of white capped waves and a churned dirty brown colour. Sunday morning was the worst yet.

We arrived in Moldova Noua to find an ATM and at least get some local currency. Luckily one of the two machines was working. From Moldova Noua the river swells into a bulge and the wind coming over the water was tremendously strong – we were held to 6km/h for the parts of the road that faced into the wind – which was a lot of it, seeing as we were following the river downstream. 

Leaning into the wind, trying to stay on the road

However, we were now in the Portile de Fier (Gates of Iron) National Park and the road closely follows the river through some very narrow gorges. The steep hills on either side began to offer some protection from the winds. They were also stunning to look at. Almost like cycling through fjords but without the pine trees. 

Self photo in the Iron Gates

Iron Gates National Park

On the Serbian side, the road continues through 18 tunnels where the rocky hillside is too steep but on the Romanian side, the road winds right by the river nearly the entire way from Bazias near the border to Drobuta-Turnu Severin, a distance of about 130km. There are many problems with landslides so some stretches of road are currently under repair – both the road surface and the chunky bulwarks against the cliff faces to keep stones and dirt from the road.

Dogs everywhere, waiting, hoping.

Finally on Sunday afternoon the wind started to ease and we decided to treat our exhausted bodies to a rest in a B&B. Except that none that were marked on our map seemed to exist. So we plodded on and on and just when we'd almost had enough, we came across a Pensiune (B&B). The Cabana Delfinul was so restful we decided to stay another night and have a proper rest.

Our room looked over the Danube and our balcony had even better views up and down the river. The strong winds calmed to a gentle breeze and we had a lovely day on Monday relaxing, eating, reading and practicing our Romanian (a lot easier than Hungarian – sort of a strange mix of Italian and Russian).

Fisherman, seen from our balcony

From our balcony, a view of where the river narrows into 'the boilers'

Leaving this morning, farewelled by one of three resident dogs.

This morning we left after our breakfast omlettes and coffee (a cooked breakfast is one of the great advantages of not camping, unfortunately we can't afford to do it all the time) and headed along the river to a couple of steep hills which took the road away from the narrow river straits which create 'the boilers'. This part of the river also forms the barrier between the Carpathian Mountains in the north from the foothills of the Balkans in the south. Hills conquered, we ate our picnic lunch in Orsova along the riverbank of the port town before continuing.

The other side of 'the boilers' - if you look closely you can see a large cruise boat.

Decebalos, last Dacian king (1st century AD)

The next stretch of road was marked on our map as being busy with traffic, so we were prepared for the trucks and cars. What we weren't prepared for was a slight headwind and cycling next to a 50m drop with only a low stone bannister between us and oblivion. Every truck that goes past blows you just a little closer to that scary edge...

Anyway, we made it to Drobeta-Turnu Severin and when Neil suggested that perhaps we stop early (it was only 3pm) and see how much a hotel he'd seen signs for, with internet, would cost us, I agreed. He must have been able to see my still shaking hands. The Tudor Hotel cost us a very reasonable €45 for bed and breakfast and our room is larger than some tent pitches we've stayed on lately.

Dirty cyclist a bit lost in the plushness

So here we are, in Drobeta-Turnu Severin, only 935km upstream from the Black Sea. From here we are heading hell for leather across the flat lands of Romania until we reach the Black Sea. Don't expect to hear from us for a couple of weeks...

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words - Gabby; most photos - Neil