June Update 24/6/08 Bran, Romania (6,883 km) 
The drive from the painted monasteries to Lacu Rosu took us along small roads that twisted up and down heavily forested mountains. First we climbed, snaking upwards round tight hairpins that seem to curve so far round as to come back to the road before. On the Mog plodded. We’d get to the top of each peak thinking we just had to descend into the next valley to reach our goal, only to have a series of seemingly identical hills stretch into the distance in front of us. So, we’d race downwards with the weight of the Mog pushing us forward, we’d almost hurtle into corners at breakneck speed, or so it seemed. Travelling fast in a Unimog is an interesting experience but one I didn’t want to do down apparently vertical hills! Especially when there were bigger lorries travelling just as fast in the opposite direction!
The scenery was stunning. Not surprising really as we were driving through the Carpathian Mountains, which we had been following since Southern Ukraine. It was like being transported back in time. Bent old ladies in headscarves were leading cows with bells round their necks to graze the verges. Men and boys atop horse and carts trotted along, their bulky loads of hay bouncing with every bump in the road. Old men on bicycles, scythe strapped to their backs, peddled along to the fields where the women and children were hoeing rows and rows of vegetables. The whole family was involved in the process of producing food for them and their animals. The horses were healthy and fit, their bridles sporting red pompoms either side of the headband to keep off the flies. This was the scene we entered when we crossed into the Ukraine, almost identical to Romania but there the old ladies minded just one cow on a rope rather than small herds and here several of the cart drivers had mobile phoned clamped to their ears.
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Rural Romanian scenes plus the honey stop. |
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Rounding a bend in the road we came across a lay-by accommodating three or four cheerfully decorated wagons. Like old fashioned wooden goods wagons one used to see on the railways, these were road-going trailers pulled here by some long since left vehicle. Each was brightly painted with squares of different colours down the sides and on closer inspection a slot allowing bees to enter. The inside of the wagon was divided into hive compartments with a central corridor to give the bee-keeper access to each hive. Some appeared to have 20 or so hives per wagon. Outside tables were laden different sized jars, some were a deep rich brown and some a light golden colour. The flower preference of each hive determined the honey colour. We stopped at a lay-by with only one wagon in it and bought a jar of honey and a honeycomb – which I haven’t eaten since I was a child. It was delicious and not as sweet as shop bought honey.
We eventually came to the Bicaz Gorge. This dramatic mountain road twists upwards through a gorge with 300 metre high limestone rocks either side of the narrow road and includes one section where the rock overhangs the road, known as the “Neck of Hell”. Guess who was driving?! Oz thought it was a good idea for me to drive so he could ‘spot’ potential climbing sites (yeah, right!)... I did wonder if we would fit under the Neck of Hell but by swinging the Mog right out into the road we squeezed under and popped out the other side to find a coach bearing down on us also in the middle of the road! Craft stalls lined sections of the road where the road widened and allowed the coach parties to stop and peruse the cheap, tacky items on sale. Each stall sold roughly the same bits and pieces so how they all managed to make a living is a mystery. We did manage to sift though the Dracula mugs, plaster Alsatians, wooden wall ornaments painted with unrealistic bears and the ubiquitous brightly coloured towels with tigers printed on them to find two oval, hand-made baskets which we are now using as fruit bowls.
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A horse and cart tackle the Bicaz Gorge ... trickier in a Mog! |
Tree stumps pierce the water at Lacu Roşu Click on either image to enlarge. |
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Driving on we reached Lacu Roşu, described in the guide book as “another splendid site of natural beauty”. The lake was created when a landslide blocked a stream, eventually flooding the valley. The valley was heavily wooded and so the lake has dead tree stumps sticking out at weird angles from the dark waters. This sounded both interesting and pretty but it wasn’t either! A tiny, murky lake appearing to be only a few feet deep surrounded by more tacky stalls and snack bars than we had seen before and swarming with coach parties all pushing and shoving to have their photos taken. Compound this with a thunderstorm and downpour and we were looking at the map again.
We decided to stay around so that Oz could try to do some climbing and eventually down a tiny track away from the main road found somewhere to stop. With a series of small holiday huts, each appearing to be one room with a tiny veranda, it was run by an elderly couple. We pulled up and I went over to ask if we could camp there, the old man looked at the Mog and then at his driveway and said “Television. Telephone. Cable” and pointed upwards. It was obvious that we weren’t going to make it into the courtyard. There was, however a large lay-by opposite the drive and he indicated that we could stay there but use the facilities he provides for the other guests. It was early evening when we arrived and he said “Douche” and mimed a shower so we both nodded. A few hours later he came out and said “Douche, OK” and gestured for us to come over. I went over and discovered he had lit a fire under the water cylinder to heat the water for us to have a shower and it was now piping hot!! The following morning we were woken at 5am by five guys loading up logs onto a decrepit truck right behind the Mog! We do wonder if these guys ever sleep as they are about so early in the morning but drink late into the night every night too!
Brasov - Click to enlarge image
After a few days of walking and chilling out we waved the old couple off and headed for Braşov. We arrived at a large campsite just outside the city which was a bit of a shock to the system after the rural paradise we’d left that morning. Braşov is a wonderful city. Mostly Saxon in origin and contained within a medieval wall, it is very pretty. We took the cable car up to the top of Mount Tampa and looked down over the city’s higgledy-piggledy, red terracotta rooftops; we walked to the Hollywood style Braşov sign then descended again for a long walk around the city and an iced coffee in the delightful square. Oz hired a guide and went off rock-climbing the following day and I returned to the centre for a stroll around. A wonderful, relaxing town and well worth a visit if you are ever in Romania.
We drove off to visit Sinaia and try to spot some wild bears!
Kate, Oz and the Mog... on the move!