Week 11 (482km – 299mile)

Our reward for feeding the dog’s last night, was for 2 of the dog’s to chase us of the “campsite” while the 3rd dog guarded the exit. I slowly crept behind Lee forcing him to take the brunt of it, because I’m nice like that.

Now that the trip is nearing the end I’ve opted for directness when it comes to choosing the route. Which meant the motorway was to be our port of call. We had no problems with authority this time as the police, (who could usually be found idly hanging around service stations), more often than not spoke to us about our trip and we got waved through the toll gates for free.

One downside to riding on motorways is that they are often boring as hell and before you know it 75 miles of monotony has passed beneath your wheels, only broken up by rest breaks in identical service stations. The roads are smooth and the shoulders wide and with Istanbul a week or so away, I don’t mind.

I must also add that the people have been extremely friendly, we are getting good luck wishes from many of the people we meet and the Turkish truck drivers that frequent the motorway nearly always peep and wave. We are quite literally getting peeped at every 2-3 minutes and it’s getting quite tiring on the arm’s to respond to all of them.

Southern Serbia brought a much needed change, as the motorway ended the road passed through deep gorges in the mountains meaning the road stayed pretty much flat, interupted by the occasional tunnel. As night fell we came across a lonely looking petrol station, manned by well a man. He seemed pleased to have some company and we asked if we could camp behind his shop. “No problem” he replied.

We made an early start for Bulgaria and after about 5 checkpoints at the border we were finally in. We soon realised we had no Bulgarian money on us and the only reliable place for a cash machine would be in Sofia, 100kms away. If this wasn’t bad enough we had little food, one bottle of water each and the temperature had just crept past 35C.

We pulled into a service station hoping they would accept Visa but just as we stepped in the woman behind the counter kept saying “No shop, no shop” “WHAT” it was quite clearly a shop. Anyway we sulked off and got back on the bikes thinking of Peter Heath’s advice from way back in Finland that something always turns up as long as you keep pedalling. About an hour later something did, but they didn’t accept Visa but Euro’s were Ok. We managed to find 2.70 Euros between us which was enough for a couple of Fanta’s each. Heaven never tasted sweeter.

This was enough to see us through to Sofia, where we decided to have our final rest day before the end.

 

Week 10 – (490km – 304 mile)

Yesterday’s ride left us with a short 17 mile ride into capital city number 6, Budapest. As with all the previous capital cities we had traversed, I expected us to get a little lost. So we estimated a couple of hours from setting off in the morning to reaching the campsite.

There were bike paths along most of the roads, but their condition was questionable, so we gladly chose the road most travelled. Before we knew it 2 lanes turned into 4, 4 lanes turned into 6, 6 into 8 and we were left playing a game of cat and mouse with the traffic, dashing from red light to red light whilst being careful not to fall victim to the tram lines (bike tyres slot perfectly into them).

We arrived at the campsite about an hour later than planned. It looked overbooked, we feared the worst. But apparently there was room for us amongst the sea of tents and lack of grass. A few bent tent pegs later and we were up and running. 1 and a half days rest beckoned.

Back on the bike, and leaving Budapest was easier than it was getting in. The River Danube shall now follow us all the way to Belgrade, albeit in a slightly lazier, more relaxing manner.

Today was the hottest day of the trip so far at 38C and longed to be back in the chilly Arctic, if only for 5 minutes. The heat and the headwind combined to make slightly unpleasant cycling. If anyone reading along would like a similar experience, here’s what you do. Get hold of a hair-dryer, turn the power on full, place directly in front of your face and remain like that for 8 hours, while occasionally taking a Fanta break.

After a stop in a cool little town in Hungary watching the Olympics, we headed for Serbia enjoying our first tailwind since Lithuania, which believe me seems a long time ago. At the Serbian border we had to show our passport for the first time, we also got a nice little stamp in them. With dusk approaching we pulled of the side of the road and pitched our tents in a quiet cornfield under a clear sky and a full moon.

We got a stupidly early start, but it seems the Serbian police like their early starts too, after a mere 3 kilometres we get pulled over by them. There is nobody else in sight, so while the rest of Serbia sleeps we are told to exit the motorway at the next turn off and use the “old road”. So we did, but it turned out we took the old, old road, which was nothing but a dirt track after 5 kilometres of gruelling pedalling we came to a junction with 2 dirt tracks going in different directions, no signs or buildings were around to guide us and our map was inadequate. After a few minutes of head scratching, we headed back the way we came, back through the sand, going back over the bike tracks we had left only minutes before.

We eventually got back on the tarmac, our bikes now covered in sand. The old road was better but far from perfect, dodging potholes and clinging on to our bike’s as trucks barreled alongside us wasn’t fun, so we headed back for the motorway to enjoy the smooth roads and wide shoulders.

Before we knew it we had passed through Belgrade and pulled into a campground which was essentially a patch of grass at the back of a motel. I wasn’t complaing.

Dinner that night went astonishingly wrong and we decided to feed it to the stray dog’s that occuppied the “campsite”. One of the dog’s turned his nose up at the food on offer and like us he to went to bed hungry.