I am lying in my tent in the early hours of the morning in a remote wood in Romania surrounded by the noises of nature at night. It is quite calming to feel so distant from humanity and certainly different from the start of my day.
There was a sense of spring when I set out this morning, a freshness in the air and plenty of blue sky, a complete contrast to yesterday. It was a quick fourteen mile cycle along the Danube to the Gurdup I dam, the border crossing and the last of the Iron Gate gorges. The first two were obvious but by the time I was cycling across the dam to enter Romania I had completely forgotten about the last; there was nothing anywhere near as impressive as yesterday's Veliki Kazan, the Iron Gate gorge had slipped my mind and my ride had felt like a cycle along the river with a backdrop of gentle hills rather than any dramatic canyon of precipitous cliffs.
After a hassle free exit from Serbia I cycled over the dam - immense, concrete and industrial- and arrived on the north bank of the Danube and Romania. The country did not endear itself to me to start. From the border it was an eight mile cycle on a fast and busy dual carriageway - and with no cycle lane - to the city of Drobeta-Turnu Severin. A continuous stream of cars, lorries and coaches passed me at speed and I was feeling tense and frazzled by the time I arrived at the city. Today Turnu has a stagnated economy but historically it is probably best known for another feat of Roman engineering: a one kilometre long bridge of oak arches on stone pillars across the Danube. Commissioned by Trajan as part of his strategy to invade the lands of Decebalus across the river (in what is now Romania), only a couple of the pillars are now visible but I saw a reconstruction of one of the arches when entering the city. Exiting the city was a similar story to arriving with ten more miles of fast and continuous traffic before I got onto the quieter roads promised in my guide book. I may have got rid of the traffic but it turned out I had swapped it for dogs.
 |
| Reproduction of Trajan Bridge Section |
I had encountered stray dogs in Serbia but they were more of a surprise than a problem when they shot out and chased after you barking. To be fair, a lot more ran off or just lay there watching you disdainfully as you cycled past but an occasional one or two would chase me. But that was all they did, chase and bark, so ignoring them seemed to be the best strategy and they soon gave up and wandered off. I’ve encountered more dogs here in Romania for some reason and a couple have been a little more aggressive; one ended up with my heel jabbed in his nose when trying to snap at me. But they are more around the area of villages rather than in open countryside and open countryside is where I have spent most of the afternoon.
The route has followed country roads through flat and very expansive countryside, some farmed, some left wild, some woodland. I was not that near to the river but I caught sight of it occasionally across the flatness of the landscape; those countryside sections felt wonderfully remote. They were linked by the occasional village, few and far between, small and all with a sense of age and having seen better days. Small houses, some with with decorative pillars, stood there with peeling paint, chipped brickwork and rusting gates: there was a general sense of poverty and deterioration. Outside men and women with chestnut skin fashioned by weather and time sat outside watching the world pass, the women in drab dresses and headscarves looking like the archetypal fairytale grandmother. Others gathered cut grass from the verges or busied themselves in their gardens but overall it gave an impression of a rural existence rather than a rural life.
Now in Romania, I intended to make the most of their acceptance of wild camping and these expanses of countryside offered me plenty of opportunity. Torn between pressing on to eat into the miles and resting body and bike (and having belatedly realised there was an hour's time difference between Serbia and Romania) I eventually pushed my bike into a stretch of open woodland at 4pm and set myself up for the night. Cocooned in the comfort of my tent I would hear the occasional car pass on the small road two hundred yards away but for the most part it was just me, the birds and the steady drone of insects outside.
No comments:
Post a Comment