Day 49 - Near Izoarele to Bechet (105 miles)

Today was the day things went a little awry. My plan was to do about 60 miles and my gps route, guidebook and the availability of accommodation all pointed to the town of Bechet as a good destination, 63 miles on. Or so I thought. I was not actually looking at the correct place. With my downloaded route I was looking at Bistret, the town that was 63 miles away, whereas in the guide book - and what I booked last night - was Bechet which it turns out was 105 miles on. I was not even aware of my error until halfway through the day. Throw in a broken spoke after 40 miles, a strong and gusting headwind all afternoon on roads wide open to the wind and to the heat of the afternoon sun and my mood at times was a little frayed. And yet it all started so well.

I set off at 7am, the sun low in the sky but casting a bright morning light across the landscape. There is a timelessness to the start of the day before the world wakes up, with only long shadows and nature for company and with the whole day before you. I cycled the silent roads soaking up the calm; it was as if any sense of urgency, of having to be somewhere before day's end, was itself still sleeping. For over two hours I hardly noticed the miles slipping by as I followed country roads similar to yesterday before joining a busier road to Calafat, a town which I thought would mark the two-thirds point of my day.

I will remember three things about the approach to Calafat. Firstly, six miles out, all the lorries that had passed me during the morning stood at a standstill on the road. It was apparently the queue for the Calafat border crossing into Bulgaria and I guess it was a regular occurrence as it was not causing too much trouble despite the whole lane being blocked. The other two things were sighting a sign telling me Bechet was over ninety kilometres away and the twang of a snapping spoke on my rear wheel.

Dan, a passing Romanian, came over as I was taping up the spoke and pondering my options. We found a common language in Spanish and he was adamant that I was going  the wrong way for the Black Sea despite me showing him my route. He also told me that I would find no bicycle shop in Calafat and that he would like to buy me a beer in a bar opposite. On any other occasion it might have been interesting to take up the offer but I now had other things to worry about. I eventually had to tell him I was meeting friends in Calafat to check his persistence about my route and the beer and as he wobbled off on his bike past the queue of static lorries I recall thinking any beer with me would not be his first of the day.

My options were limited: no nearby bike shop, a fifteen hour train ride to Ruse via Bucharest, other places on the route looking trainless, and a hotel waiting 60 miles away. I was reluctant to throw in the towel for the stage and I knew one spoke wasn’t the end of the world although I did wonder whether the end of the world might lay somewhere between me and Brechet. On the plus side, the route was mostly flat and so, with some reservation, I decided to take a slow and steady cycle and regularly check my wheel, tightening any loose spokes if required; if it all started going terribly wrong I would have to rethink. 

Those 60 miles proved very frustrating. I was on country roads a little similar to yesterday but with extended villages strung out along the road and a little less in the way of countryside. The villages were not as weather-beaten as yesterday’s but the same scarf wearing old ladies sat outside watching the world go by and mostly looking bemused if I waved or shouting a passing 'hello' in what I hoped was Romanian. I cycled as steadily as I could but it was not easy as the afternoon had brought a strong, continuous and gusting headwind. 

The really frustrating thing about the headwinds on this trip is not the strength or the gusts or the relentlessness, all of which are an annoyance, it is the fact that the prevailing wind in this part of the world is apparently from the west and so they should be helping rather than impeding me. And I could tell I was slow. The Romanians annoyingly have provided markers every kilometre along this section of road with more markers every 100 metres in between. Try as hard as I might I could not stop looking at them and on the long flat stretches I could often see the white 100 metre markers stretching into the distance. One hundred metres is not far and on any other day they would slip by unnoticed with steady, rhythmic cycling. But not today; I felt I fought for every one of them. The heat of the afternoon sun on unshaded roads only added to my frustrations.

There were however moments to lift the spirits and to distract: the young lad who bought me a large bottle of water after I had asked if there was a fountain in the village, refusing anything in return; the young children in Bistret who ran into the street to 'high five' me as a cycled along; a funeral procession walking down the street, trumpets and drums playing; a wedding, horse drawn carts of Roma, and goats, geese and turkeys grazing on the verge. It all gave me the sense I was definitely somewhere different.

The kilometres slowly slipped by, probably more so because I was counting them down, but by the time I was twenty-five kilometres from Bechet I knew body and mind would hold out and foregoing my hotel for more camping might not be required. But I could not say the same for the bike even though my regular checks seemed to show no worsening of the wheel. Six miles from Bechet the road became tree lined providing shade from the sun and protection from the wind; whatever I had done to anger the Gods of cycling today, it seemed they now decided to pity me. My speed and mood lifted, but it was not until I saw the sign for entry into the town that I felt I could finally relax.

I am now in a comfortable hotel, well fed and rather tired. Right now I should be worrying about my options for tomorrow but once again the Siren call of rest and relaxation after eleven hours on the road is winning out over sensible planning. And anyway, I don’t have to check out until midday so there is always the morning.