The Turda Gorge (Let it snow, let it snow...)

Sigisaurus Rex (Arnie with Romanian Sub-Titles)

Brassy Brasov (Outsize Pickled Tomatoes)

The wind was a bit of a problem as we sped down through Romania at the extreme speed of 50 kph. In fact, it was the bitterness of the cold contained in the wind that was the major problem. It did not deter the eagles from picking at the cadavers of the roadkill, however. Other sights on this leg included the farmer with a horse cart containing a calf of considerable size. It seemed odd that the calf was not made to walk along side, but I guess it gives an idea of the relative value of livestock in these parts.

We were on our way to Cluj Napoca to find our next night's accom. The passage was along the plain that makes up the majority of Northern Romania and there was little to see but for the locals toiling away in the fields. It seems that the majority of tourist sights are to be found in small patches rather than as a continuum in this part of the world.

Our efforts to find accommodation were unsuccessful, but the fellows in the ecology office were quite charming and pointed us in the direction of a campsite with cabins that they reckoned would be open even in this late season. Following their directions, we headed out of the lovely town up a steep hill lined with folk trying to hitch lifts. Our hands spread gesture to signify our inability to help was met with good humour.

Down the road apiece and we could not find their campsite and so we went for the alternative destination of the Turda Gorge. Turining off the highway, all was well.....................for a bit. We continued to follow signs of less and less convincing nature until we found ourselves in the wilderness on a hard packed gravel track. To be honest, the bike was in its element here and the going was easier than on the asphalt with nasty potholes. We fired along with gay abandon, forgetting the speed limit on the basis that there were hardly likely to be any cops up here on the 'altiplana'.

Our confidence was not so high after a final sign took us to the edge of a steep drop down into a valley where we could see the gorge and campsite in the distance. Selecting a low gear, we clenched our teeth and other parts and avoided the worst of the ruts to make a safe passage to our hostel. Given the choice of one of their cabins or a heated room at six pounds, we opted for the latter. The heating worked after a short time..

A quick stroll up the gorge before tea gave us our first experience of falling white matter. It did not settle, but we were encouraged to speed south with a new vigour. At least exiting the gorge, the sight of more eagles was reassuring. They must have the sense to migrate, don't they????????

Lidia provided dinner while Alexandru (whose role was unclear) engaged us in conversation. He told us of his worries about Romania. Many of his classmates were now abroad turning a crust and he seemed to think that the brain drain is alive and well. His opinion of the Romanian work ethic was extremely low. Mostly a hangover from the jobs for all days, I guess. He was not hopeful of countries investing in his country and altogether, it made a worrying impression on me that kept me awake all night realising how lucky we are in this adventure.

And so to sleep.

Despite my natural aversion to spending hours on the back of the bike at a time, I also have an equal aversion to the cold. We awoke to frost on the ground - things could only get colder, and I realized the there must be a determined effort to head south before we were caught snowbound in Romania. We dressed up in as many layers as was feasible and headed for Sighisoara, reputedly the prettiest town in Romania. The wind was bitter the frost was not melting in the valley we traversed following the amazing snow-capped Fagarus Mountains, which unfortunately hinted at their majestic appeal through a freezing mist. After an hour we had a need for heat and stopped at a service caff for coffee. Fingers thawed and a visit to our first pit latrine of the journey, we continued.

Sigisaurus as we affectionately called it, was all that we had been promised. Thankfully, a lack of finance had meant that this medieval village had not been tampered with by modern capitalism and even the artist we asked to look after the bike had not caught on to the capitalist ethos and refused any reimbursement for her trouble. The bike was surrounding by a group of children which initially concerned, until they spoke in perfect English and quizzed us about our journey, but mostly about how fast the bike went!! As we left the waved us off cheering a chorus of 'Bye' (A pity that groups of youths in the UK are not as charming or we may have stayed in teaching).

Onwards to Sibiu, which was promising to be a less touristy version of Brasov. The town was on the baroque square theme. We stayed the night in something of a building site as our 'hotel' was amidst renovations in the off-season. We negotiated acro-props and builders dusts and discarded doors in the corridor that blocked the toilets.

Despite the basicness of our accommodation we had a lovely warm room and a portable B and W Tele with beautiful reception of Romanian TV. Kindergarten cop with Romanian subtitles with workman drilling outside. Heaven - it was warm!!

Another cold start for the bike but after a bit of chugging, she was raring to go. In our new spirit of getting there as quickly as possible and in the knowledge elicited from Alexandru, we cracked on in the direction of Brasov. This is in the heart of Transylvania and is the favoured stopping point for Dracula experience seekers. We arrived in good time and took in coffee on the main square while the bike was being watched by a bookseller who took no money for his trouble.

By the side of the road on the way, the natives worked in the fields wearing little in the way of warm clothes and certainly no gloves. We were parky to say the least clad in all of the latest bike gear available to western bikers. Tough folk these Romanians.

Between Brasov and Sinai (not the desert - in fact quite the opposite, as the ski slopes were already covered with a base layer of piste) there was another ski resort at a slightly greater altitude that had us a little worried as we were under the impression that Sinai would take us higher still. In fact, on the southern side of the mountains, things were considerably warmer and all snow disappeared. Above Sinai is the charming little monastery of Peles which has the most fantastic gold-filled chapel. This must have been a great job for a guilder on piecework. Regrettably the older chapel was closed to the public and so we could only marvel at the carving on the wooden entrance porch.

On a roll and with warmer weather, we plunged down onto the plain heading towards Bucharest. Eventually, our resolve gave out and we pulled into the first motel that appeared. In the way of most of our homecomings, this had an ace up its sleeve. In the yard at the back, the owner was keeping a small deer that his nightwatchman had rescued from a local forest. He was not best impressed with our suggestion of eating same when he offered us a menu for dinner. In the end we ate pork chops and chips served up with a huge tomato that he had preserved in brine. Safe to say the pickled cabbage was far preferable.

Although his offerings came at a substantial price, he gave us plenty of advice as to where to visit in Bulgaria. He was a well-traveled guy and so we decided that we could take his word for it. His contribution to our education re. social matters can be summed up by his opinion of the difference between Romania during and after communism. - "During communism, everyone had a job and money but there was nothing in the shops. Now most people do not have money but the shops are overflowing with goods." In response to our comments about how unspoiled by the ravages of tourism Romania was, he pointed out that a German company has recently got the go-ahead to build the 'Draculaland' theme park near Sighisoara. Heigh ho.