King Carol's castle, crap for tea and a dog named Jack

It had to end sometime. Since we entered Slovakia from Poland 17 days ago we have had continuous sunshine with temperatures often reaching the mid twenties. This morning we awoke on our last day in Romania to leaden skies, drizzle, and a cold wind. It is nearly November in Eastern Europe, and snow is not uncommon at this time of year in the Carpathians so I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky. Time to break out the fleeces and wet-weather gear.

Sleeping Beauty would have been at home here

We spent a quiet night on a car park in Sinaia, 2,500 feet up in the Bucegi mountains, a popular ski resort once the snow comes. The air quality here is supposed to be refreshing and stimulating, but until they build the new motorway to by-pass the town, that probably isn't the case. However, our morning was bright and fresh and we found a track leading up into the forests above the town where we walked the spaniels and enjoyed the brisk cold air. 

A lovely walk

Having deposited the dogs back in the van we walked up to Peles castle, a neo-Renaissance pile which was constructed by King Carol I, the first monarch of an independent Romania. He was actually a German prince who had been snapped up by the Romanians in the age when it was possible to buy a new monarch off the shelf of European minor royalty. It was the world's first castle to be powered by locally produced electricity. It is very Germanic in style and we felt a bit overwhelmed by all the carved woodwork inside. Any attempts to take pictures of the interior were forestalled by fierce lady guides, who leapt on hapless would-be photographers demanding another £7. I managed to get one before being caught.

If you like heavy carved wood you'll love this

Peles is not really a castle, as we would understand it, but more of a palace with  170 rooms, most of which are not open to the public. When the communists took over, the monarchy was abolished and the castle seized for the people, which obviously meant no one was allowed to visit it. In 1997 the castle was returned to the Royal family and is now leased back by the Romanian government. Even on a cold day at the end of October, there were hundreds of visitors milling around in the grounds and traipsing around the palace on guided tours.

Carvings everywhere you looked

Having failed to get the laundry done in Brasov, we had decided to stop in the town of Ploiesti to do the washing, having learned from our trusty app that there was a laundrette in the south of the town. It turned out to be the laundry of a college halls of residence. We had a bit of a struggle to get in. The man on the gate was seemingly not aware the college had this facility and got the impression we were asking for the car wash which was further down the road. Eventually the penny dropped and we were allowed to park up and a lovely lady took Neri down to get the washing on.

By the time we left it was 3.30 and we had decided to try and get south of Bucharest where we had identified a place to stay. The capital's ring road left quite a bit to be desired, a two lane road that was packed with traffic swerving around all the potholes. As darkness descended we were still battling through the rush hour traffic in what is Europe's most congested city. Neri did a fine job steering us around the vehicles coming at us from side roads, where drivers think a Give Way sign is just a suggestion rather than a command. Eventually we got out of the chaos and back into the countryside. We were a bit nonplussed when we found the lane to our overnight spot was blocked off, so we pressed on for a couple of hundred yards, eventually finding our way

Rush hour in Bucharest

back across a cart track in the pitch dark. 

We arrived at our destination to find the vehicle gates locked. Luckily a side gate was opened so I walked through to be confronted by a Romanian dog, who appeared not to be happy that someone had ventured onto his patch. Nearly every house in Romania seems to have a dog, whose sole desire is to escape from behind its fence and tear you to pieces. Having sweet-talked him a bit I walked through the yard to find two men working on a caravan. "Hi" I said, in my best Romanian. 'Hello' said a distinctly English voice. It turned out to be a guy named Simon, who was repairing his motorhome and helping out at the caravan workshop. 

Jack stands guard at the entrance

He introduced us to the owner, Johnny, who before setting up repairing caravans, spent 25 years as a circus performer where he toured several times in the UK and then worked on cruise ships. He even had a publicity poster of a visit to Newquay some years ago.  They found us a space in the crowded yard and allowed us to empty our toilet cassette in their Portaloo. We also became friends with the fierce dog, Jack, who turned out to be far more bark than bite, so much so, that the next morning when Neri set off on her run, he stood on his hind legs and gave her a hug. Neri cooked a lovely meal of carp with Japanese style vegetables. We were amused that, in Romanian, carp becomes crap. It definitely wasn't.

Johnny in his cruise ship days

File de crap

After a brisk walk with the dogs around a nearby lake the next morning, we said our farewells to Johnny. He was keen to warn us about the Bulgarian police who, he said, would pull people over for no reason and demand money in exchange for whatever small transgressions they found. Somewhat apprehensively we set off towards the border, pausing in the supermarket in Giurgiu to spend the remainder of our Romanian currency. Unfortunately we had to buy some more wine to use it up.

A wet crossing of the Danube

Having crossed the Danube on a Soviet built bridge, we found ourselves, for the very first time on this trip, queuing at passport control before we could enter Bulgaria. The country is something of a jump-off point for illegal immigrants heading North so the border is tightly regulated. Once through we dashed to an ATM to get some Bulgarian cash, just in case we had to bribe any police officers, and drove out of the city to park in some woodland close to the Danube. We had just settled down after walking the dogs when a Border Police vehicle pulled up and the occupants sat surveying Florence. I though it best to wander out to have a word but they couldn't have been nicer. We don't have EU plates on the van so they wondered where we were from. Having explained, and told them we were heading for Greece, they said we were welcome to stay where we were and drove off. Maybe Bulgarian police aren't so bad after all. 

Hanging out with bears in Transylvania

In 1998 a Romanian woman, Cristina Lapis, saw 3 brown bears miserably crammed into a small cage outside a restaurant in central Romania.  She was determined to rescue them, and later others in the same plight. After several years of campaigning and fundraising, she was eventually able to open the Libearty Bear Sanctuary near Brasov. They have now rescued 116 bears from captivity, from performing bears tortured to make them stand upright all day, to those saved from being put down when EU animal welfare rules rightly forced many small zoos and menageries to close. More recently the ranks have been swelled by wild bears which have started encroaching on areas inhabited by humans, those involved in traffic accidents, and those orphaned by traffic or hunting. 

After seeing one bear in the wild, it was clearly a no-brainer for us to visit the sanctuary. There are still more than a hundred bears there, all with their own sad stories. Some of them still pace the fence separating their 70 hectares of woodland from human visitors, unable to recover from the mental trauma they have suffered. Others are seen only on cctv, (Live feed here: 
https://www.worldanimalprotection.org.uk/romanian-bear-sanctuary-live-feed)

as they hide in the woods, climbing trees, bathing in their ponds and making dens. We spent an hour and a half touring the sanctuary, listening to our guide tell the stories of the bears, and watching those which came close enough to the fence. 

The cubs play in the sun

A pair of cubs, brought to the sanctuary with their mother for their own safety after being repeatedly encouraged to approach humans, had just come out of quarantine. It was a joy to watch them scamper and play together, with mum keeping a watchful eye. Elsewhere we saw Monica, repeatedly removed from the main enclosure after scrapping with any bear she saw, but eventually successfully housed with an old male, blinded by his handler so that he would not react to flash bulbs when being photographed with tourists. Monica looked after him as he fumbled around his enclosure, coming to terms with his new-found freedom. 

Monica is still not sure about visitors

Nick and I have always said that our most memorable experiences have involved animals, whether it was one of several incredible whale watching adventures, a safari in Kenya, or walking with wolves in British Columbia. Visiting the bears is right up there. And even better, we decided to spend the rest of Sunday, and the night, in the car park outside the sanctuary gates, with its fabulous views across the Carpathians. Knowing we were sleeping a few hundred metres from the bears was very special. It also gave us the chance to download the Wales-South Africa Rugby World Cup semi-final, and watch it as we relaxed in the cool of the van on yet another warm afternoon.

25º C in Brasov on Sunday

This morning we took the spaniels for a walk over the hills around the reserve, and then prepared for what was intended to be a day of shopping, laundry, and maybe a little sight-seeing in Brasov. The shopping was easily accomplished in a Lidl on the outskirts, but a foray into the centre failed to find any suitable parking near the laundrette, despite driving past several areas identified by the Park4Night app. We retreated to an area of rough ground near woodland on the outskirts for lunch, and debated our options. We decided to have one more attempt at finding somewhere to park, and if unsuccessful, to press on to Sinaia, and try another laundry option in a couple of days. 

So tonight you find us in Sinaia, having given up Brasov as simply impractical in a motorhome. (Luckily we hadn't stripped the bed!) It's a shame, but it isn't the first time we have driven on when unable to find somewhere to tuck 6 metres of Fiat Ducato carrying a big plastic box. What's more surprising is that we have managed to visit so many cities on this trip, from Copenhagen to Krakow, Tallinn to Helsinki. Brasov will get there. On its outskirts are huge shopping cities which are still grass fields on recent Google maps satellite views. It is growing at an incredible rate, and at some stage the parking issue will no doubt be addressed, probably with a park and ride or a commuter train service. 

Yes, of course we adopted one

It won't spoil our overall impression of Transylvania, as we finally head south after almost a week in the Carpathians. We have had a wonderful time, driving through one of the world's great mountain ranges as the autumn colours have been at their most splendid, under clear blue skies, with the white limestone glowing in the sun. People have been warm and friendly, the roads have been far better than expected, and the spaniels have been given a warm reception wherever they have gone. We met a British family in the queue for the bear sanctuary, here on holiday for a week, and agreed that we had all been very lucky to be here before tourism really takes off (and it will). We were here at a time when you can still drive through unspoilt villages, see horses and carts on the road, make your way though the mountains without queueing behind a line of motorhomes, and park for the night beside the road in a national park without being moved on. Romania wants to grow its tourism, but its infrastructure isn't quite there yet, fast as it is trying to build new roads. Give it twenty years and Transylvania especially will be one of the most popular destinations in Europe. 

A handful of wolves bunk up with the bears

An important message

Our view from the gates of the bear sanctuary

More on the Libearty Sanctuary, and the Not for Profit Org's other work: https://millionsoffriends.org/en/

The Count, Paul O'Grady and a man with some cows.

One subject you don't expect to share with the locals in Romania is the TV programme, For the Love of Dogs and its presenter Paul O'Grady. But that was exactly the subject of the conversation I had with a pleasant young Romanian in the car park next to a mausoleum commemorating the dead of World War 1. We had pulled in to have some lunch on our journey from the city of Curtea de Arges, where we had spent a quiet night. The early part of the day's journey was on the flat plains as we steered round the many potholes on the road East. They are building a new motorway but it has a way to go. It was with some relief that we turned off the flat bit and back towards the foothills of the Carpathian mountains. The roads weren't much better but the scenery was stunning. We managed to find somewhere to stop and take the pups for a walk across some grassy areas which reminded us of the South Downs. 

Thousands of Romanians died in the struggle against Germany

The Mateias mausoleum, perched on a hillside close to the town of Campulung, contains the remains of 2,300 Romanian soldiers who were killed stemming the advance of the German army in 1916. It is an imposing edifice with sweeping views across the valley below. A man with a group of people in a car next to us had been much taken with the spaniels who were busy posing behind the door fly-screen so it seemed only fair to introduce them. It turned out he was a great dog-lover and a fan of Paul O'Grady's programme which he watched on a satellite channel. He further rose in my estimation when, in a country fixated by football, he was aware of the Rugby World Cup and that Romania had a half-decent rugby team. Obviously a man of great taste and wisdom. 

Mountains every way you turn

In a previous blog we opined that Norway had some stunning scenery but the Carpathian Mountains are more than a match. Our road switch-backed up and down the sides of steep valleys with amazing vistas. It pays to be the passenger in these circumstances as the driver's attention is focussed on avoiding the worst of the bumps, and the oncoming trucks. This time of year, with the autumn colours, it is an incredible landscape and one we will not forget in a hurry. We turned off the main 73 road at the village of Dâmboviciora and, having parted with 6 Lei (£1.20) to enter the national park we found a spot to park up for the night between the towering sides of a limestone gorge and next to a small stream. Our only company was a man looking after a few cows that were grazing the side of the road. As the daylight began to fade we were amused to see him climbing up the sides of the gorge to shoo down one of the cows who evidently fancied a bit of mountaineering.

The roads aren't great but the views are glorious

Our destination the next morning was the castle of Bran. On a dual carriageway that would probably have taken us around 20 minutes but on the winding roads which meandered up and down the steep hillsides it was 55 minutes before we pulled into the car park in Bran. Neri did a fine job steering us round tight bends and dealing with the inevitable suicidal overtaking by the locals. The deadline was to be stationary by 11 o'clock for the start of the England v New Zealand World Cup semi final. We made it with five minutes to spare and Neri kindly took the spaniels for a stroll, thereby missing the Haka. Luckily the 4G was good enough for us to enjoy the defeat of the Kiwis before we took the spaniels for a walk up a side street in the hot sunshine. 

Too pretty for Dracula

Having deposited them back in the van, we set off for Bran Castle. This is an imposing structure, the construction of which was started in 1377 and it later played a role in the defence of Romania against the Ottoman Empire. It is closely associated with the Romanian royal family and, in particular with Queen Marie who spent time and money carrying out renovations. The royal family was expelled by the communists in 1948 but, after years of legal wrangles, it was transferred back to the Hapsburg family who opened it as a museum and tourist attraction. 

Queen Marie had good taste

Bran castle is known as 'Dracula's castle' but that's a total sham. The Communist government in the 1970s decided to link Dracula with the castle in order to attract foreign tourists. However, not only did Stoker never visit Romania, there is no evidence he had ever heard of Castle Bran. Furthermore, the description of the castle in his famous novel, bears no resemblance to it. It is believed Stoker based Dracula on the famous Romanian ruler, Vlad the Impaler but Vlad never lived at Castle Bran either. He actually lived at Poenari Castle, which we passed on our descent down the Transfagarasan. Despite all this the streets around the castle are full of stalls selling vampire tat and, in the castle itself, information about Queen Marie and her daughter Princess Ileana jostles with details about Stoker's book and stills from the various films, from Nosferatu onwards, based on the Dracula novel. In order to add a little extra gore to the proceedings, the castle features an exhibition of torture instruments which I was determined not to miss, despite having to pay an extra £2 to go in. The Iron Maiden was particularly magnificent

Crushed feet anyone?

You'd feel a bit stretched on the rack

Vlad's portrait may be here but he never was

We were amazed by the hordes of people in the town brought in by coaches from Greece and Moldova as well as Romania. When we left the castle, just after 3.30 the queues to get in still stretched all the way down the steps to the ticket office. Bram Stoker and Dracula may have had no connection whatsoever with Bran, but the owners must be delighted that his book is now so closely associated, albeit wrongly, with the castle. 

Just add a vampire and see the crowds

A quick walk for the spaniels and then we battled our way out of the crowded car park urged on by parking attendants with whistles who were desperately trying to find spaces for the coaches that were still arriving. By now we were hot, tired and ready to stop, being low on water and needing to dump the toilet cassette. Luckily our destination was a short distance away in the village of Tohan Blocuri where we had identified a small campsite. It turned out to be a patch of ground next to the owner's house with flat parking, water and a toilet dump. The owner had some Italian so we conversed in a mixture of languages. Tonight we have our feet up with the knowledge that the clocks go back so a leisurely Sunday morning beckons with the prospect of more bears and a bit more rugby. 

A bear in the woods, the ultimate mountain road, and a city of culture

Tonight we were supposed to be parked up at the top of a mountain pass. Instead you find us down the other side, snuggled up next to the wall of a monastery in the small Wallachian town of Curtea de Arges. But for the best possible reason. All the wild camping spots along this side of the Transfagarasan road are closed because of intense bear activity. And we know it's not a fairytale, because we saw one. 

The morning started down on the plain

We have done a couple of long driving days this week, all so that we could be in Sibiu last night, ready to set out this morning on the Transfagarasan, also known as Ceausescu's Folly. It is a 90km mountain road, open for just four months a year, crossing the Fagaras Mountains which are part of the Carpathians in Transylvania. Its peak is at 2042m, and since Jeremy Clarkson named it the best driving road in the world on Top Gear, it's become a bit of a tourist destination. That's why we wanted to be sure we were on it on a weekday - it will be incredibly busy this weekend because the weather is still fine, and it's scheduled to close next week until the end of June 2020. 

Zig, zag, zig, zag...

We'd agreed to stick with the preferences we'd discovered in Norway. I would drive up, and Nick would drive down. So Nick steered us out of Sibiu's tortuous one way system, and handed over to me at the foot of the mountains mid-morning. At first the climb rises steadily through a series of hairpins in woodland. Then you come to a small parking area with a handful of souvenir stalls, and the real climb begins. We emerged from the trees into bright sunlight on the rock faces around us, where there are numerous places to pull over, look at the view, and let people past. Fortunately there weren't many people to let past, the road was fairly quiet, and no one was in a hurry. The spaniels were happy to trot out and wet their paws in a stream under the waterfall that tumbles down from the glacial lake near the top. 

How far have we come?

After that came the most spectacular section, long looping hairpins crossing the valley, as we gained height impossibly quickly on what seemed a fairly gradual gradient. Florence certainly coped without difficultly, and earned several pats on the steering wheel for her sure touch on the bends. Suddenly we were at the top, where a cement lorry was backing across the road between two busy car parks and the road down to the lake. 

Florence pauses for a breather

I passed the lorry, and found myself in the longest tunnel in Romania, 890m, which didn't seem to have been resurfaced since the road was built in the early 70s as a strategic military vanity project under Ceausescu. After all the fluids in the van had acquired a nice head, we popped out the other side, and suddenly we were on our way down. The first place we had identified as a stopover soon approached, but the entry looked steep and rough, so we carried on, certain there would be plenty more options. We found somewhere to stop for lunch, but it wasn't right for an overnight, so Nick took the wheel and we carried on. 

I object only to the spelling

It was at about this point that the bear signs started to appear. Every turning off the road was closed to vehicles because of bears. It seems they've been getting accustomed to coming down and raiding bins and campsites for food, and the authorities have decided to close these areas to people for the time being. We have no argument with this. It is the bears' territory, and if human behaviour is putting them at risk, then it is humans that should be controlled. However, it did make our day when we turned a bend and I yelled "Stop" at Nick at the 70% volume which means urgent, but not life-threatening. He duly braked, we both made eye-contact with the bear, sitting just six feet away from us in a gap in the armco,    and then Nick had to take his foot off the brake as there was a car right behind us. 

The message is clear 

But it was a bear, sitting there, minding its own business, not remotely fazed by our presence, but completely wild, in a mountain forest in Europe. So on the whole, the fact that we have had to come down from the mountain and park in a city, is okay. Because we want there to be bears in the mountains. And the fact that we couldn't climb the 1480 steps to Poenari Citadel (arguably the real Dracula's Castle - shall we cover that when we get to the other one?) was only a regret to some of the travelling party. The only shame is that we didn't get to hear the wolves howling in the night. 

Morning sun in Turda Gorge

Such an intense day has almost eclipsed the joys of yesterday, when we woke up in the most exquisite wild camping spot at the far end of the Turda Gorge, next to a bubbling stream. We walked a short way into the gorge, as far as was practical with spaniels on the slippery polished limestone path, and chatted to a young couple from Bromley who were keen to explore some of the places we had been. Then we set off for Sibiu, arriving mid-afternoon at a large car park next to the old town where we would spend the night. 

Wild camping, Romanian style

From the top of Turda Gorge 

Nice place for an evening meal

A walk around Sibiu, joint city of Culture with Luxembourg in 2007, revealed a fabulous array of architecture - almost every building was listed - and a friendly and lively atmosphere. Posters promised imminent performances of Peer Gynt and Whose Afraid of Virginia Woolf, as well as orchestral music and opera. We had intended to explore with the pups in the afternoon, and then return without them to eat in the evening. But Max had unfortunately managed to eat a nasty spiky burr, and had been quite poorly for a while, so we didn't want to leave him. Luckily the evening was warm, and we were able to sit outside with the spaniels and enjoy some Romanian venison with local wine. 

Max seemed much recovered by bedtime, although poor Nick did have to walk him several times around the car park at 2am, and by morning he was fine. A friendly car park attendant saw us both doing our morning spaniel rounds, and as I was returning to the van with Elsa he hailed me: "Hey Lady!" He wanted to make sure we had water for the dogs. The spaniels have been as much of a hit here as everywhere else, and the numerous strays appear mostly well-fed and friendly. The two which adopted us at the Turda Gorge were delightful, and when Nick accidentally left the van door open while Elsa and I were off on a walk, he found Max sitting next to one of the strays in the grass by the stream. 

Max's mates at the Gorge

There is so much to say about our first few days in Romania, and these last 48 hours have been fantastic, so I can't cram it all into one blog. But I did want to mention the language. It's both comforting and bizarre to find a Romance language, one which is largely comprehensible to someone with bits of French and Spanish, in an area so far adrift from Western Europe. After struggling with Finno-Ugric and Slavic languages it was like a breath of fresh air to realise I could understand the gist of signs without even thinking about it. The existence of Romanian here and in Moldova, is apparently a vestige of a Latin speaking population in Dacia in around the 9th century. Bits of Slavic and modern French/Italian have been incorporated in much the same way that English has Anglo-Saxon and French alternatives for many words. For some reason the language was once written in Cyrillic script, but is fortunately now in Roman. We'll work out how to cope with Cyrillic when we get to Bulgaria. 

Poenari Castle, where Vlad actually lived

Lake Vidraru, on the way down from Fagaras 

Some views of Sibiu