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.