MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR AUGUST 2004

GREECE, BULGARIA, ROMANIA

Barry and Margaret Williamson

1 August 2004 MESSOLONGI to ARTA, Greece 75 miles Free Parking

A few miles north of Messolongi we parked the motorhome by a garage, to take a very short cycle ride to Etoliko (5miles return). We had never visited this little medieval town, on a tiny island in an inlet of the sea, linked to the mainland by a causeway on either side. We were attracted by the description in our Michelin Green Guide: 'this picturesque little city on the lagoon reminds one of Venice' - something of an exaggeration! There were fishermen's houses and churches along the narrow streets, but the most interesting sight was a gipsy boy fishing the stagnant water from a flat-bottomed boat, using a trident on the end of a bamboo pole to spear eels.

Driving on northwards, through the featureless concrete town of Agrinio, we came to Amfilohia at the head of the large Ambracian Gulf, whose entrance is guarded by Preveza. Much of the holiday traffic turned west here for the popular island of Lefkada, so we had a quieter road up the east shore of the Gulf, lunching in a layby. The crops now included tobacco, irrigated by the many small lakes and swamps.

Arta, a historic town inside a loop of the Arahthos River as it meanders to the Gulf, was known in antiquity as Ambracia. In the absence of a campsite, we stayed on a large free car park (with a 'No Lorries' sign) on the eastern edge of town, where we were joined for the night by a gipsy family (in a lorry), who slept peacefully on blankets on the ground.

We walked into the centre, very quiet on this Sunday afternoon. The buildings record Arta's history, from early Greek and Roman remains (a Temple of Apollo, a Roman Odeon) to the outer walls of the 13thC Citadel built on the ancient acropolis (with a more modern ruin inside: the Xenia Hotel, a real eyesore).

The city was the capital of Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, in the third century BC. It rose to importance again after the fall of Constantinople in 1204, when it became the centre of an autonomous Byzantine State, the Despotate of Epiros, until it surrendered to the Turks 245 years later. Arta's Byzantine churches - Panagia Parigoritissa and Ag Theodora (both 13thC) and Ag Vassilios (14thC) - survive and we were lucky enough to find Ag Theodora open to visitors, its interior and frescoes under restoration. The other two churches were firmly locked, though the striking Parigoritissa does open its doors, for a fee: 8 am-3 pm, Tuesday-Sunday. Our cultural tour ended with a meal at Goody's on the modern pedestrianised shopping street, cool and empty inside.

We saw our first Storks of the year today, nesting and flying in Arta. They are only found in the north of Greece – the part which lay under Turkish occupation for 500 years. It seems the Turks did not kill or eat storks and the birds learnt to avoid the south of the country, where the Greeks did. Certainly, we've never seen them in the Peloponnese, though they are common in Eastern Europe and Turkey.

Having stuffed 9 envelopes with assorted information for MMM enquiries, we walked into Arta again to post them. An indoor market was in full swing and Margaret got a new strap and a battery for her watch (total €5) from a friendly German-speaking watch repairer. Barry needed a front chainset for his bicycle but both bike shops were closed.

Leaving Arta, we passed the lovely 17thC packhorse bridge over the Arahthos River, then followed the beautiful wooded route along the Loutros River to Ioannina, lunching under the shady platanos trees. The highest point was 1,667 ft, before dropping slightly into the large university town of Ioannina at 1,527 ft.

The extensive campsite/youth hostel/university rowing club is on the side of the immense Lake Pamvotis, where Storks were on the wing. It was crowded with students, tents, mosquitoes and a few motorhomes – German, French, Dutch, even a pair of Bulgarian caravans – but no other British. The electric hook-ups have improved since our last visit (now 12 amps and able to run the microwave!) but there is still only one accessible tap for the whole campsite! The ablutions are part of the hostel, accessible only on foot. We had a busy afternoon, catching up with laundry, cleaning and email-writing.

Ioannina was the capital city of Ali Pasha, a Muslim appointed by the Turkish Sultan in 1788 to rule the territory then known as Albania, stretching from the Ionion Sea to Arta and north to the Pindus Mountains. Ali became a cunning and powerful tyrant until the Turks eventually besieged his citadel here, finally assassinating him on the lake-island in 1822. Lord Byron, visiting Ali in 1809, described his lavish quarters in the citadel and his generous hospitality. The old district of the city near the lake still has an Islamic atmosphere, with a bazaar and several disused mosques and minarets.

We rode into Ioannina on both days (only about 5 miles return, but through dreadful city traffic). At the third cycle shop tried, we found a friendly proprietor who supplied and fitted a Shimano chainset to Barry's bike, as well as a new bottom bracket (it didn't fit the existing one). Kostas had graduated in Law in Athens, failed to find a job and returned home to set up his business. He deplored the Greek attitude to cycling, which is regarded as the last resort of the peasant. He told us that Ioannina is the city with the second highest car ownership in Europe (we believed him) and that he is usually taken for an Albanian when seen out cycling, though his bike cost more than most of the cars on the road! He doesn't own a car.

We had a long session in the 'On-line i-Café' – a big modern internet centre (€2 per hour) at the corner of Odos Georg Melanidi and Pyrsinela, which took some finding! We sent the emails written to friends earlier, copied our incoming mail onto a floppy disk and checked bank accounts. Also copied visa and tourist info for several countries (India, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Burma, Vietnam, Malaysia, Australia, USA – to name but a few). In the final throes of planning a round-the-world itinerary, we rang STA Travel in Preston and provisionally booked the flights, starting with London-Delhi at the beginning of November when the lower winter prices start. (To be confirmed and paid within 2 weeks.)

A boat trip to Nissi Ioaninon, the little lake-island, took some negotiation. Motor launches made the 10-minute crossing every half hour for €1.30 pp each way, but the smartest craft refused to take our bicycles which we didn't want to leave at the jetty! The oldest boat finally agreed to carry us across the murky and polluted green water, where eels and frogs lurk. (We'd been warned against eating frogs' legs or crayfish at the island restaurants, though there was no danger of that!)

We had a coffee and cycled round the wooded island (pop 500), paying €0.80 each to visit the reconstructed 16thC Monastery of Pantelimonos, where Ali Pasha was lured for negotiations and shot (his head to be presented to the Sultan on a platter). The bullet holes were circled in red paint – on the newly replaced floor boards! We were directed to see the remarkable frescoes in the 13thC Monastery of the Philanthropini (the other 3 monasteries on this tiny island were locked). Back at the landing stage, we took the same boat, sailing through the reed beds and across the lake. A pleasant excursion, missed on our previous out-of-season visits to Ioannina.

The city has an interesting archaeological museum, with finds from Ancient Dodona 13 miles away (site of a large theatre and a sanctuary to Zeus). Both are worth a visit, which we've done before.

We cycled into Ioannina for a final internet session before an afternoon drive over Greece's highest road, the Katara Pass. From the campsite at 1,550 ft, the road zigzags up through the folds of the Pindos Mountains, giving a good view back over Ioannina, with its old town on a rocky promontory jutting into Lake Pamvotis. We soon reached the village of Perama, where we have previously visited Greece's largest cave system, only discovered during WWII by the Resistance in hiding (30-minute tours run all day).

The spectacular road continued its climb to Metsovo, a small mountain town (capital of the Vlach shepherds), which lies just off the highway before the Pass, surrounded by 7,500 ft peaks. A side road descends to Metsovo, built on the sides of a ravine, with steep streets, traditional stone houses and wooden balconies. It retains some of its character outside the summer tourist and winter ski-ing seasons, but the only place to park a motorhome is usually occupied by a tour bus.

We passed lines of pack-mules and ponies carrying wood as we continued to the Katara Pass (5,486 ft), which marks the border of Epirus and Thessaly, at the top of the only road cutting east-west across the Pindhos. Under snow from November to April, it's kept open except in blizzards but will one day be bypassed by the enormous tunnel being bored through the mountain ridge. We could see the work going on far below, just as we did when we crossed nearly 3 years ago, when it was already well behind schedule for completion!

The total height climbed to the Pass was 7,150 ft, with a fall of almost 8,000 ft (roads don't go straight up and down!) We descended eastwards through ancient beech and pine forest, still home to wolves and bears (an old shepherd's wife from Metsovo was very recently killed by a bear when she went to check on the flock). In October 2001 we cycled to the top of the Pass and back from Kalambaka and were chased by a couple of wild dogs, which was quite bad enough!

Approaching Kalambaka, down at 700 ft in the north-west corner of the Thessaly Plain, the first sight of dozens of columns of grey rock rising nearly 1,000 ft into the air is quite astonishing. These sandstone pillars become even more fantastic as you make out the famous Meteora Monasteries perched on top of several of the pinnacles.

The town itself, a mile or two south of the Meteora, was burned by the Germans in WWII (they even bombed the monasteries), so there are few pre-war buildings. It does have a railway terminus, post office, bank, several campsites, a Friday-morning market and a typically Greek supermarket inside an old cinema. Making our way to our favourite campsite here, we passed one brand new addition – a Lidl store (trivia: the founder of Lidl is Germany's richest man).

The old couple who planted the trees and established Camping Kalambaka many years ago, welcomed us back. We love this place, on a hillside beneath St Stephen's Monastery and above the town. The facilities are basic (to say the least) but there is a large open-air pool, swallows skimming the water. At night, the oil lamps of the cemetery below twinkle like glow-worms. By day, tortoises outnumber campers on the grass. At the bottom of the drive is the Ikon Workshop (compulsory stop for all Meteora coach tours), offering a free glass of wine and loukoumi (known as Turkish Delight to all but Greeks) to customers. We go in to buy postcards and calendars!

Our second choice would be Camping International Rizos (better facilities and more expensive at €16) but it's further out on the busy noisy Trikala road. We settled in our quiet corner.

Over 2 splendid weeks, with temperatures in the 80-90's F, we enjoyed a 'summer break' (or is it our honeymoon?) We had our mail forwarded from Bournemouth and Thornton, and dealt with email at 'Surf City', a new internet place on the main street, despite its unreliable hardware. We gave the motorhome a thorough overhaul (defrosting the freezer, descaling the kettle, cleaning out water tanks, lockers, etc). Barry also fitted a pair of security chains on the cab doors, bought at the new Lidl.

Our 74-year-old host, Anastasios Zara, and his splendidly named wife, Kalypso, told us how much they want to retire to join their daughter, a teacher in Thessaloniki, but sadly the town has too many campsites and too few campers, most visitors coming to Meteora on a day-trip. Even now, in August, we share the terraces with just one French family, who leave tomorrow! Unable to sell the non-profit-making site, the Zara's remain in their small home in Kalambaka. Do we know anyone who would like to buy a campsite? How about us – it's a bargain!

Walking round the vast empty campsite, photographing the rocks and the tortoise colony, we discovered we had another neighbour, Jurgen, a lone naturist from Gopingen near Stuttgart. Outside his campervan, parked high up by the top gate, this amiable eccentric was conducting meteorological observations of the Meteora. He had 3 tripods, mounted by a camera, a telescope and a crystal ball for burning the sun's track on sheets of measured paper. He was also busy sun-drying tomatoes, bought at the market, feeding the scraps to the tortoises. Having studied Shakespeare, Moliere and Racine, he spoke excellent English and French. Margaret retaliated by quoting Goethe, Schiller and Grillparzer. It was a draw! Jurgen sometimes joined M for a swim in the superbly warm pool, where he dived for the tiny (drowned) scorpions. He even knew their Greek name, Aristotelskorpion, and assured us they were harmless – as was the large snake near his van (here's hoping!) He was still in residence when we left, giving him our visiting card (fresh off Barry's printer) – Sehr elegant he said.

Our forward-planning began to take shape, after many phone calls and emails to enquire about: a ferry from Holland to Hull (booked through Thomas Cook, as we recently won a ₤100 voucher from them!); a motorhome service at TB Turbo in Lancaster; a year's motorhome storage in a Dorset barn; a SORN notification for the same year; transport Dorset-Heathrow; round-the-world air tickets with STA (departing Heathrow-Delhi on 7 November); Indian visas (from Birmingham); travel/health insurance (Endsleigh) …

On 8 August the local TV showed the Olympic Torch carried over the new Rio-Antirio Bridge (unfinished on 31 July last). The Athens Olympic Games were well covered and we especially enjoyed the Opening Ceremony on 13 August (declared a national holiday, with shops and post office closed!) It was shown on both 'Net' and 'Alter' channels from 8.30 pm to midnight – a 'Fantasmagora' of Ancient Greek History, culminating in the flooding of the stadium with 2 million litres of water beneath flaming Olympic rings. The entry parade of the Olympic teams was not in the usual alphabetical order by nation, as they used the Greek alphabet, with any extra letters thrown in at the end. Our only disappointment was the monotonous music, lacking the magic touch of Vangelis, the composer the organisers snubbed.

We cycled regularly, including 5 miles return into Kalambaka on alternate days to shop or email, but swimming in the pool was a cooler way to exercise!

One hot humid Sunday morning we rode the 13-mile circuit of the Meteora Monasteries, involving a climb of 1,673 ft, the route busy with cars and buses. We have enjoyed it more in winter time - cooler and quieter, the enigmatic atmosphere less polluted by tourists seeking a Monastic Disneyland – but it has to be done! Starting at 760 ft, the campsite drive annoyingly drops 90 ft to the road before the steepest part of the ascent begins, up to the turning for Ag Triada (Holy Trinity Monastery) at 1,765 ft and Ag Stefanos (St Stephen's Convent), from where we could clearly see Jurgen's yellow van and our motorhome among the trees 1,000 ft below! The lowest point of the circuit is at 1,642 ft, before climbing to the 2 most popular monastery-museums: Baa-lamb (or rather Varlaam) at 1,745 ft and - the toughest bit - Great Meteora at 1,876 ft. This is the half-way point, after 10 km, and we deserved a break for Mars Bars and home-made lemonade.

We watched the queue moving slowly up the steps now cut in the rock to see the largest and oldest (14thC) of the monasteries and were pleased we'd already got to know them all, visiting out of season. We had returned for the ride and the breathtaking views of the wild valley and the plain below. From Gt Meteora it's more or less downhill all the way, past Roussanou Convent (St Barbara's), perched on a rock pinnacle high above its road-level entrance at 1,450 ft. Finally, we passed the entrance to Ag Nik (St Nicholas's) at 1,110 ft, the last of the restored monasteries (though there were once some 24). The monks had a hard life here before the onslaught of tourism, well described in Patrick Leigh Fermour's 'Roumeli' after his visit in the 1950's. Dropping into Kastraki village, in the shadow of the rocks at 972 ft, we passed its 2 campsites. 'The Rock' is a pleasant little site with a pool, while 'Vrachos' is a much larger, more commercial place with new facilities. Both were more expensive than our base; neither was very busy. Down through Kalambaka, then a short climb home for lunch. Total height climbed was 1,673 ft.

On a slightly cooler day, good for a longer ride, we turned off the Monastery Circuit route to climb to Vlahava village, looking down on the Monasteries. After 8 miles and a coffee break in Vlahava, the road rose for another 3 miles to Skepari at 3,063 ft (shown as a track on our map but now sealed). Then there was a steep descent before following a river round a level loop back to the main Grevena road. After a break to eat our lunch at some dilapidated picnic tables in shady woods by a Taverna, we joined the main road we'd driven from the Katara Pass and returned through Kalambaka. We felt fit and strong, having completed 30 miles (10 of them uphill) in 3.5 hours riding (+ 2 breaks) and climbed a total of 2,632 ft.

Driving through Kalambaka, we paused to restock before leaving, north on the Grevena road. It climbed to almost 3,000 ft before dropping to Grevena, bypassing the town to join a new stretch of the Odos Ignatia (named after the Roman Via Egnatia from Brindisi to Constantinople). The long straight (free) motorway also bypassed Kozani, continuing non-stop for 45 miles to Polimilos, the planners having overlooked the need for rest area, services, fuel or telephone!

The next 20 miles or so were on the unimproved old road, steep and narrow, climbing a pass to 4,436 ft at Zoodoxos Pygi. There was no space to park here, the village packed with drivers seeking drinks, food or souvenirs, so we continued, hot and thirsty. Hairpinning steeply down, we managed to pull over for a cold drink (and diesel for the horses) near Georgiani.

At Veria we turned off, south-east for 8 miles to Vergina (the original royal capital and necropolis of the Macedonian dynasty, which ended with Alexander the Great). No campsite, but we remembered free-parking there easily 7 years ago. Now the site is more organised, with an official car park in the centre of the village. We paid the friendly German-speaking guardian just €4 for the night and he fixed us an electric hook-up from his house, while his wife brought us a present of eggs. Why do we love Greece so much, people ask?!

An evening stroll ended with souvlaki, chips and salad in the garden of a little café, listening to music from a nearby Taverna. The motorhome slept well after its 6,867 ft climb!

We spent the morning rediscovering the ancient wonders of Vergina, exploring on foot. The chamber tombs of Philip II of Macedonia, his mother, his last wife, and the wife and son of his own son, Alexander the Great, lie under a huge tumulus. They have been expertly excavated and resealed, their entrances now enhanced by a display of the finds and grave-goods in the air-conditioned bunker. When we last came, the artefacts were exhibited in far-off Thessaloniki Museum. Now they are all here: the fine gold crowns and filigree jewellery, the weapons and armour, the horse trappings, the silver and bronze dining sets, the purple and gold cloth, the golden caskets, emblazoned with the Macedonian star, in which the cremated bones rest. The finest craftsmanship, gleaming like new, over 2,000 years old! (4thC BC) The atmosphere inside hushed even the Greek and Italian tourists!

The site is open 8.30 am–7 pm, daily except Monday. The €8 entrance fee (€4 for Seniors) included the royal palace, though most visitors only entered the tombs. We walked half a mile up the lane, south of the village, to the remains of the palace, passing signs of more tombs on the way. Although the Macedonian dynasty moved its capital to Pella, Vergina remained the necropolis: the city of the dead. Then past the theatre (scene of Philip II's assassination), public buildings and a sanctuary or two, to the ruins of Palatitsa Palace.

A good place to sit on a fallen column and rest in the sunshine. We considered the amount of work and money recently expended at Vergina, Ancient Aigai, under the auspices of Thessaloniki University. Admittedly, it is the richest treasure trove in Greece since the excavation of Mycenae, but it's also a political statement: became the residence of a Byzantine Princess Vergina, who gave her name to the settlement, where the fertile plain of Thessaly meets wooded escarpment. It was destroyed by the Turks.

Lunch in the motorhome after an enthralling morning, then we drove on to Thessaloniki. To our relief, the E90 now skirts the mayhem of Greece's second city, taking us round the south side on a new bypass. We have been here before, en route to Turkey - there was no camping, no parking, and we had to leave the motorhome at an out-of-town shopping complex and cycle back to explore (mainly to view the Vergina finds). Having no wish to repeat the experience, we escaped on E79 north-east towards Serres. Turning north on a minor road, about 15 miles before Serres, we reached Lake Kerkini, a delightful place near the Bulgarian border, known only to bird-lovers.

There were new toilets and a tap, and we had it all to ourselves except for the great variety of bird-life. We watched a pair of Pelicans sail by, Grebe diving, Gulls, Egrets, Pygmy Cormorants (not rare here), Storks (who nest on every post and chimney in Kerkini village) and all types of Heron. At dusk, a total of 7 Bitterns strutted on the huge waterlily patch right below our window and later the little Night Heron was out fishing. Margaret once earned a free 'Rough Guide' book for describing Kerkini in 'Rough News', but we're glad it hasn't attracted any more tourists!

We finished the day with a walk up the wooded hillside to a little church overlooking the lake. Magical.

23 August 2004 LAKE KERKINI, Greece to SOFIA, Bulgaria 145 miles TIR-Park, Sofia Ring Road €5.00

It was about 20 miles easy drive on quiet lanes via Iraklia village to the Bulgarian border. Before crossing, we rang to check our health cover for Eastern Europe had been arranged with Endsleigh Insurance and that our Vodafone mobile contract had been renewed. We entered Bulgaria easily in 30 minutes, paying €2 disinfectant tax to drive through a trough of dirty water, then €2 road tax (plus another €5 on leaving the country, based on mileage driven). Our only problem was that our 'Green Card' from Comfort Insurance was wrongly dated, expiring on 12.08 (already past) instead of 12.09 – we hadn't checked the document carefully enough. This was solved by purchasing one day's insurance cover at the border (€10) to allow us to enter. Later, we rang Comfort to check they had the right date and asked them to email us a new Green Card.

Highway E79 took us all the way to the capital city, Sofia, bypassing the towns of Blagoevgrad and Dupnica. All we saw of them was a skyline of workers' tower-block flats and grim industry. The road was good, with plenty of filling stations, cafes and TIR-truckstops, though the driving habits were as bad as in Greece. The route was straightforward until roadworks closed the last section and we were diverted to Padomir on E871, a much rougher road, eventually joining the Sofia Ring Road.

This was suddenly hectic, with trams, cobblestones and traffic in every direction, so we avoided the centre by taking the Ring Road anticlockwise. We passed a McDonalds that we couldn't get into and continued, looking out for TIR-Parking (this being the lorry route from Turkey through Eastern Europe).

An excellent Motel/TIR-Park appeared at last, just off the busy Ring Road on our left. For a small fee (Euros accepted) we had a safe place for the night, tucked between the lorries, and the use of the very good Motel showers. We were surprised to see we'd climbed a total of 4,200 ft in the course of a hilly day. Sofia is Europe's highest capital, up at 2,000 ft.

We continued round the Sofia Ring Road, buying diesel by credit card at a very modern Shell station/shop/café. At about 52 pence per litre, it wasn't much cheaper than in Greece (55p). Passing the A1 (Plovdiv) turning, we took the A2-E79 towards Pleven and Ruse – an excellent new dual carriageway with short tunnels through the hills at the western edge of the Balkan Mountains.

Turning off via Botevgrad, Mezdra and Montana, we headed north-west for Vidin. Lovely stretches of wooded hills lay between the grey towns of factories and dire concrete flats. Another sad sight was the line of very young, dusky prostitutes along the roadsides approaching each city. They wore very little (typically mini-skirts and bikini tops, or even topless) and several waved and tried to smile.

From Montana the Transit Route signs diverted us onto a minor road via Smimenski rejoining E79 after an extra 10 km. Then we took a planned detour up to Belogradchik, to see the rock formations and fortress and check out a campsite in our Caravan Club book. To our amazement, the empty campsite in the woods, 1 km before the village approaching from the south-west, was open and run by a very friendly woman who spoke some French. We parked in front of her cottage (which doubled as Reception/Bar), with tap and hook-up and the use of a toilet. A lone cyclist joined us later and took a hut.

We had climbed a total of 5,300 ft and the evening was pleasingly cooler up here, dropping to below 70 degrees F after hot, sunny days.

In Belogradchik we changed some Euros into Leva (about 2 to the Euro, 3 to the Pound) and found an internet place, full of small lads playing games. We could at least read and answer our emails but there were no printers or disk drives, so we could neither save nor print the new Green Card which Comfort Insurance had sent. At the Post Office, with the help of 3 smiling ladies and their Bulgarian/English phrase book, we managed over several hours to exchange faxes with Comfort Insurance and finally got a new Green Card (although it wasn't green) with the correct dates.

The rough Bulgarian roads had rattled the motorhome and Barry had to replace the catch on a cupboard door and refix a photo on the wall. We also replaced the water filter on the cold tap, so clogged with silt after our time in Greece that the water barely trickled through!

Madame Velko (the campsite manager) was extremely generous and gave us tomatoes, cucumber and grapes from her garden, as well as some barbecued sausages. She was caring for her grand-daughter, Vivienne, whose mother was in hospital in Sofia for an eye operation, so we provided some paper and pens for the little girl. When we also gave her some chocolate, Madame retaliated with half a water-melon for us! Her kindness was such that she was annoyed to see Margaret walking back from the baker's in a downpour, insisting we should have asked to use her car!

It was rumoured that the ferry across the Danube from Vidin (our intended route to Romania) might not be running as the river was very low. We tried to check this out, first at the Library (no help), then with the Police (who knew nothing), then at a Tourist booth. Here the helpful lass, Milena, rang the Vidin Municipality and reported that the ferry left Vidin every day at 6 am, going to and fro.

One morning we climbed 1,200 ft up from the village, past an abandoned mosque and minaret from the Ottoman days, to explore Belogradchik Fortress – a walk of 4 miles return. The hilltop castle (with small entry fee) was originally built by the Romans in the first century BC, though most of what remains was rebuilt by the Turks in the first half of the 19th century. The views of the Belogradchiski Skali rock formations (including the Madona) were amazing.

It was only 30 miles to Vidin, according to the sign. Just 10 miles downhill to the E79, then 20 miles to the Feribot which crosses the Danube to Calafat in Romania. Simple, except that it took all morning at a crawl and totalled 45 miles!

The first 10 miles went well, joining E79 at Bela, but 3 miles later in Dimovo the Vidin traffic was again diverted along a minor cart-track, heading east and then north-east to join road 11 at Arcar – our first sight of the Danube. The lane was in a terrible condition, with pot-holes and craters, but did show us the simple life in rural Bulgaria among poor villagers and wandering geese and turkeys, though the storks' nests were now empty. After Arcar we rejoined E79 briefly to Dunavci, then the highway was closed again in both directions and we entered Vidin on a back-road.

The ferry-port is 3 miles north of the city centre and we found a new guarded TIR-Park/Restaurant on the left, just before the International Customs. After parking and lunching here, we left the motorhome and cycled into and around Vidin. We rode in through the riverside park, past the substantial Bala Vida Fortress (a medieval castle on a Roman site, rebuilt by the Turks in the 17th century).

Dinner at the TIR-Park Restaurant cost a total of 8 leva (€4) for a good meal of soup, toast, pork roulade and mashed potato, and our host was pleased that we didn't want change from a €5 note! The Security Guard asked 5 leva, for which he guaranteed a peaceful night.

Leaving the lorry park before 9 am, we had to pay an extra €5 Bulgarian Road Tax before clearing Passport Control and joining a few trucks to wait at the port (a passenger ferry crosses from the riverboat terminal in the centre of Vidin, but doesn't take vehicles).

We finally boarded the ferry (actually 2 barges lashed together) at 10.45 am, for the 30 minute trip across the Danube, costing us €56 one-way. We chatted with the Bulgarian occupants of an Irish-registered car – Stefan, his wife and son, returning to Wicklow (where they live and work) after a holiday visiting home. Another long and fascinating talk was with the 4 tough-looking cycle-tourists, who turned out to be from Glasgow!

On the Romanian side, at Calafat, we had a half-hour wait before being checked in and charged €12 for road tax. Then, with the help of our GPS rather than any road signs (and hindered by assorted ruffians begging for Euros), we hit the E79 road for Craiova. After passing the Glaswegians (who stopped for no-one), we paused to lunch in a layby in Giubega, where Barry noticed a flat tyre (rear nearside). By coincidence (?) we had just passed 2 Vulcanisare, one on each side of the road in the last village! We got the leaking valve replaced quickly at the first one we tried, without any need of language or local currency, for €10.

In Craiova we found an ATM to draw money (50,000 Romanian Lei to the Pound!), then continued on E574 to Pitesti, where there was nowhere to camp or park. After another 35 miles, through countryside that became more hilly and scenic, we reached the old Roman Camp town of Cimpulung, up at 2,258 ft, where the Lukoil filling station provided us with cheap diesel (Motorina) and a parking place for the night.

Away early on a lovely fresh morning with dew on the rich pastures, we climbed out of Cimpulung through wooded hills, stopping at a Mausoleum at the top of the Mateas Pass (2,830 ft), where the Romanians tried to stop the Germans in Sept-Nov 1916. The charming old guardian unlocked the little museum for us and explained the events using maps and photos - the Germans, in need of Romania's oil, had advanced from Transylvania through Wallachia to take Bucharest. Then he turned on an audio tape in a small model trench, with life-size figures watching the scene, lights flashing and noises exploding. Very simple, very effective and very moving. The entry fee was the equivalent of 20 pence each, our smallest note was 100,000 lei (about £2) and the poor man had no change. He wanted to let us in for free, and when we insisted he take the 100,000 note he kissed Margaret's hand, so gentlemanly and dignified, it touched us deeply.

We continued, up and down through the mountains to the Bran Pass at Fundata village at almost 4,100 ft. On the hillsides we saw gentle alpine cattle (whose cheeses were on sale at the roadside), red squirrels and roaming horses, wonderfully quaint wooden houses, long horse-drawn carts and a bent old woman carrying firewood home on her back. So many impressions to photograph!

Down at 2,358 ft in the tourist village of Bran we entered another world – half an hour's walk round was enough. Bran Castle is promoted as Dracula's Castle – this is Transylvania but any link with Vlad Tepes (the Impaler) is pure fantasy! Further along in Rasnov we stopped for lunch at the Intim Restaurant, below a much more authentic ruined medieval castle. (There is also a simple campsite.) Then we drove through the city of Brasov, set high in the hills below the ski resort of Poiana Brasov. We stopped on the way out to the campsite to shop at the Selgros cash & carry, which (like the other Romanian chain, Metro) admits foreigners by showing their passport. They have a good range of food and non-food goods, especially their patisserie and croissants!

Camping Dirste, where we stayed last year, is almost 5 miles south of Brasov on the left of the main road for Bucharest. Flat and grassy, with easy access, it has some nice cabins and a restaurant, but no washing machine (don't believe their directions to a non-existent nearby laundry!)

The weather had turned cold and wet, so we worked on writing and photos. We had explored medieval Brasov the previous summer – originally a walled Saxon trading colony called Kronstadt. The Gothic Biserica Neagra (Black Church or Schwarze Kirche) sometimes gives organ recitals in summer and we were lucky enough to be there on the right evening.

We talked to a New Zealand couple from Wellington, doing the usual 6-month tour in a campervan after working in London. They'd come out via France, Italy and then 2 days on the seasonal Turkish Maritime ferry from Brindisi to Cesme in Turkey, which cost them €200 altogether, including 3 good meals a day! The secret, apparently, is to depart on a Wednesday and take reclining seats rather than a cabin. They'd continued via Bulgaria, the border crossing at Ruse, Bucharest, and now Brasov. We discussed the history and geography of our continent and gave them what help we could, including a spare map of Budapest.

We tried Romanian TV, but there was nothing to watch on either of the 2 channels and reception was poor! The evening was better spent planning our route to and beyond Suceava, to visit the Painted Monasteries of Bucovina.