The Black Sea

Wow: updating the map makes us look really close to Istanbul. Bulgaria so far has been a pleasure; the weather has improved, road surfaces are good and rooms are cheap enough that we haven't needed to camp in a while. All the trappings of eastern Europe are still here- litter, feral dogs, vivid domestic animal roadkill and potholes you could get lost in, but it seems somehow easier to deal with... maybe we're just aclimatising.

We have had to cope with a few hills, but that was expected as we deviated from the Danube and took the shortcut to Varna, which is a cracking place. The road out of Varna was an uncomfortable experience; who knew the rural coast road was the longest redlight district in Europe? We're guessing, not being experts. We have also found ourselves to be local celebrities after doing a roadside interview for BTV news about our trip. An incredible two people have now recognised us! Hopefully this is the correct link so you can see the interview online: http://www.btv.bg/videos/?video_id=21306&section_id=1.

We are presently about halfway down the Bulgarian Black Sea coast at Nesebar, right next door to Sunny Beach, hub of Bulgaria's less attractive tourist infrastructure. The sandy beaches are gorgeous, but it's equally amazing to drift through overdeveloped resort towns that are all but dead this side of the season. If this were the UK in the temperatures we've had, the beaches would be crammed with bodies; we've got the place to ourselves.

Through the Iron Gates: the edge of Europe

Our entry and exit into and out of Romania have been the least official of all border crossings so far. In no-man's land between Serbia and Romania, we witnessed much trading of dubious goods from the car boots of Yugos and Dacias. On the way out of Romania border officials joked about charging us a Euro to pass. Only a cursory glance at our passports at either end.

Romania is part of the EU, at times this was difficult to believe but the Romainan chapter is more memorable for the experience. The first 48 hours were filled with hilly cycling and spectacular views of the Danube passing between steep cliffs - the foothills of the Carpathians on one side and the Balkans on the other - in the Portile de Fier (Iron Gates) national park. Hot, hot, hot and cheap, cheap, cheap. That seems like a very long time ago.

Beyond the Iron Gates, we had the feeling that we were in a different country. Rapidly the landscape flattened out, and our slow road east took us through one rural village after another. Roads were sometimes unsurfaced, usually pot-holed; livestock was in abundance on the main road including geese, turkeys, chickens, cows, dogs, pigs; some of the sights included gaggles of toothless old ladies in head scarves, cardies, long skirts, wooly tights and wellies who waved to us cheering 'Drum Bun'; and horse-drawn carts almost outnumbered cars for five days. During this time accommodation was sparse to say the least. We resorted to a mixture of dubious camping and over-priced hotels (we were thankful they existed).

Despite this, we still found ourselves stuck in Bechet in the pouring rain at dusk after riding nearly 100km (where the state hotel shown on the map had long since closed down). Here, we were rescued by a shopkeeper who gave us cans of beer. He phoned his mate, Marian who was exceptionally kind to us. He took us to his home where we had a dry place to sleep and where he and his wife shared their evening meal with us. Once again we have learnt a lot about hospitality from people in strikingly more humble circumstances. We hope that we will do the same for others in future, maybe we would not have been so ready to before this trip.

Romania was a bit of a trial, not least the last couple of days when the weather turned from hot and sunny to bitterly cold, wet and windy, compelling us to bring out all our cold and wet weather gear. Our last day in the country was marked by having to cycle 156kms in search of a bed, luckily the wind was behind us.

Arriving in Bulgaria felt like emerging from a strange bubble. There are other tourists here, we have internet access, a choice of places to stay here in Ruse (Rousse), and a chance to take a day's rest. It is still raining. It is still really cold.

Serbia: highs and lows, but mostly flat

Bike issues resolved and hangovers fading, we covered the distance from the border town of Backa Palanka to Novi Sad, host of the Exit festival and holder of prestigious title 'Norwich's twin town'. Serbia must be lauded for making a big effort to signpost the Danube cycle route, but it still needs to grasp the idea that a cycle path needs to be cyclable. Approaching the city we were joined by Sam, a French cyclotouriste (the first we'd seen since Budapest) on a much more suitable mountain bike, who was on a 10000km tour of Europe.

Novi Sad was an enjoyable place to visit with a grand Vauban fortress and a decent central square, unfortunately we took it in turns to succumb to mystery bugs and had to stay 5 whole days. Luke will remember with some clarity a day spent at the mercy of the Serbian health system being hooked up to successive drips. Apparently this is the first course of action for all patients in Serbia, but he can report on the treatment's efficacy. Soph will remember with clarity the mystery bureaucracy and charges associated, as well as the anxiety caused by being told her husband had a 43 degree temperature (the doctor added that she shouldn't worry as he was a very nice man, strong, and that she was very lucky to have him!). Throughout the ordeal, we were looked after in an exemplary fashion by Miki and his team at the hostel Sova - recommended.

Out of Novi Sad, we passed the 3000km mark, avoided Belgrade, sampled a Serbian communist era hotel, an excellent homestay with Olga and her breakfast burek and rakija; and an out of season campsite where Goran refused to charge us, but also refused to clean the squat toilets or control his dogs.

Serbia was a pretty good experience overall with friendly people (amazing considering we bombed the hell out of them in recent memory), reasonable road surfaces, hot sunny weather and brilliant TV, including three channels of relentless Balkan folk music and dancing. Landscapes were grand but we found it hard to stomach the amount of litter and fly-tipping which was sadly everywhere.

Slivovic for breakfast

We write this entry from Serbia, which has not got off to a good start though through no fault of the Serbs or their country. More to follow, but nothing more serious than a dodgy tummy and a few bike issues. However, the gist of this update will be in full praise of Croatia and its wonderful people. We hadn´t even thought about crossing the border until the day before when it seemed like a cool idea to do a tiny detour, delay Serbia and add another country (number 8) to the list.

Sophie got into trouble on the border by taking pictures of the diplomatically sensitive "welcome to Croatia" sign and was forced to delete them by a rather joyless border gaurd. From this point though, the country provided us with wholly pleasurable experiences.

The landscape immediately changed as vine covered hills emerged from the plain and hospitality during the whole stay was unsurpassed. We camped one night in an old couple´s garden who, for a small fee, forced us to eat all their food and drink all their booze, including an 8am breakfast rakija. This was perhaps a good preparation for the rather sobering experience of passing through Vukovar, a Danube port town that was devastated in 1991 during the war and still bears the very obvious scars.

Searching for a place to eat that night in Ilok, we walked into a restaurant where a private party was in full swing. The restaurant was closed, but that didn´t stop Marco and friends forcing us to eat all their food and drink all their booze. See a theme developing? Their hospitality was so generous that our cycling the next day was limited to an afternoon limp across the border into Serbia where Luke´s back wheel promptly contributed to the hangover by losing a couple of spokes and having to be straightened twice. We went no further that day.

The Great Hungarian Plain... a bit like Lincolnshire

South from Budapest we followed the Danube down into the Great Plain. Hungary was marked by good weather, people feeding us Palinka (fire water) and passing thousands of chilli peppers drying in the sun.

The cycle path is getting to the point where we may have to abandon almost all offroad sections of the Danube cycle route, but we´ve been lucky to have got so far with so little road use. Mosquitos, sand and very loose gravel are conspiring to make all ventures on the "cycle tracks" slow, frustrating and almost dangerous.

Camp sites have been basic where they exist, but happily light on our budget.

The skies have been enormous and the people kind and welcoming, special mention to Tamas for looking after us in Dunafalva, tolerating our terrible German and sending us off with a good bottle of Palinka to speed our route.

Round the bend

We have cycled to Hungary and are nearing a somewhat impressive 2500km. Our semi-regular musings reach you today from the rather grand city of Budapest where we are engaged in wandering along impressively lined streets in the sunshine, taking in the many sights. We are heading for a swanky thermal spa a bit later and will be suitably relaxed for the next leg tomorrow.

Getting here from Slovakia was very straightforward: we crossed the bridge into Hungary at Esztergom and the sun shone down on the scenic southward swing of the Danube (Duna) bend. The cycle paths rivalled Holland for signposting and surface and in the course of looking for lunch we discovered the world's best fish and chips. Really tasty battered catfish (?), who'd have guessed?

Budapest sprawls a bit and we had to fight our way in, making full use of Soph's navigation skills and lucky guesswork. The main central artery though (the last 4kms into central Pest) had conveniently been pedestrianised for the day for a street festival involving lots of interesting pedal-powered transport. We felt like we blended in well.

Östlich von Wien fängt der Orient an

East of Vienna the Orient begins...

Dva pivo prosím. (2 beers please) thank you, that will be 1 euro 12 cents, excellent, would you like a slivovic with that? Welcome to Slovakia- country number 6.

As an indicator that we may now be in eastern Europe, Luke was pleased to see a man showing his friend what was almost certainly a sub-machine gun while they waited for a ferry across the river that is now called the Dunaj. The food has improved since Austria, the campsites now have barbed wire, locked gates and concrete walls; spoons now stand up on their own in the coffee, and there are loads of ladas and skodas.

The cycle path deteriorated somewhat after about 50kms east of Bratislava (which is a charming city. Otto will be interested that the Slovak national philarmonic concert hall is 1934kms from Amsterdam by bike). However, Slovak drivers are considerate and the people friendly. At the risk of sounding too English, the weather has been a mixed bag, but hasn´t stopped us making the most of our three days here, apart from causing Soph some distress when the cycle computer got damp and malfunctioned, blanking our trip distance so far. We cross the river to Hungary tomorrow after some rest and relaxation in the thermal pools of štúrovo.

Elkins and the boys from Brum save the Days

So, we have undergone a fairly significant change in our trip identity: despite the title of our blog, we now continue the adventure eastwards on our own bikes. This came at quite cost in time and energy, not just ours. We are incredibly grateful to Al in Norwich who co-ordinated a splendid rescue mission by getting our bikes together and shipping them out to us safely. Sending the tandem home was the least of our worries until we started looking into it - due to its size, impossible to send. Luck came in the form of four lads on a European road trip, complete with a car and nothing on the roof. Not bad for the first English tourists that we had come across in Austria. We were pretty stunned when they took Luke up on his suggestion that they take the bike home for us. We have word that it made it and also thank the Coles for putting a roof over its head in Birmingham. We had almost given up hope and were considering the unthinkable option of abandoning our wedding transport in Central Europe - we are very relieved, thanks lads.

Time without wheels was frustrating, but it was nice to rest and catch up on some sleep and reading; in fact we were at the campsite for so long that the local wildlife became fearless, the hedgehogs taking food from our hands. We also took a train to Vienna and treated ourselves to a night in a nice hotel, it´s an amazing city.

Life on bikes is good. We were very sad to say goodbye to riding the tandem but having our own bikes is a pleasure and turning out to be a lot more convenient and easy to handle on potholed Slovakian bicykle routes. We have even resorted to sending Bob home due to him being superfluous to requirements so are back down to four wheels as we began.

2000km... und ein kleines Problem

This one isn't going to be a happy entry. After a mere 160kms our super-dupa new wheel failed in the most unusual way possible. It seems our combined power up a steep incline in pouring rain, two minutes from the campsite at Grein, caused the hub to part company with the gears, shredding the thread on both. Bikeshop in Grein was unhelpful, unfriendly and unreliable; we felt strongly that the replacement wheel (rear wheel number 3) foisted upon us wasn't up to it, but had no other means of continuing.

We did another 110kms over two days (pouring rain, cold, windy, miserable Austrians, Mrs Day's not always sunny disposition...) and on the dot of the 2000km mark the wheel developed a major buckle. We limped another 30km to the next campsite en route to Vienna, but we both know it's not going to get further and we're seriously reluctant to throw more money at the problem.

This dissappointing turn of events finds us in Tulln, a short ride from Vienna. We have a number of choices but it looks like we may send the tandem home in favour of our bikes. We thank our friends in Norwich who are being so helpful in making this option a real possibility. We don't want to come home and we certainly don't want to give up on the adventure. Luke also feels that it might be Sophie's turn to go in front, so that he can look at her bottom for a change. Needless to say, it may be some time before the next on the road update, we shall take the opportunity for some well earned R&R.

As a post script, we have been unlucky in many respects, but it would be wrong of us not to note that the last few days have seen us pass the amazing scenery of the Austrian Danube: the Wachau valley, Melk (where weather forced us into a guesthouse and the owner gave us the whole garage to dry out a very wet tent and kit) and countless impressive castles. Our spirits have also been lifted by the local firewater: Himbeer Schnäpps, as well as a day resting on the campsite and doing crosswords.

"We Lost Our Spokey-Dokies in Passau"

...to the tune of 'She'll be coming round the Mountain'

Today's installment finds the plucky pair in Austria (country number 5), Linz: European city of culture 09. It's nice- we had coffee and cake for breakfast and logged on to see weather and news situation. We'll take a proper look around in a bit.

Over the last few days, we have been following the Danube cycle trail. Despite it's apparant popularity, the paths themselves have been free of crowds of bikers and very rewarding. We got into the lovely Passau to realise we'd lost a rear wheel spoke again and caused a bit of a buckle. A wheel can only take so much punishment and repair so we bit the bullet, bought a new rear wheel and have given the tandem a stern talking to. Sounds simple, but nothing's simple on (old, British) tandems: cue an enforced (though not unwelcome) rest day in Passau while European standard measurements clashed with UK standard measurements. Bob the trailer didn't fit the result so his connecting components had to be imaginatively and ingeniously altered, blah blah blah. The result is satisfactory and we're pinning our hopes on the new wheel.

Passau itself was lovely, impressively situated on the confluence of the rivers Danube, Inn and Ilz. Onwards towards Linz, the route was breathtakingly good: Bavarian landscapes gave way to more epic Austrian hillsides, no traffic and distant mountains. Our best day's pedalling yet and a very easy 83kms in very little time. Just 12kms short of Linz, bad weather and whatever the waitress had put in our morning currywürst and beer conspired to force early retirement at yet another dodgy campsite. Luke, who has famously high tolerance of shoddy facilities and inbred residents, reckons the ratio of good to dodgy camps is now about 2:1.