E3 in Romania: Comments so far

This trip only covered a modest part of the E3 in Romania. The first part of it from the Iron Gates Dam to Carbunari was straightforward, although with some steep climbs and a few overgrown sections. The next few days were more challenging. I had to give up on the Nera Gorge where the path was both overgrown, indistinct and had technically challenging sections. The old railway line after Lake Buhui was difficult, both dealing with fallen rocks, tree trunks, vegetation and a scary bridge.

Much of the route was waymarked with coloured stripes or crosses, and occasional signs. I crossed three National Parks or similar, where the environment is protected. Away from the Danube the area was sparsely populated. Many of those who had settled in the villages were Czech or German, although now there were many empty houses as people had moved away.

Along the initial section beside the Danube, accommodation and other facilities were available but after that I spent much of this section camping as lodging was either unavailable or in the case of the Czech Banat, full. In the National Parks there were some basic campsites with chemical toilets, bins and little else. Shops were limited in number and so I made sure I had enough food for a few days. Inevitably language difficulties limited my interactions with the local population, although my phrase book and Google Translate helped to ensure I could obtain what I really needed.

Apart from a road section beside the River Danube, in one of its more dramatic sections, much of the walk was through trees, typically beech, on forest tracks and gravel roads. I returned via Timisoara, a city I thought well worth visiting.

The start of my walk on the E3 is at this webpage.

My crossing of Serbia starts at this webpage.

My walk through Romania begins at this post.

Romanian and EU flags

Timișoara and flight home: Days 68 & 69

A day learning a bit about Romania and Timişoara, its history and its food, then an early flight home next morning. 

Street in Timişoara

Having celebrated completing my planned distance over the last five weeks with a large glass of rose and a whisky with my meal last night, I was feeling a bit sluggish this morning. However I had booked a walking tour of Timişoara followed by a street food tour. They both happened to be run by the same guide and I was the only participant. 

I learnt that Timişoara dated from the 14th century, when it was part of Hungary, that for many years it was occupied by the Ottoman Turks, before the Austrians regained it in the early 18th century. The Ottoman town was completely destroyed and the city rebuilt with a roads running at right angles in a neat pattern. To defend the town it was surrounded by walls and bastions in a star shaped pattern. We visited the one remaining bastion. Germans were invited to come and settle in the area and help construct the city. The multiple paths of the Bega River were collected in a canal, draining swamps and allowing navigation to Budapest via the Tisa River. In 1848 the Hungarian uprising against Austria was suppressed but commemorated in the name of Liberty Square, one of several squares we visited. Timişoara prospered in late 19th and early 20th century with many new buildings, a lot of them seemed to have been banks, which had a beehive motif in their stonework. Many of these buildings have been subject to decay, loosing bits of their rendering, exposing the brick underneath. Those that have been renovated look very fine, painted in pastel colours including a few in the Hungarian Art Nouveau style.

Hungarian Art Nouveau style building in corner of one of the squares

After the First World War, and the fall of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, Timişoara became part of Romania (a country only in existence since the mid 19th century). Following the Second World War Romania became a communist  country, and from 1967 was led by Nicolae Ceaușescu, essentially as a dictator. Timişoara played a leading role in the overthrow of Ceaușescu with the first large protests in December 1989. People were dissatisfied with the limited food rations on which they had to live, and the actions of the Securitate, suppressing any dissent. My guide showed me some of the bullet holes made when soldiers opened fire on the protesters, which included his father, killing many. 

Bullet holes from 1989 uprising at base of a monument

Due to long period as part of the Hapsburg empire the street food showed the influence of a number of countries such as langos and a type of chocolate cake from Hungary, pretzels from Germany, and burek as in Serbia. Having eating all of these and more I was stuffed by the end of the food tour!

My departure this morning was early for a 6:20 am flight from the small Timişoara International Airport. All went well, the taxi ordered by the hotel receptionist arriving in good time and it was a direct flight to London Luton, so despite feeling groggy with lack of sleep I was soon back in Britain and on my train home.

Buchin to Timişoara: Day 67

Starting the trip back home.

My feet had suffered for walking for so long in wet socks and boots. The top of my toes had small scabs on them where they had begun to bleed. Putting plasters on them to stop them rubbing required  consideration as to how I should go about it. I joined a couple of toes together with the same plaster, but gave a separate plaster to others. A bit messy but I only had eight kilometres to walk this morning to the train station and a few more when I arrived at Timişoara.

Fortunately the dog that bothered me last night was not around this morning as I tentatively walked by, the stones I had collected should I have to defend myself were wasted, so I was soon on my way up the busy main road to Caransebeş. TripAdvisor had a lack of sights to recommend for the town, but I was happy to sip a coffee with a slice of cake, visit the cathedral, its interior glowing with gold around Jesus, Mary, and the saints, enjoy the grass squares and buy a burger (of sorts) for lunch.

Cathedral of St George at Caransebeş

On buying a ticket with the help of Google Translate I asked which platform the train would arrive at. "Two" I was told, but the platforms were not labelled. As the one nearest the station building had grass growing out of it and a stationary engine, I assumed it was the next one across. I was a bit confused when a train pulled into the station half an hour before mine was due. None was scheduled at that time. On closer inspection the paper stuck to the carriages said Budapest, where my train was going. Passengers gathered on the platform to have a smoke while the train sat in the station confirmed it was indeed my train. Despite being an international express the train was not that fast, taking over three hours to cover the hundred kilometres to Timişoara. As the train strolled towards the city I looked out of the window at the flat farmland we were now passing, part of the huge Pannonian Plain that extends across Hungary, northern Serbia and parts of Romania. Pockets of poppies brightened the trackside. They seemed to be building a new line beside the existing track, with new stations. Hopefully the trains on the new railway will be faster.

Timişoara is a big city, I walked from the "Nord" station through an arc of parkland that follows the Bega River south of the centre. A large, white marble sculpture dominates one part of the park, a monument to the unknown soldier, with a facade of Second World War soldiers. The inscription added recently reads "Glory to the Romanian soldier, heir to the traditions of ancient history who fought heroically against Bolshevism and fascism for the freedom and independence of the homeland", while historically inaccurate I suspect it captures what many would like to feel. At tables people played chess or cards. Riverside bars looked tempting, glasses of blonde beer and white wine refracting the sun, turning them to points of golden light. A few people were rowing skiffs on the water by the University, although to me they needed to take their oars further back to get a good strong pull.

A square in Timisoara, note the tram lines and overhead cables

As I walked into the hotel I noticed my boots had a glittery appearance from the mica picked up from the trail yesterday. I have booked two tours tomorrow, but the forecast is for rain.

Sunset over the suburbs of Timisoara viewed from my hotel

Gărâna to Buchin: Day 66

Another good soaking but I safely arrived at a warm dry Pension.

Typical fence made of branches

Although it rained most of the night around 7 am it stopped, so I used the opportunity to pack up my wet belongings and by 7:30 I was on my way. By 8 am it had started raining again with thunder rumbling around me without a break. The heavy downpour soon penetrated my waterproofs and I was worried about getting cold so early in the day, especially as the water was soaking my fleece and trousers. I kept moving briskly to keep warm. As my glasses kept misting up this was not so easy. Fortunately the track was straightforward, no overgrown vegetation or saplings to get in my way, few fallen branches to trip me up. The soil was sandy so the rain did not turn the track into mud although it created deep channels of brown water running down the track faster than me. Mainly downhill (I had climbed out of Gărâna yesterday), partly in trees and partly in the open. I preferred the trees due to the risk of lightening.

I was relieved to reach the collection of buildings that constituted Lindenfeld, as well as being a milestone and the start of a better track, there was a sheltered area of seating in front of a boarded up building, which might have once been a Gasthaus. Under the shelter I used the opportunity to put my phone and kindle in a double wrapping of dry bags as I was not confident one layer would withstand the pounding rain.

After the rain

Unusual haystacks in farmed area on valley floor

Continuing down the gravel road the rain and thunder eventually stopped for a while, there was even a little sun in which to admire the farmed fields of the flat valley floor. The village of Poiana was larger than I expected. A long line of single storey buildings, a few with tiled frontages similar to those I had seen in Garnic, but with tiles missing, it must be difficult to find replacements. Other houses had ornamental lines cast into the rendering and the fancy ironwork gates I had seen in other villages, which I imagined horse and cart using in older times to access back yards. In the centre, by the church, I unexpectedly found a shop open, and bought a can of iced latte and a banana. I sat on the bench outside to consume my purchases. Many houses had benches in front of them, beside the road, where elderly women and men sat, the former hiding their hair under black headscarves. Better than watching daytime TV, they viewed and exchanged comments with passing neighbours. Rain suddenly restarted, and those sitting on benches rapidly retreated inside. I joined a man under a sheltered porch attached to an administrative building to finish my coffee, watching the torrential rain. Waiting awhile I checked the forecast on my phone, which showed rain for the rest of the day, interspersed with symbols for thunder and lightening. However, while doing so the rain eased off to a gentle patter and I continued my walk. 

With the good tracks, stretches of road and the encouragement of the wet weather I was making fast progress. I had booked a room near Buchin but I pondered continuing for another eight kilometres to Caransebeş to catch a train to Timisoara where I planned to catch a plane home. However I had paid for my bed, and it would be cold and unpleasant walking then travelling in wet and damp clothing. I might have changed my mind had not the Pension let me in early, well before check in time. A hot shower and dry clothes felt all the better for having been cold and wet.

Later I walked down to a fast food shack with tables under roof. My chicken hamburger and chips was spoilt however, by my worrying about a dog which circled me barking aggressively on my way this evening. A passing driver kindly gave me a lift a short distance so I could escape its plans for me. However I worried about having to pass the large, evil creature again to get back to my lodgings. In the event he only gave a few barks, maybe as there were other people around. When I leave tomorrow I will have to pass him again. He has a kennel on a corner so he can eye up passing victims. His owner must have a malicious delight in frightening people.

Vila Klaus to the woods after Gărâna: Day 65

A steep climb up to a rundown resort, followed by a descent to a tidy German village where a "Gasthaus" served me a late lunch.

Everything was either damp, such as my sleeping bag and trousers, or actually wet, like my socks and boots. Thankfully after much rain overnight it was no longer falling this morning, instead a low sun lit up wisps of cloud crossing the valley. Ahead of me was the 1440 metre range I was about to climb, over which white cloud was flowing. 

View from by my camp site, the mountain in front with the clouds on top is the one I need to climb

First I walked down through trees to Vila Klaus. A strange old building, with a tower at one corner, dating from 1808. Today it was silent and unused. There was a flat lawn in front where I think the Park Ranger was suggesting I should sleep last night. Unfortunately the tap by the foresters' hut, indicated on my map, refused to give me any water.

Vila Klaus

A long climb followed. Hazy, indistinct tracks and paths, none clear or definite, crossed, which made navigation difficult. Red crosses on trees, marking the route helped, as did my GPS. In especially perplexing places, the path disappeared and I had to push apart the branches of saplings attempting to restrain me, or walk through waist high vegetation in the direction indicated by GPS or red crosses.

A good track on the upward climb

The path goes through here, but is now covered with vegetation

People had warned me the path was steep. It was steep for 700 metres of height gain to reach Semenic at 1400 metres, my highest point since Rtanj in Serbia. At the top the trees were replaced by an expanse of rough grass and low blueberry bushes. Beneath a large metal cross a bell was mounted, and in the hollow below there was a spring where I could refill my water bottle. Semenic village had a church at one of its summits, another summit had a collection of aerials. I tried the church door looking for a place out of the cold wind to add a layer of clothing. It did not budge, then the stiff door was opened from inside by a priest who invited me in. After a moment of reflection before the icons of the Orthodox Church, part of a monastery if I understood the priest correctly, I signed the visitors book as requested and left, adding a layer of clothing in the porch. The temperature at this altitude was much cooler.

The rest of Semenic was disappointing. A pack of dogs were the main inhabitants. Google maps promised all kinds of restaurants and accommodation. All appeared closed, their gates chained, I tried the restaurant that looked most open with a banner advertising a brand of beer but was turned away with a definite "nooo". Some of the buildings, erected in a more optimistic time, were now derelict, missing panes of glass. Possibly something was open in the winter, as this was a Ski Resort, there were a few ski lifts, but "resort" seemed a too generous use of the term.

Abandoned building

The dogs were particularly annoying, barking and following me. They were joined by a few more aggressive animals and I began to get worried. I shouted at them and swiped the air with my poles in front of them to make them keep away from me until I put a good distance between me and the village at which point they lost interest.

Back in the woods surrounding the bald top of the mountain, I rapidly lost all the height I had worked so hard to gain this morning. I passed my second group of day walkers, out for a Sunday hike. At the bottom of the valley, the large building for the annual Jazz festival looked a bit incongruous stuck in the middle of nowhere. However up a hill was the village of Gărâna, a much pleasanter village than Semenic with neat, single storey houses, and people about, chatting to each other instead of loose dogs snarling at me. A Gasthaus was open so I indulged in a late, large Sunday lunch of schnitzel and fries which I was unable to finish (too much snacking on nuts beforehand). As I arrived at the Gasthaus it was raining with hailstones and thunder, so given the poor weather forecast I asked if they had a room for the night. Despite the keys hanging on a board marked "Reception" I was told they had not and did not know of anyone else who had. By the time I had finished lunch, and then lingered over coffee the rain had stopped. I bought some chocolate from a shop for a later dessert, not having any immediate stomach space for apple strudel. In addition to the "Gasthaus" there were several places with German names. Wikipedia conformed my suspicion that it had been founded by German settlers back in 1828.

Gărâna

At the top end of the village there were a series of sculptures in granite (or more strictly dolerite). Curious for such a small village. In the grassland above the village two guys on scrambler bikes were noisily messing about and a flock of sheep grazed, fortunately some distance away so the sheep dogs did not feel the need to approach me. Beside the track there were more stone sculptures. Vertical, rectangular prisms, angled at the top. The front side was decorated with a motif, such as an angel, different on each column. On each side of the top there was a "T" within a circle coloured orange. This was the symbol, also seen on trees and posts of the Via Transilvanica long distance path, a 1,400 kilometre path across Romania. It was a route the E3 followed for a little way. Personally if I had plenty of money to spend on a long distance path I probably would not have used it for lots of sculptures, focusing instead on the quality and maintenance of the trail.

Stone marker for the Via Transilvanica, individually sculpted

Thunder started growling at me from the hills. It became very dark. So I pitched my tent among beech trees on a clear patch of last year's leaves just as the rain began. Thunder echoed for hours and rain lashed the tent. The fabric of the inner tent was becoming very wet, which I was sure it should not. However there was little I could do other than prepare for bed and try to avoid touching the sides, impossible in a tent so small.

Lake Buhui to a hill before Vila Klaus: Day 64

After an easy section this morning, but the trail along an old railway track in the afternoon proved challenging.

Another walk among the woods

Thankfully the rain had stopped by the time I woke up and packed away, although sadly more is forecast in the next few days. The first part of the route was relatively easy, a good track to the edge of Anina. The hillside by the village had a number of half finished concrete apartment blocks, similar to ones I saw yesterday, evidentally an abandoned project. Later I passed a "motel and restaurant", which had also been abandoned although a hopeful sign on the door referred to renovation.

Abandoned, half finished apartment blocks

Much of today was on an old railway track. The first part was easily walkable, although overgrown in places it was on a solid stone foundation with cuttings and short tunnels. Built into the side of the valley the river was a steep drop below me. Later the track deteriorated, saplings were increasingly blocking the path on the old track bed and rocks had fallen over it making the going slow. Many fallen trees lay across the path and had to be negotiated in various ways; over, under or around, but invariably with difficulty. Branches and briers in the undergrowth tried to trip me up. One of the tunnels had partially collapsed requiring an awkward detour around it. In places it was necessary to ford the river, where a bridge was missing or the old railway could not be followed. Although the river was not deep, it could still come over the top of my boots. However my socks and boots were still wet from yesterday's precipitation and the rain soaked grass this morning, so I kept my boots on and crossed where it seemed shallower on available rocks. The river had made a series of natural weirs, with rocks bound together by leaves, branches and tufa deposited from the water.

An old railway cutting which trees are trying to fill up

An old tunnel, the blue and white waymark beside its entrance indicates it is part of the route

A group of five came walking towards me. Four in their twenties and one older gentleman. Using one of the younger lads to interpret, the older man said I was the first person he had seen walking the trail in the last five years. He then warned me about the bridge I would soon come to. A skeletal steel affair where you had to walk along a girder to cross some 40 metres above the river. Fortunately there was a handrail to hold onto and the girder was wide enough for your feet, so you could safely shuffle across, so long as you did not think about what would happen if you fell. I went slowly, holding the hand rail with both hands, moving one foot or hand at the time, very relieved when I reached the other side. A sign said the bridge had been built between 1941 and 1945, and abandoned in 1971, leaving the railway embankment, cuttings, tunnels and bridge in a "deep state of decay". Nature was reclaiming its own.

An old railway bridge I crossed

My left knee was suffering with all the rocks and stones on the path pushing it in directions it would rather not go, so I was pleased to reach a vehicle track. Shortly after I reached the Comarnic cave. This was a "show cave", although, as I understood from the sign, you needed to book in advance with a minimum of five people. Nearby was a spring where I refilled my water bottle and a building with two men outside. They called me over. One was a National Park ranger. I was in the Semenic - Cheile Carasului National Park, having been in the Cheile Nerei-Beușnița National Park in the previous couple of days. Unfortunately language difficulties got in the way but he was trying to be helpful and established that I was headed for Semenic and advised camping on the way as the path was very steep and would take time to negotiate. As I was tired from my battle with rocks, fallen trees and undergrowth this seemed a good plan. I climbed up the next hill and, although only 4 pm, pitched under some birch trees just as it began raining.

Camping Bei to Lake Buhui: Day 63

A wet day in the woods.

Although I was advised that the forester would collect the camping fee in the morning, there was no sign of them before I left, admittedly at what might be regarded as early, a little after 8 am. Feeling guilty I had not paid my dues I wandered around the "Cabana" and nearby buildings. No one was about, so I metaphorically shrugged my shoulders and started today's trek.

For much of the morning it was a gentle uphill, following a wooded valley. A river or stream sometimes ran down the valley, and other times the river bed was dry. The rock beneath the soil was limestone where water's dissolving action had created cracks and caves into which water could disappear only to reappear later when the cavities were full. Stones laid neatly on the trail suggested that, like many paths the E3 followed, an old, possibly ancient, route was being utilised.

Aligned stones suggesting the track had been around for a long time

The main attraction on this first section was Lake Ochiul Bei, a pool of an unnatural blue colour. There was a waterfall nearby, where the water had deposited calcium carbonate as travertine, a rock which gave the falls a rounded appearance. 

Waterfall by Lake Ochiul Bei

Lake Ochiul Bei

After that point the track deteriorated for a while with multiple fallen trees. Occasional bits of pipe, coated in moss, suggested work was started on a project here that never progressed to completion. I then joined a much improved track, it even had crash barriers and multiple, triangular signs warning of "Z" bends. Overkill for a gravel, forest track. Maybe they were once planning for it to become a more major road, only for the project to stall. Fallen tree trunks had bent the crash barriers in places, I doubted they would ever need to stop a car. There were posts with numbers every hundred metres or so. I counted down from 42 to 1, hoping something would reveal itself at zero, but it was just a junction with another track. Not too many flowers today, maybe hiding due to overcast skies, however the blue bells of campanula were nodding their heads.

After a brief walk on a tarmac road a sign indicated that "Ponor Plopa" was along my route. Curious as to what this Plopa was I delayed my lunch for a while. After several hundred metres I gave up, thinking I had missed whatever it was and had a desultory snack of biscuits, nuts and raisins beside the track, only to discover when I restarted that the path to the natural feature was around the corner. Ponor Plopa revealed itself as a cave from which a river appeared. The natural appearance was a little spoilt by the metalwork placed over the cave to stop people entering. However there were benches that would have been a more pleasant lunch stop.

Ponor Plopa

A good section of track, maybe once a railway

I seemed to be on an old railway bed, at least there was a tunnel which would not be justified for a forest track. Later as I climbed up a section of busy road a van stopped to offer me a lift. Tempting, as it was now raining, not heavy but steady, however I declined. Soon afterwards I climbed up a steep, overgrown track. Wet foliage thoroughly soaked my boots, and my socks began squidging in the water inside them. I was glad to join better tracks that led to Lake Buhui (actually a reservoir with a dam). Signs around the edge told you about birds, plants and animals you might see; helpful if you could read Romanian. 

Lake Buhui

Notices told me I was now in Semenic - Cheile Carasului National Park, a different National Park to the one I was in yesterday. Signs even had rules in English to tell me I must only camp in designated places, so I had no excuse. There was an official spot by the lake, beside the Forest Office and Cabana. The man at the office was surprised I wanted to camp in the rain, but could offer no alternative accommodation. (I had thought Cabanas offered beds for the night but it appears you must fill in a form and apply in advance). The camping spot has chemical toilets and a spring down the road for water, so pretty basic, but I will manage.

Cărbunari to Camping Bei: Day 62

A difficult route through the Nera gorge forced me to make a detour.

For breakfast I cooked an omelette and enjoyed it with tomatoes and cheese, then after packing up, searched out my genial host at the house next door to say goodbye. I found him by the hens and a cage of fluffy, yellow chicks. After shaking hands with him several times, and him giving me incomprehensible advice in Romanian, I went to the shop for a cup of coffee from their machine. The village had more people out and about than those I had visited previously. Most gave me some sort of greeting, from a brief nod or raised hand to the full "buna dimineata" (good morning). Ladies almost all wore headscarfs, the older ones were all in black.

My plan today was to walk up the Nera Gorge. First I walked down a gravel track then a narrow path to see "Lacul Dracului" or Devil's Lake. I was pleased to see that trees that had fallen across the path had been cut to remove any obstruction to my progress. Devil's Lake was a deep pool of unnaturally blue water surrounded by cliffs on three sides.

"Lacul Dracului" or Devil's Lake

Unfortunately I had to retrace my steps for several hundred metres, climbing steeply to return to the place where the E3 followed a path up the Nera Gorge. A sign warned that it was a difficult route. Initially the path was reasonably good, fallen trees had been cut away and it was clear where the route went. However the trail became more challenging. It began sloping towards the river and in places had fallen away. Saplings were spreading across the route obstructing my passage and at times it was difficult to see where I was meant to go over fallen, mossy rocks. In places the path was cut into the side of the cliff above the fast flowing water. On one of these sections, a short piece of cable was attached to the cliff to help you over a gap in the path, a few metres below were rocks and the foaming river. I climbed the steep slope after this bit only to find my way blocked by a wall of sapling branches. I could have forced my way through, but I had lost confidence in the integrity of the trail. I did not want a broken leg or similar. Although I had a satellite device to call for help in the likelihood of no phone signal in the gorge, it would be very difficult for help to come and extract me if I had broken bones.

Gap in the path, there is a rusty wire to hold onto near the top of the photo

I decided to retrace my steps to a side trail that would take me out of the gorge. Hugely disappointed but given there was a lot of gorge ahead, where the path was in an unknown condition, I thought my decision was the prudent one.

View from the path I used to climb out of the gorge, mostly trees

My side route, marked with red triangles, involved a steep climb through trees before eventually surfacing in grassland. It led to the village of Sasca Română, where I managed to buy a Coke and croissant-in-a-bag at an ice cream parlour that was not really open, however the helpful owner was around. After the village I was on the "alternative" route listed for the E3, that avoided the gorge altogether. It was not altogether without a frisson of fun. There was a wobbly suspension bridge where you walked on rather dodgy planking, at least one plank had broken, but the supporting cables looked in good condition. There was a pleasant walk among trees and passing a field which a tractor was ploughing. Storks were pecking at the newly turned over earth with their long yellow beaks. I then joined a continuation of the track that went down the canyon, coming from the northern end, but here the path was in good condition, if a bit high above the river. Maybe it was once the bed of a narrow gauge railway. The track was cut into the side of the cliff and there were a few tunnels.

Suspension bridge after Sasca Română

Path along side of cliff

Tunnels on the path

As I was now in the Cheile Nerei-Beușnița National Park, large signs warned I should camp in designated places. The next one was a lengthy walk up a gravel road beside a river. On the way I briefly visited Văioaga Waterfall, one of many cascades in the area. There was a restaurant beside the camping area which I had assumed would be closed. However I arrived at 6:45 pm and it closed at 7:00 pm, so with the help of a workman who spoke English I soon had a supper of fried fish and mămăligă. I was assured that the fish was very fresh, caught that day from the fish farm a little further upstream. It was coated with a peppery spice. Mămăligă is what I had mistaken for polenta before, it is similar and made of yellow maize flower. Service was brisk as the ladies wanted to go home. I set up tent in the campground, which had a couple of chemical toilets and a picnic table under a shelter, basic but at least the ground was flat and I was well fed.

A gpx track of the route I took today can be found at on wikiloc.

Văioaga Waterfall

Gârnic to Cărbunari: Day 61

A short day in preparation for more strenuous ones in the days ahead.

After an enormous breakfast I was on my way after thanking the large Indian man who had looked after me. As I was aware I had a five days ahead reported as difficult in various ways, I arranged for today to be a short one. The first part was over grassland, winding slowly uphill. Although the meadow did not have an abundance of flowers, if you looked there were plenty to see, mainly purple or yellow. I took the time to photograph a few I did not recognise, these included purple vetch, meadow sage and large speedwell, which has spikes of flowers unlike the common sort. However the buttercups and little pansies were easy to identify, the pansies particularly appealing as they looked up towards the sun. The dandelions had already turned into "clocks"

Large Speedwell

Looking back at my track out of Gârnic

The second half was among trees. "Forest Bathing" is not an activity that resonates with me, nevertheless there was a feeling of peace as I strolled through the trees, sunlight illuminating the leaves and painting the earthen path with pools of light. I disturbed a large, brown bird, which flew off when it heard my approach, something which had occurred on earlier days as well, looking like a hawk or eagle, but difficult to identify. 

Forest Bathing

Reaching the village of Cărbunari I walked to the shop. I was glad to find it open with the usual couple of men sitting outside with their beers. One was loudly argumentative. As I had been warned when checking at my Pension this morning, its contents were limited to dry goods. I bought enough to survive five days after walking around the shop several times. My search was complicated as there was stuff kept behind the counter, such as the biscuits which were sold by weight and the raisins that I asked for using Google Translate. Then I sat outside to enjoy a Fanta with a bar of chocolate, and as I had a while before I could check into my accommodation, I followed it with coffee from a machine.

My accommodation for the night was a cabin with a steeply pitched roof, the beds in the attic. A very friendly man a few years older than me showed me round. For dinner he offered me eggs and suggested the shop in the village. The cabin has kitchen facilities. Our conversation was a bit stilted as he had no English and me no Romanian, nevertheless he was an excellent host. Returning to the village shop I bought tomatoes, a pepper and cheese to go with my eggs. The white, feta type cheese was kept in a pale of salt water. An older means of preservation from before the days of refrigerators. I enjoyed an omelette with a cheese and tomato salad on the terrace behind the cabin.

Ravensca to Gârnic: Day 60

A sunny ridge walk today, with views unimpeded by trees.

Although the days have been warm, when the sun goes down the temperature falls. This morning there was frost on the ground around my tent. I was in no hurry to get going as I had only 18 kilometres to walk. My idea was to buy something for breakfast from the shop at Ravensca. As it was only three kilometres from my camping spot I was soon there. Just before the village was a little shrine, a cross with Christ crucified, these little shrines seem a feature of the area. On entering the village there were a few men conversing around a scrambling bike, I assume the one whose tracks I had followed yesterday. On the van with Czech plates beside them it said "Endurance Team". Although Ravensca looked a neat village with a church and playground in the centre, sadly Tuesday was closing day for the shop, so I continued on my way.

A small shrine outside Ravensca

The next section of track was along a rounded ridge. It was farmed, either grass or ploughed fields, giving wide views. Perhaps I found it particularly beautiful as in recent days trees have closed in around me, now I was released into open space, although forest still covered the valley sides below me and many of the surrounding hills. The sun helped, bringing out the colours of flowers beside the track, these included swathes of pink "clammy campion". I followed an older lady with her six cows and three dogs for a while. She was using a stick to keep the stragglers moving. Fortunately neither the dogs or cows showed any interest in me.

More trees and distant clouds

A more open route with wayside flowers of clammy campion

With the farming there were more buildings beside the track and on nearby mountains, often with a few cows and chickens. At one farm they were using a blow torch to burn the hair off a pig's carcass. Two dogs rushed towards me from one group of buildings. I picked up a few stones, prepared should they look vicious. However as there were no teeth bared or curled lips I let the larger dog approach and sniff me as I walked slowly on. Their owner stepped into the road and shouted at them without much effect, then offered me a beer. Declining as it was still early in the day he suggested a coffee, which I gladly accepted not having had one for two days. We sat at a table outside his house where I drank my coffee, he made, then smoked a cigarette, and the big black dog put his nose an inch from my face and sniffed, first one side then the other. He (the grey bearded man) had but a few words of English but I gathered he had two children in Britain, one in Manchester and the other in London. He was Czech and had moved to Romania seven years ago to enjoy the space. As this area of Romania is Czech speaking it was a good place to settle in. I was not sure if he was running an informal café as he gave two men on a tractor a beer each, however he refused payment from me so I thanked him profusely and headed on my way. By that time the dog had lost interest in me and was lying in the sun.

Hay in the area is usually stacked in a mound around a central pole, an older tradition to our modern round bales. However I found cases where the hay was stacked on top of what I initially thought was a shelter. Maybe there were trying to keep the hay away from moisture (or mice or cows).

Hay stacked off the ground, note the clear waymarking

Inevitably there was a descent through trees to the bottom of a valley, where planks had been laid to help me over the brook, then a steep climb up the other side. A farmhouse tempted me with offers of Beer or "Limo" (lemonade I assumed), I decided against it as I would soon be at Garnic. As I was pondering the matter a pack of dogs rushed me. Their owner was nearby and shouted at them but they were curious and stopped by me to have a sniff. No bared teeth thankfully. 

Reaching Garnic, I diverted into the village as there was a bakery that had been praised on the internet. It was with great disappointment that I found it closed. The door was locked and there was no sign of life. A noticeboard in the village drew attention to the architectural features of the single storey, village houses. Tiles of different colours covered a few, many others had patterns cast into their rendering. Some of the gates had particularly elaborate ironwork in different colours which I thought must be hard work to paint. Just beneath the roofline there were often patterns concealing openings, designed to let the roof space "breath" I thought. There were many metal roofs, often painted red, as well as more traditional tile roofs or older asbestos sheeting. Dates were cast into the rendering, usually between the 1970's and 2000. The houses looked older, perhaps this was the date the rendering had been renewed? On less well maintained houses, with no dates, the once elaborate render was flaking off revealing bricks beneath. Despite the obvious efforts to renovate the houses, most looked empty, their shutters down. Apart from a tractor going down the street, no one was about and there were only a few parked cars.

House decorated with tiles and doors with fancy metalwork.

House with motifs cast in the rendering

Disappointed by the lack of food I had hoped for, I went to the Pension I had booked at the top of the village. Although I had booked online three days earlier they were not expecting me. Another disappointment. However, after a conversation among themselves I was given a room with modern fittings in a chalet behind the restaurant. My tummy was now rumbling so I asked if they could do me lunch. The helpful Indian waiter said yes, and told me to come back in 20 minutes. This gave me time to shower before returning for meat and bean soup with sour cream followed by chicken casserole and potatoes. Plenty to fill me up.

Then I washed some clothes, wrote my blog and looked ahead, hoping the shop in next village which I will visit tomorrow will be open. That evening I enjoyed a three course dinner, sweet potato soup, mince meat in cabbage leaves with what might have been polenta (actually mămăligă), and tiramisu to finish. I was not the only one eating, there were two groups staying, each with several people. One seemed to have quad bikes, the tracks through the endless forests must be a good place to enjoy racing about on these things.

Suitably stuffed I retired to my room, which is in one of the chalets behind the restaurant. 

Bigăr to a hill near Ravensca: Day 59

Steep sections up and down forested mountains today.

As I walked through Bigăr this morning I spotted a swallow stationary on a telegraph wire, near enough to see the red mark on its neck and its long tails, usually they are swooping around so fast I cannot spot such details. This sighting put my mind in a pleasant place as I quickly covered the first six, easy kilometres of my walk today. Good tracks through woodland apart from some muddy puddles, and two curious shrines just after the village added interest. My happy reveries ended when I reached a steep descent on a eroded path of crumbling rock and slippery mud into a valley. At the bottom there were a few grass meadows to cross and more concerning a few rivers to ford, or rather the same river several times. Not that the water was deep, my concern was the dressing on my enormous blister. I did not want it to get wet and fall off as I only had a few of the extra large dressings required, and I did not know how long I would need them for. Consequently I kept my boots on and tried to cross the river via shallower parts, balancing on stones. As the stones were wet, slippery and unstable, it was a risky strategy. My trekking poles helped to keep me on the rocks and there was only one mishap which partially wetted my sock above the dressing.

The route then went up a valley on what was a good track perhaps a century ago, with a cutting and a wall to support it, but it was now overgrown, frequently obstructed by fallen trees, and partially landslipped into the river. Although I was faithfully following the red and white stripes plus my GPS, my impression was a better path had been made on the other side of the valley, which I joined when it crossed to my side. There was then a horribly steep path up the side of the valley to the ridge. Water had eroded it exposing the rocks in places and making deep channels. After gaining 300 metres in height it levelled out somewhat to follow a ridge, a ridge with several summits so there was still plenty of up and down. The trees prevented me from seeing much beyond my immediate surroundings, although in places where I could see any distance the panorama was of forest covered hills, cut by deep valleys. Closer to me were numerous red and black beetles, called firebugs according to Google. Many were joined back end to back end, I assumed having sex.

Firebugs making intimate contact

On the trail I was following there were the marks of a motorbike with fat tyres, maybe a scrambling bike using low tyre pressure to gain a grip, necessary as there were slip marks on steeper sections. In places I spotted an old footprint and the holes made by a trekking pole. These were my only signs of people being around. I saw no-one today after leaving Bigăr, the area really is sparsely populated. 

There was another steep drop into a valley, and, after a short walk on the valley floor, another steep climb. This final mountain has a few grass covered areas and I decided to camp high up on one of these, where I can admire the surrounding, wooded hills.

View from my camping spot

Dubova to Bigăr: Day 58

A day walking through trees, mainly uphill, into the Banat.

After breakfast at the guesthouse next door to mine, I began the day climbing the road away from the Danube. This led me to another part of Dubova, with a shop. Thinking perhaps I did not drink enough at breakfast I bought a can of something that said zero percent alcohol and had a picture of a lemon on it. I drank it at the seat outside the shop while eating a bar of chocolate. Opposite a coach stopped and disgorged what I took to be a large walking group, out for a Sunday ramble, like many such groups across Europe. Unlike my club in England however, the participants were much younger. They headed off on a path that led to the edge of the Danube gorge, whereas I was heading deep into Romania's interior.

I was following a trail marked with vertical red and white stripes, one I will stay on for the next few days. Almost all of today was through mixed woodland, all very green in the sunshine, it reminded me of wooded parts of the E3 in Bulgaria. It began by climbing up a steep sided valley with a stream at its base, where I spotted a sizeable waterfall through the trees, other times the track followed a ridge, although with no views owing to the trees. In one area beech trees had grown to a great height, tall but relatively thin, impressive massed together. There was one stretch of high grassland, where blue speedwells lined my path. A few wooden towers suggested the area was preserved for hunting rather than grazing domestic animals. Except for one small, overgrown section, the forest tracks I was on were in good enough condition, regularly used by forestry vehicles and hunters.

My trail among the trees

A bit of open grassland

I met no-one on the trail, there were no houses or villages, it was truly empty of people until I reached Bigăr. Surprisingly this is a Czech village. In the area I am crossing, called the Banat, there are a number of such villages. Czech families were settled here by the Hapsburg empire in the 19th century to occupy empty land. They worked in forestry and were allocated an area to farm as well. I had tried to get a room in one of the houses as according to the internet accommodation was available with dinner and breakfast. I thought it might be an interesting homestay but attempts by email and phoning them in this village and the next failed (I asked a hotel receptionist to do the telephoning to avoid language difficulties). Places were either reported full or the phone had been disconnected. However, Bigăr does have a basic campsite where I have pitched my tent, making a financial contribution via PayPal as a sign suggested. I had expected to be joined by two others as there were two rucksacks with camping equipment leaning against a bench by the church (which was locked). There was no sign of the backpackers.

Bigăr

Orsova to Dubova: Day 57

The first part of my day was over a mountain, the second half was following the road beside the Danube.

Morning by the Danube

After breakfast overlooking the waters of the Danube, I walked up the road into the mountains, or at least hills. After a steep climb I contemplated diverting to the Visitor Centre of the Iron Gates National Park. However, the barrier was down, there was a dog barking, so I decided to miss it out. Most of the traffic seemed to be going to St Ana's Monastery, a little further up, so I deviated off the trail to visit it. Not an old monastery, it was developed in the 20th century, although impeded by war and an atheistic government it now houses a community of nuns. I stepped inside the door of the church. A group of nuns were carrying trays, each with a candle, a bread roll and a glass of wine. There was much chanting, a priest swinging a censer, spreading the smell of incense, the church bell rang repeatedly. A timeless scene, the traditions of the Orthodox Church extending back to the beginnings of Christianity. Maybe something lost in Western, Protestant Christianity. Most Romanians profess to be Romanian Orthodox Christians, although there are also other denominations. Some of the shrines I see on the wayside look Roman Catholic but could be Orthodox. 

Inspired, I continued my walk over the hills. As I walked down to the road to Eşelniţa I spotted a vehicle belonging to the Frontier Police. I had a chat with one of the Policeman who had some English. He asked where I had come from and where was I going today. We agreed the walk would make me fit but I assumed they were really looking for people coming across the Danube from Serbia. Not easy for them to spot as there were many jet skis and power boats zooming about.

From Eşelniţa the remainder of the day was walking beside the road that ran next to the river. There were many Casas (houses) and Pensiuneas (guesthouses) along the road offering accommodation (cazare). They were not the kind you could knock at the door and ask if they had a room, there being no one in residence. Telephone numbers were displayed, for those who spoke Romanian. They tended to be on the Danube side of the road impeding the view of the gorge. I did eventually find a shop where I bought a lemonade and ice cream from a lad who spoke English. His anatomy text book was next to the checkout, obviously studying between customers. 

Nearer Dubova I came across a series of stalls. These collected around the face of Decebalus, a large sculpture carved in the rock on an inlet of the Danube. Apparently the last king of the Dacia, a country that preceded the Roman invasion that roughly corresponds to modern day Romania. The carving is a modern one. Tourists are brought in motorboats to see it. One of the stalls was offering the Romanian version of Langos which I had enjoyed in Hungary and could not resist. Langos is a deep fried bread, I had mine coated with what seemed to be a creamy version of feta cheese with herbs.

Large sculpture of Decebalus beside the Danube

Shortly after there was a monastery. The main feature seemed to be a chapel down a flight of stairs. As is typical the walls were covered with paintings of solemn saints. People were writing what I assumed were prays on pieces of paper and putting them in a basket with a 10 Lei note (around £2). So I wrote "for my wife, for my journey, for my sister" and put it in the basket with the appropriate money. Perhaps I should also have asked for my large blister on my left foot to go away. I stopped during my walk today to put a dressing on it, fearing it would deteriorate. While attending to it an Austrian motorcyclist came over and we exchanged details of where we were heading. He was hoping to reach Armenia.

Mraconia Monastery

At Dubovo I found the Pensiunea I had booked. I seemed to be the only one staying there. They asked if I would like a glass of wine. I thought that would be nice and they returned with a half litre pitcher. It was pleasant to drink it on the terrace overlooking the Danube. House Martins dived and soared around me. The restaurant at my Pensuinea was closed so, now slightly tipsy, I had dinner at the guesthouse next door. They had a big party of families with children eating there but managed to find room for me. Grilled chicken, bread, tomato salad with a sprinkling of cheese.

Seven years ago I looked down on the Danube from the top of the far mountain