Early morning sunlight showed the mountains at their best, the incised valleys sharply delineated by the alternation of light and dark shadow. To see them I first had a steep climb. The vehicle track of yesterday had thinned into a path today, hidden in places by the lower branches of young spruce trees. After reaching the summit I viewed the ranges of mountains to the north that I would need to cross in the following days. Much of the descent into the next valley was among beech trees, the low sun lighting one side of their sturdy trunks, giving them an air of majesty.
After much descent I reached a main road running along the base of the valley. Although it was 1.2 kilometres away I diverted to a shop down the road. The extra kilometres were well worth it. I bought a burger, banana and coffee for a late second breakfast. It even had a customer toilet I made use of. Unfortunately there was nowhere to sit down, otherwise I would have stopped longer (although maybe that was the reason there were no chairs, this was a modern mini supermarket not a tumbledown village shop where old men sat drinking outside). The shop was in Baŭtar, a group of houses strung out along the road. Women in Sunday best were perhaps on their way to church with their men and sons in jeans in tow.
Having descended into the valley I now had to regain the height I had lost this morning as I climbed into the mountains on the otherside. Initially, and to my relief, the E3 followed a single track road up a long side valley, gaining height gradually. Each side of the road there were houses with small holdings, consisting of a few of the traditional haystacks (i.e. hay piled up around a pole), a field of maize, an apple orchard, chickens, the inevitable barking dog and maybe a few cows. These filled the flat bottom of the valley bounded by tree lined slopes. Many of the houses had a few beech trunks outside, some already cut into firewood sized pieces, ready for the coming winter.
When the tarmaced road ended I continued on a track which wound into the wooded mountains. I crunched on beech mast which had already fallen. A shower of hornbeam seeds floated down in a light gust of wind, turning as they fell, slowed down by the three pronged "leaf" which rotated the seeds as they fell. Birch trees gave up a few of their leaves in the breeze. There seemed an excessive amount of uphill, although the gradient was not too extreme. My route led to high grassland, dotted with yarrow and daises, where intermittent rain showers began that continued for the remainder of the day.
After what seemed a longer time than necessary I reached the dispersed houses of Negoiu. Although I had noted a possible shop in my notes, I was doubtful of both its existence and whether it would be open on a Sunday afternoon. I was pleased to be wrong. Outside a wooden shed, with a "Magazin Mixt" sign, a group of men were sitting at a ricketty table, under cover, drinking beer and arguing, all speaking at once. I bought a non-alcoholic beer and snacks off the lady serving (who was aloof from the arguments of her customers). While I enjoyed my beer and chocolate a black and tan dog approached. On my arrival he had barked furiously in an effort to drive me off, now he changed tactics and looked at me beseechingly with big brown, pleading eyes, although he received nothing for his troubles.
After my refreshments I continued on a road along the valley before turning off on a track which, yet again, led me up the mountainside. At the top of this range there was cow pasture and farms. On attempting to follow the route on my GPS I had a few electric fences to cross, gaining a shock when manoeuvring myself and rucksack under one.
Seeing what appeared to be a flat spot among trees where I could not easily be spotted and weary after today's walk, I decided to pitch camp at 5:30 pm. Sadly what appears flat from a distance often turns out to be sloping, as it did today. However it is not too severe, and I do not expect it to stop me sleeping tonight, tired as I am.
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