In Search of Darkness
Italy
We
were soon into the mountains where the Passo dell 'Aprica was rapidly drying out
despite the low cloud. A lesson the French could learn here - plant trees along
the edge of the high pass roads, the trees hold the cloud away from the road so
you can still see! We had quite a bit of distance to make up today with a
deadline of Villa Santina by five to meet Kevin and Liam, so rapid progress was
made with a break for a most excellent lunch in Revo. After a near death
experience with a mad Italian rounding a blind bend on my side of the road I
found myself really focused and pulling away from our depleted group, and soon I
was racing the clock to make Villa Santina on time. A foolish proposition, but
in the end I made it only 10 minutes after our advanced party of Jim and Andy,
and Kevin and Liam hadn't been waiting long themselves. After regrouping we
proceeded to find a campsite for the night and to consume huge amounts of
Italian nosh as the tail end of the group, Iain and Crispin, found their way
home.
True to form, the following morning just as we were packing down came the
rain. We would be passing into the unknown very shortly, and according to our
research there would be no petrol stations open in Slovenia on a Sunday so we
all went to fill up as close to the boarder as we could. The automatic petrol
pumps didn't like our soggy lire and after jamming for the umpteenth time the
supervising cafe owner exchanged our cash for dry notes. All refuelled, we
followed marvin who in turn was following the very prominent road signs for
Slovenia, assuming they would take us via the major boarder crossing we were
aiming for.
Slovenia and Croatia
The
Passo di Predil was not the one we were looking for! We didn't find this out
until Bovec, a good way into Slovenia and after some GPS and map consulting we
attempted to rejoin our route while passing beautiful clear rivers that truly
looked like they were boiling, complete with steam over the water. The pass we
used to recover our route made the 21 hairpins of l'Alpe-d'Huez seem like childs
play, our concern at the sign saying hairpin number 50 being only slightly
unjustified as here they number the hairpins over the mountain and not
individually each side. The roads were still mostly wet, which really made the
downhill cobbled hairpins very interesting. Some folk were by now getting
worried about fuel since the smaller tanked bikes had only just enough to get
through Slovenia on our planned route and this 30 odd mile detour could be a
serious problem. Not so, as once back on the main road to Ljubljana fuel
stations abounded. Well done the Foreign Office! Slovenia is a beautiful
looking country and I regret we couldn't have stayed there longer. Our tight
deadline meant we had to drive straight through, and the farther east we went
the sunnier and hotter it became.
On
to Croatia and Zagreb, our revised overnight stop because of the time lost
(again!). As I lead the group into the city looking for signs to a campsite a
local biker pulled up next to me at some traffic lights and started chatting. A
member of the Hollister MCC, a Croation patch club, she led us to their bar
where we were refreshed while they located a campsite for us and then one of
them escorted us to the site which looked like a former military camp converted
to a motorway service area, and negotiated a deal on our behalf. Top stuff.
Thank you Hollister MCC.
As soon as I removed my bike jacket I dug out my insect repellent, those
that weren't so quick on the draw suffered. It was an incredibly hot, mosquito
ridden night, followed by an incredibly hot mosquito ridden morning with a very
late start as we all took advantage of the sunshine to dry our washing. Once on
the move heading towards Hungary the number of heavy vehicles had increased
dramatically, the recent conflict in Serbia causing most of the East - West
trade to redirect through Hungary and Romania. We pulled up in Bjelovar for a
breather, a very military town with a couple of prominent 'No Photography' signs
which a couple in the group had missed. I was ready to make myself very scarce
when they produced their cameras to take photo's of the bullet riddled buildings
we'd stopped next to, a clear reminder that Croatia had very recent been at war.
We progressed on, me now leading when I took a sharp bend in a village far too
quickly and Mike who was following said the front wheel of my bike stepped out a
good couple of feet. Hell, it only felt like the whole width of the road to me.
Shit! We soon crossed into Hungary to find it a very prosperous and
westernised country, and we made rapid progress towards Szeged and our overnight
stop.
Hungary
To most of us Hungary was a wonderful place especially as they'd arranged
for beautiful young women to line our route, even in the middle of nowhere.
Unfortunately Kevin had a moment and low sided his VFR into a barrier. With
cosmetic damage only to the bike, and nothing but bruised pride to Kevin, he was
able to continue the trip after obtaining the appropriate paperwork from the
police. We booked into a lovely and very cheap hotel for the night in Szeged, a
beautiful spa town absolutely brimming over with top totty. I want to live
there. We were now on the track of the eclipse and clearly Szeged was gearing
up for the event with lots of street entertainment (besides the beautiful women)
and music festivals. There was a temptation to stay here to watch the
forthcoming show in the sky but we were expected by EnduRoMania the following
day, so we pressed on.
Romania
We had a long hot queue to leave Hungary and pushed marvin forward as first
victim. Tired of sitting in one place for so long the border guard stretched
his legs and fingered his gun bringing total horror to marvin's face as he
slowly backed away with his hands in the air. "You thought I going to
shoot you, yes?" said the young official, grinning from ear to ear. The
rest of us fell about laughing. Contrary to what those jealous of our trip
would have had us believe, these border guards were not all corrupt fascist.
Before long we were all in Romania, a stark contrast to the country just a
stones throw to the west, and with an official speed limit for motorcycles of
just 31 mph.
We
passed through the town of Arad, which is the poorest place I've ever been to.
The few folk who were dressed like businessman were hugely outnumbered by those
dressed in mostly rags. Children were begging everywhere. The roads through
the town were mostly cobbled and in an appalling condition with pot holes big
enough to swallow my Tiger, and motor vehicles shared the highway with rail
tracks and horse and cart. I really felt like we had left the security net of
the 'civilized' West now. A brief stop for lunch at a roadside cafe in
Timisoara almost brought the place to a standstill as drivers and pedestrians
alike stopped to look at the ten western bikes parked neatly tail-in to the
roadside. I'd led the group at a conservative 50 mph up 'til now but we all
agreed we could push the limit much more, roads permitting, as we'd seen no
police since the border. The Tiger's ability to really soak up the poor roads
came into its own in this once prosperous country. The roadsides were littered
with broken Darcia cars mostly with punctures or damaged drive shafts, the
owners repairing them where they had stopped. Whole families would come out to
see us as we rode through the villages, and the thoughtful Romanian people had
also lined our route with women, and some children, tho' these weren't so
beautiful as in Hungary.
The
Romanian countryside was a contrast to its towns and was beautiful, farmed in a
way not seen in the UK for many many years. Our accommodation in Romania had
been arranged by Sergio, organiser of EnduRoMania - an off-road motorcycle rally
- and we were expected at a family home in Rusca a little way into the
Carpathian Mountains. The whole village came out to greet us! Bogdan, another
organiser of EnduRoMania was there to translate for us and we were soon settled
in and eating some fantastic local food. Our hosts hospitality couldn't be
faulted, tho' their toilet (a whole directly above the cesspit) wasn't to all
our tastes!
Our
viewing location for the great darkness event was to be the EnduRoMania camp
which, unsurprisingly for an enduro based event, was off road. Most of the road
to base camp was concrete tho ' in many places reduced to rubble, and in a
couple of places it has been undercut by the river it followed. The last couple
of miles were proper gravel, some of it very deep, and I was really looking
forward to having some fun on my Tiger. None of the others were quite so keen,
and a few rode as far as the gravel sea and walked the remaining distance.
As we prepared for the big event, Kevin realised he'd forgotten to bring his
camera tripod from the guest house and much to his delight got a lift back on
the back of an enduro bike. I, on the other hand, didn't even own a tripod but
I managed to blag one from a French film crew who were making a documentary of
the EnduRoMania event. So, with a welding filter gaffa taped to my telephoto
lens and a sudden realisation both Kevin and myself had forgotten all the
exposure information for photographing eclipses, we waited ......
Continued
September 1999
© Jeremy R Sagar