Day 24--Golubac, Serbia to Drobeta Turnu Severn, Romania

Through the iron gates

Friday, July 18, 2008

Golubac to Drobeta Turnu Severn, Romania
Distance, 132.23 km (82.17 miles)
Temp: 33C (91.4F)

X+--The great backward "S" arch of the Carpathian Mountains (Transylvanian Alps) sweeps through the border lands of Romania, Bulgaria and Serbia forming the only real obstacle as the Danube flows toward the Black Sea. Here a great gorge - the "Iron Gates" has been carved through the mountains. We follow the river through this gorge to our destination across the river in Romania.

We all ate a pleasant breakfast outdoors under the thatched umbrella in the woods. Then we took the dirt road out of hotel, and after a short bit were on the road next to the river.

I snapped this photo to show rock overhanging the road and to also show that we will soon arrive at Golubac Fortress that sits in the middle of the road and requires us to pass through it via several tunnels

Soon we came to a fortress that spanned the road. We cycled through its three arches and then along the route through 18 tunnels, the longest 360 meters. I stopped to take a photo of the first tunnel, holding my shot until I could get a photo of the emerging vehicle I heard coming. Yipes! It was our van with Jovan in it. He had asked Stefania if he could lead groups through the longer tunnels. Judy and I and the Martins were cycling somewhat together, so Jovan and I waited for the three to arrive. When they didn’t come after a while, Jovan drove back, found them, and followed us through with his lights on.

A tunnel under the rocks the fortress sits on high above

Internet photo of a picnic area near the Golubac Ramparts

Stefania and Jovan—with Bob and Rob’s help—had outfitted our bikes the night before with red blinking lights and headlamps, but the long tunnels, even with the van behind, somehow messed up one’s sense of equilibrium, so you felt like you were falling over. In fact Judy told me later that she’d fallen in the last tunnel and scraped up her elbow again.

One more tunnel, and Jovan bringing the van back to escort us through the longer tunnels

We’d been told about an interesting archeological dig across from a weird rock formation on the other side of the river, so when I got to the sign for it, I went down (and “down” is the operative word). To get to it, one had to bike a very STEEP downhill that I took at speed; my momentum carrying me halfway up the exit hill. I locked my bike to a little outdoor eating area and then began to follow the signs to the site. Not far along I met Fred and Marion coming out. They said that it was worth the walk. It was a long walk on a shaded gravel road to the dig and a small museum. The dig was covered with a low corrugated metal roof under which it was exceedingly hot, so I didn’t stay long. But the museum was air-conditioned. I was the only person in it, and I lingered taking photos and cooling off in the AC.

What the guidebooks say:

Lepenski Vir is a series of Mesolithic villages located on a high sandy terrace of the Danube River, on the Serbian bank of the Iron Gates Gorge. This site was the location of at least six village occupations, beginning about 6400 BC, and ending about 4900 BC. Three phases are seen at Lepenski Vir; the first two are what's left of a complex foraging society; and Phase III represents a farming community.

        A hearth, often found with evidence of a fish-roasting spit, was placed centrally within each structure. Several of the houses held altars and sculptures, sculpted out of the sandstone rock.

       Many of the stone sculptures are monumental in size; some, found in front of houses at Lepenski Vir, are quite distinctive, combining human and fish characteristics. Other artifacts found in and around the site include a vast array of decorated and plain artifacts, such as miniature stone axes and figurines, with lesser amounts of bone and shell.

The dig under a corrugated tin roof

The odd rock formation across the river from the dig

There were many farms on the hills along the river, and I loved their method of stacking their hay around a pole and covering the top with a tarp. There were also interesting riverside villages. I rode through one resort area with lots of swimmers and restaurants. It was having a kind of a flea/farmer’s market.

Meticulously stacked hay

Less meticulously stacked hay and a shepherd alongside the road

A shepherd woman in her babushka

I had lost Judy and Harold and Carolyn when I went to the dig. They did not dare ride down the long, steep hill. So, I assumed they’d biked on and were ahead of me. However, they came up behind me at the flea market village farther down the road. They had been in the village for a while because Judy had been shopping for some product or other in the stores there. Together we had trouble finding one arrow to show us the way out of town, but eventually found it under a parked car.

Looking toward the Iron Gates

I rode with these three Rear Guard for a short way, all of us looking for a place to eat our lunch. I went ahead and found a place when Harold looked about on his last legs. If he’d been moving any slower his bike would have fallen over. I found a great place with a spring/well, a picnic table, and shade on our side of the road, but the others never came. I assumed they’d stopped somewhere else for lunch, so finished the ride alone.

Internet photo of King Decebalus rock carving on the Romanian side of the river near Orsova, Romania

My photo of the distant rock carving; right a telephoto view of Dacian King Decebalus

There were two long, arduous climbs to the top of the cliffs, but then wonderful downhills. All the way up the second climb (which seemed to take forever and left me sweaty and exhausted) I listened to music piped from the monastery far below on the Romanian side of the river. It was fun to ride to Gregorian chants and the monks' singing.

The white monastery at the bottom of the cliffs and a close-up view of it across the river

When I finally got to the Portile de Fier (the Romanian border), Jovan was still there! He was waiting for a bus to take him back to Belgrade. A young gypsy woman was also waiting. She got up while I was talking to Jovan and felt my bike tires, examined the seat and gears, and then looked long at me. I think she wanted to beg but Jovan must have given her a subtle warning, because she glanced at him and then sat down again on the curb. I told Jovan that I was worried about Judy et. al. and he promised to look for them from the bus on his way back to Belgrade and said he’d call Stefania if he saw them. (As it turned out, he had no need to do this because the bus had still not come when they got to him.)

The Iron Gates Gorge coming up; I took many too many photos because the road on the Serbian side was basically one long climb and I needed to stop often to pant and drink

Finally at the top of the climb. The view is across the river to Romania.

Just as I got to the Serbian customs, it began to rain. I had not worn my raincoat, but this time I was under the customs canopy so did not get as wet. I waited a bit, but the rain showed no signs of letting up, so off I pedaled across the river atop an enormous power plant dam to the Romanian customs. In the middle of the dam were many empty discarded cigarette cartons. People smuggling in cigarettes by the pack, I guess. 

Internet photo of the enormous dam power plant spanning the Danube's Iron Gates between Serbia and Romania

When I got to Romanian customs, I had to wait in line, in the rain, in the open, behind a line of cars. We inched forward. The rain rained down. The six German shepherds penned behind a chainlink fence barked and barked at the droopy looking person inhaling exhaust and walk/riding a bike through customs.Finally I grew impatient and pulled the bike ahead of the cars to an empty booth under the gas- station-like canopy. The official in the booth was not happy, but he took my passport and disappeared for 5 minutes or so and then waved me through.

After negotiating the exit road/parking lot I found a faint arrow that pointed the way to Drobeta Turnu Severn, the hotel location 17km (10.5-miles) away. The road was two lane, no shoulder, heaved and dished with the standard roll of blacktop at the edge. The dished portions were filled with water, so once again I had to trust that the water did not cover a pothole or other obstacle. The ride into town on this road, in the pouring rain and poor visibility, through an industrial warehousing area, and with semis streaming by on both sides of the road, was unbelievably dangerous. I should not even have attempted it, yet the “horse to barn” urge had grabbed me. Twice I found myself pushed off the road by wailing ambulances, and I also rode beside a truck on the top of one of the rolled ridges of blacktop. The ridge ended suddenly, so I had to ride down into the trough, mere inches from the truck passing me. Horrible experience!

I got to the hotel at 5 pm without an ounce of adrenalin left in my body. Actually 6 pm because somewhere in there we had a time change. Once again our room was at the top of the hotel, this time up very narrow steep stairs.

I expected a long complaining report from Judy, but when she got in an hour or so later she reported that it had not rained on them and had not rained at customs. The Rear Guard had even found a few arrows that had not washed away, so had little difficulty getting into town. I asked about the traffic and she said that it was not bad. Geez. No one else on the ride got a drop on them! And no one had the wall to wall truck traffic that I did. Judy did report, however, that she had fallen in the final tunnel.

Dinner outside that evening at the Casa Andra Hotel was, in my opinion, the best meal since the trip began because it started with a large chef’s salad; then chicken and mashed potatoes with fresh fruit and whipped cream for dessert. We’ve had our share of fried foods and also of sandwiches of cheese and ham or other cold cuts with no butter, mayo, lettuce, etc. on huge chunks of bread. These sandwiches are very dry and hard to eat in the heat on the road, so I usually save mine until I am in or give it to any of the many homeless dogs. 

Before dinner, Stefania and Alex, our new Romanian ride leader/interpreter, patched up Judy’s elbow as best they could with the first-aid kit from the van. Poor thing has fallen on it so many times that her upper arm is black and blue.

Alex and Steffie working on Judy; our delicious chef's salads awaiting our forks. 

The gang at the dinner table; right, cooked peppers with little foil handles on their stems for tidy eating

Observation:

- Saw another hedgehog roadkill along the side of the road. That makes three.