Transilvanian loop and a detour home

With all the tips I got, my plan had slightly changed over night. I wanted to cross the Balkan mountain ridge in the south and then go further south towards the Rhodope mountains, before turning east to the Black Sea. I had also been told that the direct route was currently closed due to road work, so I would take the pass near Troyan.

There's a nice monastery at Troyan.



This crossing keeper's house looks like an old railroad car.



Near the top of the pass I stopped for lunch. Warmed up, I came to the other side and had a nice view. It would have been even better without the clouds and occasional rain.





Once I left the mountains behind, it was mainly straight roads until I came to Plovdiv. Every road heading south was closed by police barriers. I asked a police man for the reason and he laughed at me. The next officer was more communicative and told me about the Bulgarian National Tour. The bicyclists were coming this way and for the next 3 hours every road would be closed.

I looked at my map and decided on a detour trying to reach Asenovgrad via Popovica. That worked out great, as I was told in Asenovgrad that the roads would be opened as soon as the last bicycle had passed - in about 10 minutes. Just enough time for a coffee break.

From now on I followed the winding road to Smolyan. I actually think this would have been a great ride, but with the road just re-opened, there was bumper to bumper traffic in both directions. Also, it was still raining, and as we climbed up to the ski resort of Smolyan, it got chilly too.

That was too uncomfortable for photos, so here's a Google Earth view instead.



I was freezing, wet and the sun was setting down. The locals told me that none of the campsites on my map actually existed. Luckily, not all of the hotels had been closed for the off-season and I found a nice and cheap room for the night. I had a hot shower, some tasty fish for dinner and could check on the internet for ideas on what to do next.

When I woke up I was greeted by sunshine!



I had an omelette for breakfast, got my bike from the restaurant's terrace where it had spent the night and hit the road.

For the next hours I should basically following a river. There were these small suspension bridges which were fun to walk on. In the middle the suspension ropes doubled as railings, but barely exceeded my knees in height. And you could make the whole construction swing easily.



Around noon the scenery changed completely and the forrests were exchanged by open fields of dry, yellow grass and bushes.
I explored some dirt roads leading to a lake near Kardzali.



Local traffic. I'm not quite sure whether the woman collection fire wood (?) belonged to the man on the carriage. They were doing about the same speed.



In Haskovo I saw this huge statue of the Virgin Mary.



And some more dirt to get off the road for a picnic.



I reached the coast of the Black Sea just in time to look for a camp site. In the first town I stopped at a super market to get some beer, meat and a throw-away BBQ grill, as I wanted to celebrate this adequately.

I was assigned a spot in the middle of the camp, despite my request for a beach-site place. I took a tour round the almost empty camp ground and decided to set up my tent right next to the beach anyway.

The day ended with a BBQ, beer, some nice conversation with a student couple traveling all over Bulgaria by train, more beer and finally a moonshine walk on the beach before it was time to fall asleep.

I woke up in time for the sun rise over the Black Sea.



As I hadn't seen anything as dirty as the facilities on the camp ground for a long time, my plan was to find a less filthy place and combine my bathroom break with breakfast, before having a swim in the sea.

I found a beautiful and remote spot where I jumped into the warm water and laid down on some rocks afterwards to dry.



The Turkish border was only about 30km away, so I decided to explore the coast as far as possible.



As Turkey was that close I had decided over night to visit Troia and do some unfinished business there.

Half the day was already gone, so I doubted that I could reach it before night. The border crossing was easy, though much more complicated than any other border on this trip before. Turkey is not part of the Schengen Agreement. I had to get my passport stamped by immigration and than cue up to get my bike's papers checked. They added a note on the bike in my passport to make sure I wouldn't leave the country without it. All of this was done in less than 20 minutes.

As soon as I crossed the border I noticed the smell of burning trash. I knew that smell from previous visits to Turkey, but was surprised now that I haven't smelled it anywhere on this trip prior to entering Turkey.

The day ended in a cheap roadside hotel between Havsa and Edirne as I didn't knew any good places to camp here.

I left the place as soon as I woke up and headed southwest towards the ferry crossing the Dardanelles. I was somehow disappointed that many major roads had been transformed into 4-lane highways in the last years.



The fortress guarding the European side.



On the Asian side lies the city Canakkale and its only another 30km south to Troia from here.

I'd been working with the archaeologists in Troia in summer 2001: For weeks, I had started working before sunrise, finished processing the data 1-2 hours after dinner and ended each day drinking beer with one of the archaeologists. 5 hours of sleep per night ... Great times!
I knew that the 2010 campaign had ended 2 weeks ago, so there was little chance to see any known faces - but I wanted to see how the place had changed over the years.


This is where we'd told the archaeologists to dig in 2001. (and yes, they had found what they'd been looking for)



They usually refill their holes once they're done with their work, but I found a small pile of dirt which might belong to that place.

This is within the main area (2001)



... and 2010. This is a different angle, it seems like there hasn't been much of a change.



At the entrance there is this 'replica' of the horse for the tourists. It's facing Troia, so
- if you visit Troia, the first thing you'll see is its ass and
- you'll only have good light for photos very early in the morning.



Tourists. These were even dressed in matching shirts.
Obviously German, and I had a theory on the exact region (based on haircuts) - but my prejudice was proved wrong by their dialects.



Relaxing on the coast of the Dardanelles.



As there were only 2 archaeologists left at this time and I didn't knew them, there was no point in staying longer, so I headed back to Europe.
I followed my own tracks back to Keysan where I turned left. When the sun set, I pitched my tent on a camp ground in Alexandropolis, followed by a swim in the Adriatic Sea under a starry sky.

After dinner, another solo rider and I finished off the spirits I had bought on the side of the road somewhere in Romania. Pius was traveling from Switzerland to Istambul and riding a GS like mine.

Disclaimer:
There have always been controversial discussions on whether or not this place has anything to do with the Troia described by Homer in the Ilias. I have no idea, who's right.

great ride ! and some real cool pics.

Great pictures and report. Thanks for bringing this part of the world to us.

Pius was still in the world of dreams when I left.



The weather was just perfect and my route following the coast offered lots of opportunities for a refreshing swim.





I tried to avoid the large roads and follow the coastline, thus having some fun on gravel. Once or twice I actually had to stop as I couldn't see the track anymore.





My front brakes started making some noise and I wondered whether they could be worn out already. While I thinking about my brakes I passed to bicycles. I must have been deep in my dreams as it took me several minutes to realize that it would have been nice to stop and chat.

I haven't seen anybody else on this track and from their looks, these people had to be German. They were completely outfitted with Ortlieb bags and even wore khaki shirts, cargo pants and helmets.

When I turned around it took me another 5 minutes to catch up with them - and yes, they were German!
The couple had just finished university and were now on their way to Asia. It had took them 10 weeks to get here. They were also very nice and this time I wasn't annoyed to meet German tourists.



At the end of this day I reached a camp ground on the coast, right at the foot of the Olymp.
The first thing I noticed were several RVs with Dutch and German plates. I set up my tent as far away as possible.

Now here's the deal about that: If I'd wanted to spend my vacation time with other Germans, I could have just stayed at home or take a charter flight to Mallorca. These RVs also showed me that I had left the area where loaded bikes were rare. From now on I would see more and more RVs and bikers.

My only hope was that these guys came by ferry from Italy, so I wouldn't see many of them once I reached Albania.
I shortly talked to them on my way to the showers and found out that the owners of one of the RVs actually lived less than 10km away from my home.

Just behind this valley lies the Olymp and my plan was to pass it on its south side.




The road through the mountains was great and almost without any traffic. Now here's a question: Isn't this nice and smooth? With no traffic to be seen it was tempting to take these bends faster and faster.



... only that someone had parked his trailer right in the middle of the road. It had been hidden from view by a bush (visible on the photo above) and gave my ABS something to do.



I tried to talk to this guy, but everything he said was Greek to me. (sorry, old joke ...)



A hill with a perfect view on the Olymp seemed to be a great place for lunch break. That road on the left got me itchy so I decided to try it out.



I was in good mood when I saw an ambulance parked on a field beside the road. Someone was lying on the stretcher and being treated, while others were busy packing something which looked like a large peace of canvas. I can only guess that someone had a bad landing with his glider or parachute.
No need for photos here.

I stopped a little bit further up the road and took a break to get my head clear.



There were reasons enough not to be distracted and focus on the road.



The road finally turned out to be a dead end for me as it let to a training camp of the Greek special forces.
Some of these seem to have some fun driving the hairpins, judging on the rubber left on the road ...



From the Olymp I continued heading west. Somewhere I saw this spot where dozens of carpets were hanging in the sun. It looked as if a whole village had decided to have a wash day.



Oh, wait ...



Today's destination were the Meteora monasteries located on a very special set of mountains.







I spend the rest of the day on these rocks looking at the incredible scenery before I road down to the nearby village to check in to the campsite.



There was a young couple with a 640 KTM Adventure and we chatted over dinner and some local wine.

There was a Rotel bus on the campground. The Rotel Tours were the first possibilities in Germany to see other countries after WW II. With their special setup they were independent from hotels etc., so they could tour all over Europe and even Africa.
However, I can't imagine spending a night in one of these ...



After a stop at the nearest bakery I went back to the monasteries and found me a nice place for breakfast.



'Beam us up, Scotty. There's no intelligent life down here.'



This early in the morning there was a chance to avoid the tourist masses. And really, when I got up to this one, I was nearly the only visitor.



There are almost 2 dozen monasteries, and the largest one was next on my schedule. The parking lot was already full of buses, several showing the same colors. Two elderly women were walking past them: 'Here is no. 8, that's our bus, my dear!'
How horrible is that? Imagine being on a guided tour with several hundred people ... wherever you'll go, it will be overcrowded.
I had a look at the cue and left.



At the foot of these mountains I met an offroad club. Loaded up with sand-ladders and everything else you might occasionally need on a trip through ... ahem, Greece.



I had been told that the Ohrid lake in Albania was famous for its tasty trouts. A species which only exists in that lake and is almost extinct nowadays. So I crossed the border to Albania, hoping there would be some fish on tonight's menu.

There are 3 things which you can notice immediately:
- a lack of road signs,
- hundreds of mushroom bunkers, and
- even more Mercedes.






I checked the next 50 oncoming cars and 20 of them were Mercedes.



When I got to the lake I met this little guy who was actually the first Albanian who could talk in English to me. He liked my helmet.



Cops drive Mercedes, too. On the first glance I had misread 'Police Baksheesh'.



There was a nice camp site near the lake which I only had to share with an elderly Dutch couple in a RV. They had driven the thing all over Albania and knew every single asphalt road.

And the restaurant had trout on the menu! Since they also had their own fish farm, I had no concerns ordering it. Tasty.

Thanks for taking all those great pictures.
I've said it before how this site is an awesome way to see parts of the world I may never visit through the eyes of another motorcyclist. This RR allows me to live closer to that vicarious state as we have the same bike.

In the morning I got on the road again and looked for another nice spot for breakfast. With all the pillbox bunkers around, that was quite easy.


Sitting on top of that bunker, I had a nice view on the lake.



The next bit was a short trip through Macedonia. Near Debar I spotted this taxi waiting for customers.



Back in Albania, I wanted to ride from Peshkopi to Kukes. Without a map or GPS data, my only chance was to talk to the locals – which usually couldn’t understand me. Consequently I got lost. That was not much of a problem, just a huge laugh, when I passed someone for the 2nd time who I just had asked for directions.

On a dike near Shumat, I had a lot of time to grab my tele lens for this photo …



The road to Kukes was all gravel and with great scenery. On a mountain top I met some boys who were visiting a memorial.
They spoke a little English, we joked about our rides and they took photos of themselves posing in turn on my bike.



We hit the road more or less together and I left them behind.



My pleasure was short-lived, as they thundered by me on the next straight downhill section, literally leaving me behind in their dust. I might have had the better bike, they had more experience riding these roads – and probably bigger balls …

[photo missing]

Wait, something’s wrong here with the CGI … this one’s better.



For a gravel road, this one was mostly in really good condition - some of the gravel was actually fresh. And I mean really fresh.





I had been advised to take a ferry along the length of a gouge starting near Kukes. It had been an advise, rather than a recommendation, due to it’s must-see scenery.

Unfortunately, I took a wrong turn (again) and ended up on a four-lane divided highway with no possibility to turn around. The road was brand new and meeting these Italian guys should have been obvious hint enough to turn back immediately … I failed.

So instead of taking that unbelievable beautiful ferry trip it was an uneventful highway ride to Shkoder for me.



Albania had been one of the highlights of this trip so far and I definitely need to come back to take that ferry trip. Maybe I will not be overtaken by some boys riding a moped two-up next time (but who cares?).

My last impression on Albania was this narrow bridge with a wooden deck. When I got to the other side and stopped for this photo, I was encountered by two begging and very unfriendly kids. After all that fun and friendliness in Albania, why was it necessary to leave the country with such bad memories just 10 minutes from the border?



As rain was coming up, the sun was about to set and I was pretty tired, I took a room in the next guesthouse. They gave me a nice suite with a great view from the balcony.

Schöner Bericht!

Nice report!

How many days did you travel? KL

Thanks, but there's no bike on that photo ...

All in all it was 3 1/2 weeks on the road.

This was a great report. Awesome photos and adventure. Thanks for sharing.

Back on the road I stopped to take a photo of some goats, but the guy with the horns had some issues with that.



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From Cetinje my way led me to Budva and then along the coast towards Croatia. The coastal towns were in terrible contrast to the beauty of what I had seen of Montenegro so far. Hotels everywhere, jachts and cruiseships in the harbor and a huge traffic jam on the road. This was the exact opposite of what I wanted to see on this trip.

This continued when I crossed the border to Croatia and then rode into the city of Dubrovnic, maybe the best known place along the coast. It definitely has its beauty with the old fortified harbor, but I didn't want to stay long with all the tourists - even in off-season.




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Someone had recommended the Ston peninsula just north of the city, so I headed there to find a campsite. It was getting late and I had to chase the sun. Somewhere in a small village, the road was full of children wearing judo outfits which were on their way to their training in the front yard of one of the houses. It looked like every single kid in this village was doing judo.

I however had taken a wrong turn, ended up in a dead end and arrived at the campsite long after sunset.

fantastic trip report, thanks for taking the time to post.

Dave.

In the morning I discovered that the campsite location was actually pretty nice in a valley with a white beach facing south. Only that the sun hadn&#8217;t reached that valley yet, so it was still cold. I decided to see a little more of the peninsula and left to find an open bakery and get some bread for breakfast.

Later I sat on the quay in the harbor of Trpani and chewed on my bread while watching a car ferry being loaded. It left about the time when I had ended my meal and got my map out. Just when I recognized that this ferry could have been both a nice change and a shortcut it passed right in front of my place on the head of the quay.

On my route back to the mainland I came through the village Ston which has one of the longest city walls. Its walls actually cross the whole peninsula here.



It&#8217;s also known for their mussel farms and sea salt plants.



For the rest of the day I was following the Croatian coast. Several small bays offered opportunities to get a refreshing bath in the warm Adriatic Sea. Other than in Greece, there were not quiet spots here near the highly frequented road. You could take a promising dirt road down to the coast, only to be greeted by someone asking for a parking fee.



And something else had changed. The campsite I chose for the night was as expensive as usual for western Europe. I had reached &#8216;civilization&#8217;.
It got worse when I headed for the next restaurant for dinner and couldn&#8217;t find anything nice on the menu. I settled for &#8216;Schnitzel & Pommes&#8217; &#8211; something you can find on each corner at home.

Again, I got up with the first sun light. The fishing boats on the calm sea were a great sight.




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Somewhere along the way the weather changed suddenly. You could actually see a line on the water where the wind zone started. Strong winds were blowing down the valleys, blowing me almost into the oncoming lane.
The wind produced a lot spray above the waves, breaking the sun rays and producing little rainbows.



From Croatia I passed Slovenia and got stuck in traffic in Trieste. The day ended on a campsite near Trento where I had dinner with a group of other German bikers who were going up an down every pass on the Alps they could find. <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:HyphenationZone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <woNotOptimizeForBrowser/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]-->

Another early start and I enjoyed the morning mist on the wine fields. It was harvest time and the small tractors pulling loads of wine or apples became a road hazard, as every now and then an oncoming car pulled out in my lane, hoping to pass a tractor before crashing into me. I played their game and - with highest attention - started to pass tractors and cars, too.



All that was left was to conquer the Alps.



And the Passo del Stelvio was my route of choice &#8211; now with the Transfaragasan pass on first place, only the 2nd best driving road in the world according to Top Gear.



A little bit more Alpine roads through Italy, Switzerland and Austria and I was back on the German autobahn, where I flew the last kilometers to my sister's house, just in time for her party.





Thanks for your patience, following me on my trip. All the best for 2011!