Before coming to Romania, there were two places we had heard about that had particularly piqued our interest: the Transfăgărășan highway, and the Transalpina pass.
The former is one of the showpiece attractions of the country, an impressive feat of serpentine engineering that connects north to south across the densely forested Făgărăș mountains, while the second scoops the lofty accolade of highest road in the country.
Having ticked the box for the ascent of the north side of the Transfăgărășan 1.5 times – once with a recce ride ended by a humungous brown bear sat by the roadside, and once during the Transfăgărășan race from July 7th – that left the alluring south with its mighty Vidraru lake still undiscovered, as well as almost the entirety of the Transalpina- during our stay in Sibiu we had tickled the very first part of the northeastern approach to Transalpina, but had remained far faaar flung from its high reaches.
After staying with our friends the first couple of weeks, we had a few days planned in Sibiu in an AirBnB, and had kept a slightly audacious hope that Constantin might win the prize of a free two night hotel stay that was on offer for first man and woman to the top of Transfăgărășan at the aforementioned race.
Having missed that mark, and with our AirBnB being booked up for the subsequent days, we thought how we could fulfill our sightseeing list, and, after a little planning, arranging and help from our friends, we came up with a plan: 4 days of bike packing, linking those two iconic passes, and achieving a secondary objective of saving us a 5 hour train journey between the start point of Sibiu and the end point Brașov.
Bags packed for adventure mode, our last night in Sibiu was a turbulent one: a rock concert was blasting riffs from a square very close to us, and Thunderstruck turned to a thunderstorm which took over the symphony, accompanied by people running through the streets seeking shelter.. ! Short night of sleep suffered, we left the next morning under the ominous premonition of heavy rain, but managed to get out the door onto only mildly damp roads. The first part of our route retraced our path along that prelude to the Transalpina that we had previously covered on a 100km loop ride from Sibiu, and we made good progress despite headwinds, managing to avoid any actual rain too.
Our weather fortune was mixed with poorer fortunes for others, as a big road traffic accident blocked the road in a small village- hopefully all were ok!! Then not too much further along, just as we turned onto new roads at last in Poiana Sibiului, we spotted a cyclist with his bike upside down, hands and forearms black with oil.
Of course we asked if he was alright, and his defeated look told us everything we needed to know before he could respond with a single word. The chain had fallen off the chainrings, and not only wedged between the crankset and frame, but looped twice to present us with a real conundrum.
I stopped carrying my bulky chain tool years ago after only needing it only once in a decade, and he – Daniel – thought he didn’t have one either. After a while of tussling with the greasy-black chain, our now black fingers found that his tool did in fact have a chain breaker on it.. ! Chain parted and rejoined in a normal alignment, we got him back on the road, two lessons taken away- know your equipment/ tools, aaaand don’t buy front derailleurs from a certain brand..! Erhemm.
Finding we were headed the same direction, we continued our journey together, descending the atrocious asphalt of the hairpins into Dobra- a village name that translates as ‘good’ in Polish, but clearly had no association with the state of the road..!
Turning left immediately after Dobra, we were now on the Transalpina proper you could say, although the first 30km are merely a drag really, averaging 2.4% with no steep ramps. Following the course carved by the river Sebeș, we passed the first of several giiigga-sized dams on our trip: barajul Tău Bistra- not much compared to what would come our companion assured us, but nevertheless an imposing 78m tall.
The next barajul (dam), Oașa, was to be the end of our shared journey- Daniel turning around and heading for home, us continuing towards our goal far away in the clouds. We shared the Plăcintă cu cartofi that he treated us to, and wished him well for his upcoming Paris-Brest-Paris; bon chance !!
He left us with a little souvenir sticker each also- ‘I ❤️ Transalpina’ now adorning the top tubes of our bikes 😁 Saddled up again, we made no vertical progress along the Oașa lake, then started the first more ‘serious’ climb, 6km at 6%, before a descent undid much of our effort. A big junction where heaped containers of raspberries were for sale was a treat too good to pass up, and so, stuffed with goodness, we now finally headed towards the main climb of the day: let’s be having you Transalpina..
But first.. After traversing endless forests, we now entered a scene straight out of a Canadian postcard: a rushing fresh mountain river on our left, thick green forests parted by a ribbon of smooth tarmac with yellow road markings, and towering majestic peaks the circumferential backdrop; we passed through in awe, and soon started the first section of Transalpina ‘switchbacks’!
Via these back-and-forths of steady ascent, we finally climbed above the trees for the first time, and at once it became apparent where this road got it’s name: wide green pastures, vast rolling slopes, only the odd rocky prominence, green speckled with ovine and bovine locals. We were now in a huge arena, and with the forecasted wet weather never having materialised, it meant absolutely everything was in broad and bountiful display as we meandered our way up one mountainside to the background of others jutted skyward across the whole panorama, and in a moment, the endless draggy kilometres through the forests had melted away into exaltation at the sight of the prize they had so long obscured.
Having trended gradually uphill for the last 100km+, now finding ourselves at around 1800m above sea level, we decided to try one of the energy boosting goodies we had brought with us from the Paltiniș race the previous week: something that looked like a big bar of white chocolate, but was labelled as ‘glucoză’; pure corn sugar. Well.. I don’t have any words to describe this ‘food’.. The taste, the texture, the ‘mouth feel’… confusing and unlike anything I had ever eaten before, what on earth was going on when someone decided to sell this ??! Ewa & I looked at each other in perplexed unison, looking for some sign from the other that this was ok to eat.. Which we gave each other: by spitting it out. Yuck. 😵😵 If a tired cyclist won’t eat it, then I can’t imagine who will, but we were at least happy to know that those 100g of bikepacking luggage could be discarded. Never again, eurgh- what did we just bite into ?!
Opting for other snacks to cleanse the palate, at least our mental palates had suffered no such offense.. Yet! The grandeur of the expanses around us just endless, we watched paths roll off into the distance towards other peaks, passed some affectionate mountain donkeys, and then faced straight into the hardest ramp of the day; a sudden jolt of 13% average gradient for an entirely straight kilometer, with a peak of 16% just at the end- ouch!
Its not in vain though, as the few remaining reaches of the climb now finally opened up views to the east; unravelling before us lakes, valleys, cascading peaks, green over-abundance, the odd snow drift a punctuation in the vivid colour.
There was a gathering of souvenir and restaurant places at what appeared to be the summit, but we were slightly surprised at the unceremonious-ness of the peak otherwise, and thinking we had the best behind us, prepared for our descent, which our Garmin’s told us would be interrupted by a 2km climb- nothing compared to all we had done already!
Those familiar with the Pyrénées will know the spectacle that is the Aubisque-Soulor connection (those unfamiliar can read about it mentioned here); a gem of nature, traversed by a saddle of road that showcases its every facet without intruding excessively into the pristine scene.
Well, just such a saddle lay before us now. Unexpectedly revealing before us, we faced into a gargantuan mountain bowl, our entrance a relatively direct plunge of asphalt, but the exit a captivating hairpin lacing perched right on the edge of a mountain, drawing our gaze from afar- a central focus in a huge scene that gave us plenty of reason to pause and soak it all in; wow, just wow !!
Indeed every metre of ascent had been so wholly worthwhile, as we rushed down the fast descent and watched the scenery with jaws agape!
Just one ascent remaining, and what a finale! The hairpins were much tougher than expected, gradients in the teens not mixing well with a day’s worth of fatigue, and no less today was Ewa’s longest and climb-iest ride in several months after a lay-off with an injury.
Finally, shortly after the hairpins, we reached the aaactual top, now duly celebrated with a sign on a rockface: Transalpina, 2145hm, the road between clouds, the king’s road: a crowning achievement indeed!
The plan had been to undo all our ascending and end the day in Novaci, but when we saw a town just below the second knot of hairpins on our descent, Ewa’s niggling injury made the prospect of the looong descent, just to climb all the way back up again the next day, seem like an unecessary struggle.
Tendonitis in her shoulder meant long periods on the drops, having to brake and swoop around hairpins were not pleasant, and so we found ourselves knocking on the door of a B&B in Rănca, ending day 1 at 1600m elevation, 152km and 3400hm done! Well done baaabyy!! 😘😘
Strava deets: Constantin day uno, Ewa
That evening at dinner in a nearby restaurant, the waitress told us that just yesterday the pass had been under a blanket of several centimetres of hail- what a difference 24 hours makes- we had had nothing but sun in the high mountains..!
Well, it might not have hailed, but our hopes of a quiet night breathing mountain air were shattered in the rudest manner at 1:55 in the morning, a deafening warning alarm sound emanating from my phone and ripping us from our slumber: ”A bear has been detected in your area..” Oh.. Dazed but managing to turn off the unexpected alarm notification, we asserted that we most certainly were safe where we were, and weren’t planning on going anywhere just yet. Sleep was NOT forthcoming however, as every dog in the village was going absolutely bananas, conjuring images of a full scale canine vs ursine battlefield in our minds. When sleep did eventually welcome us back, I actually had a nightmare of Ewa and myself being chased through a town that was being ravaged by ferocious bears- a game of hide and seek that had me awake again before long. Relieved in the realisation that the terror was not quite so acute, I then had to contend with another round of trying to drown out the incessant barking of the dogs. Yikes.
Morning came and we checked that the bear warning had actually been for a town 40km away; coast clear- phew..! Ewa knew I wanted to see the side of the climb that we had skipped yesterday, so she had already suggested I head down to Novaci and climb back up, and we tied it in with the excuse of finding a bakery to bring some breakfast up.
Cruising down the 20km descent, I did find a bakery, stuffed the bar bag, pockets and mouth full, and set about getting back up the climb sharpish. If yesterday evoked something of Aubisque-Soulor, this southern approach of Transalpina had me thinking of the Campan side of Tourmalet; long wide stretches in the early kilometres, a ski station village 2/3rds-ish of the way up, and the hardest and most winding kilometres near the top.
Ewa had been to the small shop in the village meanwhile to pick up some other snacks, meeting some of those restless dogs on her way- more bark than bite ! We had a late breakfast with one of them eagerly hanging around for scraps, and got ready to go, thick clouds hanging all around us, much of the view obscured in thick whites and greys.
Dressed in endless layers, we headed off into the blanched skies, straight into hairpins and gradients that made for a slow start. The drifting windows in the clouds made for wonderful snapshots as one view disappeared and the next was revealed, Ewa shutter-clicking away as we made our way higher and higher.
Rounding the last tight bunch of hairpins before cresting the Transalpina again, we had the company of a mountain rescue Land Rover Defender 110 blaring his siren, audible from far down the mountain, and far into the distance after they passed at speed.
After the summit, we seemed to leave most of the clouds behind us, and at last Ewa could fully appreciate the splendour of the place; now without fatigue that had dimmed her appreciation somewhat yesterday. Eyes wide at the views back into the saddle road we had ridden across yesterday, we did note the difference a weekend day makes- today being Saturday saw a LOT of people around; cars, motorbikes and even the odd bus bringing people through this wonderful place.
It’s always nice to ride a climb in both directions; the same road from the reversed perspective takes on an altogether different character; the backdrop, the effort level, what came before, the small details that you notice when climbing at less than 10km/h instead of descending at over 60, and so the appreciation was all new here, stopping at different vantage points to take it all in.
Reaching the exit of the mountain bowl at the second peak, we started the long descent out of the Alpine landscapes and back into the forest hairpins, the ‘Canadian’ zone with its forests, river and mountains, and back to the junction where we got raspberries yesterday, which would mark our turn onto new territory: today we would head the looooooooonng way east, past lacul Vidra, over the small climb at it’s end, down some hairpins, and then the longest valley descent I think I have ever been on; a gradual weave along a water-carved gulley in the middle of the mountain range, passing several other large dams. It was hot by now, but the breeze as we cruised ever further downhill kept us cooled, except the several times we had to come nearly to a stop to yield to cows in no hurry to move off the road.
After a supplies stop for snacks in Brezoi, we hit a part of the route we had been dreading: a large main ‘E’ road, that seemed to have no alternative diversion available. Expecting a fast and busy road, we stuck close together and tried to ride a quick-ish pace to get it over with, but actually, it was an experience in itself: riding through a deep gorge with plunging rockfaces soaring far above us, the road was on a large bridge constructed just above the water at the foot of one of the stone behemoths, the huge river flowing to our left: altogether an impressive landscape, and one that transported our minds all the way to images of Thailand. To boot, all the vehicles were giving us a wide berth, so the road was far safer than some others we had been on!
Coming off the main road for the last kilometres into Râmnicu Vâlcea, the flat riding really took an unexpected toll on us. It should have been 20km, but somehow felt like 12 times that, a combination of tired legs, the fatigue of the long day in the heat, and a ravenous appetite for dinner.. !
Passing some straggly looking dogs who probably felt similarly, we finally found our way into town, only to see that our long anticipated pizzeria right on our route didn’t exist! Going up and down the road looking for where on earth it might be, every pedal stroke felt like 10 too many at this stage, until eventually we gave up and headed a few kilometres deeper into town – away from our accommodation – in search of slices of heaven. Oh man did they taste good when we finally found them!!
Stomachs full, we rolled the last few kilometres to our accommodation, a quiet spot in a little village outside town, in a lovely old house filled with a warm welcome from our hosts. Tonight at last we would get a good nights sleep we thought, but alas the gods were determined to thwart us once more: a strimmer enthusiast kept up his nocturnal gardening until well after 10pm (very late by our standards), but then handed off disturbance duties to a festival somewhere nearby- blasting techno music until 7 in the morning; village tranquility indeed.. !
Day 2 Strava: Ewa, Constantin
Day 3 was to take in the other highlight of our route: Transfăgărășan day! Having heard that the south side of this climb is far more frequented by bears even than the north side, Ewa had gotten herself into a bit of a hole, finding recent strava tales of people meeting 18 bears in a single crossing, or meeting bear mothers with cubs- the stereotypical volatile scenario. We even considered skipping the road altogether, but some coaxing and reassuring from me that bears had very little interest in us saw us start the day as planned.
Indeed, as we made our way out busy roads and over short climbs in the scorching heat, it was a bee who stung Ewa that threw the first punch..!
Curtea de Argeș lies on the southern end of the Transfăgărășan- albeit still quite distant from any of the real vertical progress of the actual pass- and was an unexpected hot spot of activity: the roads were jammed with cars for us to pick our way through, and when we eventually got to clear roads again, we jumped into ditches a few times as first a fire brigade, then police and an ambulance flew past us, lights aglow and sirens blaring.
Passing the sign showing Transfăgărășan pass: ‘Deschis/ Open’, and onto the initial climb to Vidraru dam, we got an unexpected insight into what those emergency vehicles were rushing towards: starting the hairpins, stopped cars formed an endless queue up the road ahead of us, and we gingerly picked our way ever further along, eventually reaching the woeful sight: a motorbike wedged fully underneath one of several cars in a pile up. Yikes. The emergency services were already doing their thing, and we put our bikes against a wall and sat out of the way.
Ewa’s tenuously mustered courage at facing this bear-tastic road was now given a perfect excuse to crumble, and she wondered if this was some sort of a sign. Debating and waiting, I was keen for us to press on, and seeing some people having walked past the accident, we asked a policeman if we too could pass with our bikes; ‘Yes no problem’.
So past we went, and emerging from the other side to another endless queue of stopped cars, many stranded drivers were appealing to us for information; ‘big accident, many cars’ we said !
The situation of course took away from our appreciation of the scenery somewhat; but any attention paid to our glances was already rewarded with something impressive: both from nature’s canvas and the engineer’s solutions to passing a road here. A deep ravine of sheer rock, the ancient river-architect now flowing unassumingly at its floor, a view back up at it’s carvings would yield little in the way purchase, yet against all the odds there’s always that one tree or shrub that bursts out with perplexing improbability, adding to the awe of the place. And then there’s of course Man, who decided to blast some rocks and span some bridges, the latter in particular here striking in their traverses.
The dramatism was only heightened when following the arc of road along to the other side of the gorge, which then faced us directly gazing at the impressive perch of the Poienari castle; an erstwhile hideout of the famous Radu Voda (‘Count Dracula’), it’s location a natural defence that few would have threatened: the cliff walls simply tumbling away into nothingness at the boundaries of the fortification.
Passing through a tunnel, we emerged to a rather more modern feature; if we thought we had seen some dams yesterday, they shrunk to mere amuse-bouches by the scale of the Vidraru dam that now filled our view. 166m of vertical concrete retaining wall, holding back up to 465 million cubic metres of water. Quite a precipice to stand on top of, and the views over the reservoir behind just stunningly beautiful, with an unexpected Thai feel once again; you know those tremendous rock stacks in the water you see in pictures- like that! Beyond those rocky features, endless forests covered every rise of the mountains bordering the huge body of water; wild, wonderful.
Proceeding onward over the road on top of the dam, the queue of cars stuck behind the accident had ended, and there were no cars going in our direction as they hadn’t been able to pass yet. And right into this unexpected tranquility dropped a warning from an oncoming car that was the last thing we wanted to hear; ‘there’s a bear up ahead!’.
We had met a bear a couple of weeks ago already, when we first attempted the other side of the Transfăgărășan. On that occasion, Ewa had somehow inadvertently peered directly into the eyes of the massive mammal, lying prone on the road side just metres away from us, and the experience had left her very shaken, unable to go any further that day.
Now, that fear became an acute rush once more, as we slowed nearly to a crawl, trading pleas with assurances: ‘lets stop and turn around, or get a lift in the next passing car or anything except keep riding, I really don’t want to go’; ‘the bear has no reason to possibly want anything from us, we will make our approach obvious by keeping on talking, if we did see the bear we could stop a passing car to be a barrier between the bear and us to let us pass, we’ll be fine’.
I saw him first, quietly sitting behind a barrier on the opposite side of the road, in a corner, a much smaller bear than the one we had seen that first time, but I said nothing, hoping Ewa might not notice him at all. Only when we had passed, I mentioned that he had been behind the barrier there; ‘I know.. he looked very sad, I wanted to cuddle him..’ Well.. women’s logic or whatever else.. go figure.. 😅😅
Now, with our bail-out option being ‘blocked’ by having to pass that bear again, and the unknown ahead, there was nothing for it but to press on, and besides, that encounter had been a trifle.. ! We talked sh*te the whole time as we continued on along the swooping and winding lake shore road, making sure any further wild mountain residents would be well warned – and hopefully avoidant- of us. Not long after, cars started passing us in intermittent batches: the road must have opened up again! Feeling less isolated, we were having a tremendous time rolling through this truly spectacular road; a heaven of sweeping corners through the trees, waterfalls rushing to our side, the lake occasionally emerging at a window in the tree cover.
After nearly 30 kilometres of more or less flat/ rolling roads tracing the ins and outs of the severely jagged shoreline of this huge lake, finally, the task we had been anticipating all day lay before us: the 25km of steady ascent of the south side of the Transfăgărășan pass. Woohoo !!
The early slopes are not difficult, and we made slow but steady progress as we left the lake behind and headed up through the forests, stopping for water and refreshments at the next opportunity. Higher up, a huge landslide had torn off a colossal swathe of the hillside, a massive brown smudge in the sea of green trees.
It wasn’t long after that, about 15km into the ascent, that the tree cover started to thin. The road too started to wiggle and weave more, the first hairpins even presenting themselves in full view, as some tougher gradients slowed us down to let us appreciate it all even more fully.
By now, the earlier road closure had wholly lost its effect, and there were chains of cars going in both directions, with groups of people picnicking all over the green grassy fields and near the fresh mountain stream running down the mountain. The place was buzzing with activity, and we were passing many of the same cars when they stopped, only for them to pass us again later.
The mountains now without the veil of the trees that had obscured our views for so long, the splendour of the high mountains was rapturous; we were following the road as it weaved up the right side of a gargantuan ice-cream-scoop taken out of the mountains, sheer edges plunging down from high above the road, a waterfall crashing down a dramatic precipice ahead of us, green alpine-like slopes in between the rocky drops, and most captivating of all, an abundance of jungletastic vegetation clumped on parts of the hillsides, conjuring images of the heavily vegetation clad dramatic rocky formations one might associate with Hawaii.
Come to Romania they said, its got bits of Canada, Thailand, Hawaii, the Pyrénées, the Alps, German villages of old, and other parts that frankly look like they haven’t changed much in two hundred years- the odd car sticking out like a sore thumb amidst horse-drawn carts and cobbled streets. It truly is a wild place, bringing with that the drama of heightened senses, the energy of anticipation of facing challenges new and unknown, and therefore an appreciation all the deeper of its rewards.
Indeed the rewards were many, as we traversed a huge arc around that scooped hollow, passing right by the waterfall, stopping to to shower in its cool water to wash off some of the sweat- the afternoon sun still hot. Someone had carved some bear statues that stood near the waterfall- invariably these sort of monuments seem to be showing a fierce posture and facial expression, nothing like the actual creatures we had encountered thus far thankfully.
Entering the last kilometres of the ascent, some of the best was yet to come: getting glimpses from elevated perspectives onto the natural wonder through which we had been climbing only enhanced our awe further, the waterfall shrinking below us as we drew level with those Hawaii-esque drop offs on the opposing slopes. The road really started to convolute and meander now, and we even met a few other cyclists heading down the mountain- buna ziua ! 👋
Stubborn snow remained on some sheltered spots, heralding our proximity to the top, and it wasn’t long before we reached the 2042m elevation that marked the entrance to the Capra tunnel, bored through the mountain at the highest point of the road to connect with the north side. Layering up before the tunnel and subsequent descent on the other side, we took our last appreciative glances at the majesty of the landscape we had just ascended through, all wide open before us: absolutely magnificent.
We had been warned that the tunnel might be unlit and poorly surfaced, however found a bright and smooth floored mountain channel, the only disturbance being the backed up cars- all beeping their horns as if they were going to achieve anything other than pummel our eardrums.
Emerging from the tunnel of noise and back into natural light, we were now back at the finish line of the event we had done here last weekend, and only now fully appreciated what a privilege that occasion had been. For the event- the Transfăgărășan Challenge, an amateur support event for the professional stage race, Sibiu cycling tour – the road had been fully closed to other traffic, with only race organization and support vehicles parked in the large clearing between the road and the picturesque Lacul Balea. Today, a normal weekend day, saw the top flooded with cars; the queue trying to emerge from the tunnel meeting the mass ascending the other side of the pass, and both scrambling to pay for the limited parking at the top, in the midst of street vendors and people milling around everywhere.
It was a chaotic bustling scene, and we went for a quick look at the beautiful mountain lake, but then wanted nothing more than to get out of there as quickly as possible.. !
Starting down the descent to the north, the queue of cars waiting to reach the top stretched well past the first kilometre- no wonder people say to avoid this road on a weekend.. !
Nevertheless, we were quickly distracted by another big difference to that last time we here: at the event, clouds had blotted the vistas, meaning the hairpins near the top were visible, but little beyond. While that had already been a glorious sight, and one we had seen pictures of many times, we stood now by the roadside, enthralled not only at the spaghetti of road lacing its way down before us, but also at the clarity of the view way away onto the flat lands far beyond, bringing into perspective the scale of our mountain perch. Every bit deserving of its fame and reputation, this road had brought forth lyrical-waxing from no lesser critic than Jeremy Clarkson, who said of it that ‘its like every corner from every great race track in the world has been knitted together to create one unbroken grey ribbon of automotive perfection’, well, its not bad on a bike either..! 😎🥳
The day having been long, it was time to make progress on our descent, nevertheless stealing terrific glances at every opportunity, enjoying those corners as we were already relishing replaying all that this day had let us experience.
Just before reaching the end of those 25km of unbroken perfection, we saw another stopped bunch of cars, and wondering what was going on, spotted the poor, rather small bear stood uncomfortably in the limelight of tourists’ cameras directed at him. It was a somehow sad sight, this powerful, wild creature looking undignified hoping for scraps while appearing as the star on an unwanted stage. We passed by, our 3rd bear encounter leaving yet another different impression.
1500m lower than we had been just 45ish minutes earlier, it was very warm again, and we realised our climbing was not quite done for the day as we rode the last 15 undulating kilometres to our stay in Victoria that night, but at last we were rewarded with a good nights sleep: an AirBnB in a small quiet town, no techno, no strimmers, no bears, no dogs, no rain storm or rock concert. Just zZzZzZzzzzzz’s.
Day 3 Strava: Constantin, Ewa
Waking the next morning, we knew our shortest, easiest ride was all that remained; 100km into Brașov: cue a lazy morning, starting with a packet of crisps in bed..! We did hit the road eventually, and started the predominantly flat first part of the ride into a massive headwind, making slower progress than we had hoped, but drawing out our farewell to the mountains into a long aaaddiiiiooooooooooooooooosss ..!
We were on relatively quiet roads most of the time, trading ‘Victoria’ for ‘Lisa’, and had only one very short climb to contend with before descending into Râșnov, which announced itself from afar with its Hollywood-inspired lettering on the mountain where it’s namesake castle sits.
Thereafter we had the last climb of this bikepacking delight trip: the 9km, two part ascent up to Poiana Brașov ski resort. A wonderful climb through a dense forest, we savoured every moment, in no rush to conclude the joy of these days of journeying. The climb does hit doubled digits in places, but once descending down the other side, it was a very mellow, flowy roll into town, interrupted with a stop at the viewpoint halfway down, which offers a great appreciation of Brașov town and it’s partial, 270-ish degree mountain perimeter, opening to vast flat lands stretching off into the distance. Not to be outdone by Râșnov, BRAŞOV is also emblazoned in gigantic letters on the hillside so there can be no doubt where you’re arriving.
Entering the historic city, our mini tour had now linked two terrific cities of Transylvanian Romania, via two iconic passes that can unquestionably hold their own next to any of the famous giants of the Alps, Pyrénées or beyond, and while the bear population of the Făgărăș mountains may be literally in the order of thousands higher than in those peaks, we wouldn’t have missed this opportunity for the world. Thank you Romania- you’ve been utterly amazing!!
Strava day 4: Ewa, Constantin
VeloVegano 