Bechet - Belgrade

Bechet – Belgrade from the 5th of may till 13th of may

The first stage of this article starts on my brothers birthday. Rumour has it, that he more or less infected our family with this whole cycling virus. That story remains to be told some other time, okay? But from a comfy hotel room in Belgrade; cheers bro! Again a happy birthday and thanks for that ‘awful’ two wheeled virus that’s sending me now around the globe! Hahaha!

5th May: Bechet – Lom 85 kms

Took the ferry from Bechet, and thus re-entering Bulgaria. The plan was for just one day, target; a guest house in a small town called Sinagovci, where I had booked a room. Waiting for the ferry ate up an hour, so it was almost noon when I was good and ready to roll again into Bulgaria. Slow rolling hills, with again these great agricultural fields that stretch out onto the horizon. The emptiness of it really speaks to me, and when the cars are out of the picture, one can easily become in a trance like state. The weather deteriorated rapidly that afternoon. A fierce rainstorm came down, and it was rain jacket and plastic bags for my feet time… Pushing on, and upwards. What goes up, must come down. And so it did. Into Lom was the scariest descent of this whole journey so far. Cobble stones slippery like ice from the rain, a steep descent, and the occasional car flying by as close by as they possibly could, made for an hair raising experience. I steered the bike onto the gravelly shoulder to gain more grip, but that only gave it a more surf like feel. Not a great deal better. So, in Lom I decided to call it a day, even though I had this room reservation in Sinagovci. After some riding back and forth in this little town, I found a hotel. Good room, good food, good beer and nice people. All good. The memories of the nightmary descent were pushed into the background swiftly.

6th May: Lom – Sinagovci 61 kms

With the expired reservation and the possible consequences of a ‘no show’ in mind, I thought of going to this guest house anyway. Just to explain the situation of the day before. It still took me almost five hours to reach this guest house in the woods. So the set target of yesterday was at least a little ‘ambitious’, to put it mildly. What a great response I got from the owner and staff! No problem at all. We agreed on a fifty-fifty deal, so I paid half the price for the missed night.

A group of (real) bikers was also present. Stereo typed rough looking blokes with leather vests with colours on the back and function description on the front, like ‘vice-president’, ‘treasurer’ and ‘prospect’. When they saw me pedalling up to the terrace, I could read their minds by looking into their eyes: “What the fuck is that!”

Heavy rock music, some women and lots of drinks (they paid for using the bar and kitchen) completed the picture. I felt a bit out of place, but not out of my depth. I just didn’t give a shit. I connected with the owner, his wife, the bartender and their friends quite easily. The evening proceeded into two cultures having their own party. The bikers with their barbecue and rock music outside, and ‘we’ (the others) inside at the bar with a more relaxed ambient type of ‘indie’ music. Went to bed, at a certain time, put in my ear plugs and was gone for a vast six hours.

The next morning it rained, rained and rained. A power cut on top of that, and you got your day of rest sorted out. The bikers left, one after the other, and I have to say; they were quite a peaceful bunch. But maybe they gave that impression because the traditional bar fight didn’t happen. Anywho, goodbye and good riddance to them. A walk later that afternoon and a visit to a Belgium women, a neighbour so to speak. She ran a hippy like place that had to manage without the comforts of running water and electricity. Quite a challenge in those dark Bulgarian woods, I must say. She hosts ‘Zen’ like events and has to manage the place with what volunteers are willing to contribute. At the time, two guys, a young Bulgarian tramp and a beefy big German dude fitted the bill of the volunteering bit. The Bulgarian seemed to me like a freeloader type and the German dude looked like he was high constantly. A lovely grin from ear to ear, with a light humorous tone of voice that isn’t your typical German. Luckily he did speak English with that heavy (WWII) accent, so I had a great time as well! Hahaha!

A great dinner, with the most succulent pork meat I have ever tasted was the start of a more relaxed evening. The Belgium women and her two ‘boys’ came by and some other friends of Hristian (the owner) joined as well. Drinks, drumming (not by me) to the ambient music and talk, gave the night a great vibe. To my opinion the drumming invoked  the rain again, because that’s what happened. Fortunately we sat under a big canopy, so we remained dry…

8th May: Sinagovci – Negotin (Serbia) 81 kms

Although it rained in the morning, I was determined to hit the road again. A day of rest and hanging around is okay, but not so good for cycling moral. So, it was goodbye to Hristian, Hanna and friends and off to Serbia. Heavy strong wind to fight, but in a great scenery. The more I follow the Danube up streams the more beautiful it gets. I also meet more and more cyclists that travel down streams. Mostly Germans, single guys, sometimes two guys and some mixed couples to. The single guys have nearly always the same story. Quitted the daytime job, and biking into the great unknown. Some have a detailed plan, some just go with the flow. I like the latter ones best. You can map out any plan you like, but you don’t control the events that take you wherever it is you want to go. Nature dictates the pace. Also mindset, fatigue and the will to power on come in to play.

No border crossing incidents this time. Is that because I’m zooming in into the real European Union? Let’s hope so. Not a real difficult or long stage, but the guest house in Negotin was a tip by Tim Shepard: “Go there, you won’t regret it.” Also, after Negotin; a big stretch of nothing, as indicated by the map, made the decision to dismount in Negotin a lot easier. And it’s a pretty little town as well.

And what a great stay I had there! Nice room, a great hospitable host Bojan, a breakfast to die for, and all at a price that’s just too embarrassing to mention. I would recommend anybody that’s biking along the Danube to pay him a visit. That’s right, you won’t regret it!

9th May: Negotin – Tekija 86 kms

I didn’t die from the breakfast, but if I’d kicked the bucket there and then, it would have been on a high note. Bojan even gave me food for the road. Homemade corn bread, the same on which the Serbian people manage to survive on during WWII. So if it was good enough for them to survive the worst of the worst, I couldn’t go wrong. Or could I..?

The route started out very nice, along the Danube, off road but with some killer views. The river was sometimes as close as three feet away. One wrong move and the whole Starcycle Enterprise would sink like the Titanic, hahaha! But all these fun and games wouldn’t last unfortunately. In a little town called Mihajlovac an old man hollered me back. He spoke no English, but he drew a map that depicted what had happened to the road. Apparently there was a landslide two years ago that mend that there was no biking, or even hiking through it. Normally I would ignore such good advice and go for a try anyway, just to see if you really can’t go through. But with this tank like build bike, good advice should be taken onboard and sure is not to be ignored. I learned the hard way… So retracing my steps through Mihajlovac two drinking friends invited me to have a ‘raikia’ with them. Reluctantly I agreed upon having one, this was already my second one, and it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet! Bojan and me toasted after breakfast on a good trip with his homemade ‘raikia’, as a farewell gesture. These guys were already so liquored up, if you would light their breaths, they could be used as flamethrowers…

The road out of Mihajlovac, was a really steep one. I began to regret for being so perceptive to the Serbian hospitality. But I struggled my way to the top, and the rest of the ride was as pretty as Cinderella. Target town: Tekija. Your typical one horse town, but I managed to find a room at the edge of this petite town. The actual room for rent was already occupied by a French couple. The guy who was lying on the bed, was attending to his burns on leg and foot. They were inflicted by a pan of hot soup he dropped from his hands when he was in a certain state of intoxication (let’s go with that), as he later would explain. The young woman and his companion was as charming as French women can be. They live, eat, drink and breathe love. Or so they seem, anyways… But I digress.

Anywho, she told me the neighbour rented out this spare room. And so the grand ol’ gal did. She didn’t speak one word of English, or as much as I did Serbian. But we worked out the price, and it was fine by me. The room, well this was just actually the old room of her son or daughter. I couldn’t really work out the gender, judging by the person that was shown in the framed picture on the dresser. Presumably taken when colour film became widely available for the crowds. Furniture, late fifties if not older. Three portraits hanging on the wall. One of the child, one of herself, and one of a couple. All black and whites. And obviously from an era long gone by. No Wi-Fi, no TV, just back to basics. So, an early night then.

10th May: Tekija – Dobra 72 kms

After a meagre breakfast which was a huge let down compared to yesterday’s. Only a Turkish coffee, which is actually quite disgusting. I paid a visit to my French friends to say goodbye and a rapid recovery. I forgot to mention their monster of a bike. A tandem, with a frame totally constructed from bamboo. Just as much as a conversation starter as the Parcycle is. ‘Ema’, was the bed ridden sleeping beauty this time and ‘Max’ gave me a decent Nescafé. Good. But the road didn’t wait and those miles don’t get ridden by themselves, do they now?

A really chilly wind blew me in the face. So arm- and leg pieces on and, that was a first, I had to put on my training jacket to keep warm. On top of that; tunnels to go through. My most unloved road feature that I can think of. I really do hate them. And there was a lot of them. Like thirty or so, with that cold wind blazing through, after a good 70 kilometres I had enough. The first guest house that appealed to me would be my place to stop over. So, the actual first building in Dobra was a guest house. Also this lady, of an undeterrable age but obviously progressing in years, spoke no English.

My former landlady had a certain charm, and made at least an effort to understand me. This woman believed that if she spoke Serbian loud enough I would understand it. I guess we decided right from the start not to like each other very much. Well, okay. The view from the balcony from the rented out space was that breath taking that I decided to put up with this unprecedented form of hospitality. My guess was that she mend well, and that her intentions were coming from a good place.

Price was fine. Registration, involved taking pictures of my passport. She also took some unnecessary shots of my visa pages. Trying that to explain to someone who doesn’t understand you anyway, is like taking a thirsty horse to water, but not being able to make it drink. She handed over her mobile. Another woman on the other end, maybe her daughter. “Need some more information. Where did you cross border? And what date?”.. I’m not gonna bore you with the full transcripts of the several conversations I had to go through with this woman that spoke so poorly English, but at one point I started shouting like her mother. “I find your need for information annoying, and if you’re gonna keep on asking the same questions over and over again, I’m gonna leave this place. I’m standing half here naked, about to take a shower, had a hard day on the bike. Please stop bothering me. The 8th of May, and Negotin!” That wasn’t very nice, but had to be done. While I rinsed off the dirt of the day, I heard mother in the neighbouring room “Bulgaria, Bulgaria” shouting. At least I got the volume right, learned from the best hahaha! Coming out of the shower, I got the phone one more time. This time a text message: “What date cross border?” In capitals I replied: “8 MAY!”

Dinner was served, and all was forgotten. I have to say this, but from Bulgaria on, the food isn’t really what one would refer to as ‘Haute Cuisine’, but that’s made up for by the huge portions. This time, three big slices of Schnitzel, a bucket of mashed potato, and a barrel of coleslaw. No ‘Pivo’ this time, the lady had already screamed out this piece of disappointing news before I even had sat one foot on the premises. Okay, it had Wi-Fi. So not totally lost from civilisation. And she served ‘raikia’ and a red wine that was a little bit sour. But again, the view was worth it. Sometimes you can’t always get what you want, as Mick Jagger once sang. Well his troubled days have been gone for a while…

11th May: Dobra – Kovin 98 kms

A copious breakfast was the beginning of a good day. Early on the bike I passed a biker taking a picture. I waved and pushed on. It wasn’t long before he caught up. A Rumanian this time, going for a tour around Europe. Interesting guy. Same thing as all the others. Quitted the job, packed up the gear, cleared the bank account and was about to hit the road until October. Alternative views, but not too far out. I decided that he should have my remaining Rumanian money. If he ever decides to pay back, that would be nice, but I don’t care.  We parted in Golubac, and actually that was fine by me to. Some company is nice, but really not that necessary when the views are that great! A really pretty ride, and an intense conversation could ruin the enjoyment of the scenery. Some off road stuff, and after the ferry at Ram, I did about 30 kilometres off road on the dike along the Danube. Again breath taking landscapes, with swamp like features.

But from Rumania on, along this big river, I have to conclude that not everybody is taken by the beauty of it. People litter seemingly carelessly. Plastic bottles galore sometimes. And this will all end up in the big plastic soup that will kill us in the end if we don’t do something about it now. I believe it was in Bulgaria, I saw this drunk bloke that worked the land littering his own field with an empty beer bottle. The ignorance of it is really disturbing, and it bothers me that no one really seems to care. Yeah, young educated people seem to be aware. But the majority: not. The green thought has a long way to go in these places…

In the neighbourhood of Kovin I didn’t ignore the second sign that said: “Cyclists Guest House!” Again a room with this great view. And as in Dobra, I was the only guest. So plenty of rooms to choose from, and you can really think you have the place to yourself… A great dinner, as in huge and yes, a beer this time. ‘Raikia’ complimentary. No Wi-Fi, well who cares anyway?

12th May: Kovin – Belgrade 72 kms

It had rained all night, and you could have felt this rainstorm building during the day. This has become the pattern for the past week now. Humid start of the day, hot during the day with a rainstorm to finish it off. So rain gear on, as I crossed the Kovin bridge into Smederovo. I rode the busy motorway which directed me straight to Belgrade. The rain had decided for me; no more off road for you today buddy. So no more close riding along the Danube. The remaining distance had some nasty climbs for me in store. Long, sometimes steep, hills. Three of them, with a relieving descent into Belgrade. The day heated up, as it did so the past few days. Intense contact with Ivan of DHL Belgrade. If I was able to make on time, that was, before 3 o’clock. The durations of these endless climbs made me a bit unsure, but I it made well in time. Swerving through Belgrade, steering with one hand, in the other my mobile with the Maps.Me app opened to guide me through this historical Metropole. Pushing through red lights and crossing intersections by taking the pedestrian crossings. Fuck cars, go bike! Hahaha!

Great and warm reception by Ivan, Ivana and everybody present that day. I guess I repeat myself, but this is true; everywhere I come I get to meet this great enthusiastic people! Always a real treat to experience! Ivan had printed out the program for the weekend.

Friday, 12th May: photoshoot with a meet and greet at the main office.

Saturday, 13th May: a tour to see the sights of Belgrade with Filip and Zoran.

Sunday, 14th May: Participation in a Belgrade bike promotion event.

This was no coincidence, this was mend to be. Great things to look forward to! I was put up in a really nice hotel, to get some well-deserved rest.

The tour the next day by Filip and Zoran was excellent. Visiting the old centre, Filip went all-inn with his knowledge of the city. The panoramic view from the fortress was amazing. Filip knew almost everything that there is to know about Belgrade, and he’s only 25! Imagine what he knows when he reaches my age, that being 27 according to some dubious Facebook app, hahaha! Zoran was the designated driver, a master at the wheel, I tell yah! Hanging out with these two swell guys really made me feel really welcome and well respected.

Sunday, the day of the city bike ride. Thousands of cyclists taking over the traffic and thus taking control of the city, so to speak. This all guided by the police of course, hahaha! A great day with a real nice vibe to it. Ivan, Ivana and Misa were also present, for support and the last details. My mates this day were Darko and Andrija. Again great guys, and actually soccer players with a good sense of humour. Which always is a plus, when you’re dealing with me. Had to take the stage to answer some questions before the ride was shot into action. My impression was that the guy interviewing me was even more nervous than I was. But I think, I said some valid things. I don’t recall… (conveniently)

And here we are now, tomorrow off to Novi Sad. Another DHL encounter is waiting.

Cheers!