EV6 Vienna to Belgrade

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This is a copy of my CGOAB journal from this trip. The original is available here.​

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All of the below was written on the day the events took place, so the first several posts were written before the horrible events of 7.10. It took some time for the extent of the horrors to become known, and anyway we couldn't curtail the trip - there were no flights home, so we continued. I thought it might sense to make this short preface.

My son and I are continuing our staged journey along the Eurovelo 6 route, this time covering the segment from Vienna to Belgrade. Previous stages are desribed elsewhere:​

• Ulm to Passau - here.
• Mulhouse to Ulm - here.
• Nantes to Mulhouse - here.

Preface - preparations and route​

Saturday September 2, 2023​

This will be our fifth trip along Eurovelo 6, my son Daniel and I. We started when he was 13 years old, I think (now 18), doing a bit at a time - first Passau to Vienna, then Ulm to Passau, then Basel to Ulm and finally Nantes to Basel. We were limited by his and mine vacations, which explains the snail pace. This time is no exception - we're doing less than half of the remaining part of the route, Vienna to Belgrade, planning on completing the remainder - a hefty 1400 km from Belgrade to the Black Sea - next spring.
The route was done using Komoot, and is available here.
It's broken into 10 days of riding, averaging a distance of about 85 km per day. The part to Budapest is more or less fixed, by the fact that we plan to overnight in Budapest, but the part after Budapest is more flexible, and we may end up riding a bit longer and ending up a bit farther than Belgrade - we'll see.
The route is pretty much determined by the Planners of the Round Table, meaning Eurovelo, with the exception of the question which bank to take - the Slovakian or the Hungarian along the border between these two countries, and the Croatian or the Serbian - from Mohacs to Backa Palanka. As for the former, I ended up doing both, having listened to advice by the locals: first HU to Komarom/Komarno, then SK the rest of the way. As for the latter, after lots of deliberations I decided to choose the Croatian side, and I refuse to admit that my preference for Croatian cuisine - one of it's dishes in particular, called peka - is what tipped the scale. [Future me: eventually, there was another change of plans, based on advice here on the forum - we ended up crossing the border a couple times more than planned. Also, Peka turns out to be available only in the areas close to the sea, where I ate it: here on the border with Serbia they don't serve it].
I plan to work on my propencity to overplan. This time, I only booked hotels - and that provisionally - in the capitals. Granted, there are 4 of them, covering almost half of the nights. But for the rest of the nights we plan to camp and/or find accommodations while on the go. This will be pretty much the first time we'll be camping, not counting that one night during the Passau to Vienna part. Then Daniel complained that he didn't sleep well and blamed my snoring. Well, we're bringing 2 separate tents this time, so he won't have that excuse no more. [correction: we ended up sleeping in one tent, though we brought two: more on this later]
I was hoping to try out a new bike I'm getting (a Kona Sutra, which is my favorite Sutra after the Kama), but I'm afraid it won't arrive in time, so I'll still be on my trusty yet not entirely fitting Canyon Grail, while my son will be riding his Fearless custom.

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Day 0 - getting there​

Sunday September 3, 2023​

Unfortunately, we couldn't get a direct flight to Vienna, so a connection it was going to be. A flight by Pegasus, connecting in Istanbul. The first flight was late, eating up our connection time, but luckily, the second flight was late too, so we made it with time to spare.

Upon arrival we witnessed the luggage being unloaded, including our bikes. The scene of the bicycle box burried under a pile of suitcases did not instill confidence.

Indeed, when we got our bikes, mine had two huge holes in the box. Luckily, none of the items I put in as padding - pretty much all of our camping equipment - didn't fall out, a miracle of biblical proportions almost.

We quickly assembled the bikes - we're getting the hang of it - and got out of there. Stepped in for some raspberries at the supermarket (traditions!) and off for the train, after which we made it to the hotel - ibis budget, our choice of hotels on such trips.

Then something happened that never happened to us before. When asked where to store the bicycles, the receptionist suggested we take them up to the room. Surprisingly, the room turned out to be large enough to acommodate them, no problems. So that wraps it up for today, we'll take a shower and go get a bite to eat.

 

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Day 1 - Vienna to Bratislava​

Saturday September 30, 2023, 76 km (47 miles) - Total so far: 76 km (47 miles)​

We stayed near the Prater, so the beginning of the day was nothing but marvelous: after a nice breakfast at the McDonalds of hotels - Ibis Budget - we packed up quickly and started pedalling. At once we were riding along the Hauptallee of the Prater, where not so many years ago I witnessed Eliud Kipchoge's momentous achievement, an under 2 hours marathon run. The vibe was different though. The continuous wall of spectators was not there for us this time around, instead chestnuts in similar numbers were covering the ground, producing a not altogether unpleasant crunch under the tires of our bikes.

We rode on and soon it was a left turn, then over a couple of bridges - to the North of the Danube, and we were pretty much out of the city.

The path followed the river, although not too closely. In fact, there was another path, parallel to ours, closer to the water, more scenic. It seems the "official" eurovelo is having a hard time keeping up with the new cycling infrastructure popping up everywhere.

Next, we rode through some sort of gas facility. It was surprisingly neat and nicely looking - with well tended grass everywhere, and even the huge gas tanks looked nice.

Then we were riding through a natural reserve, with fields, forests and meadows alternating, so as to make things interesting for us. I recalled a chance meeting on a train in Germany with fellow cyclists, who were going back home after cycling this stretch, that we are riding now. "Boring" was their verdict. So far I fail to understand it. [Future me: yeah, I get it now. Read on.]

Today, as almost any day on this trip, there are options to pick from in terms of the route. This time, the possible variations concerned a visit to the Roman city of Carnuntum. The visit itself was obligatory as far as I'm concerned, but it could be achieved in two different ways. Either continue through the natural reserve until well after the Roman city, which is on the opposite, Southern bank of the Danube, then cross the river and ride back to Carnuntum - or cross over at Orth by a ferry, continue through Haslau and a variety of villages and country roads connecting them, all the way to Carnuntum. I chose the latter route. And thus, we made our way to the Orth ferry.

I thought we'd have time to make a break while waiting for the ferry to arrive, but turned out it's operated on the on-demand system, meaning we could leave as soon as we wanted. However, I was already set on making that break, so it was indeed made. We had tea with a delicious plum cake,

then told the boatman to do his Charon thing, and he did. It was 5 euros per person and another coin for the bike, although there was no eye-lid to put it on.

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While the northern landing of the ferry is a restaurant, the opposite one is a pebble beach. We made a masterful imitation of the Omaha beach landing, minituarised down to 2 bikes landing from a ferry boat, then quickly moved inland. Alas, there was a glitch.

Before this trip I took my bike to my local bike shop, a new one (because the old one wasn't good enough for me, apparently), to have a once-over. To measure the chain and replace if needed, to check and maybe bleed the brakes, and most importantly - to adjust the gears. Fine, they said, it should take a day or two. On the morning of the third day, which was the last one before flying, I called them to ask how my steed is doing. They haven't touched it. A lot of arguing ensued, but bottom line was - I packed the bike as it was, with gears slightly out of whack, especially the low ones, and the chain unchecked. All was fine until that sudden sharp climb from the beach into Haslau. I was down the lowest gear, and it was making these awful noises, and finally the chain went off. I stopped at once, and just in time. The climb was almost over so I walked the bike then put the chain back - no damage done, except my wounded pride and my greasy hands. From that moment on I tried to avoid the lowest gear, and even so, the low-ish gears do not sound right, I'll have to get it looked at, perhaps in Budapest: certainly not tomorrow, because it is Sunday tomorrow. [Future me: no, I didn't take care of it in Budapest. And just for comparison: I finally got to a bike shop to have the bike looked at - in Belgrade. The guy handled all of the issues on the spot, within 15 minutes, 10 of which it took to explain what I want using Google Translate].

With the glitch figured out, we continued through a bunch of sleepy villages and small towns, as well as an amazing panorama of the most wind turbines in one place I've ever seen.

The image above shows maybe a third of the turbines visible from this spot.

Suddenly, there was an imposing but rather strange structure ahead of us, some kind of stone gate, but with another large piece of masonry next to it. This was the Heidentor, or the "Pagan's gate", a structure that originally looked like a cube with four openings, a kind of a 4-way gate, with the central space blocked by a giant sculpture of the ruling emperor. It was restored relatively recently, and is an impressive gateway, so to speak, into what one might expect in Carnuntum itself.

We cycled on to the main attraction - the excavated remains of the Roman city and the adjacent military camp (well, actually, causality arrow points the other way, so military camp and the adjacent city). It was pretty astonishing really. First you walk through a rather pedestrian exhibition focused on a rather somber topic - the burial procedures. Then you walk outside and you're in a Roman city. Granted, it's all restored, but how well restored! You have the villas, the houses, the workshops of various craftsmen, the bloody thermal baths! The baths were amazing. I could barely hold myself so as not to throw myself into the pools - several of them! And the level of details... There were wooden slippers next to one of the pools - as if their owner, a wealthy partician perhaps, just stepped out to take a wee at the authentically restored toilet next door. Man. I've been to Herculanum, and I think this one impressed me more. Well, it's a tie maybe.

We were pretty hungry by this time, so we went next door to the Roman Culinary Forum, or some such fancy name for the museum's restaurant. They serve ceasar salad, which made me think less of them immediately (because, as is well known, this salad has nothing to do with Rome), but they also serve some kind of beef stew, which they claim to be an original Roman recipe, and it might just as well be. Daniel took that, and I ordered an authentic Roman chicken schnitzel with authentic Romano-Austrian potato salad. The lemonade was excellent, regardless of its presumed authenticity.

Having overeaten only ever so slightly (we've done this mistake once, in a lovely German restaurant overlooking the very same river we're currently following), we rode on. On through the rest of the modern village of Petronell, adjacent to the Roman ruins, were they were probably burrying a chief of the fire brigade, judging by the number of people in firemen uniforms congregating near the village's church. Through more fields, and suddenly back next to the river, in time to see it close ranks after having done splitting itself around a long island. Through Hainburg, with its impressive castle and impressive Bila Plus hypermarket, where we went shopping.

Now we made some miscalculations it seems, and either took too much stuff with us (this remains to be seen) or took not enough bags to contain all that we need (this seems certain at this point). So I begged Daniel to contain himself while shopping. He did not, I think, given that I witnessed him trying to fit a 4-pack of apple cider under a bungee cord and smash mutliple boxes of raspberries into his handlebar bag (later that day he spent some jolly good time cleaning that bag from raspberry juice). But eventually he somehow managed to squeeze it all and we were off - to be done with the last portion of the route for today.

We were soon through Wolfsthal, and Austria was beginning to morph into Slovakia. Already at Bila we heard quite a lot of Slovakian, but now the bi-lingual signs were ubiquitous. After Wolfsthal, which I knew to be the last habitation before the border, the path ran alongside a highway, and soon the signs of the impending border were everywhere, and then the border itself. The delapidated and unused building of the customs, then the fancy and very much in use building of the casino, a sign showing that the speed limits in Slovakia are just the same as in Austria, and we've passed our first border, out of many.

Then it was a few more kms alongside the highway, and of course my mobile operator decided to send me a bunch of texts that my GPS dutifully displayed just as we were entering the city and needed to navigate, but there was no real need: it was up on the bridge, the famous one with the observation deck, then over it, then down and around and here was our hotel, moored to the shore.

Yes, indeed, it's a botel, a boat hotel. A nifty way of disposing of old cruise ships. This one is called Gracia and I guess it once was. At the entrance to the hotel we found the laziest cat I've ever seen. Apparently, the cat works at the hotel, but what is the nature of its work is uncleer, since it hasn't moved an inch while we were checking in and unloading then tying up our bikes.

The room is spacious, the view is out on the Danube, we have a decent shower and even a balcony (apparently, ours is the only room with it), so can't complain.

I went out and had dinner, driven by reason rather than necessity: I was more tired than hungry, but realizing I haven't eaten nearly enough today to cover for the energy spent, forced myself. I wish I would be "forcing myself" to eat back home - there it comes naturally to me!

 

[dimrub]

Day 2 - Bratislava to Gyor​

Sunday October 1, 2023, 76 km (47 miles) - Total so far: 152 km (94 miles)​

We woke up reasonably early, by our standards, had a very decent breakfast on the top deck of our botel, packed up and rolled up the ramp back into Bratislava. The air was chilly, so I opted for running shoes and full length trousers.

We backtraced to, then over the Novy Most (the iconic bridge with the observation deck) and almost at once found ourselves in the newer, less touristy part of Bratislava. Yet the excellent bicycle paths persisted. I'm not sure though just how much of this is the strategic planning by the local government, and how much - Eurovelo grants delivered by the EU. On a couple of occasions, when another street crossed the one we were riding I noticed that the other street did not have bicycle paths.

Speaking of governments, I heard that yesterday the Slovakia held a parliamentary election, and apparently, the populists became the largest party. This is worrying to me, in case another brick in the wall falls, but that's out of scope of this journal.

Soon we ran out of Bratislava, but not out of amazing bicycle paths, for they were indeed nothing short of amazing. The path ran along a canal, and another one - on the other side of said canal.

The surface was quite smooth, but every single bump, and there weren't many, was marked with spray paint on the tarmac, akin to railway crossings, with a warning sign, then one horizontal line, then two, then three, then the actual bump traced with paint, in case of any doubt. If that's not enough, there was a nice looking restaurant or cafe every kilometer or so. I'll have to dig deep in my memory to find another such fine stretch of recreational pavement as that path leading out of Bratislava.

Then the amazing path became just a fine path, and also there was a police car at the side of the road, as well as a Hungarian flag, by which signs we figured out we've just made our second state border crossing.

The path changed direction, losing the canal, and we were soon rolling into our first Hungarian settlement - a village of Rajka, also known as Ragendorf (most of the places we rode through have a German name alongside Hungarian one).

Here I was again amazed by the cycling infrastructure, but in a different way. This is a rather quiet village, and we were riding along some of its quieter streets, one lane, naturally slow traffic. Yet there was a two-way bicycle path running alongside this quiet street, all the way through the village. This is pure waste, both of money, and of real estate. Never ever have I seen such a wastefully located cycling path, not even in countries that pride themselves for their best cycling infrastructure. You don't need to separate the bicycles from the slow going traffic. Jumping ahead, later today we also saw some rather busy roads, with narrow shoulders marked as bicycle lanes - and no, not because there is no place for a dedicated bicycle path, plenty of space. So it seems as if the Hungarian planners may have done a better job spraying out the forints on planning and executing the cycling infrastructure. Having said that, the drivers in Hungary are exemplary. So far they have always stopped and let us cross, kept a safe distance, and I only met one jerk so far: an idiot in a sports car who stopped (blocking the road) and shouted at me because I was going to cycle over a crossing instead of leading my bicycle - oh well, middle aged men in sports car, whatchagonna do.

A first Lada Niva I've seen in many years. They were quite popular in USSR back in the 80s.

A church in Raija. Lots of signs clearly aimed at passing cyclists.

Signage is nice, though sporadic.


We were soon rolling into a tongue twister of a city: Mosonmagyarovar. As is customary in Hungary, this city is a result of a merger of two reasonably named cities: Moson and Magyarovar. We made a lunch stop there, at a very nice restaurant on the pedestrian street named after the country. After the leisurly lunch, we walked the length of this street, but it was eerily quiet, all the shops were closed, and there were almost no people. Plenty of dentist offices though: apparently, this city has the honor of having the highest ratio of dentists to population (in the world?)

Honey is Daniel's passion. Alas, this honey store was closed.
We had no teeth to take care of, so we rolled on. We had some 40 km to go till Gyor, and frankly, not a whole lot to see on the way, so we pressed hard, only stopping twice at gas stations, to ask whether they sell cooking gas (they don't).

An intertesting, thought doubtfully efficient way to deter speeding drivers.


As we were entering Gyor, something wonderful happened. Well, to me at least. We were planning to stop at a camping site I found and researched online, which was on the far side of the city, still some 4 kms away. Suddenly, we saw a sign for another camping, which I haven't seen mentioned. I suggested we stop and investigate. We did, we found it good, we stayed. Spontaniety! I don't do spontaniety! And here it was! You may raise any number of brows at this, but for me it's achievement unlocked.

I started pitching the tent, and I suddenly noticed that Daniel is pitching one too - a separate one. What the hell? I told him repeatedly that I borrowed a large, 3-person tent from a friend, so that we won't need to muck around with 2 tents, yet he forgot that and brought his own. Oh well, that's 2 kgs of completely unnecessary weight he'll be carrying for the rest of this trip. On the flip side, he lost his fleece jacket today, which was attached to the rear rack by a bungee cord. It's not a big loss, but we'll probably have to go and buy a new one now.

Once the tent was up, I left Daniel and rode on to the amazing Gyor thermal spa. The saunas are top notch, the thermal pools - average, the service - average minus. An hour before closing all the facilities started closing down. Still, an amazing sauna.

After that we met with Daniel at the city center and had dinner, then walked around. Gyor's city center is just lovely, an amazing atmosphere and architecture.

Back to the camping. It's small and cozy, not your typical camping with planned territory and standard facilities - basically it's an overgrown driveway with assorted cabins along its sides, plenty of nooks with lounge chairs and tables, and I'm writing this sitting at one such a nook, while my devices are charging, and my tea is cooling.

Gyor is an absolutely delightful city, and here are some of the photos we took in it that evening.

 

[dimrub]

Day 3 - Gyor to Esztergom​

Monday October 2, 2023, 99 km (62 miles) - Total so far: 251 km (156 miles)​

Today was supposed to bring with it a substantial increase in daily mileage - about 98 kms up from the 80-ish of the first two days. Yesterday we discussed how are we going to tackle this. Daniel's suggestion was: lets get up with dawn and ride like men posessed at once, then stop for breakfast at about half way mark - this way we'll feel as if we've only just started the day, and we'll only have half the distance remaining. Sounded like a reasonable plan, and I agreed to it, with just one small alternation: that we'll have tea/coffee with something light before leaving (doesn't count as a proper breakfast), me knowing who I'm dealing with here.

The reception of our camping is behind that parked car. They wash your clothes for you - but the drying is performed on racks outside, and is not dew-proof, as we had a chance to discover.
In the end, as expected, Daniel took forever to wake up, and even foreverer to get organized, so we left at about 9:20, not at all impressive.

We rode through the center of Gyor, hoping to catch either of the two central churches open - but in vain. Oh well, we rode on.

The Benedictine church - alas, closed.

As we were leaving Gyor, we witnessed another group of cyclists, two men and two women, tackling the same confusing intersection as we, and we rode on their tail for a while - they were providing a good pace. At some point we told them that one of their number has his pannier half-unconnected, so they stopped and we overtook them. A bit later they overtook us again - they were riding at a good pace.

The initial stretch - from Gyor to Komarom - was easy riding, on dedicated paths alongside perhaps rather noisy roads, but safe and comfortable. It was becoming rather hot though. Anyway, we pretty much stuck to our plan. At some point increasingly confusing signs pointing to Komarom and Estergom started showing up. While the distance to Komarom was steadily decreasing (although it was always shorter than what we assumed based on GPS), the distance to Esztergom was all over the place: 60-something, then 50-something (can that be true??) then 60-something again. In the end, we gave up on the signs altogether.

Not that there were that many of them. While the quality of the surface fluctuated all over the place, quality and quantity of the signs was steadily in the garbage. Once in a ten kilometers or a similar number of hard to navigate turns a sign would pop up all of a sudden, causing surprise and consternation: what's so special about this turn that it merits a sign, when his 9 brethren just navigated haven't?

We were soon indeed within the city limits of Komarom, but that did not look like entering a city at all. It looked like a summer house settlement - a dacha village, I know, because I spend many a summer at just such a place as a kid (albeit further east).

The dachas went on and on, until there weren't any more, and the road spilled us out on the embankment of the Danube. Right in front of us rose the bridge over the Danube

and we were about to take a left, when Daniel noticed a huge Tesco to the right. He can't miss such a store, so we made a diversion. We had an excuse: we were still looking for that cooking gas.

Alas, it's not like they didn't have it - they did, in 450 g containers. We don't need that many, a 100 g would do, and I decided against buying this, given the limited space and lift capacity. Daniel, however, wasn't as scrupulous with our space, and bought a bunch of cans of drink and god knows what else. Also, it was all taking too long, I was hungry, so I also bought a couple of local pastries, identified by means of Google Lens.

Finally on the road again, we crossed the bridge - and the state border (our third one, back into Slovakia) and were in the sister city of Komarno. We rode through the compact center and located a nice looking restaurant - I believe it's called Klapka. We had a soup each and split a local variation upon a Ceasar salad.

Beans and sausage soup - delicious!

The idea was to have a light meal, but I felt anything but light, given the food and the heat perhaps. We strolled around, but there wasn't that much to see, so we remounted and tried to leave the city.

Alas, we were presented with a chance to test the question of whether the cycling infrastructure is as good elsewhere in Slovakia as it is in and around Bratislava. And the answer is: no, it is not.

The route spilled us first unto a bridge with a very narrow and broken shoulder. Things improved after that for a while - until the city of Moca, then got much worse. We had it all. Bad asphalt. Perfect asphalt leading into a trap of no asphalt, forcing us to either backtrack, or wade through grass to an alternative path. Busy roads with no shoulder. Multiple gravel paths with no way of choosing one. Multiple gravel paths with one being marked as the correct one, and the others looking infuriatingly like a much better option. It was exhausting, and it lasted pretty much all the way to the bridge that brought us back into Hungary through a fourth border crossing of the trip. One thing that made it a bit easier - is that at some point, at least 10 kms before the end of the day, we got a glimpse, nay, much more than glimpse, a perfect postcard view of the Esztergom basilica. It made things better for two reasons. First, it's an awe inspiring building. Second, it was right next door from our hostel for the night, so we saw how close we were getting to our destination.

First glimpse of the basilica, just barely visible on the horizon.

Once over the bridge, the hostel was in front of us in a couple of minutes, but our adventures were not over. The door was locked, nobody answered when I ringed, as asked by a note on the door, and I was unable to use the phone - bad reception, no data connection at all. At last I managed to get a call through and the woman on the other side embarked on a long and winding story, instead of just saying: right hand key box, code is XXXX, your room is called Paris, enjoy your stay. But at least we were inside.

Having unpacked our stuff all over the room's floor, we went out again. I wanted to visit Esztergom's water world and sauna, Daniel wanted to go to Lidl in Slovakia. We each went our ways, and I think Daniel was the happier one with the result: as mentioned above, the thing with these water worlds is that they are in such a hurry to close, that everything is as good as closed an hour before the indicated time. But then we had a dinner and it was a very, very good one, at the restaurant right next to the basilica - called Primas Pince. Everything was just perfect, the food, the drinks, the service, and the price was laughable for a meal like this. What an end to this crazy day.

 

[dimrub]

Day 4 - Esztergom to Budapest​

Tuesday October 3, 2023, 99 km (62 miles) - Total so far: 350 km (217 miles)​

Excitement is in the air: we're arriving at Budapest today!

This was a hotel day, so short time packing up. We had a second floor room on top of a rickety staircase, down which we trundled our bags in something of a hurry, and were off. Again Daniel wanted to leave without breakfast, and again I agreed under a caveat (of a mug of tea with a cheese sandwich). We took a few more photos of the magnificent Esztergom basilica and off we went over the bridge, making it our fifth crossing of the border.

Today we were riding courtesy of a person I met on FB, by name of Antal, who took the trouble of building a route for me, which I used with very little modifications. Once in Sturovo (which is a functional equal to my home town - also named after a person who revived/established the modern language that I speak), we followed his instructions to get to. then over the bridge on top of the river Hron. We then followed the path across some fields with black cows and a small number of pitch black calves, and soon were leaving Slovakia - for good this time, and thus making it our sixth border crossing. The event took place on top of a bridge again - this time over the Ipoly river. The path was bearable up to this point, but what a contrast awaited us at the top of that bridge! Suddenly, there it was, a smooth, well marked, two-way cycling autobahn. It's as if the Hungarians really wanted to rub it in to the Slovacs - but no, their cycling infrastructure just seems better on the whole.

We then rode for quite some time without stopping. It was not my choice. Daniel wanted to press on for as long as possible before the first stop, I on the other hand wanted to stop at some place interesting, and by that I mean toilet and coffee, but everything, absolutely everything was closed. The locals went into pains to advertise their businesses with signs and painted asphalt, then boarded up and locked the things being advertised. Was it a national holiday perhaps, or a day of mourning? I checked the news - nothing. At last, finally, ahead of us I saw signs of a definitely open eatery: chairs out, awning opened, people congregating. The blessed place turned out to be on top of the ferry landing, in Nagymaros. But what to order? I tried ordering coffee and croissant, but monolingual vendor had the former, but nothing resembling the latter. She had a hamburger, a hot dog and a langos. I've never had a langos and wanted to try one, so I ordered that, with coffee. Daniel had ice cream. We sat together nibbling on this deep-fried flatbread, looking at the magnificent view of the Danube beneath us - such fun.

We rode on, following the meticulously marked and tarmaced paths, with very few exceptions. One such exception was a small appendage on the route, with another set of painted signs on the tarmac pointing "to panorama". I recalled that it was recommended we make a small detour just about here, to look at this amazing view over the Danube, and maybe have a drink at a bar set nearby. Well, as was expected, the bar was closed, but the view was there, in all its glory.

Our next goal was Vac, more specifically - the Lidl supermarket there, in which Daniel wanted to find something or another that only they sell. We ended up halfway - we'll visit Tesco, and I'll grab a bite there while he shops, to save on time. In the event, both Lidl and Tesco proved to be hard to reach by bicycle and we settled on a Spar (which required quite a detour as it is). Daniel was now riding with 2 glass bottles both of which he bought in order to bring home - a week before the flight, just marvelous.

Spar didn't have a cafe on the premises. It did have a lovely employee with whom we discussed our mutual travels - ours on a bike, her in a caravan, but no cafe. So we took our newly bought stuff, rode back to the route and made a stop at the first forest bench. As we were eating who rode by us, if not our old German friends from 2 days ago!

The time was pressing: Daniel wanted to be in Budapest in time to walk around while there is light. We rode on to Dunakezhi, where a car ferry just made a landfall. We only had to wait a couple of minutes for it to unload its cargo, and we were on our short way across the river. The ferry actually consisted of two vessels: the ferry itself and the tugboat that was pushing it this way and that. We rode off it and started our ride over the massive island on the Danube, its fields and forests.

On the other side of the island once we crossed it I expected to find a ferry just like the first one, but no such luck. First, this one was only running once every half hour, and it has only just arrived. Second, it was a small boat, passengers and bicycles only. We waited. Bored and a little bit hungry, I took out a bag of nuts out of my handlebar bag. A cute little black cat that was hanging around expressed interest. Do cats eat nuts? I've never given any to my cat, but there's always a first time. I gave him a walnut - and he gobbled it up at once. Same fate awaited a hazelnut and a cashew. The cat now loved me truly, and was rubbing himself against my legs. Were the ferry delayed any longer, I'm afraid I'd have transferred the whole bag to the cat, or maybe adopted the cat, but as it is it was time to depart.

Lagging the heavy bicycle into the boat was one hell of an ordeal, but nothing compared to what awaited me on the other side - stairs up, no ramp! Daniel somehow managed to run up the stairs with his bike and get back to help me - thattaboy!

We were now in Szentendre, and one glance sufficed to see what a lovely touristy city it is. Alas, time was pressing. I wish we could explore there for a bit longer. Instead, I went into a lovely restaurant - just to use their toilet and to gulp down an espresso, in and out again.

Immediately after Szentendre the suburbs of Budapest started. Various sports facilities alternated with boating clubs, promenades, summer houses and well maintained cycling paths. It was a long ride and I had time to think. And here's what I thought. So we all know that Orban has turned Hungary into a corrupt and disruptive autocracy, but how does that reflect on the day to day life of the Hungarians? Are there any visible signs of this process that I, an outsider, can detect? After all, it all seems very orderly, kids are playing on the streets and seem happy, there are even grafiti on the walls lining the promenade we've just passed (although it's a bit strange that every segment of the wall is painted in a different style, as if the segments were divvied up between artists from on high). And then it hit me. It's not something that I see, it's something that I don't see. It's the flags. The only flag I see is the Hungarian one. There was not a single place I've visited in the last year and a half where I didn't see at least a few Ukrainian flags, and it's been quite a bit longer since I've been to a place where I haven't seen a single rainbow flag. And yes, it made perfect sense now that I noticed it. You can lead your personal life as you see fit in an autocracy. But when it comes to topics of interest to the Man, you need to align - or all kinds of trouble will come your way.

At last we were in Budapest proper. Our path led through the Margaret island. Turns out an island is accessible by way of a bridge - what a discovery! And this particular bridge even had a bicycle path on it - except to get there you needed to get up the stairs - 3 flights of them! A deja vu after a recent ferry experience. No ramp in sight.

After we navigated the bridge, things got better. Margaret Island is a magical place, with shaded alleys full of riders and runners, food stands, playing bands - and of course views of the Danube. We rode it end to end then took another bridge to Pest - the Eastern side of the double city. We were so close - yet not close enough. We rode through the familiar landmarks. The parliament building - can't help but notice how beautiful the building is, yet how empty of meaning. Cafe Elysee, where we sit me and my wife 8 years ago during a lovely visit to this city. The basilica, where I realized I'll die on the spot if I don't have an ice cream, immediately - and bought one with raspberries and forest fruits, a combination I've never had before (body wants the strangest things after a day in the saddle). The old market. The grand synagogue (or at least a sign pointing to it). The city went on and on, and it was getting dark, and we were also hitting some major transport arteries right when my navigational skills scaled down to almost zero.

A sculpture we encountered by chance, apparently called "Women with umbrellas".

Eventually we got out of this all, and into a quieter area, from which, it was clear, we only had a few blocs till the camping - and here it was before us, Camping Haller, located on a street of the same name. By this time it was dark. The gate was open, but the reception was locked, and nobody has answered the phone posted outside (we heard it ring inside). There was nothing to it: I made a round of the grounds and picked a spot for the tent, then pitched it. Alone. In the dark, with just the head torch. It seems I'm getting a hang of it, which is not a given, with the tent being so huge - and in this case, the ground so firm, that I had to push with all my weight to get the spikes in.

With the tent up, we decided to deal with our next priority: dinner. Daniel was indecisive, so I picked for the both of us, by distance. The closest viable option was a Tiwanese restaurant, and we walked there at once. The hostess tried to scare us away, claiming a long waiting time, but then, instead of the promised long and undeterminate waiting time a table materialized almost at once. We were ravenous and ordered a whole bunch of food and drink - plus, I changed my order but the waiter somehow managed to bring both the old and the new dish, so the table was full. Never mind, we packed what was left with us for breakfast.

We found this pillar of shame in one of the corners of the camping site - no clue what is it doing there.

Back at the camping we put the food in the communal fridge. There weren't many amenities. The sanitary block seemed reasonably clean but basic (the shower curtains have seen better days), there was no kitchen, and the restaurant on the premises emitted songs of the 80s (that's why we didn't even consider going there: some kind of private party). There were washing machines, but no way to operate them. There were electricity sockets at the tables near the reception, but they were out, and so were the lights. I took a sit there anyway and started typing this, when a guy I saw before gathering leaves came over and gave me an envelope. In it was a form I was supposed to fill. Using the opportunity, I engaged him in conversation, even though we didn't share a common language. Somehow I managed to explain I needed the washer and the drier - and hurray, he turned them on for me! As for electricity and lights - no luck, so I sat there typing lit by the backlight of the laptop, while my clothes tumbled in the machine.

 

[dimrub]

Day 5 - Budapest to Apostag​

Wednesday October 4, 2023, 87 km (54 miles) - Total so far: 437 km (272 miles)​

I did not sleep well. There were quite a few noises: the wind, the passing aircraft, the streetcars and other types of traffic. A camping site in the center of the city might not be the best idea.

Once up, I visited the sanitary block, kicked Daniel out of the tent and started packing everything up. Around 8 I noticed that the reception is now open, and went there to figure out the formalities. The young woman at the desk gave me a form to fill, asked for passports, then told me the price. After the payment I asked a few questions: where can we heat our food? Is there hot water? Where is the snack bar and the shop described on the web site? All her answers were to the negative, but after a while she relented: turns out there is indeed a microwave hidden in a shed somewhere, so we were able to heat up our take away from yesterday, and had a rather unconventional breakfast. As for hot water (for tea), she suggested we use the hot water tap at the syncs.

After the hard day yesterday I figured we need to take things easier today, so I played a bit with the route, reducing it to "only" 87 km. Given the shortening, I agreed to Daniel's request to visit the flea market somewhere in the city. He was in Budapest recently, and being a huge fan of such events, wanted to visit, but the market was closed. So here was his chance.

An gate into an experimental neighborhood of sorts in Budapest, on our way to the flea market.

We got out of the city center quite quickly and now it was industrial/commercial buildings with rather lively traffic (but still, quite reasonable cycling options - even here at the outskirts).

We made it to the flea market, and Daniel disappeared into its depths, whereas I stayed near the bicycles, taking a look at Nazi paraphernalia, a portrait of Lenin, an ancient photo enlarger and a bunch of radiolas, and finally a whole set of pornographic sculptures.

Lenin, Hitler and what seems like a part of a podium from a synagogue - what a strange superposition.

A photo enlarger - I used to own one. My son couldn't guess what it does.

After about 10 minutes of this there was nothing else to see without leaving the bicycles out of sight, so I just sat there with my phone. After what seemed like forever, Daniel has reappeared, longing after an accordeon he's seen on sale. He's been wanting to buy one for some time now, and here was his opportunity. To buy an accordeon, then lag it on his bicycle, on top of all the other gear, for a whole week. I'm not sure how serious he was about it, but just in case, I was not having it.

We continued on our long and winding way through the suburbs of Budapest. On one service road, a rather jumpy one, I suddenly heard a truck horn from behind. A rather insistent one. I turned back and saw the truck's driver outside, with my yoga mat in his hand, waving at me. He saw it drop and stopped to warn me - what a champ! I retrieved it and retied it with extra 2 bungee cords.

After a few more minutes of this we were back on the EV6 route, riding along a long row of houses lining a canal. One could clearly see the gentrification of this area in progress, with the characteristic original buildings in various stages of disrepair and with the new style buildings, all square angles, huge vitrinas and slim iron columns cropping up all over the place. The cars also matched: Ladas and old German cars - vs. top of the range brand new BMWs and Mercedes. Clearly, it is becoming fashionable for the who's who in Budapest to have a house out "in the nature".

After a while there was a high bridge, which we toiled to get on, and which brought us on the other side of the canal, and we were rolling into a town called Szigetszentmiklos (I know that Sziget means island, I don't know what the other parts of this word mean). It was after twelve, we weren't that hungry yet, but when a sign of a restaurant popped up on the left, I believe it was called Titkos Kert Vendéglő, we spontaneously decided to stop and take a look. It turned out to be a lovely restaurant with garden sitting, good menu and quality staff. One funny thing though: their only non-Hungarian menu was in English, and the only non-Hungarian language available to the staff was German. We managed. The food was delicious - I had a chicken breast with local hashbrowns, Daniel had pasta.

After a lunch and a rest we were on the road again, but not for long: Daniel spotted a local grocery store, and he'd wanted to visit one for a while. He got himself a spicy sausage and some kind of local liquor. And while on it, I just remembered to mention that we've been looking to buy gas for my new cooker - a Jetboiler - from the first day of our trip, and by now I've asked about this at a couple of dozen's of places, I think. We did see a cartridge in one of the hypermarkets we've been to, but it was huge - 450 g, and it seemed unwise to me to lag this weight and volume where all we need is to heat some water during a 10-day trip. Well, maybe I should have bought it regardless - no gas since then.

Things now became a bit adventurous now. The somewhat broken asphalt was replaced by a short singletrack, then by a jeep road of a rather sketchy character. Up and down we went like a boat at fresh sea. That was actually quite fun, I'd have really enjoyed it if not for all the gear on the bike, but anyway it was rather short. My main thought during this wavy ride was: how lucky we are it's dry.

Next though the route dropped us onto a rather busy road, all the 15 kms of it all the way to Rackeve. And my opinion of Hungarian drivers was sadly diminished by the experience. Yes, they usually stop and let you cross - often without there even being an official crossing - but they speed like Orban is behind them, and they don't buy into this paradigm of keeping a safe distance from the cyclists. It was so uncomfortable, that we seeked a temporary refuge at a gas station.

Finally we were in Rackeve, and our ordeal was over. Here, the route makes a loop of the town center then goes on a bridge over the Danube (well, over "a" Danube, as the river is divided into two streams here). I don't know what the planners meant by this: we did not find the town charming or worth our time in any way, so this loop was unnecessary.

It was altogether a different matter once we've crossed the bridge. We were riding again along a long row of houses facing the canal, but what a difference from the half-gentrified area a while back! This was almost all original construction, some bricks, some wood, but almost all well maintained, with meticulously tended gardens. There was a strip of land between the path and the river, maybe 5 more meters, and this seemingly common area was reclaimed, by custom if not by law, by the residents of the houses on the other side of the path, with some just growing grass there, some - well cut shrubs, many have built platforms over the river, again, with differing levels of sophistication: some even had benches and handrails down into the river. There were just a few new constructions, but even those were tasteful and toned down, as opposed to in your face radical architecture of the previous neighborhood.

A wild (crab) apple. I expected it to be terribly sour, but it was actually quite sweet.

This all felt very, very nostalgic to me. I spent most of my childhood summers in a place called Malakhovka, a village just like this one, full of summer houses, along the Kursk railway line not far from Moscow. The well tended gardens, the fruit trees, the fishing on the lake and swimming in it - that was my world as a kid. And bicycles, of course. Back home I had my own, but it was not feasible to bring it out into the village after I outgrew my kid's bike (on which I managed to get lost on my first day in Malakhovka, as a 7 years old). But every summer house we rented or lived in (at friends') had a shed, and a shed would always have a few pairs of bicycles. These were grown men bicycles, meaning you had to mount them on the go, then ride mostly out of the saddle, which was just as well, since there were no gears, so you had to put your weight into it on the climbs, or even just to get over the tree roots, that were everywhere. And since we usually had friends on the other side of the village, I pretty much got everywhere on a bike. To the lake too, of course, and to the city, with its market and shops.

Back to the present. The one disadvantage of this magical neighboorhood was that there was no place to stop and pee. At last the neighborhood ended and there was a bend in the road with a couple of trees on it, before the next settlement began, so we made our short liquid exchange break, and pushed on. Shortly however our route brought us to a dyke path, which lasted for a good 15 kms. It wasn't that bad in terms of the surface: sure, it was a bit bumpy, and the riding was rather slow, but the views made up for it, with forests, grazing grounds, an occasional glimpse of the Danube. There was at least one rabbit crossing our path at a crazy speed and quite a few sheep - at one point they completely blocked the path, but once we got close, unmounted, they slowly dispersed and let us through.

We got off the dyke at Dunavesce, and from there to our destination for today, a lovely small town of Apostag (the city that has the rare distinction of having been removed from a Eurovelo route), it was just a short ride along a bicycle path. And here we are, in front of the yellow building with a sign that points to it being our lodging for tonight - a Casa Napsugár Panzió. But the gate is closed, and the door is closed, and it's not clear what to do. I finally found a phone number to call and tried it - after a couple of mishaps I connected to the owner, who told me help is on the way. We waited some more, but in the meanwhile a car came in and drove into the garden, so we followed them. The owner called back, found out that we were inside the premises already and was mightily happy about it, said we should feel free to come in and up, our room is ready for us.

The house is absolutely lovely, the room is huge, there are massage chairs and even a massage bed in the room, and a huge bath tub. The kitchen is very well stocked, we cooked us a dinner here. The other residents are all locals, they were drinking beer and watching a football game, but made place for us in the kitchen when we showed up. There's sauna, but we don't have time for it. The bicycles are in a special shed, with other bicycles (some of which belong to the property I think, and are available to the guests). An absolutely great place, I'm happy we switched to it in a last moment.

 

[dimrub]

Day 6 - Apostag to Baja​

Thursday October 5, 2023, 92 km (57 miles) - Total so far: 529 km (329 miles)​

Today was supposed to be our longest day - 104 km. On the other hand, those were supposed to be rather easy kilometers. Either that, or the hugely comfortable room, but we took our time in the morning, prepared breakfast in that huge kitchen, and all in all, left around ten.

At Solt we did some shopping. I finally bought a gas cartridge, even though it was a huge one, way bigger than we'd need to complete this trip, and Daniel bought some wooden souvenirs at a street vendor.

The route was lovely, mostly side streets and a well surfaced dyke path alongside a busy road. But then something went wrong and around Dunapataj (I think) I took a wrong turn, and we ended up riding on a road instead of taking a more roundabout route along the river. That cut some 13 km off our planned mileage, at a price of some nerve wracking road riding. I want to state two points here. First, my GPS, which usually screams bloody murder at the smallest deviation, was silent like a fish this time. But then, when we did get back on track, it became so confused that it kept sending us on imaginary routes all the way to the end of the day. And second, I would like to refine my evaluation of Hungarian drivers. I don't think there's malice in them - when they have plenty of space they can keep the safe distance. They just can't be bothered to make any kind of effort - like slowing down before overtaking if there's a car moving in the opposite direction.

Harta means "Bullshit" in Hebrew.

Another consequence was that we've approached Kalocsa from the North rather than from the West, as originally planned. See, we planned to visit the Lidl there, and it's located on the northern extremity of the town. We planned to make a detour especially to accommodate our shopping. In the event, there was no need, as the road just spit us into the Lidl's parking lot. We bought way too much food, as is our habit, somehow stashed it into a variety of bags, and continued, past the two main landmarks of Kalocsa: its church, and its paprika museum. The church was being renovated, or maybe archaeological dig was being performed all around it, sometimes it's hard to tell.

A pumpkin patch, seems to be ready for Hallowin

The church in Kalocsa

We also stopped for lunch in Kalocsa, in a rather wonderful place called Trofea. Everything was extremely nice, the place - on top of a canal, the tables, the service, the food, and, last but not least, the price - we left around $20 for a meal consisting of two main dishes, two delicious drinks and a coffee. We also managed to shock the waitress just by speaking English to her.

After the lunch it was time to continue, but as I mentioned, the GPS was going crazy. I had no choice but to navigate by glancing once in a while at my phone's Komoot app. Luckily, there wasn't much navitating to do: we were soon on a dyke path we'd remain on for almost the rest of the trip today - almost 50 kms. It's not to say that it was a similar one all the way through - first it was gravel, then, thanks God, asphalt reappeared, then there were the concrete blocks for a while. The animals were in low supply, only cats, who, judging by the fact they showed up pretty far from any human settlement, were feral. As for people, we saw very few of them through most of this day. Only as we were getting close to Baja, people started popping up, first cyclists, then pedestrians too.

At last we were riding into Baja, and there the GPS and the planners of the route have conspired against me: it took quite a few stop to figure out the zigzag of a route, not well marked on the ground, and unnecessarily complicated too. I sometimes get so tired towards the end of the day that the effort of navigating towards the accommodation is just a cycling path too far. But eventually we made it, and into the city's camping site. There was nobody at the reception, and as we waited for the receptionist to reappear, another cyclist turned up, a Pole named Jan. We checked in, us and Jan, and went on to pitch our respective tents. Later, after showers (and after Daniel swam in the Danube) we set together with Jan for dinner, and a great conversation. He's a much more experienced traveller and had a lot of stories at store about places he's visited.

 

[dimrub]

Day 7 - Baja to Sombor​

Friday October 6, 2023, 93 km (58 miles) - Total so far: 622 km (386 miles)​

By the time I crawled out of the tent, Jan our Polish friend was gone. We too started getting ready - I even cleaned and lubed my chain. We skipped breakfast, because Daniel wanted to visit the market in the center of Baja, and we thought we'd grab a bite there. When we got to the market square though, it was empty. We tried buying some pastries from the various kiosks surrounding the empty market square, but the ladies spoke no language other than Hungarian. A flurry of hand signals combined with Google Translate landed us some pizza slices, some cheese pastries, and a fill up for our thermos.

My GPS was acting up again, so once more, navigation was performed by the true and checked method of taking out the phone, remembering as many turns as I could, then wandering aimlessly. We did get out of Baja in time, perhaps not in the most elegant way, but with our bikes, morals and dignity intact.


It was dyke road yet again, luckily - mostly paved (I'm counting my blessings). Nothing in particular happened, except us making a stop to remove a layer of clothing (it was getting warmer) and another stop for me to put on the padded short, which was up to that moment drying up on the rear rack. This way we made it to the ferry in Ujmohacs, which, surprise-surprise, was supposed to take us over to Mohacs. Yes, the town naming committee has cut a corner here. When time comes for the two towns to be united, as is the norm in Hungary, what will the unified town be called? Ujmohacsmohacs? The ferry just left, so we had an unplanned break forced on us.

This was the largest ferry so far, by far. Once on the other side, we rolled the bikes up the ramp and headed to the center of the city, for it was time for lunch. There we found a lovely pedestrian street full mostly of cafes - and cafes in this nook of land serve no food. There was also a buffet style Chinese place, and since we love those, are not picky, and didn't want to spend time looking for other options, we opted for this one. So yes, they reheat the food in the microwave, but the food itself was tasty, so I'm ok with that.

Once done, Daniel decided to have one last visit to a Hungarian supermarket, and I spent the time drinking coffee and eating a Zacher tort at a cafe nearby. Each of us did our best to get rid of our Forints, but not good enough: I clearly took out way too much cash, given that almost everywhere in Hungary we ended up paying with a card. I'll have to do something with the remaining cash - given the inflation, the safe option would be to change it into euros [Future me here: I ended up exchanging them for Dinars in Novi Sad].

Then it was back into the saddle, and off towards the border with Croatia.

It was one of those transparent borders. At some point we noticed a rusty sign with a Hungarian flag, and from that point onwards the dyke road was bordered on the left with barbed wire, so we were still riding in Hungary, but immediately to the left of us was, well, Croatia. And then there was a rusty gate with a passage on either side of it, we were through, and we've left Hungary for the last time this trip - border crossing number 8. I knew we were definitely in Croatia when I got yet another of those pesky "Glad you landed in Country X" texts from my mobile provider. Landed - huh!

Nothing much changed, except there were several more of these gates, which you had to circumvent on the grass, and squeeze through with some effort. Also, there were no road signs. Coming up was one of the few hills on this trip. We got off the dyke and onto a road, made a sharp left, and there it was, gradually becoming steeper. I was still afraid to use my lowest gear, so it was a rather heavy going, but we got there eventually. After that it was a short but lovely ride between wineries and vineyards. At the crossroads we were supposed to turn left, towards Batina, but the sign warned that the road is closed. We continued regardless, because this was the only road connecting Batina to the rest of Croatia, so we figured it can't really be closed - and we were right! I mean, there were roadworks, and we slalomed around diggers and over the gravel prepared to be paved over, but we got through. We discussed how in a similar situation in, say, Germany there would be a small army of men with hard hats and walky-talkies, directing us towards a well marked detour - oh well, this way worked just as well.

A newly cobbled street in Batina.

And here we are, getting close to the first actual, non-transparent border crossing, leaving the EU towards Serbia. We rolled up to a window on the Croat side, showed our passports, then rode over a Danube bridge, a rather gloomy looking one, and then we were approaching Serbia. There was a rather lengthy queue of trucks ahead of us. We saw a passenger car bypass the trucks, so we followed it, until we've reached an officer, who directed us towards the front of the queue. Another stamp in the passports, a question of whether we have anything to declare (I wish I've been asked this question again, an hour later), and we're in Serbia.

It looks just like before, in fact, there are quite a few more restaurant signs than in Croatia - in Hungarian. It seems this area is inhabited mostly by ethnic Hungarians. We reach the village of Bezdan, observe one of the many supermarkets of a chain called Sinagoga (not very surprisingly, their logo is a stylised David's schield) and decide to make a break at a cafe in the center of said village. They apparently don't take credit cards, and we don't have any dinars, so I queue at the nearby ATM. A young guy is seen helping the elderly clientele with the money machine. One stubborn elderly lady decides to do it on her own, and it takes her no less than quarter of an hour of close peering into the screen to give up. Once he helps her, she gets on an electric moped and speeds away. Finally it's my turn and I am now in posession of the local currency.

We pay and leave, towards the last part of our journey today - 15 or so kms to the town of Sombor. What an absolute nightmare. The first thing we notice is the narrow (one lane each way) road with no shoulder whatsoever. There's garbage all over the place. On the back of a road sign, someone expressed desire to engage in sexual activity with the European Union. But the worst part are the drivers. Bring me back the Hungarians any day! These people are nuts. They are speeding, they are taking over as if zombies are racing after them, and they don't give a flying fark about any cyclists. Some of them seemed to have gotten way too close for comfort - on purpose. If that's not enough, most of the cars, even the new ones, emitted plumes of thick smoke, and there weren't many new cars. Seems like the standards of car maintenance are not great here.

At last we reached the outskirts of Sombor, and a sign pointed us towards a bicycle path. It was broken beyond repair, we wouldn't have looked in its direction back in Hungary, but here we greeted it as an old lost friend. Later, I chatted with an acquaintance who has recently moved to Serbia, and told him of our experience. His response was laconic: "Welcome to the Balkans".

We reached the hotel safely, but somewhat shaken. The city did not impress us any more than the road leading to it. All the more surprise to find a top notch, new hotel with a terrific spa. Nothing to loosen the stiff back and muscles after a day of ditching lorries on Serbian roads like a sauna and a hot tub.

Then it was dinner at a restaurant that seems to share name and ownership with the hotel - both are called Barcode, and you can put a meal on a room - but stand almost a kilometer apart, along a narrow and unlit street. Oh, and you can smoke in restaurants here, and people apparently do so, with abandon - I forgot this feeling, of having to make the best effort to ignore the stench of nicotin while having a meal. But the food was good, and so was the service, as for the price - the price was great.

 

[dimrub]

Day 8 - Sombor to Vukovar​

Saturday October 7, 2023, 95 km (59 miles) - Total so far: 717 km (446 miles)​

Before we get on with the journey, a necessary detour. I woke up today from my phone beeping incessantly - it was friends and family checking up on each other over WhatsApp. It wasn't yet clear what are the dimensions of the disaster, but soon enough it was. Not just hundreds of missiles on all of the south and center of Israel - we're used to it by now, but hundreds of terrorists going in uninterrupted into the agricultural settlements, towns, shooting at will, murdering people, tens of people, a hundred people, several hundred people, kidnapping god knows how many back into Gaza. Worst nightmare doesn't begin to describe this.

I talked to my wife. She saw this coming, and was talking to me about this for months. She turned out to be right. She'd want us to stay here until this is all over, to prevent our recently of age son from going back to his volunteering station at the very northern tip of Israel. We'll see whether I manage that. In the meanwhile, we have nothing to do but ride our bikes, and do our best to keep our wits around us - the thoughts of what is going on back home would otherwise drive us insane. With that said, keeping in mind that these horrors have always been at the back of our minds throughout this day, and will probably remain there for the rest of the journey, let's get back to riding bikes.

The breakfast at the hotel was pretty great - as was the rest of it, a real pearl inside a rather unpleasant mollusk that is Sombor. We went out and started getting ready to ride, when Daniel discovered that his rear rack got loose - and one of the screws is missing. He went back to where the bikes were parked, in hope of finding it, and in the meanwhile I unscrewed one of the screws holding one of my 3 bottle holders (it's almost always empty) and used it instead. I then secured the bottle holder with a zip tie, and we were all set.

I had a hypothesis about why my Garmin GPS is misbehaving. I always use it in the road cycling mode. Perhaps the roads and paths here are either so bad, or unknown to the routing application, that it just can't use them, and tries coming up with ridiculous alternatives instead? I tried switching it into the mountain biking mode, and it worked like a charm. It also screwed all my screens, no more average speed and suchlike, but as long as I had my navigation, I was happy.

We started our way out of Sombor using side streets, until they brought us to the road towards Apatin. As I knew would be the case, we had a bicycle path for the first ten minutes or so, but then it ended and we were on the road. The first road sign we saw was pointing towards Apatin and some other town, but the name of Apatin was crossed out. That got me thinking: perhaps the road is closed for the cars, and we will have it all for ourselves, like in Batina the other day? That would be great. Almost at once we got our answer: yes, indeed, the road is closed, or rather a bridge is being renovated, or a new one is being built, and no, we can't pass - there's no bridge yet to pass over. What to do? I took a look at the map: the next bridge over the canal we were facing was quite some distance away. However, there were side streets splitting off the road right before the bridge, and disappearing behind a bend. We decided to check out the one to the left. Lo and behold, behind the bend a temporary pontoon bridge was presented to us, one that only lets traffic one way, and has a traffic light alternating the direction of the traffic.

We passed through and soon rejoined the road. I thought that this creates an opportunity: the traffic will come in pulses due to the traffic light, so we can pass every pulse then continue uninterrupted. But the traffic was light enough as it is, so we just carried on.

We rode for a while on the main road, then turned right, and were on a quiet secondary road. After riding through some corn fields, we arrived in the village of Kupusina.

I was mightily impressed by their bus stop, that aside from shelter, provided also a way to charge e-bikes, using solar energy. Right across it was an old style bus stop - a nice contrast.

The village over, we were riding in the nature again, interspersed with a country house here and there. The nature was still mostly central European, but occasionally a glimpse of the Mediterranean was becoming visible, with the color slider being moved ever so slightly from verdant green to dusty brown. The houses now looked nicer, quite old fashioned but clearly well taken care of. The cars looked to the same tune: quite a few Yugos and Zastavas, all of which - red (later today we saw some on the Croatian side, but with more variety to the colors).

Near one of the houses we noticed a bowl of apples, clearly one of those honor based sales points. We didn't brake in time, so decided to wait for the next such bowl - I fancied a sweet red apple - but next one never came. There's a lesson here to us all. Get your apples while they're ripe, or something along these lines.

At last we entered the town of Apatin, apparently famous for its breweries. It was time for lunch, and the options were limited: we went for a pizza Neptun in the center of the town, next to a fountain.

The pizza was so-so, but nutrients were delivered, and we were on our way again. Retracing our steps, we took a road out of the town, and soon were lost in the endless fields of corn again, battling strong head wind. Far on the horizon ahead of us there was a line of trees, and recalling the map I realized it's the nature reserve we're heading towards. Gradually, that wall came nearer, until we could see the individual trees (they were all of almost identical height), and soon we saw a gate with a sign that greeted us into a nature reserve. As we crossed the gate, the wind died down as if by magic, and we came into the magical forest. The path was top quality, and the views - so relaxing and peaceful. At some point a wild boar was seen crashing through the thicket, but other than that, only the birds chirping and an occasional crack of a branch under a wheel could be heard.

Some ugly ducklings grow into rather dirty swans

We were seeing throughout the day quite a few signs of camping grounds. I'm pretty sure these are not present on the usual sites that aggregate and review camping sites. Perhaps there is a Serbia-specific list of camping sites one can use to plan a trip? It's a pity though that those are not globally known.

Soon however we were out of the forest and back on a dyke road. At first it was of good quality but then, as promised by the Bikeline book, the quality deteriorated. And by that I mean that the path has all but disappeared in high grass, and the surface became extremely bumpy. After a few minutes of this punishment I noticed another path, of seemingly much better quality, to the left of the dyke. We rolled down there through the grass, and indeed, the new path was a top notch dirt road. After about 15 minutes of this we saw another path crossing both ours and the dyke road diagonally, and something told me the dyke road might be worth a try again. I dismounted and walked back up - and indeed, it was time to switch back. Soon the asphalt returned and then it was time for a right turn - and for our 9th border crossing, back to Croatia.

Once out of the border area, we were at the outskirts of Erdut, with lots of signs pointing towards wineries inside that village. Suddenly I had a longing for a cool glass of white wine. Alas, the wineries appeared on Google Maps as closed. So we pressed on and made it to Dalj, a proud birth place of a scientist named Milutin Milanković, as a sign at the entrance has announced. Later I also learned that it was a home to the Dalj massacre - a sombre reminder of what characterizes many of the villages along this border.

It was time for a break. Looking at the map, there was a cluster of cafes/restaurants in Dalj, along the water front (of the Danube, of course). The route almost brought us there, so we just nudged it a bit, and got just in time to witness a live band in a lovely restaurant. We weren't all that hungry, so a cold platter and some bread were sufficient for us. We were leaving as the musicians were leaving too. Where are you from, they asked, and were very enthusiastic upon learning we're from Israel.

We continued along the water front, and met a group of elderly locals, one of whom appears to be an avid cyclist and was ecstatic to hear about our journey. But it was time to crack on, as the sun was lowering. We got back on the road and started pedalling hard. The road was straight as a ruler, and right ahead of us we could see some kind of column with something extremely bright on top of it. I think it's the church in Vukovar.

Soon we were riding through Borovo, and then, almost without a break, through the outskirts of Vukovar, a city clearly quite welcoming to the cyclists. There was an excellent cycling path all the way to the center, but there it sadly disappeared. We didn't mind, and soon were at our hotel, a small family-run affair, with lots of cats and a tea kettle in the hallway.

 

[dimrub]

Day 9 - Vukovar to Novi Sad​

Sunday October 8, 2023, 84 km (52 miles) - Total so far: 801 km (498 miles)​

This was our last day of riding, as we decided to curtail our trip, to avoid riding the section from Novi Sad to Belgrade. Everyone we've discussed this trip with advised against riding this portion, and after our experience on the way to Sombor, we could see their point. So that's all that remains - this one day, and not a lot of distance either - some 82 kms. Granted, the GPS claims there's some 500 m of elevation gain, and the Bookline book seconds it, claiming the first part of the trip is "not very pleasant due to the hills", but that doesn't sound too bad - we've had more on other trips.

We pack up and leave, but not before petting some of the cats congregating around the family-run hotel.

Oh, and we had a breakfast. Last night, when we were checking in, the host saw our Israeli passports, then asked me, somewhat accusingly: "Dmitry, it's not a Jew (sic!) name?" Well, guilty as charged. This morning he served us breakfast and as part of it, brought around a plate of sausages and cheeses, and made a point of mentioning that the sausage is chicken - not pork. We looked wilsfully at the plate sitting on the next table, with clearly much more variety on it, but we didn't have a heart to tell the host that we don't keep kosher - or that kosher requires to separate dairy and meat.

This morning at the hotel we met another couple of cyclists - Canadians, cycling from Passau. They were following the book, not local advice, so at this point they haven't discovered the Serbian drivers yet - they were into a rude awakening this very day. We told them of the option of not crossing at Backa Palanka - continuing instead to either the ferry at Beocin, or the bridge across from Novi Sad.

The road out of Vukovar was as good as the road in - dedicated cycling paths for the win! We stopped at yet another supermarket and Daniel bought yet another granulated soft drink. He thought it was an ice tea. Later we discovered that it was an orange juice, of an absolutely abhorrent taste (I loved it, drank a ton of it on this hot day).

Later I learned that Josip Briski was a Croatian soldier who was killed in Afghanistan.

A Vukovar water tower riddled with bullets, left in place as a reminder of the horrors of the war.

Once out of Vukovar, however, the path disappeared, but the road was in great condition, and the drivers were quite courteous on the whole.

The villages were nice to the eye, and only very few houses were riddled with bullets. I recalled my first visit to Croatia, back around 2002, when we took a bus from Dubrovnik to Split - we've passed through villages back then, where every single house was thus "decorated". Vukovar was indeed a scene of some of the worst fighting during the Croatia independence war back in the 1990s, and a water tower riddled with bullets still towers the city, a silent, pock-marked reminder of the horrors of the war.

The hills were indeed troublesome. The pattern was: a very steep drop, usually accompanied by a twisting road, where you had no choice but brake, thus losing momentum, then a long and steep climb. My gears still misbehaved, so during one of the stops I took the plunge and tinkered with them - it worked! I now had all of my gears working, with the chain skipping only occasionally! Great relief that!

More hills, more fields, more vineyards, and at the bottom of another drop-climb pair we found the border post. We showed our passports and were waved through, and now it was climbing on top of yet another climb to get to the Serbian part - it figures.

The quality of the asphalt deteriorated immediately, and the amount of garbage on the sides of the road increased. Serbia was hell-bent on making a bad second impression. Finally at the border post, we showed our passports to the officer by the name of Shoosha, and were waved through. Everyone, including the dog present, seemed extremely bored. Perhaps this is the place misbehaving border officers - and dogs - are sent as punishment.

We hobbled ahead on the broken asphalt, climb - decline, climb - decline. We left pretty late and climbing these hills is a slow work, so at some point I realized we're past our usual lunch time. Daniel seems to have been getting tired, and complained when I missed a perfectly reasonable lunch spot. So when I saw a sign to what I interpreted as a fish restaurant, I stopped at once, and after a short consultation we proceeded there, via a short detour to the bank of the Danube. The place is called Riblja Čarda Koruška and apparently it's a #1 out of 1 restaurants in Susek. It was lovely, with outside sitting and great food, the only issue was that it was quite windy outside, and people smoked inside.

After the lunch it was just one remaining climb (heavy going, that) then about 15 km more of exhausting Serbian road. The traffic seemed to have increased in volume, despite it being Sunday, and it was pretty stressful. We were getting close to the ferry in Beocin, but there were no signs whatsoever, so we had to trust our gut - and our GPS. They weren't wrong, we made it to the landing just in time to see the ferry getting smaller in the distance. There was nothing to it but wait.

Well, we could have gotten back on the road and ridden the last 10 or so kilometers on the Southern bank, but I think we just were too inert at this point. We got here, so we'll wait. With us, there near the landing, where a group of angry swans, a goofy big black dog and a slowly increasing line of cars. At last the ferry got there, but nobody was moving. An old man and his grandson perhaps went onboard, and we followed them. A while later the boarman made some kind of sign that eluded me, and cars started coming up as well. He packed them as compactly as if he was an expert tetris player, 15 on the smallish ferry with space to spare, and we were off.

It took the tugboat quite some maneuvering to get us on the move, but finally it managed it, and after 15 more minutes we were off the ferry, and into almost total darkness.

Luckily, we had our lights charged and ready, and also, the rest of the route was along bicycle paths, so with just a couple of stops for Serbian drivers who had no compunctions about blocking the cycling path or crossing it at speed, we were in Novi Sad, and then at our hotel. The frontdesk person there did something strange: for our bicycles he told us to follow him, and led us through outside, and up quite a few stairs, and then when we got back to reception to pick up our bags, he told us to use the elevator - for just half a story. But oh well, the main thing is that we're here, safe, and done. Last kilometers remain to be ridden tomorrow - from the hotel to the train station, then from the train station in Belgrade to the hotel, and, well, that will be it.

 

[dimrub]

Day 10 - Novi Sad to Belgrade, by train​

Monday October 9, 2023​

Our hotel was centrally located, and that's about all I can write about it without sounding too negative. Actually, no, I will also mention that it had one of those magical showers, that can be either scalding hot or shocking cold, nothing in between.

We took a stroll in the center of the city, and filled up our quota of visiting places of worship, which we somehow neglected during this trip: in one fell swoop we visitied an orthodox church, a catolic church and a synagogue.

Once done with our spiritual touristing, we got our bikes from the hotel and picked our troubled path through the busy streets of Novi Sad, towards the train station. It was all a-scaffold, undergoing a massive reconstruction, so it took some effort to find a ramp to the platform. We were still there with some time to spare, so I gave Daniel leave to go buy something for the road. He came back with 2 bottles of Somersby cider.

The train is brand new, and a fast one. It took about half an hour to get to the destination, during which time we were ignored by the vendor of snacks and noticed by the controller, who charged us 200 dinars (less than $2) for our bikes. And then we were in Belgrade.

It was a nightmare on a whole new level. There was simply no reasonable way of getting from the train station to the center of the city, where our hotel was located. We had to drag our loaded bikes up and down the stairs, repeatedly. That the streets were not safe for cyclists goes without saying. Also, the concentration of smoke reached whole new levels. It was a strange sight: a seemingly modern city, with modern cars, fancy restaurants and huge video screens showing ads - overimposed on ancient smoking buses and, well, young smoking people. The eclectic architecture - part Soviet style, part - turn of the century Empire style completed the picture.

And that was it. As we say in Israel, our flight was canceled "due to the security situation", so I changed my one night reservation into a week long, and we're staying put here in Belgrade, and the trip is officially over. A few words in conclusion.

This was not a route for the beginners. In hindsight, the order in which we did the Eurovelo 6 - first Passau to Vienna, then Basel to Passau, then France, then Vienna to Belgrade - is the ideal progression in terms of increase in difficulty. There weren't many climbs, but when there were, they were relentless (like on a segment from Vukovar to Novi Sad). The views weren't as exciting as in the other parts - we've seen a modest amount of the Danube, and it was not in its most impressive, and the rest of it was mostly endless fields of corn, some vineyards and villages/towns, some interesting, many - delapidated and run down. Still, we had a lot of fun, ate delicious food, and I must say, the prices were so much more accommodating than in the western part of the route. Speaking of which, we brought our camping gear mostly for the experience - given the price to performance ratio of the accommodations here, we might have left it all home and enjoyed a much lighter ride and a much softer sleep - at very reasonable price. But the experience was worth it - and we're now prepared for the mode demanding areas, where camping is not optional. I also packed a collapsible chair. Daniel made fun of it, but as long as we did camping, it actually proved quite valuable. In particular, it fit in the vestibule of our tent, and made it possible to sit there and read, or arrange stuff in panniers, or what not.
On the flip side, due to lack of space I left my CPAP device home, which meant that I slept less well even when we stayed at hotels. So for those undertaking this segment and asking whether to camp or not, in terms of convenience and price - ride light.

As usual, we made our days way too long in terms of mileage - and left way too late in the morning, so we were constantly in a race against the clock, not wishing to ride in the darkness (and once failing to achieve that goal). And that's a point about the season: the sun sets at 6 pm now, making for a rather short light day, especially if you're not willing to start pedalling at sunrise. On the other hand, we were incredibly lucky with the weather. Many times, as we were riding on dirt roads, I imagined what they would look like after a couple of days of rain. But there wasn't, not a drop of rain for 10 whole days in October. It was hot, sure, but not unbearably so. In short: ideal conditions.

The key question I'm asking myself is: what's next. A while ago Daniel and I have decided that we're going to ride all of Eurovelo 6. Well, we've ridden it Nantes to Novi Sad. Do we want to complete it, riding the remaining 1500 km in Serbia, Bulgaria and Romania? After our experience of Serbian roads - I'm not so sure, and I see that Daniels unwavering confidence in our stated goal has done a little bit of wavering. We'll see. There are other things to take care of, before we start planning our next adventure.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

@dimrub , perhaps it's an idea to link your different travelogues together, you know, a link at the start of this one to the previous one etc.? For the older ones, I'm sure if you ask the mods nicely they'll be happy to oblige.
I went looking for the leg ending in Vienna because.....

after a nice breakfast at the McDonalds of hotels - Ibis Budget - we packed up quickly and started pedalling

I hope ye got to spend some time in Vienna. It's one of my most favourite cities.

It seems the "official" eurovelo is having a hard time keeping up with the new cycling infrastructure popping up everywhere.

In my opinion, EV routes should be treated as a guideline, nothing else. Slavishly following them means dealing with all kinds of quality and often missing out on a lot.

Before this trip I took my bike to my local bike shop, a new one (because the old one wasn't good enough for me, apparently), to have a once-over. To measure the chain and replace if needed, to check and maybe bleed the brakes, and most importantly - to adjust the gears.

Sorry to be "that guy" and not meaning to scare anyone off adventures on a bike but if you're contemplating a 10k km bike trip adjusting gears, bleeding brakes (especially after air travel) and checking on chain wear should be second nature. If can teach myself to do it (no disc brakes here) then just about anyone can. It's less for the ability to do it, the time saving or the € saving but more the confidence and comfort that comes from knowing the bike, especially when on a long, long trip far from home and solo. A day's pleasure of exploring can be lost to a day's stress.
Especially given that......

The guy handled all of the issues on the spot

Having overeaten only ever so slightly (we've done this mistake once,

It's probably just me, but one of the great advantages of a bike trip is the ability to overeat guilt free
Especially when.....

realizing I haven't eaten nearly enough today to cover for the energy spent

Grab it while you can!

I also bought a couple of local pastries, identified by means of Google Lens.

Feckin' Google!
Asking the name of the pastry, the ingredients, getting the pronunciation corrected is a great way of opening a conversation with locals. From that comes a bit of conversation, maybe some local history, a recommendation or two. A connection.
And something nice to eat

 

[dimrub]

@dimrub , perhaps it's an idea to link your different travelogues together, you know, a link at the start of this one to the previous one etc.? For the older ones, I'm sure if you ask the mods nicely they'll be happy to oblige.

A great idea, I'll absolutely do that! I'm not sure I've written all of it here on the forum, but what I did, I'll link together.

I went looking for the leg ending in Vienna because.....

I hope ye got to spend some time in Vienna. It's one of my most favourite cities.

Actually, we haven't: we arrived pretty late and started riding the next day. I happen to agree with you: it's one of my favorite cities too. For that reason, I've been there many times and know it inside out, so I think I'm in need of a bit of a Vienna cooldown time, to get me excited about it again.

In my opinion, EV routes should be treated as a guideline, nothing else. Slavishly following them means dealing with all kinds of quality and often missing out on a lot.

After this trip, I agree wholeheartedly. I mean, EV6 in the west and in the east are two very different beasts (and the twain meets somewhere between Vienna and Bratislava). EV6 in the west can be trusted to be the most convenient, meticulously marked, scenic route. EV6 in the east sometimes puts you in harm's way and must be treated very cautiously. There were quite a few times on this trip when we deviated from it, based on local advice - and were right to do so.

Sorry to be "that guy" and not meaning to scare anyone off adventures on a bike but if you're contemplating a 10k km bike trip adjusting gears, bleeding brakes (especially after air travel) and checking on chain wear should be second nature. If can teach myself to do it (no disc brakes here) then just about anyone can. It's less for the ability to do it, the time saving or the € saving but more the confidence and comfort that comes from knowing the bike, especially when on a long, long trip far from home and solo. A day's pleasure of exploring can be lost to a day's stress.

Absolutely! I did adjust the gears to the best of my ability (and then did it a bit better towards the end of the trip). The issue turned out to be that the dereilleur hanger was a bit out of whack, I should have checked it and fixed it - will know better now. As for checking the chain and bleeding the brakes - I lack the necessary tools. I will probably buy them now - it's peanuts compared to paying for someone to do it every time.

It's probably just me, but one of the great advantages of a bike trip is the ability to overeat guilt free

Yes, for sure, but not with tens of kms still remaining to ride - especially with climbs. We did that mistake once, in the area of Rhein falls. The temptation was strong: an excellent German restaurant, overlooking the river, on top of a picturesque hill, serving delicious cider (our alcohol of choice). It was very hard climbing after that, up some rather modest hills.

Feckin' Google!
Asking the name of the pastry, the ingredients, getting the pronunciation corrected is a great way of opening a conversation with locals. From that comes a bit of conversation, maybe some local history, a recommendation or two. A connection.
And something nice to eat

That's an interesting point. Of course we try to do that whenever possible - that's one of the most interesting things about travel by bike, making these connections. It might be a bit less of a practical suggestion in the middle of a huge hypermarket, with overworked employees running all over the place, but in smaller places - by all means. However, there is a bit of a language barrier issue. It turns out that in Hungary, less so in Serbia, it's sometimes hard to find English speakers. German speakers are more abundant, so we could get by with my bits of German, and Russian, surprisingly, is not helpful at all. So at times all the means of communication available to us were smiles and hand gestures.

 

[Gwylan]

Thank you