Category Archives: Uncategorized

Many of the countries we’re traveling through have recently signed on to the travelers’ curse known as the Schengen Agreement. Those countries allow citizens of non-member countries to travel freely within the Zone for 90 days out of 180 days. Then you have to leave the Zone until you’ve saved up enough days Out before you can re-enter. If you overstay your allotted 90-days-out-of-180 you could get fined or banned from re-entry for a period of up to five years. So it’s good to keep track of your Days In. To find out where we stand on the Schengen countdown Marce consults several apps that purport to be the official accounting of our days left in Schengen land. It’s a rolling calendar, so you don’t have to do exactly 90 In/90 Out. And that’s why tomorrow when we cross into Serbia we will be leaving the Schengen Zone for awhile, and need to keep track of our Days Out.  

We’ve got a beautiful day for it and it’s not a big crossing so we’re expecting a smooth time of it.

Looks like mountain passes and rough tunnels are going to be the order of the day. We crossed the Danube River at the Iron Gates, a UNESCO Heritage site which forms the boundary between Romania and Serbia. This last gorge on the Danube also separates the Carpathian from the Balkan mountains.

This rock sculpture of King Decebalus is said to be the tallest rock sculpture in Europe, carved somewhere between 13,000 to 5,000 years ago, which I think pins it down pretty well.

Soon we find ourselves in the mountains again and when rounding a curve on a steep downhill slope we saw a view so magnificent that I quickly pulled over into a gravel roadside overview, covered in a cloud of dust.

It was a brakes don’t fail me now moment.

We decided that there was no other view we’d rather wake up to, so we stayed the night.

In the morning we selfied and paused a few moments to let this magnificent view soak in one last time.

Down the mountain we cautiously went.

Marce had found a small garden like parkup where there were signs extolling the virtues of the heroes of the battle of Cegar in 1809. We enjoy a good memorial so in true Escapee tradition we were off.

Turns out ya pays your money and you waits your turn.

It seems the Serbs badly lost the battle against the Turks, so they shot at their own powder magazine preferring an honorable death, being blown to smithereens, than slavery under the Turks. The Turks built this memorial in an attempt to frighten the Serbs but didn’t understand the mentality of who they were dealing with. The freedom-loving Heroes of Cegar.

But, funseekers, this is not even what we came for. Stay tuned for the next installment of fun in Serbia.

It’s a rainy day in Transylvania, not the kind of weather recommended for the type of activity we’d had in mind for today. Actually we find ourselves, after a change of plans, hours of backtracking away from where we need to be, just to begin. That’s why we are vanbound, watching the rain bead up on our windows, while playing a cutthroat game of Nine Man Morris. Our old sailor mate Alan made our board by hand and our playing pieces are stones and shells we collected in our travels.

I guess it all started years ago when I saw a Top Gear television show where the admittedly insane hosts pronounced the Transfagarasan Pass the best sports car road in the world. I thought, “In Transylvania? Best in the world? Someday I’d like to give that a go.”

The change of plans bit of this story is that we’ve found as we travel the world the phenomenally profound power of movies and television is astounding. Turns out the Top Gear pronouncement turned the Transfagarasan into a slow motion funereal bumper-to-bumper creep over the pass. However, the nearly identical Transalpina Pass is as close to the original experience that Top Gear loved but not nearly as crowded. At least that’s what our friends claim.

That brings us to the “sportscar” bit of the story, and a six meter, 3.5 metric ton, six-speed Fiat Ducato RV hardly qualifies. Escape Velocity does have new Michelin tires but sometimes you just have to “run what ya brung.” But not in the rain, and that leaves us playing Nine Man Morris waiting out the weather in the van.

In the morning we find ourselves completely enveloped in a pea soup fog. Well, this is disappointing. It’s not actually raining but it might as well be. We expect more of Transylvania but decide to stage EV two hours closer at what we’ll call the starting line for the Transalpina. Visibility is far from ideal so we pull into a parking lot and make lunch. And wait.

It was like Christmas morning while trying to convince your parents that it’s really light enough outside to start opening presents, and besides I think the fog is lifting slightly. Now we can see people off in the distance hiking past our parkup.

Long story short,  it was deemed safe enough to start. Gemini and Moonbeam, our mischievous resident little people, once again bequeathed special dispensation for spunky fools.

As I found the rhythm of the Transalpine curves and switchbacks, the skies were definitely lightening a bit.

The serpentine, well engineered Transalpina road, it turns out, is fun at any speed.   

I confess that there were times that Marce didn’t seem to enjoy the experience as much as I did.

She did mention something about palmsweat.

As a rule I do not ride EV’s brakes when descending a hill because I may need them more at the bottom. I suppose, in those who are susceptible, this practice might cause palmsweat. However a 3.5 ton vehicle can pick up speed at an alarming rate which forces one to use the binders and lower gears, judiciously but periodically, allowing cooling in between applications. While in a “cooling period” we rounded a blind curve and suddenly the sinuous curves and back to back switchbacks, not to mention spectacular mountainous scenery, after 150km suddenly came to an end. It was time to test the theory. The brakes were more than up to the demand and in a flash we pulled into Marce’s tiny park-like lot, and EV’s engine was switched off.

We found that we were surrounded by cherry and Mirabella plum trees. What a celebration.

Sometimes life is just a bowl of cherries.

We’re following the trail of Fortified Churches just like islands in the stream. Actually, we’re following them within reason. There are so many that aren’t on the UNESCO World Heritage list but are still really quite beautiful.

Knowing we are susceptible and don’t want to succumb to our tendency to go down the rabbit hole, when we came to a fork in the road that bore a brown heritage sign that said Dumbraveni, Armenian fortified church, make a hard left turn…we did. Parked roadside we found a handwritten note on the impressive church’s door that said the old man up the street has the key.

He wasn’t home, which happens frequently. It’s hard to pass up a chance to see the Armenian priest Avedik Likac’s mummified heart from 1896, forgotten but found in the church recently, and maybe we might learn why in 1371 a lot of Armenians showed up here. Still, there’s no denying this is a powerful Baroque structure.

You’ll know it’s time to go when the local kids do a high speed drive by.

Back in Escape Velocity we were hot on the trail of the Biertan fortified church which is on the UNESCO world heritage list. Surrounded by vineyards this 15th century Transylvanian Saxon church is encircled by three tiers of 35 foot tall defensive walls, connected by towers and gates, said to make its defenses, in medieval times, impossible to breach.

Our parkup, on a dirt alley, is in the shadow of those defensive walls. I’m waiting for the local kids to buzz by us with their horse carts.

By evening a local man invited us to a better parkup on his property. We were humbled by his kindness to total strangers, and he even asked us to help him eat some of his mirabella plums which coincidentally are a specialty of Loraine, France, where my people are originally from.

A look out the back window

Another blistering Transylvanian day greeted us in the morning. We haven’t a clue how to get up to the church through the massive fortified bit. You can clearly see the three terraced defensive walls.

True to our moniker, we Escapees found a way and up another covered staircase. It seems to be a trend. We were grateful for the shade.

We had just reached the courtyard when suddenly the church began to vibrate with the unmistakable opening chords of an old pipe organ. We ducked into the church through its elaborately carved door to find a small audience ready for a concert.

Short but enjoyable, the crowd left as one with the last note still echoing off the stone walls, leaving us free to explore this 15th century church virtually on our own.

This alter piece had panels that flip around to different saints or holidays depending on what would be more appropriate, just like Vanna White had to do on Wheel of Fortune. I’m sure Vanna flipped her panels with more sincerity, style, and grace than anyone else could possibly do.

Turns out, in a strange quirk of fate, the Biertan Church contains a Sacristy door with a 19-point deadlock system that just might be more famous than the church. It won first prize at the 1900 Paris World Expo.

Ok, funseekers we’ve found an oddity just for you Escapees known as Vowel Reconciliation Prison.

Let’s say you want a divorce. You go to your Bishop and say, “I want a divorce.” He’s going to say first you’re going to spend up to six weeks behind iron bars, locked in a tower room with your unbeloved where you will learn to iron out your issues while sharing one spoon, one cup, one fork, one bowl, one chair, and one bed.

I’m thinking these are probably inspirational frescos.

No magnetometers in the 15th century either.

No record of deaths but remarkably successful with only one couple proceeding to divorce in 300 years! It’s going to take a while to get that image out of my brain. On that happy note we start back down.

Well, dear Escapees, it looks like we are embarking on another grand quest. These Fortified churches are addictive.

Somehow Marce managed to find a campground with a swimming pool in the middle of crowded, overheated Sighisoara. Without a moment to lose we imagined where a pathway might logically start on the way up to the citadel. Sure enough, typically you just know it’s going to be further than you’d think possible, and it was.

Not well used and in need of some attention we started up the stairs thinking that there is probably a good reason that nobody uses these stairs.

No idea how many steps there are but we’re pretty sure there will be no golden Buddhas at the top.

Summiting the knob, we sat for another breather. When able, we wandered around and through the citadel gate to find the main square of a charming medieval village.

We were disappointed to find that the UNESCO World Heritage listed Viscri fortified chapel was sited far up on an outcropping, high above the old citadel, way at the tippy top. Built originally in the 1100s it’s said to be in excellent shape. Nice touch that they provided covered stairs, but a hit of oxygen would’ve served better. Not on the menu but a beer was.

Well there’s nothing for it but to finish that pork belly sandwich and frites and hit the stairs.

Stepping out of the stair-tunnel was like entering another ethereal peaceful world.

No medieval church tour is complete without exploring the catacombs below.

Ok, I admit the hair is kinda creepy.

I probably have people buried down there.

On the way back down we picked up the citadel walled defensives.

There’s so much more to explore in the citadel that we decided to meet friends who are touring on motorcycles, and make the climb again tomorrow.

We awoke to a fine Sighisoara morning but we had to hustle over the Tarnava River bridge which involves loosening up those stiff climbing muscles. Our friends are meeting us at a neighborhood riverside park.

We first met Bertine and Vico at our favorite Thai guest house in Chiang Mai. We met up with them again in Sumatra, and now again right here in Sighisoara, Transylvania. We were keen to try a better way up the knob.

This clock tower is really something and twice a day it is spot on,

A restorative afternoon snack and we’ll have to say goodbye to this magical place.

We wandered through Bunesti until a likely looking dusty parkup presented itself. The vanlife “diesel telegram” is often more of a rumor mill than a sure thing marked with an upside down crimson teardrop on Google maps. Come to think of it Google Maps in Morocco is far from a sure thing as well. 

We could see the old village up a forested path at the top of a knoll.

Suffice it to say, it’s steeper than it looks and sadly we found that we had to give up all that ground due to walls and fences that led us back down, past their quaint shops in town.

There are a lot of wobbly, ankle twisting cobble streets in this town but the real bonus was that several nesting storks were using their nest supporting structures mounted on houses, light or telephone poles.

While driving through Romania we’ve noticed that some communities seem to be really enthusiastic about having nesting storks and some aren’t.

We’re on the hunt for something we’d heard were called fortified churches. Turns out there were over 300 hundred medieval fortified churches in Transylvania. Almost every village had at least one, but only six out of the 150 that still remain are UNESCO listed, and this one in Bunesti is supposed to be one of the best.

It seems the Ottoman-Turks, Mongols, and Tatars were frequent and uninvited visitors in these parts starting in the 1200s. In response, many villages built walls around their whole town or, if they couldn’t afford that, then just their church for defense. These sprouted castle-like, curtain walls, reinforced gates, and defensive towers, that were usually within sight of the neighboring town’s tower.

While the enthusiastic German caretaker regaled Marce with historic tidbits, and Marce tried keeping up with his German dialect, I slipped away for a reconnoiter but he had the place locked up.

Luckily by this time Marce had charmed him into finding the large ornate key to unlock the church for us. I’m glad he did. We were gobsmacked.

Originally a Catholic Church, this country church was richly decorated with saintly frescoes. But during the Reformation they were painted over, leaving a daunting project to try to restore what they can.

This is the manual hand pump for their pipe organ which was sent away for restoration but no one knows where it is any more. Nearly every one of these churches has a pipe organ, and many are still working.

Outside in the church courtyard.

Marce’s favorite, a trip up the tower.

To go from knowing nothing about fortified churches to having this amazing experience has been humbling. I think we’ll have a bit of a wander through Bunesti on the way back to Escape Velocity.

Turns out King Charles owns this charitable compound in Bunesti.

Ok fun seekers, you escapees might be seeing more of these in the near future.

We both felt the need to get up into the clear fresh mountain air, and sure enough Marce found a free overnight, camper friendly parkup. Romania is so beautiful that any chance to get a better look at it never disappoints. However to get up here one has to do the one lane two-step boogie.

Just the same, it is quite lovely up here.

But wait, there’s more. Turns out we found a delightful surprise bonus waiting for us to explore.

A short but steep uphill climb led to a mountaintop UNESCO citadel called Catatea Rupea, which turns out to have been built in the 1200s. Think of it as another medieval Romanian surprise.

The citadel was built by the Transylvanian Saxons and clings to a 400 ft tall basalt cliff.

The location between Brasov and Sighisoara allowed them to control the valley below.

The night parking lot guard stretched a chain across the entrance and in the morning he collected the 15 lei (3 usd) to enter the citadel. As we finished our coffee, the morning sunrays spilled across the fields bathing the scene in a deeply textured relief. We started up the path.

It didn’t take long for dark clouds, scudding down the valley, to add a little drama to the scene.

A quick celebration at the summit, and a peaceful panoramic view of the Romanian countryside.

One last chance to enjoy this find as we head back down.

We set aside the afternoon to visit the Evangelical Cathedral with its tall spire and unique tiled roof. Construction was begun in 1371 on the site of a Romanesque church, and was finally completed in 1520. It was originally Roman Catholic but like many churches we visited, converted to Evangelical after the Reformation.

For 300 years the church was the burial place for local VIPs. The practice was halted in the 18th century, the existing tombstones removed and embedded in the wall, making an unusual gallery of the dead. A QR code leads to details of each person.

The church houses two pipe organs, and we were fortunate that they were both being tuned and played while we were there.

Hats off to Father Xavier Dressler, record-holding organist. Forty-seven years is admirable.

There was a lot to see in the cathedral but Jack kept eyeing the tower steps.

Longtime readers know I suffer from what I consider a completely rational fear of heights. Nevertheless I almost always follow Jack on his missions to get to the top of wherever we are. In this case, I’ve got no problem with enclosed spiral staircases. You can’t see up and, more importantly, you can’t see down.

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.” I didn’t give it a second thought. Spoiler alert: I should have.

After what seemed like we should have been at least halfway, the spiral steps ended and we crossed a scaffold bridge into the upper tower.

And this is where my palms started sweating. Looking up, I gasped at how much further we had to go. And looking down, well let’s just say I tried not to.

This is where my fear of heights becomes irrational. Intellectually I know this is perfectly safe, yet I had to talk myself up step by step.

I arrived at a small platform at the level of the bells where I took a breather along with a couple of young men who were also finding this climb a little more challenging than expected. We all hoped the bells wouldn’t chime just then.

Past the bells and up one more flight of narrow open steps and we were finally at the tippy top. And yes, the view was worth it. But my palms are sweating even now with the memory of looking down.

We were so fortunate to have a beautiful sunny blue-sky day and we spent a long time admiring the views from every side.

And then it was time to go down. Down is harder because, well, you have to look down. And that’s the part that scares me.

Going down those open stairways was the most frightened I’ve ever felt. The fear shocked me because I’m normally not a fearful person.

I was comforted knowing I wasn’t the only one who took a long breather between flights. And there were others who had to be talked up or down inch by inch. I instead had a personal photographer who documented my experience.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I got past those flights of open stairs and scampered down the spiral steps to the bottom.

As we left the tower it sounded like the organ tuner was putting the pipes through their paces. We found a seat in the vestibule and listened until my palms dried and my heart rate returned to normal.

I wrote before that we don’t know exactly where in Transylvania Jack’s grandmother was born. But as we listened I imagined that she may have sat in this church and heard this organ over a century ago.

As we drove closer to the Carpathian mountains Jack grew more and more concerned about the condition of our front tires. They passed inspection before we left the UK but Jack wants more tread before we start climbing mountains. He wants Michelin CrossClimate M&S tires and he will not be denied. Why we didn’t do this in a place where we speak the language I don’t know but the search was on for specific tires in a specific size somewhere nearby in Transylvania.

As luck would have it we found a Michelin dealer on our route. We walked in and showed them a screenshot of what we wanted. The man shook his head. They don’t have them. No surprise there.

“Can you get them? How long would it take?” I asked. We’re in a nice place. I figured we could wait a few days or a week.

He thought for a moment and shrugged.

“One hour?” he guessed.

Sold!

We settled into the customer lounge and before long Escape Velocity had two new front shoes. We both feel safer and Jack says she handles better, too.

We’ve looked forward to visiting Transylvania for a long time and now we’re finally here. We’re in Sibiu, the former Hermannstadt, settled by Saxons in the 12th century. The Saxons were the first wave of Germans to lay claim to these parts, long before the Donauschwaben were sent down the Danube in the 18th century. And just as Jack’s paternal grandfather was part of the Donauschwaben migration, his grandmother was what’s called a Transylvanian Saxon, descended from those early migrants from Saxony as well as Luxembourg, Belgium, and Lorainne. Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly what village she was from so we won’t be searching graveyards for her forefathers, but we’re happy just to explore the area she was born in.

Sibiu, as Hermannstadt, was once the capital of Transylvania and it’s grand and beautiful.

On this sunny day we enjoyed street performers and buskers as we explored the city.

There’s a lower town and an upper town. The upper town is the old city center with most of the historic buildings. The lower town holds colorful houses and remnants of the city walls and defensive towers.

The centerpiece of the upper town is the magnificent gothic Evangelical Cathedral of St. Mary, with its seven-level 73 meter tower, the second tallest in Romania. I think you can guess where we’re headed next.

Deep in the heart of Romania lies the Transylvanian town of Alba Iulia, the location in ancient times of the legendary Roman encampment Apulum. Even Ptolemy made mention of this Roman encampment which started in 106 AD. This sunny morning we are walking to explore the mighty citadel and its defensive walls the Roman encampment has grown into.

The Romans really knew how to humble you, especially with grand entrances and this southern gate is magnificent.

After entering the gate you could see the original draw bridge workings.

Here are pieces of the original Roman road.

It’s one of those peaceful kind of citadels.

Turns out Transylvania is a wonderful location to explore so off we go.

Still in Romania, we Escapees find that our crack logistics department has us parked up in a huge paved but rough and tilted public lot. I would imagine the rain drainage would be quite good. We’ve got the leveling ramps out but things aboard EV remain a touch askew. Typically in Romania one can experience one of those “On the Beach” moments when a place seems abandoned, with very few people about. At least there‘re no crowds to avoid as we walk across the lot to the Saints Constantine and Helena Cathedral.

It’s handsome without being ostentatious until you see the four beautiful ancient carved Roman columns on the side portico. 

The Romans were quite busy in this area. Come to think on it, they were busy nearly everywhere.

In the morning we hiked up to the main event in Hunedoara. Corvin Castle, high on a hill above town, can only be reached by first running the gauntlet of trinket vendors while simultaneously climbing the hill. If they notice that you’re struggling they attack like hyenas sizing-up the weakest member of the herd, because you can’t get away quickly and chances are you don’t even have the breath to say, “NO.”

Still climbing across this magnificent bridge and through the gate.

Entering through the main gate you arrive in one of the most interesting and tilted courtyards I’ve ever seen. The rock substrate bulges through the level of the pavers making for an especially wobbly ankle buster.

The construction was begun in 1440 but it’s often difficult to know what is part of the original fortification. After the fourth and most modern phase of construction Corvin Castle is considered one of Europe’s largest castles. Extensively restored, maybe even reimagined, it’s difficult to know where the “real” starts or stops.

In 1458 the second phase of construction was initiated . This unassuming doorway is the entrance to the Knights Hall.

A long hallway leads to the oldest section of the original castle.

Tower stairs.

The castle has its own app and Marce has been using it to guide us through the joint. It sorta works. After getting lost for quite some time we found ourselves down at the well. Legend has it that the Voivode of Transylvania, ruler of the castle, proposed to his Turkish prisoners that whoever digs a well and finds water will earn his freedom. Three prisoners volunteered. The castle was built on solid rock, so fifteen years later the three finally reached water. By this time the Voivode had died and his wife now ruled in his place. She feared that the three, now old men, knew too many of the secrets of the castle so she sentenced them instead to death. I suppose there’s a lesson in the tale.

What an interesting castle but Schengen never sleeps so we’ve got to move on.