Day 61
I follow the Danube west. There’s no sign of Eurovelo 6, but I pass several touring cyclists. None want to stop for a chat apart from a French woman doing source to sea — Black Forest to Black Sea — along the Danube. She’s 69, on an electric bike with all her kit in a carpet bag strapped to a trailer. Started on 1 May and expecting to hit the coast in four days.
It’s very, very hot, and getting hotter. If I stop I’m covered in a layer of sweat and water drips off my cap as if someone’s turned a tap on. I call it a day at Slivo Pole where there is a big, shiny, brand new hotel. I am the only guest, Friday night in summer season, this is a bit odd. 115 km for the day.
Day 62
Big decision day
My initial plan was to chill in the non-Schengen Balkans for a bit, before using the rest of my allowance to cross Italy, France, Spain, to arrive in Morocco early September and follow the monsoon down Western Sahara. It’s July now, so that looks feasible. I can follow the Danube into Serbia, then all is good.
I’ve messaged my old friend Tihomir on the ex-mushroom farm in N Macedonia and he’s looking forward to my visit, I might stay for a couple of weeks there. He does not mention the weather, nor whether he’s fixed his broken AC.
BUT
Checking the weather apps for Skopje, they are all showing severe weather warnings, it’s going to be 40+ there for the next couple of weeks at least. I can cope with 35, though progress is slowed, 40 will be tough.
That’s that then, decision made. I head south towards Türkiye, where apparently it is cooler with the breeze off the Black Sea.
The first part of ride is lovely, quiet roads amongst the fields of sunflowers and sweetcorn, a gently headwind keeping me cool. At
Razgrad I decide to push on to Shumen despite the big climb showing on the route profile, I’ve plenty of time. This part of the ride is less pleasant, the single carriageway road is the one leading to the main motorway to Varna and it’s pretty hairy, it’s hot, and it’s hilly.
I arrive at Shumen tired, but this is a much better start for the next stage than Razgrad. After an excellent supper in a back-street bistro there’s a little spattering of rain.
Total distance so far: 6,000 km, 16 countries.
Day 63
I’m heading toward Burgas, but not sure if I’ll get that far, the route profile again has a big climb towards the end of the day. The roads have a mountain feel about them, weaving around the contours and with rocky outcrops, even though it’s not actually high. The countryside has a mediterranean feel, with scrubland and pine trees, and the villages have a lot of character, some with a mosque, others with a small church, all with statues of someone or other.
I’ve not had a break for some time, I book into a hotel with high ratings (and a swimming pool) but randomly on the edge of a nondescript village, with a view to staying a couple of nights. On arrival they are completely disorganised and leave me waiting for half an hour to confirm my booking. After washing my cycling gear the water goes off, so no shower. Then they say the card machine doesn’t work, I’ve only enough local currency for a pizza so that’s that, I’ll be off in the morning.
Day 64
My second shot at a lay-up is a coastal village in a hotel run by a Mexican, 25 km the other side of Burgas. A late booking discount gives me two nights for £50 including breakfast.
Komoot wants me to go down the main road to Burgas and resists my suggestions for the side road. Organic Maps suggests the side road straight off, even though some is marked as closed roads but on the map it looks like a great option. It is interesting. The road is a rat-run for people shaving a few km off getting on to the Sofia motorway, and there’s also some kind of port for checking lorry cargo, plus a massive power station and the biggest oil refinery in SE Europe (where the closed road is). Despite that, it’s actually more pleasant than the direct route.
Burgas is the fourth largest city in Bulgaria, but there’s not a lot there. Population slightly more than Peterborough, more pleasant Main Street, interesting train station and the Alyosha Statue, that’s it.
From Burgas there’s a cycle path alongside the dual carriageway all the way there. At first this is high quality and well-used, mostly by people on electric scooters. But after a while it disintegrates to a mix of gravel with potholes or just potholes with sporadic bits of tarmac a few cm wide. I can’t bail out on to the main road as there’s a barrier down the middle and I’m on the wrong side. I take a detour closer to the coast, it was clearly once a thriving tourist destination but now all the grand buildings are deserted and there are just areas for camper vans, with an overwhelming stench from scores of portaloos.
Alberto runs the hotel in Chernomorets, and it’s a welcome respite from the Bulgarian standards of previous stops. Proper food too.
I’m disappointed to find out that the only way to the Turkish border is to back track the way I’ve just come, there’s no sensible route onwards from here.
Day 66
After backtracking towards Burgas I turn on to Route 9, the road to the Turkish border. It’s a main road but has very little traffic and again is a lovely ride through sunflower fields and quiet villages. After a while it starts to rise towards the mountains separating Bulgaria from Turkey and the temperature also rises.
At the border, the guard looks at me hard, laughs and says “Dr Richard, what are you doing? It’s 40 degrees out there!”. It’s not quite that hot, but he has a point. On the Turkish side, they ask where I’m going. I tell them Georgia, they look at my bike. “On that thing?” and wave me through.
Country no. 17, this is a big one.
