The months following the decision to move to Denmark were filled with elation and renewed excitement. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of failed attempts, I was going to leave my birth country behind for good. It was now time to go out there and find my place in the world. A place I could one day call home.
The final north-Transylvanian adventure
During the spring of my last year in Romania, my good buddy Daniel and I planned a little road trip across Maramureș County. He and his girlfriend at the time came over to visit a couple of monasteries and take a steam train ride along the Vaser Valley. For me, going on one last Transylvanian adventure with my best friend was a fitting way to part ways with my past.
The trip took a little over two hours by car from my hometown of Baia Mare. On the way we made a stop in the town of Săpânța to visit the Merry Cemetery (Cimitirul Vesel), famous for its brightly colored tombstones with paintings and poetic descriptions of the past lives of its residents.
A sea of color at the Merry Cemetery, Săpânța (2015)
Northeastern Maramureș
Late in the afternoon, we arrived at Vișeu de Sus where we would spend the night in the Mocănița train yard. The train yard has multiple parked train cars with sleeping compartments. These compartments are rented out to visitors staying the night and have all the necessary amenities of a hotel room.
The over-night train cars in the the Mocăniță train yard
There are several picnic tables next to the train cars to enjoy an outdoor evening dinner and breakfast. There’s also a couple of old refurbished locomotives on display that you can view and explore.
Big old steam-powered locomotive on display
The next day we briefly visited the Bârsana Monastery to the south. Home to the tallest wooden church in Romania, Bârsana Monastery is situated in the centuries old settlement of Bârsana, dating back to the 1300’s.
Bârsana Monastery, 2015
The outside courtyard has many walkways across the Monetary gardens and boasts a couple of beautiful peacocks. The wooden buildings are decorated with wooden carvings and religious iconography.
Peacock at Bârsana Monastery
In the afternoon, Daniel and I took a little road trip to the city of Borșa situated at the foothills of the Rodna Mountains. As we saw the mighty snow capped mountain peaks in the distance, we felt them calling to us. Teasing us, daring us to attempt a little adventurous hike. We couldn’t refuse, however, after a short half an hour walk up the slope, a wet chilly breeze coming down from the mountain reminded us of our past reckless experience in the Făgărăș Mountains. So we decided to play it safe this time around and returned to the safety and comfort of our train yard in Vișeu de Sus.
Mocănița
The following morning our little steam powered train was all ready to take us up the Vaser Valley.
Grumpy morning face
Mocănița, which roughly translates to the little shepherd is a narrow-gauge railway built around the mid 1930’s. The railway is serviced by several steam engines two of which were built in Germany in the early 1900’s.
Chugging along
Partially destroyed during World War II, the railway was later rebuilt and mainly used for logging until 2004 when work began on turning it into a tourist attraction. The 47 km main line runs from Vișeu de Sus to Comanu near the border with Ukraine. However, the service usually terminates at Faina station due to ongoing rehabilitation work on the line.
Our steam powered locomotive
The train made a few stops on the way for fueling, or repositioning. The trip took a few hours both ways and crossed the exceptionally scenic Vaser Valley home to a variety of wildlife, including brown bears and deer.
Along the Vaser Valley
As the trip progressed, the valley became increasingly narrower, with the rolling hills turning into steep mountain cliffs flanking both sides of the track.
She’s getting pretty tight
Around noon, we arrived at Faina station in the heart of the Maramureș Mountains Natural Park. After having a quick snack, we spent the afternoon roaming around the gorgeous landscape before heading back to Vișeu de Sus in the evening.
In the heart of the Maramureș Mountains Natural Park
We spent the final night drinking and laughing, reminiscing and goofing around the train yard. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer farewell and ending to this first big chapter of my life.
Beyond the threshold
As my departure date came close, I recall a now familiar feeling I then felt for the first time. It’s hard to describe this feeling, but to me it’s like a “life threshold”, a point beyond which you can’t see anymore.
Perhaps it was the fairly repetitive nature of my life up to that point that made things fairly predictable. Being in the same places around the same kind of people, there’s always a type of familiarity in your life. I always yearned for more. To explore new places, meet different kind of people and experience new things. This is why I loved traveling so much, especially aboard, since this opened up a whole new world for me. Even so, as exciting and memorable as each of my travels was, they were just that. Short episodes in an ocean of fairly mundane, predictable days and weeks.
However, this time it wouldn’t be a short episode. It would be a complete overhaul of my day to day life. Everything would change. I simply could not imagine what my future looked like after moving away from Romania. I couldn’t see beyond the threshold, but I had a gut feeling that it’ll all be ok. Thus, there was no fear, no anxiety, just a calming inner peace and a trust in myself that I’ll figure it out. I was ready to embark on a new journey and begin my Odyssey from East to West.
One final look back before departing on the train of life in search of a new home
In my previous blog posts I’ve mostly focused on my travel and adventure episodes from my young adulthood, which for me were the highlight of those years. However, I’ve also sporadically mentioned that these were not great years for me. Today, I wanted to briefly retell my story from those years and the life changing decision I was about to make, which also inspired the name of my blog.
After graduating from university, my dissatisfaction with my country and surroundings only grew with each passing year. Each trip abroad I was fortunate enough to go on, would only reinforce my desires to leave Romania behind more and more. For years I kept trying out various ways of finding work abroad, either through contacts, or constant job applications. Despite my efforts though, by 2014 it had become clear this wasn’t going to work.
I ended up working for a Romanian oil and gas exploration company in the south of the country. The job wasn’t easy and the pay was laughable. However, I tried to make the best of it and put on a positive attitude. That lasted about a couple of days into my first shift.
My “lovely” work site sometime in autumn 2014
Now I don’t want to get into the details of all of my gripes with the company and my time there, but suffice to say, this half-year stint only served to amplify my already highly negative feelings towards everything around me.
The winds of change
Finally, by the start of 2015, I had decided that I was going to try a new approach to leave. I was ready to go back to school and thus, began a personal campaign of relentless university applications across Europe. My main target country was Norway, which had left e tremendously positive impression on me when I visited it a couple of years prior. I’m pretty sure I sent out an application to every Norwegian university I could find. However, I was not going to limit myself to just one country. My war on stagnation had begun and my barrage of applications was going to blanket the continent!
My cat as I was telling him of my glorious plans to break free and escape
A couple of months into 2015, I parted ways with my employers in a fairly explosive telephone conversation. Although that unfortunate moment of emotional meltdown left a very bitter taste in my mouth and a dent in my wall, I also began feeling surprisingly relieved. Like some invisible chains shackling me down were starting to break. Within a few days I somehow managed to find a freelance writer gig for an upcoming travel-tourist website. Ironically the pay was almost similar to my previous shitty field job, while the work routine was incomparably better. This little job would end up being a life saver in the months to come.
A surprising outcome
Amid my application frenzy in early spring, friends and family sometimes pitched in with additional ideas for places I could try to apply to. One of them came from the most random of sources: a former work-colleague of my mom’s, who had a son that had moved to Denmark a few years earlier. I knew little to nothing of Denmark apart from its common history with and proximity to Norway. So I applied to a couple of Universities in Denmark too. Although my hopes and dreams still laid with Norway, I was going all in. Something surely had to work out!
As the application deadlines for each university went by, I began receiving the decisions day after day, rejection after rejection. I wasn’t phased anymore. “Reject me all you want, I will never give up!” – became my new attitude. A couple of weeks in, all of my Norwegian applications had been rejected. Yet in the email sea of hopelessness, two shining jewels emerged out of nowhere.
I made sure to re-read these emails multiple times to be certain I wasn’t misreading something, but the message was true and clear. My applications to the Masters programs at the University of Copenhagen and Aarhus in Denmark had been accepted.
After a couple of months of traveling, working and procrastinating, I finally sat down to write again. Today I thought to add to my “Transylvania 101” series by talking about one of my favorite camping destinations in Romania. Namely “Scaunul Domnului” (God’s chair), a mountain peak and plateau in the Călimani Mountains, east-Transylvania.
How it all began
Around 4.54 billion years ago, when the Earth was a molten fireball baby… Oh sorry, I went back too far. About 80 million years ago, during the alpino-carpatho-himalayan orogeny volcanic activity gave birth to the east-Carpathian mountain chain… Wait, no. That’s still too far.
Ok, let’s start in 2010, towards the end of the summer exam session at University. While discussing with one of my friends and dorm mates about holiday plans, an idea for a camping trip came up. As we were both mountain lovers, I suggested a few spots in north-Transylvania that I knew of close to my home town. However he already had plans to go hiking with a couple of friends in the Călimani Mountains to the east. I had never explored that region of Transylvania and was keen on discovering new places.
My University city of Cluj Napoca where all great adventures began
We decided to go camping for a few days in Călimani, in a spot that he once went to called Scaunul Domnului. Our trip basically hinged on my friend’s ability to recall the way to this place, half day’s walk across the bear-ridden Transylvanian wilderness. Suffice to say, there were a couple of instances of coin-toss level decision making where the path would diverge, but in the end he got us through to the top.
The Călimani camping experience, which I will detail more below, was so much fun that we ended up returning the following years.
The Călimani trip
My journey the Călimani always started in city of Cluj Napoca, which was also my University city. From here I would take a train to my friend Cipri’s hometown of Târgu Mureș, in central Transylvania. the rest of our adventurer friends would all meet up there and spend one night at his place. The next day we would take an early morning train to the village of Deda-Bistra. From Deda-Bistra we would begin our ~10 km hike in the Călimani Mountains.
The old train station in Cluj Napoca
Now 10 km doesn’t sound too bad, but with fully packed 60-80 liter backpacks on our backs, it was certainly no cake walk. Especially when apart from the canned foods, tents, sleeping bags, we would also pack an excessive amount of alcohol with us. The Transylvanian way…
The hike up to Scaunul Domnului
The first leg of the journey would see us cross the village of Deda-Bistra. A very gentle incline upwards, this bit always felt like the tutorial section of the hike. Yet, by the time we’d reach the edge of town, we’d already be sweating.
At the edge of the village of Deda-Bistra
The next portion was the “make it, or break it” section, which involved a grueling steep climb in the morning sun, with zero shade. During this part, everyone was expected to complain, swear and curse while questioning why on Earth they are doing this instead of relaxing in a soft, comfy bed at home. However, after passing the test of endurance, the mountain would reward us with a gorgeous view of the valley bellow. Then Cipri would always add that there’s only two more big steep climbs to do. Well, that and about three quarters of the way to go…
Overlooking the valley of Deda-Bistra after completing the first steep climb of our hike
After the first big climb, the forest completely envelops the path. From there on up, we’d spend most of our time hiking up and down through the forest. Occasionally crossing a few meadows where we’d remember to be on the lookout for signs of bears. At that time the Călimani Mountains were known to have one of the highest bear populations in Romania. During this long section, a couple of diverging paths could potentially stray one away from the right way… Which was to the left… I think.
A little glimpse of the long hike through the Călimani forests
The plateau and peak
About half a day later and a couple of kilos less, we would reach the final stretch of the hike. A moderately steep climb in a rocky coniferous forest. This bit was always associated with excitement and euphoria of having nearly completed the long and arduous hike to the top.
Nearing the top of Scaunul Domnului and the end of our hike
Finally, the forest would open up and reveal a glorious mountain plateau. The area offers plenty of good flat ground for pitching tents. There’s at least a couple of great campfire spots as well. Most importantly, there is a safe to drink fresh water spring situated in the center of the plateau.
On the northwest and east side, slated rocky cliffs offer some of the best views of the Carpathian Mountains I’ve ever seen. Northeast of the plateau, the path continues for over 20 km towards “Pietrosul Călimanilor”, the highest peak (2100 m) in the Călimani Mountains.
Southward view of the Călimani Mountains from Scaunul Domnului peak
Since the first time I saw the sign to Pietrosul, I always tried to convince my companions to do a full expedition all the way to the top. For some reason, I’d always find it hard to just sit in one place for more then a day. I kept wanting to go further, walk more, see more! Sadly, that trip would never materialize. However, I did somewhat learn to appreciate the less active camping style of simply relaxing and enjoying nature in one remote spot.
Slated rocky cliffs atop Scaunul Domnului peak
The first year: Perfect conditions
When we first went camping in July 2010, we were very fortunate with the weather. the mornings and evenings were nice and cool, while the days were warm and sunny. The weeks prior to our departure also saw plenty of rain, so everything looked super fresh.
Sunshine after light rain in the morning is just perfect
We pitched our tents next to a fireplace atop an elevated section just north of the plateau. We were right at the edge of to the forest, which was great because it provided us with plenty of dry dead wood that we could use for our nightly campfires. A few meters from our tents we had breathtaking views of the Călimani Mountains stretching north-south. A short walk down the plateau, we had easy access to the fresh water spring.
Our neat little camping site in the Transylvanian wilderness
We were also lucky to have the entire place to ourselves. Not say that Scaunul Domnului is a popular tourist destination, but when the weather is so good there’s a high chance of other hikers stopping by.
Nights and days
The nights were filled with drinking, philosophical debates, nonsensical rambling and lots of laughs. The night sky was so clear and visible that each night we’d spend a couple of hours stargazing. On the other hand, when we’d venture into the forest for more lumber, we’d be enveloped by a darkness that no city dweller could imagine. Roaming around the pitch black forest with our headlights, we discovered a tree with its bark pealed like a banana. The deeply engraved claw markings were unsettling to say the least.
Our long nights by the campfire
Fueled by the other wordy of our surroundings our imagination went wild and the spooky campfire stories followed. Weather it be extraterrestrials, demons, or bears, or extraterrestrial demon bears with corn eyes, the ridiculous tales were endless. To add to all that, the first night after we retreated to our tents, I’m fairly sure we were visited by a beast. As I lay ready to fall asleep, I clearly heard ruffling in the grass near our tent. This was distinctly different than the sound of the blowing wind. The sound got closer and closer until it seemed to be next to the tent. Everyone else was asleep at that point, so I just rolled towards the center and hoped it would go away. The next morning there was a large patch of flattened grass beside my tent. Could it have been the beast that pealed the tree nearby? Who knows…
The peeled tree we discovered the first night, about 50 m from our tents
The days were mostly spent recovering from the long nights of drinking. Weather this involved meditation, walks in the forest, or throwing up depended on the individual. Another fun daytime activity was foraging for blueberries. It’s always impressive how time can fly when you’re munching on fresh berries – bear life 101.
First year hiking crew in Călimani (2010)
It’s easy to see how we fell in love with the place and quickly decided to return the next year.
The second year: A bit moist
So it was that in July 2011, we were back at Deda-Bistra, preparing once more for our hike in the Călimani Mountains. This time around however, the weather was not favorable. It had been raining for a couple of weeks and it didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping.
The train station in Deda-Bistra during the wet season in 2011That first steep climb that ended up being way harder then the year before
The climb felt much harder. The ground was wet and muddy and our clothes got soaked within the first hour. Personally, I may also have been fairly out of shape at that time, so everything felt extra heavy. We had to make a lot more frequent stops on the way. About half way into the hike, we even decided to pitch a tent to rest and nap for about an hour. It truly felt like a completely different game then the prior year.
Second year Călimani crew, getting ready to head out again after a little napOur wet forest hike
With plenty of extra hours spent on the hike, we finally made it to the plateau in the evening. The clouds were very thick and low, so we didn’t have many hours left of light. We had to scramble to pitch the tents and start a fire as soon as possible. Due to our earlier rest break, the tents, sleeping bags and most of our clean clothes got wet too. Everything was wet and the rain showed no intention of stopping anytime soon. It was a disaster.
Our mood after arriving at our destination all soaked
The sinking submarine
The hasty manner in which we pitched our tents the first night came back to haunt us the next day. I’m not sure if one of them had sprung a leak, but somehow this one tent got flooded. So much so that our friends sleeping in the tent woke up with their sleeping bags and feet in a pool of water. Thus, we christened it the sinking submarine.
Cliffside in the clouds atop Scaunul Domnului, Călimani 2011
The sub had to be evacuated and abandoned for the rest of our stay. This meant that all four of us had to cozy up in a two-person tent. Talk about sardines in a can… At least we used the sinking submarine to store our wet backpacks. Speaking of wet things, the clothes left outside to dry never dried because surprise surprise, it kept raining through the night!
Futile attempts to dry our clothes
We solely had to rely on the campfire to attempt to dry anything. This had it’s own downsides, like when I ended up burning my boots while trying to dry them.
Still trying to dry those boots too…
On the flip side, Cipri was very knowledgeable about wilderness survival, so thanks to him and his skills, we could constantly make and maintain a fire even with all the wet wood and bush. A handy thing I learned from him is how well tinder fungus burns even when wet.
With all the rain, there were plentiful mushrooms at least
A mystical allure
Despite the hardships, our second year in Călimani was fantastic! Once we got used to our new conditions, we adjusted our habits and adapted well to the new wet environment. The night parties raged on as the year before, with music louder than ever. The spooky atmosphere of the constantly foggy forest added a new layer to the mystical allure of the place.
Most importantly, we always made time to goof around
Mushrooms and berries were flourishing thanks to the abundant rain of the past weeks. Eventually, a day, or two in, even the rain stopped. So we finally got a chance to dry some of our clothes. To top it all off, during one of the evenings the clouds even gave way to a few rays of sunlight. This provided us with some incredible photo opportunities and breathtaking sunset views.
A sneaky sunset behind the clouds
Honestly, as perfect and fun as our first year was, the second year remains my favorite Călimani camping adventure. Perhaps it thanks to the challenging nature of that trip.
The rare rays of sunlight we got on this trip were extra special
That being said, we wanted to make sure that the following year we would avoid all the rainy days and strive for a warm and dry camping trip. Oh boy, did we ever get it…
Leaving behind the cloudy Călimani Mountains in 2011
The third year: Where’s the water?
This time around, I was in better shape and so was the weather. No more clouds, no more rain, the sky was clear and it was damn warm. We were in fact hiking during a heat wave. Whenever we’d start complaining about the heat, we’d just think back to the rainy conditions in 2011. Not this time. this time it hadn’t rained at all for weeks before we set out on our trip. The issue with this wasn’t evident at first, but would soon be made clear once we reached the top.
Out of the three years doing this trip, I’m fairly sure we completed the hike in record time in 2012. After exhausting most of our water supply going up, we were keen for a refill from the spring. However, in there’s where the problem lay. Due to the lack of rain and persistent heat, the freshwater spring had almost completely dried up. All that was left was a muddy little puddle…
We saw this stork back in Deda-Bistra and its expression perfectly mirrored our reaction to the “no drinkable water” situation
Some attempts were made to filter the muddy mess through a cloth and then boil it. But despite our best efforts, this was unsustainable for days and nights. With no other known water spring in the area, we realized we had no choice but to turn back the next day. To top it all off we couldn’t even drink all the alcohol we’d brought up, because without water, the next day we’d be screwed.
Another group of excessively rowdy campers arrived that evening and completely hampered any semblance of our enjoyment during the one night.
Even if it was just the one night, we still had our mandatory campfire in the evening
The final grueling return trip
The next morning, we all woke tired and thirsty. There was no time to waste. We packed up everything and started our descent. What would normally be a fairly easy half-day hike down from the mountains, turned into an very physically and mentally challenging trek. We were 4, or 5 people and had half a liter of water left for the entire trip back to town. Let’s not forget that we were already dehydrated from the day before. Even though the walk was mostly downhill, or straight, the temperature highs of around 30°C still made us sweat whatever little water we had left in us. It was truly miserable.
These days we see and hear people constantly reminding us about the importance of hydration. Well, after what we went through that day, I think none of us would ever forget to drink enough water for the rest of our lives. When we finally managed to get back into town, tongues out and half hallucinating, we rushed to the first store we saw and emptied their shelves and fridge of water bottles.
Our final sunset in Călimani
Final thoughts
Our camping trips to the Călimani Mountains were generally an absolute blast! The key of our good time lay as always in great companionship and camaraderie. The great memories we made together those days are unreplaceable and despite the hardships and even dangers that nature threw at us, we came back each time for more.
Bear footprints we found during our hike in 2011
It’s just a shame that our last trip ended up being so dissapppinting. On top of that, the failed trip served only to accentuate an already bad period of my life fraught with personal issues and depression. It would take another year for things to start to turn around for me. Specifically, it would take an unforgettable little trip with one of my best friends to Norway.
Alright, so this week’s post is going to be a bit different – and yes I’m really trying to turn this into a weekly thing.
I will go further back in time to my first travel adventure out of Romania. Well, at least the first non-family related one. This all happened in 2008, during my second year at University. I know, feels like a lifetime ago… So one of my friends and classmates shows up one day talking about a summer camp he found out about. An opportunity for geologist students to go camping in Switzerland, relatively cheaply.
The organization doing this was called EUGEN. Which is a fairly common Romanian name and also happened to be the name of my uncle’s neighbor. Oh but it’s not that Eugen, it’s actually the European Geoscientists Students Network. I guess they left the S out of the acronym because EUGESN doesn’t roll off the tongue as nicely as EUGEN.
What is EUGEN about?
Back then I didn’t know anything about them, but as I would find out, they are a German-based organization that had been doing yearly summer camps for geologists and geology enthusiasts for a few years. Each year participants would hold a voting session where they would decide what country would host the next year’s EUGEN event. The whole thing would be fairly cheap and even cheaper for students living in the poorer eastern European countries. The event would last a week during which there would be various field trips one could choose from, social events, lectures and a cultural trip. Oh and a lot, and I mean A LOT of alcohol. All in all it’s an absolute blast of a week. A chance to visit another country, meet new people, make a bunch of friends and have a great time. The best part is that EUGEN continues to date! So what are you waiting for geologically inclined reader? Go! Fly off to Slovenia for a great time this summer!
EUGEN Austria in 2018 – Udra Udra!
Alright, so I went off on a bit of a tangent there, but I’m always happy to do some PR for these guys. Shout out to all my EUGEN readers out there!
Back to 2008 and when I first heard about them. This was back when I was piss-poor, so any cost was a high cost for me. Regardless, the opportunity was incredible and my parents were happy to sponsor my trip.
Off we go
It was some time during August, as it usually is, when the event was hosted. We had a fairly large group of Romanians attending that year. Most of which were university classmates of mine. I remember the logistics of getting to the location were quite tricky. Mostly because none of us had cars to drive. There were no easy flights either, so the only option we had really were trains. I think we had to change 4, or 5 different trains in total. I believe it was over a day’s worth of train travel.
The obelisk of Horea, Cloșca and Crișan in Alba Iulia, Romania 2008
The first train was from Alba Iulia, Romania to Vienna, Austria. The second one would cross Austria and take us to around Innsbruck, where I think we had to change to another train that would cross over the Swiss border. Then I know for sure there was at least one, if not two more train changes within Switzerland. This was mostly because the event location was near a tiny little village that nobody outside Switzerland has heard of called Domat/Ems. The village is close to a bigger town that nobody outside Switzerland has heard of called Chur. Chur is actually pronounced Coor, or Cur, like ass in Romanian. Sorry, I just had say that – Gaudenz, I hope you’re reading buddy!
A quick stop in Vienna, Austria – Mandatory taking of photos as proof that we went there in 2008
The experience
Now, I won’t go into day by day details of my excursion to Switzerland. Primarily because it’s been such a long time that I can only recall bits and pieces of it. However, I will reserve my next post to go over some of the wonderful places we saw during our field trips.
As for here, I would just like to state that it was a fantastic experience. Not just for myself, but for all of us from Romania that went to EUGEN 2008. The amazing field trips, the great people we met, the evening parties, the incredible food! Oh God, the Italian food night when everyone had like 3 portions and then the toilets couldn’t handle it anymore… The Italians serenading the chefs with live music… What a night! I remain extremely grateful for the organizing team and EUGEN for the opportunity.
Switzerland was/is such a radically different country then Romania that it’s like night and day. A real eye opener to how nice and civilized a country can be. Well, kind of like Norway for those who have read my Norway series. For those who haven’t, well what are you waiting for? It’s right here!
Walking around Chur, Switzerland 2008
Starting to feel like this post is one big advertisement, eh? Well, you bet your Chur it is!
Hope you’ll stick around for my next post about our Swiss EUGEN adventure! Until then, I bid you farewell.
After leaving the car near Bâlea Lake, we began our hike up the mountain slope. The clouds were low and thick, so visibility was quite poor. For a while, we followed one of the marked paths. Since the trail would have taken us right up the steep crests, we decided to find our own, smoother climb. To me this basically meant – go up in a straight line until you can’t go any further. And so we did.
Leaving Bâlea Lake and our sanity behind.
As we got higher and higher, small patches of remnant snow began decorated our surroundings. I was quite surprised to see leftover snow during this time of the year. We climbed further up the wet grassy and rocky slope with a gradually increasing inclination. We were up in the clouds by the time we reached a steep wall of rock, rising well into the gray mist above. It wasn’t a dead end though. There was also another trekking path stretching parallel with the cliff.
As we looked up, an odd dark gray-bluish tint loomed over us in the clouds. I figured it was an approaching storm cloud, so we decided not to linger on the mountain for too long. The safest bet would have been to turn around and go back down. However, for lack of better judgment, I let Daniel decide our fate. Thus, we ventured on the newly discovered path a bit further.
Let’s just follow the blue line. What could possibly go wrong?
Further into the unknown
Since Daniel was more familiar with this region, or at least that’s what I thought, I let my good buddy take the lead. The general idea was that the path should lead back down to Bâlea cabin at some point. By this point, visibility was extremely poor. We couldn’t see much past one to two meters around us. However the trail seemed to descend, which was promising.
Stumbling in the clouds in the Făgărăș Mountains of Transylvania
Ten minutes in, we came across a fairly large “patch” of snowy ice. This thing stretched up and down the mountain slope, covering our path for about five meters. The inclination, combined with the icy, hardened snow made these few steps quite slippery. My summer-time footwear wasn’t doing me any favors either. I carefully managed to cross the obstacle, but it had made me quite uneasy. Nonetheless, since we were clearly descending, we carried on.
First of the white “terrors”
It didn’t take us long to run into a second snowy portion of the slope. This time twice the size of the first. I was getting really nervous about attempting the crossing. My wet shoe soles were slippery even on grass by this point. When I tested the frozen snow with my feet, there was simply no grip. It may have been just me, but the slope also seemed to be getting steeper and steeper. If we were to slip we would have fast been rolling down the rocky mountainside to whatever was at the bottom. The smart thing would have been to turn back. However, we had descended half-way and the prospect of climbing back up wasn’t very appealing.
A slippery slope
After some convincing from Daniel, I started cautiously crossing the snow, with one hand on the ground and feet shaking. It felt like forever, but I managed to cross safely. After a sigh of relief, I looked back at the white “terror” we had to overcome. We then carried on downwards, only to come across the third and biggest ice field of them all. This ice cover looked to stretch on forever into the gray haze. “Nope, nope, nope” – I said – “ This is not passable”. Indeed it was not, but the major issue now was that we were caught in between two large ice fields. It seemed like the only way out of there was straight down.
Once more, we slowly descended sideways on the steep slope, trying to hang on to any stable rocks we could. Daniel was faster, as he was actually wearing mountain boots, so the wet gravel and grass wasn’t affecting him as much. My gaze and focus was fully on each step I took, making sure not to slip.
Ice fields surrounding us on our descent
An unexpected sight
Daniel called out and I looked up to see a rocky cliff in front of us. The two ice-covers on each side closing in around us as we went down. With fingers crossed, I shouted back at him to take a look over the cliff and see if there was any clear way to go down around the rocks. He tried to make something out amidst the thick gray blanket of clouds. As I was cautiously approaching his position, he suddenly cursed out loud, got up and turned around with a face as pale as the snow. There had been a moment when the clouds dispersed to expose nothing but waves somewhere at the bottom of the cliff. We were right above Bâlea Lake. The problem was the two accursed ice covers met up around the rocky cliffs, leading straight into the lake. Only then did we realize that those icy snow patches were in fact remnants of the glacier that formed the lake itself.
Bâlea Lake, so close, yet so unreachable
Daniel’s expression made it pretty clear that there was no way of getting down on this side of the mountain, without tumbling into the glacial lake and probably breaking some bones along the way. I had to see for myself, so I tried to take a few tentative steps around the rocky cliff to see if there was enough ice-free space to sneak through. Unfortunately, there was hardly any, and by this point, the glacier also had just enough thickness to get one’s foot stuck in between it and the rocky wall. Climbing down the ice was also out of the question, since the slope took a major dip just before hitting the water. As much as I hated to admit it, the only option we had left was to go back up. Back all the way we came and descend exactly on the same slope we had climbed up initially. Right then and there, I had a flashback to earlier when I had suggested we turn back down instead of following a path blindly. But hey, where’s the fun in that?
The way back
With no other option, we reluctantly climbed up again, passing the two tails of the glacier once more without incident. Luckily we had memorized the location of the rocky wall and initial path marking. So without much trouble we ended up in the exact spot we had climbed up about two hour earlier. We made a stop one last time to look up at the stony cliff. In the clouds above we noticed yet again the same ominous dark gray shadow looming over. The one we had thought to be approaching storm clouds earlier. At this point it seemed very strange to have a storm cloud apparently hovering in the exact same spot for two hours.
The spiky crests of the Făgărăș Mountains revealed
As if the elements had read our thoughts and wished to reveal the truth, the clouds gave way to reveal a huge overhanging bit of the mountain to be our looming gray shadow. In hindsight, I highly regret not taking the time to photograph the impressive formation, but at that moment in time the only thought we had was getting down as fast as possible before that thing fell on top of us. So much so that we ended up sprinting half-way down to safety. We had had our fill of the Făgărăș Mountains for the day. Reaching the parking lot, we were extremely relieved we had survived our great Făgărăș adventure without any incident.
We were quite pumped full of adrenaline and in some weird way felt very pleased with ourselves. To finish off the day in the theme of spontaneity and adventure, Daniel decided to book us another room in a different Hotel, closer to the mountain. It was unfortunate that we had left all of our precious beers in the hotel in Cârțișoara. However, the view we had from our new crib was a worthwhile tradeoff.
The view from our hotel room on the Transfăgărășan
The night is young
As the darkness settled, we had a great meal and restocked our alcohol supply. I then had an idea of the perfect way to finish our exciting day: an adventurous spooky walk out into the woods with a couple of beers, a flashlight and Daniel’s airsoft gun. It had also started raining heavily, just to make it that much more interesting. We proceeded into the pitch black woods, in search of the unknown. Crossing a small stream, we carried on until we reached a nice little clearing. There we had our fun goofing around and shooting empty beer cans in the rain. It was the icing on the cake with plenty of good laughs and childish fun. After getting drenched for about an hour we headed back to the hotel for a well deserved rest.
The next morning, after a delicious breakfast, we had a lovely chat with the Hotel’s bartender. He told us this wonderful story of the problems they kept having the other night with a bear that was roaming near the hotel… Yes, the same night that two half-drunk idiots that had almost gotten themselves killed earlier in the day were goofing around in the pitch-black forests around the hotel. Perhaps the bear was just looking to join in on our fun. In any case, we packed-up and drove back to Mediaș, but not before receiving a phone call from the motel in Cârțișoara, reminding us that we had forgotten some items in the fridge – good old Transylvanian hospitality.
In hindsight
To wrap this story up, one should never venture up the Carpathian mountains, or any mountains as matter of fact, without proper equipment! Even if it’s just for a short day hike. These places can be extremely unpredictable and dangerous, as we learned on our own skin. Some semblance of knowledge of the area also goes a long way. And for goodness sake, don’t go out in the middle of the night, during a storm, into bear ridden woods with booze and toy guns. Unless, you’re a Transylvanian, of course. Then you do as you please 🙂
No bears, no snow, nor mountains, or lakes shall stand in the way of my adventure!
The following morning, we woke up to a perfect summer’s day. Clear skies, high temperatures it was the perfect day for what we had in mind. After a relatively quick breakfast, and here I use “relative” loosely, we hopped in the car. We drove towards the Southern Carpathian Mountains, passing through the plains of central Transylvania and enjoying the warmth of the season.
Who am I kidding? It was too damn hot! It’s always too damn hot here in the summer…
The Southern Carpathian Mountains seen from the road in Sibiu county. Image from bracobabic.wordpress.com
After what felt like hours of sweating and driving, but was probably a lot less, the landscape started to change. On the relative flat horizon a wall of towering mountains now popped up in the distance. The mountain chain ran parallel to the road, growing ever taller and more imposing. As the road turned towards the peaks, we arrived in the town of Cârțișoara.
Cârțișoara and the Transfăgărășan
Situated in the flatlands just under the great mountains, Cârțișoara is known for being the starting point of trekking paths leading up the Făgărăș Mountains, as well as the ruins of the 13th century Cârța Monastery. Daniel decided to book us a room at a motel. We left our valuables in the safety box, meaning we put our beers in the fridge, and hopped back into the car.
Cârțișoara marks the starting point of one of Romanian’s most famous roads: the Transfăgărășan. Basically, one of the roads crossing the South Carpathians and the only one to cut straight through the Făgărăș Mountains. The road is usually closed during winter due to bad weather and dangerous conditions. Up to date information on the status and road conditions on the Transfăgărășan are available here.
Cârțișoara and the sunny plains of Transylvania in the distance
The view was spectacular as we drove up the winding road. About half-way up we pulled over to enjoy the landscape. As I struggled to open the door, an unexpected ice cold wind blasted me in the face. Blowing from the direction of the high peaks, it was quite the radical change from the weather we experienced ten minutes before, in Cârțișoara.
The Transfăgărășan road, summer 2014
Clouds were persistently hovering over the mountain, while the plains from whence we came remained visibly sunny. I then realized that I was highly underdressed for the occasion. However, since it was going to be just a short one day trip, I was confident I could power through with my shorts, sleeveless shirt and a summer jacket. The lack of boots was no issue either, at least for now. After all, it was summer and we weren’t going to hike up anywhere crazy!
Come at me Făgărăș Mountains, me and my Norwegian Valdres bandana are ready for you!
Bâlea Lake…
Another ten minutes later, we stopped at Bâlea Lake – the name of which has been an eternal conundrum for me. Ok, so let me explain… When referring to a lake in Romanian, the general rule is the articulated word Lake “Lacul” comes before the given name of the lake. For example Lake/Lacul Vidraru, Lake/Lacul Sf. Ana, Lake/Lacul Iezer, etc. But then you have Bâlea Lake/Lac. Yeah, it’s not called Lacul Bâlea, but Bâlea Lac. Why you do this to me Bâlea? Why you got to be so rebel?
Bâlea Lake and the cabin bearing the same name, mark the highest point of the Transfăgărășan road. From this point on an almost one kilometer tunnel cuts through the mountain connecting its northern and southern slopes. We weren’t planning on crossing this time though. Instead, we left the car in the parking lot, took our backpacks, and started stumbling up the mountain in search of adventure.
The following hours would prove just how stupid it is to venture up the Făgărăș Mountains unprepared…
About a year after our exceptional journey to Norway, I ended up visiting my good friend Daniel in his hometown of Mediaș. Located in the central Transylvania, Mediaș is quite far away from my hometown of Baia Mare in the north-west. Since I wasn’t keen on driving the chaotic Romanian roads, I had to go by train. A very slow train without air conditioning that heats up like a tin can left in the scorching summer sun. Good old Eastern Europe…
The prehistoric trains still in use today in Romania
It was my first time visiting that part of the country. On day one, after the gruelingly long train ride, we set out to explore the rolling green hills and medieval remnants surrounding Mediaș. The weather was excellent. Sunny and warm, just perfect for sightseeing and outdoor buffoonery. It was a day of reconnaissance, forest exploration and medieval sword flinging. It was also a day of complete clumsiness, on my end, due to the long, tiresome, trip to Mediaș.
Treasure hunting
We visited the town of Moșna and its fortified medieval church. In the courtyard, we took our time, looking around for artifacts and treasure. This place is so full of history that apparently one can still find small overlooked artifacts in the soil.
In our endeavor, we found a rusty old nail in the dirt. The nail told the story of past battles where great armies crashed into the fortified walls like the raging waves of the seven seas colliding with unrelenting rocky shores. The forces unleashed were so great that they knocked the nails straight out of the opposite sides of the walls! On the other hand, it could have just been someone misplacing a nail in more modern times.
Moșna fortified church, 2014
In our search for the truth, we found another piece of the puzzle: a shattered piece of pottery. Using our professional deductive abilities, we concluded that this fragment obviously implied that even the pots flew off of the shelves when the battle raged on the other side of the walls. Before heading back to Mediaș, we stopped by the local woods to test out Daniels new acquisition: a glorious Viking sword. Being my first time flinging around a sword, I had a fun time with it. The surrounding bushes and ghosts never stood a chance!
No caption is sufficient to explain this photo, so just sit back and take in the visual spectacle
Where to next?
Arriving back in Mediaș, just before sundown, we hiked up a nearby hill and enjoyed a few beers in the wilds. It wasn’t long before we became the wilds… We had to find a purpose for our empty beer cans, so Daniel’s airsoft handgun gave them new purpose. I was quick to show my prowess in both ranged and close quarter shooting, missing every conceivable and inconceivable shot. In my defense, I was tired… The alcohol didn’t seem to help either.
As the evening set in, we packed up and went back to Daniel’s house for a well deserved meal and rest. The next day we planned to take a road trip to the Făgăraș Mountains, Romanian’s tallest mountains.
In my previous post on hiking in north-Transylvania I left off at the village of Firiza, located north of Baia Mare city. Firiza is a typical quiet, rustic north-Transylvanian village nested in the Firiza valley. The crossroads at the north-end of the village marks the end of the bus line. The east-bound road crosses the Black Valley (Valea Neagră), leading to a regionally well-known skiing resort, Staţiunea Izvoare. The north-bound road leads to the village of Blidari and theoretically goes much further to a very large and beautiful mountain plateau called Platou Runcu. However, I say theoretically because last I checked the road was so insanely bad that no normal car should attempt that and expect to make it out in one piece.
Luckily one doesn’t need to go all the way to Runcu for a wonderful hiking experience. At the northern edge of Blidari you can see a large rocky cliff from the road and you may think to yourself “Wow, that place must offer some great scenic views”, and you would be absolutely right! The exposed cliff is called Piatra Bulzului, which translates as the Bulz’s Stone and is a great medium difficulty day-hike from Blidari.
Piatra Bulzului, seen from the road in the Blidari valley, 2014
Piatra Bulzului
The hike to the cliff begins from the main road down in the Blidari valley. Just as you’re coming out of the village, there is an easy-to-miss sign pointing towards the forest. Turns out there’s actually a trail amid the thick bush and trees.
Hmm, now where could that sign be?
The first half an hour, or so you will follow a gentle slope up the mountain. Sporadic crooked wooden fences mark private property along the trail so make sure not to cross those. During the autumn season, the leaf-covered soil gives way to several types of mushrooms. Some edible and some not so much. Make sure to pack a book on identifying local mushrooms if you’re considering picking some!
Common puffball (edible mushroom) on the hiking trail to Piatra Bulzului
Wildlife
The second part of the journey takes you through the colorful beech and birch tree forest where you start getting glimpses of the surrounding mountains and hills. During this stretch, some of the slopes can be fairly inclined. You will also be fairly far away from any houses and human activity by this point, so there is a higher chance of encountering wildlife.
I’ve briefly discussed the dangers of wild boars while hiking in north-Transylvania. However, the Blidari region presents a new potential danger, namely Romania’s brown bear. Unfortunately, bear encounters have become more common over the last decades as human settlements continue to encroach on the bear’s habitat. Bears will generally try to avoid humans, so when hiking in bear territory it’s best to make noise and let your presence be known. I would also recommend packing a can of bear spray, just to be on the safe side.
Hiking up the trail
Reaching the top
The final stretch of the journey is marked by the increasing number of rock outcrops peeking out from under the blanket of leaves. As you get closer to the top, the outcrops grow in size and number. You will notice that all of the rocks here are mostly black, with some minor surface weathering. These rocks are basalts that formed during the Neogene volcanism, between 12 and 7 million years ago.
Rock outcrops near the top of the mountain
Before climbing the last narrow stretch up to the top, you can try to look for the hidden grot on the north-side of the cliff. Mind you, it’s not easy to find. When you’re ready, go on ahead and make the final climb along the large rocky outcrop. As you go up, the forest opens up to reveal a breathtaking view. Congratulations, you’ve reached the top of Piatra Bulzului!
South-facing view from Piatra Bulzului, autumn 2014
In the final part of my north-Transylvania series, I will take you on a steam-train ride along the Vișeu valley!
Traditional wooden shacks in Maramureș county, Romania
In my previous post, I talked briefly about “The Park” in Baia Mare city and how it’s a gateway to easily accessible hiking trails. I mentioned that the path northeast, takes you to Roman valley (Valea Romană), which was one of my favorite regions to hike. This will be the focus of today’s post.
The Roman valley
Located about 7 km north of Baia Mare, the Roman valley stretches around 2 km, from east to west along a small river. The valley is flanked by forest covered hills and short-mountains (up to 850 m high). The river flows from the mountains eastwards eventually reaching Lake Firiza. Several hiking paths cross the valley, but the most common one follows the river direction. The main path is fairly wide and can also be crossed by bicycle, motorcycle or ATV. The landscape itself is beautiful and offers a great retreat from urban life, while being relatively close to the city.
Hiking in the Roman valley during February (2013)
Main path during summer, 2015
Mount Igniș (1307 m), viewed from the Roman valley (2014)
Mushroom season
Numerous pastures and fern-covered meadows dot the region and offer the opportune environment for one of the most sought-after edible mushrooms in Europe: the parasol mushroom. The parasol, also known as Macrolepiota procera, is one of the most easily identifiable edible mushrooms. Its cream-colored and brown dotted “scale-like” cap set it apart from other mushrooms species in the region. I am by no means an expert on mushrooms, but I find that the parasol is definitely one of the easiest ones to identify. It’s fairly common throughout European countries and it’s delicious!
Young parasol mushroom in the Roman valley (2014)
The parasol season starts around late-spring, during May and ends in October. Personally, I found that they spring up more during spring and autumn, and less so during the summer. This might be due to the more abundant rain during these periods. This is also the time that you are more likely to see other people walking on the paths, as locals often go mushroom-picking during the high season. You can read more here about how to identify the parasol, as well as some cooking tips!
How to get there
You have two options to get to the Roman valley from Baia Mare city. You can take a car up the 183 county road going northeast from the city. When you reach Lake Firiza, you will want to drive another 2 km (~3 minutes) from the Adventure Lake Resort, until you reach the big bend in the road, with a forest road heading west. There will be a barrier on the road, so you’ll have to leave the car there – don’t worry, there is enough space and everybody does this! Alternatively, you can take a public bus from Baia Mare, to Firiza and get off at the Firiza Lake stop. You’ll have to walk a bit to get to the forest road, so make sure you have a map, or someone with you that knows the area!
Forest road from Roman valley ending in the 183 county road (2013)
A more exciting options to reach the Roman valley, is to hike 6-7 km all the way from the Queen Mary Municipal Park in Baia Mare. You can do this by following Petőfi Sándor street along the park and continuing north up Usturoiul valley. At one point the road turns left just after the last power lines end at a private cabin. At this point you don’t want to continue on the road, as it leads to the village of Ulmoasa. You should instead go straight, following the tight valley going north. You can add to the adventure by having a compass with you to help keep you north-bound! This is kind of an off-the path hike, so don’t worry if it seems like you’re going nowhere. As long as you keep north, you will end up in the Roman valley.
I personally preferred hiking from the city, then following the valley east on the forest road. To get back, I would just take the bus from Lake Firiza to Baia Mare. If you want to extend your trip, you can also take the bus up north to Firiza and spend a night at a cabin. I will talk more about this region in my next post!
Curious dragonfly while hiking in the Roman valley (2015)
Looking back to my journey thus far in life, I can firmly say I have no regret leaving Romania. However, as with most places we leave behind, there are always going to be things we miss. For me, it’s hiking the beautiful regions of north-Transylvania. Specifically, Maramureș county, where I grew up.
Queen Mary Municipal Park, Baia Mare
One of my favorite places in my hometown, Baia Mare, was the Queen Mary Municipal Park situated at the northern tip of the town. I doubt most residents even know the name of the park, I sure didn’t, as we used to just refer to it as “The Park”.
This park itself features a small roman-catholic church by the main entrance, a kids playground and a little train looping inside the park for children to ride on. Additionaly, there is a private tennis-court, a small pond that has been rehabilitated a few years ago and is now full of exotic fish, as well as many walkways and a designated running lane. You can also find a couple of sculptures and statues of famous Romanian poets within the park, like Mihai Eminescu and George Coșbuc. Last, but not least, you can find three restaurants within the park’s confines: OAZIS Philia just by the main entrance, Bastion near the west-entrance and Athos at the heart of the park. Personally, I’ve only ever tried out Athos and the meal was excellent and well-priced. Oh, and they also have some really good ice-cream!
View of Baia Mare city from the west, 2019The little train in Queen Mary Municipal Park, Baia Mare, 2019
My true love for this park, however, comes from how its northern edge seamlessly transitions into the wild forests north of Baia Mare city. There is no fence, no marking, it just simply leads up a hill and then seems to go on forever – a park? or a gateway to freedom and adventure? – You be the judge!
Into the wilds
Following the main trail from the park up the hills you will soon reach a crossroads. To the left you may walk for a short while in the forest before you hit a bunch of residential houses. To the right the trail continues for a good 2-3 km before it end in the valley, at the old Usturoiul Cabin, which unfortunately burned down recently. A third option is to climb straight up the 450m hill atop which sits The Virgin Stone (Piatra Virgină), every local armature climbers go-to place. The hike up to the top can get quite steep at times, but the city-view from up there is completely worthwhile.
Autumn colors in north-Transylvania
I have ventured up the old hill many times in my youth. When I began exploring the wilds of north-Transylvania on my own, I continued on from The Virgin Stone on the path that leads north, up and down the leaf-blanketed hills, surrounded by oak trees and chirping birds. This northern trail goes parallel to the “Usturoiul” valley to the east and the “Valea Roșie” valley to the west. The crisscrossing path eventually leads to either the village of Ulmoasa to the northwest, or the Roman valley (Valea Romană) to the northeast.
Ulmoasa can also be reached via the “Usturoiul” valley on foot, or by bike. No matter which path you take, you will have a wonderful and wild experience. Keep an eye out for wildlife like deer and boars!
Animal-related dangers
You should be cautious of wild boars in the region, especially during spring when they are with young. Wild boars shouldn’t attack unless they feel that they, or their offspring’s are under threat. Personally, I’ve never had any problems with them in all my journeys and even spotted a herd of them once in this region. It is prudent, however, to have a response plan in case you end up in a nasty encounter with boars. You can read more about prevention and behavior during encounters with wild boar here.
One more thing to keep in mind whenever you hike the wilds of north-Transylvania is that meadows are often frequented by sheep herds. That means packs of guard dogs, and the shepherds are not always around, or paying attention. My advice is to keep your distance if you hear the little sheep-bells in the distance. It is best to avoid any unnecessary encounters with the dogs guarding them. Otherwise, pack your water bottle and follow me as we continue our journey through north-Transylvania in the next post!
