A short motorcycle journey into the heart of Transylvania
When I ask Christian, the ponytailed Romanian who is preparing my rental motorcycle, about his favourite place to ride in Romania, he replies deadpan, “Everywhere”.
A few weeks earlier, before researching my trip to Romania, I would have been sceptical of his response. At the time, the few associations I had of the country were Bucharest, Dracula and post-communism – none of which conjured up visions of particularly epic motorcycle adventures. A bit of Google research cleared up all of that, however. Images of the grandiose Carpathian Mountains, lush landscapes and serpentine roads instantly altered my conception of the country.
The winding Transfagarasan highway in particular is a motorcyclist’s riding fantasy, touted by Romanian tourism books as being one of the most dangerous highways in the world, and cited by television show Top Gear’s Jeremy Clarkson as being “the best road in the world”. Motorcyclists from all over Europe flock to the Balkan country to ride the Transfagarasan. And here I was, in hot pursuit of the infamous road.
My trip starts at Romania Motorcycle Tours where my friend Shawn and I pick up the rental motorcycles we’ll be using for the next few days. The bikes have been immaculately tuned and dutifully cleaned by Christian, a serious biker with an apparent love of both motorcycles and his country.
We are in the heart of Bucharest, Romania’s capital city and the country’s economic and industrial hub with a population of 1.8 million. It is a city of architectural contrasts: the Palace of the Parliament, the world’s largest parliament building, is a showcase of opulence that stands in contrast to the city’s many utilitarian communist-era buildings.
Traffic in Bucharest is consistently heavy and chaotic, and today is no exception. As we hit the road, vehicles bustle impatiently and motorcyclists zip around us with speed and skill, lane splitting through the narrowest spaces with ease. The night before, a local informed me that I was crazy to ride a motorcycle in Bucharest, and now I fear that he is right.
To my relief, it isn’t too long before we leave the frenzy of Bucharest behind us. We reach the highway and speed limits are posted at 130 km/h, but vehicles blaze past us at speeds that well surpass that. And just like that, Christian’s “everywhere” comes into sight as the landscape opens up to pastoral scenes of rolling hills in vibrant hues of green, dotted with grazing sheep and quaint farmhouses topped with terracotta roofs.
We pass through a charming Romanian village where a sign informs us that the speed limit is drastically reduced to 50 km/h, which is also enforced by speed bumps. Old women wearing headscarves and calf-length skirts with stockings amble along without any urgency and little boys perk up at the sound of our engines, waving enthusiastically as we roll past. A horse-drawn carriage plods along the side of the road, steered by a grey-haired man in high-waisted brown pants and suspenders.
We don’t have to ride much longer before we get a taste of some of the heavenly roads that comprise a motorcyclist’s paradise, but I am jarred back to reality very quickly when I fuel up for the first time and discover the real price of this paradise. I am careful not to select the Diesel option, and ensure that I don’t lose a drop of fuel. This stuff is liquid gold.
Back on the road, the scenery is beautiful, alternating between forests, hills, lakes and open fields. We are in north-western Romania, in the heart of a large region called Transylvania, which translates to “across the forest”. We reach the start of the Transfagarasan highway, determined to complete as much of it as possible. It’s the end of May, and although the weather is glorious, we have been informed by locals that winter conditions higher up in the mountains mean that part of the highway is unpassable until early July. Unable to find a definitive source of information, we test our luck to see how far we can get. As we ascend the windy mountain road, we dodge a pile of fresh animal faeces in our path – a frank reminder that we are in bear territory.
We continue riding up the mountain until we encounter a cement barricade that spans the entire width of the road, giving us no choice but to reluctantly surrender our quest in exchange for an overpriced tram ride up the remainder of the mountain. As we glide towards the summit, we see the twisty highway appear below us and it is indeed a sight to behold. A series of tight hairpin turns and sweeping S-curves wind up the mountain, devoid of all traffic due to the large patches of snow that have not yet melted. Top Gear aptly describes the appearance of the highway as though “every great corner from every great racetrack in the world has been knitted together to create one unbroken grey ribbon of automotive perfection”. It is utterly disappointing to witness the perfection from behind the glass walls of a tram and not from behind my helmet’s visor.
That evening we arrive in Brasov, a medieval city that is a popular weekend getaway for Romanians and other Europeans. Offering fascinating architecture, interesting history, fresh and tasty food, cheap beer and inexpensive lodging, it’s a great place for a rider to relax after hundreds of kilometres on the road. We encounter several other motorcycle touring bikes as we approach the city centre, and notice an impressive number of leather-clad sport bike riders gathered together. A map of the area reveals the draw: the close proximity of an abundance of hairpin turns, enough to make any motorcyclist’s heart skip a beat.
The following day we ride south to Bran Castle, a popular medieval fortress in the outskirts of Brasov which is world-famous as Dracula’s castle. The roads to and from the castle are a playground for two wheels. Windy highways offer breathtaking views from shoulder pull-offs, if you’re quick enough to spot them coming out of a turn. There is no shortage of unpaved trails for some riding diversity, and we allow ourselves to get lost exploring back roads through idyllic fields and farms. Nothing quite beats traveling by motorcycle without a destination or agenda.
On our final day, we ride towards Bucharest to complete our loop. We navigate the tight hairpin turns on unfamiliar, narrow roads that are damp from intermittent rain. These sections challenge my abilities, requiring precision and control and leaving no room for error. On a particularly tight and steep inside turn, I hark back to my rider training as a semi truck passes startlingly close in the oncoming lane, sending a gale of cold, damp air in my direction.
Along the final stretch of highway returning to Bucharest, the clouds open up and begin dumping relentless rain. It’s miserable, but no proper adventure is complete without some tribulation. Due to poor timing, we enter the outskirts of the city centre just as rush hour traffic is culminating in a cacophony of sirens, honking and clamorous engines. After an hour-long struggle progressing through the mess, we arrive back at the motorcycle rental agency. I dismount my iron horse and remove my helmet, face flushed, hair matted and feet soaking wet, but feeling victorious after a battle with the elements (and some homicidal Romanian drivers).
“You need more time,” Christian tells us matter-of-factly, unfazed by my scraggly appearance. And I don’t doubt he is right. There is so much more amazing riding to be found in this country, and we have just scratched the surface.
Our motorcycles were generously provided by Romania Motorcycle Tours.
