The Bicaz Canyon serves as a passageway between the historical regions of Moldavia and Transylvania. The high limestone walls are glittering after a drizzle and traffic is light on “one of the best drives in Romania” in the off-season. Switchbacks lead up to Lacu Roşu, a red lake apparently tinted by the blood of hapless picnickers who had the misfortune to be sitting beneath the mountainside when it collapsed. We are just a few kilometres into Transylvania and blood stories are already emerging…
In 1897, the Irish author Bram Stoker set his gothic horror novel Dracula in the region and bloodsucking vampires and Transylvania have been linked ever since. Fifteenth century Wallachian Prince Vlad III “The Impaler” is believed to be the inspiration behind the character of Count Dracula. The nickname came from his alleged preferred method of execution which involved driving blunt stakes through a victim’s anus, planting them into the ground to let the unfortunates slowly slide down until the sticks perforated between the shoulder blades, thus avoiding internal organs and dragging out the torture.
Although in Eastern Europe Vlad III is regarded as a folk hero that protected efficiently Christianity and Romania from the invading Ottoman Empire and that neither he nor the novel character have any connection to Bran Castle it is still labelled “Dracula’s Castle”. It is low season but the country’s tourism epicentre is shaking with hundreds of visitors milling around yards of souvenir shops. Someone got smart on the tourism council?
Since the city of Braşov, less than 40 kilometres to the North, we have a guest riding along. François works at MEC Quebec City, where we have crossed paths on a few occasions, and has decided to fly to Romania with his bicycle for a month of European fun. In his bike box he brought a new iPod Touch (we can Instagram again!), 2 pairs of Ryders sunglasses with Essilor Xperio rx lenses for Janick, Shimano sandals for Pierre, Brooks multi-tools and leather bar tapes, a small bottle of Bragg liquid aminos and a plastic jar of Canadian organic peanut butter! Our new trio enjoyed Braşov, the beautiful medieval Saxon city from our Strada Republicii deluxe room at Centrum House Hostel before hitting the road. As if on cue the temperature drops and a long cold spell starts—Pierre will have to wait to wear his long awaited sandals. At Curtea de Argeș, François stops at the market to buy some wool socks and tights for ahead are Romania’s two highest paved roads, the famed Transfăgărășan and the non-officially opened Transalpina.
The Transfăgărășan Road, also known as Ceaucescu’s folly, was constructed at the communist dictator’s orders in the early 1970s. It took 4 years and 6 million kilograms of dynamite to build the road running north-south across the tallest section of the Southern Carpathians. Often referred to as the Transylvanian Alps.
We are coming from the south along the Agneș River valley and the road is not climbing until we reach the “real” Dracula’s Castle. Poenari Citadel perched high on a steep precipice of rock was one of Vlad III’s main fortresses, but has nothing to do with the novel’s vague geographic settings. Confused yet?
Then, it is a winding road along Lake Vidraru reservoir before it starts to ascend seriously and rise above the treeline. The “summit” is a 884-metre long tunnel dug across the Fagaraș Mountains’ rocky crown to glacier lake Balea (2034m). The northern side is drier, sunnier and scarier! It is a 35-kilometre-break-pads-burning downhill ride over the dynamited section dotted with precipitous hairpin turns.
Although it was started during WWI, the Transalpina is not finished yet! For some vague political reasons, the works begun in 2007 to transform this spectacular road into a modern highway stopped after a while. The new pavement is still awaiting lines and much needed guardrails. Some stretches have an 11% incline and we spend all day on the “granny” gear. When we think we have reached the summit, we descend in a crack 200 metres lower and climb up to the pass at 2,141m over some switchbacks laid like the frosting on a hot Pillsbury turnover.
Looking south from the top, there is a white carpet of clouds as far as we can see. Above, the blue sky is streaked with commercial airplane white vapour trails. We say good-bye to the Carpathian Mountains, take a deep breath and enter the white clouds. The sun disappears, the mercury drops and trees come back. Novaci is the Transalpina southern terminal and it has a perfect cake shop to celebrate a magical crossing and the Danube flats lurking ahead in the fog. Pofta Buna!
