Munich to Mare negrum
 

Bavaria

As we set off well after 8 p.m. it is almost dark. The black clouds send down heavy rain and the ambient temperature reading on my ultra modern instrument panel displays a figure of 10°C. Thats how adventures begin.
The waters of the Isar river, which diagonally cuts Munich in two halfs, are drained first into the mightier Danube stream. The Danube itself mounds into the black sea in the very eastern part of Romania. Constanta, the black sea harbor south of the Danube river delta, is our destination. The final one at least for me. Fabian, the mate i'm accompanying, travels further north along the black sea cost to Odessa / Ukraine and stays there for about 3 months.
This rainy night we only cover 75km until it gets pitch black and my hiking boots are soaked. I decided to wear them for per pedes exploration trips in the big cities on our way, for they are better to walk in than motorcycle boots. This turnes out to be right, but the wet feet issue repeats a couple of times during the journey. In the bavarian village of Obing we ask two women, who sit outside smoking in a pizzerias veranda, if they know a room for the night. They both direct us to the next hotel "Zur Post". John Gonzalves, the white bearded gentleman who runs the place, is originally from San Francisco, California and lives here in Germany since the 1970's. Where to go, if not to southeast bavaria, if you are fed up with californian hippie - lifestyle these days.

Austria

Crossing the Salzach river near Tittmoning, we are in Austria. On the narrow twisty road to Mattighofen, which is fun to ride, a hungarian lorry driver in front of us proves, that one can have a ride at motorcycle pace with a 40 ton truck too. We don't even attempt to overtake. In Mattighofen we pull of behind him to pay a short visit to the KTM engineering center. No one of us, neither Fabian nor me, is a KTM nutcase, so we ride on again. Fabian owns an about 12years old BMW F650 GS Dakar, the one with the extra long suspension travel, and me, i'm astride a 1.5 year old Yamaha MT07, yet still astride. One village after Mattighofen, the road is still wet from recent rainfall and heavily inclined towards the outside of the lefthander i'm just sweeping through, my rear wheel starts to slide gently outwards. And it slides further. And it keeps sliding, until the left portion of my backside hits the wet road surface. Deccelerating with my buttock from an estimated 60km/h down to zero and watching the bike scratching over the tarmac, emitting bright sparks, i have time enough to wonder if the journey is over, before it has even really started. Instantly certain, that i'm still in one piece and proper shape, i lift the bike and push it over to the right side of the road. Apart from a few scratches on fairing and housings, no damage is done. Some ten minutes later, after a police man, called by somebody who had passed the scene, has taken photos, we're en route again. Me a bit more cautious this time. At Linz we meet the Danube river and joyfully curve along it's banks. Somewhere on the leg to Vienna, still alongside the river, we stop for an Espresso. The guy behind the counter tells us, that in 2012, the overflowing Danube waters had almost reached the ceilling of his Coffee-Bar. Fabian is asking him for a cheap overnight stay in Vienna. He is contacting a local friend, to provide us with addresses, very nice. On the outskirts of Vienna we stop at a Billa-Market for food. I buy a pack of four Kaspressknödel, a typical austrian meal, looking like meat ball, but made of crumbled cheese and whitebread shaped with egg an milk. They are so dense and heavy, that i have to ask for Fabians help to finish them until the end of the day. Arriving in the center of Austrias capital, it turns out to be tricky to find accomodation. The addresses from Espresso-man unfortunately don't have vacancies anymore. Fabian and me start to search the streets in parallel. Almost simultaneously we find offers for 98 vs. 95 Euros. We take the slightly less expensive place, the Hotel Terminus. Soon we will sleep in less famous places. After a stroll thru Burggarten, St.Stephans Church and Kärntner Straße, we sink into our beds, first full leg of the journey covered.

Slovakia and Hungary

Having left Vienna after some further sightseeing in the morning, we head for Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia, which is about 50km to go. When I first had been there with my parents in 1978, they took a photo through the small windscreen of our TRABANT, while driving across the then just 6 years old UFO Bridge, which is known as the worlds longest cable stayed bridge. The UFO on top of the pylon is essentially a restaurant with a quite exclusive view over the city and the Danube river. Crossing that bridge almost 40 years later again, recollecting the old photograph, is a bit of history repeating. The plan is, this time, to spend our lunchbreak in the UFO. We parked the bikes under the bridge and I ask a woman, if one can pay with Euros here. Of course, since Euro is the official slovakian currency, she told us with a grin. Happy, that we have unexpectedly easy restored our liquidity, we take the few steps to the elevator. Even more delighted, that there are still tables unoccupied in the restaurant, we drive up to have a rather expensive snack in 80m height. On the short way from Vienna to here, while passing a village just after the border, Fabian has detected an unfamiliar noise on his BMW. After riding side by side for some hundred meters, the noise doesn't turn up anymore. We suspect the secondary chain to have caused the squeaking, but the only remarkable thing to find is a rather exessive axial clearance of the sprocket. After discussing the issue over our halibut and pork filet, Fabian decides to forget about it and we ride on. Having arrived in Odessa several days later, he discovered, that the rear wheel bearing had almost completely disintegrated. We top up the fuel tanks for Euros one last time in Bratislava and ride through Slovakia over country roads until we again cross the Danube at Komarom, which is the border town to Hungary. In ever more improving weather on good roads we ride the last two hours to Budapest. The air is warm and smells like summer. When we cross the Margit hid brigde in Budapest in late evening, the magnificient House of Parliament takes my breath away. Having arrived on the Pest side, east of the Danube, the search for a place to sleep starts again. Fabian walks off to have a look, while I am waiting with the motorcycles. The area is nice, a lot of take away restaurants and pubs are around and the people already spread out into the warm saturday night. After half an eternity Fabian returns with an adress. He had tried 2 or 3 places which where all fully booked. The flat he finally found is located in a beautiful old building across the main street and costs just 30Euros. We carry our belongings up to 4th floor with the assistance of a new elevator, redress and hop onto the streets to explore Budapest. We walk long stretches either side of the river, making a tick in the box for Parliament, Royal Palace, St.Stephans Church and the statue of liberty in the distance. Finally we have a beer on Margret Island and return to our shared flat well after midnight. What a city.
From Budapest to the romanian border we take the freeway. Tired of riding wheel to wheel, we agree to gather up at the pre-booked hostel in Timisoara, Romania, which I had found trough my romanian workmate, Octavian. When my "empty tank" - symbol started flashing, I pulled off at the next exit, with a petrol station nearby. After filling my tank, I took a photo of the hungarian countryside. Back on the freeway, I open the throttle to catch up with Fabian again. After some 10 minutes at around 140km/h, I notice something tumbling along on the tarmac in my rearviewmirror. Some split seconds later, the thought, it could be the camera, emerges from my brain. A slab on my left pocket, where the camera was supposed to be, revealed the embarrassing truth. The consideration, the cam itself will be wrecked and not worth stopping for, but the memory card inside could be still intact, took some more split seconds. Then I stopped at the right emergency lane and started walking back. After an endless walk I saw the blue metalcase shining on the right lane. Even from some distance I could see, that the accu and SD card are missing. I took the miserable piece of scrap and went on retracing my way. Soon, the second heaviest item, the accu turned up, and a couple of meters later I found the card, at last. Astride the Yamaha again I was certain, that Fabian now would be out of reach. Having lost about half an hour by the whole affair, I rode on to the border without further interruption. It was the first one with border control on the journey so far. The customs officer in his small tin cubicle wanted my passport and asked me to take off my sunglasses. Welcome to Romania, he said, and waved me on.

Romania