Romania: A Hidden Gem for the Adventure Motorcyclists

From the very beginning, Romania offered a full package and completely fulfilled my every expectation.

Romania belongs to the European Union, but it isn’t a part of the Schengen area, where international treaties make travel much easier. Therefore, if you’re not part of the EU, expect a brief stop at border control for a passport check and an examination of your motorcycle papers.

Before the Mountain Pass

 While I was pulled over to put my passport and papers away, a Romanian driver pulled up and yelled (in English), “Safe traveling in Romania!” and then drove away. Quite the welcome for a complete stranger! Most I met along the way didn’t speak English, but sometimes they knew German or Russian, and we could communicate that way. Younger people were better at English; therefore, I sought them out for assistance whenever possible.

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All You Can Wish For!

 To start my explorations, I exchanged some Euros for Romanian Lei. When on trips like this, I prefer to stay on smaller local roads that wend their way between the fields and villages. These kinds of roads also provide the freedom to stop whenever and wherever I desire. But I was surprised to discover no one follows the speed limit in villages, which was 50 kph (30 mph). I found large trucks would often overtake me going over 80 kph (50 mph). Eventually, I became accustomed to it and made allowances for my own safety.

On Romanian roads, you’ll often encounter horse-drawn carriages, cows, donkeys, dogs, dirt or stones, and children along the roadsides. Of the lot, the biggest problem was the dogs; sometimes they chased after me, jumping and nipping at my legs.

Transalpina Highway

 The first major stop in Romania was in the small town of Sebe?. Whenever possible, I paid for the gas and accommodations by card in order to save the cash for when cards wouldn’t be accepted. Gas prices were slowly dropping the farther eastward I rode.

At the end of my first day in-country, I arrived at the moto rest I’d booked for two nights. Unfortunately, despite the heat there was no A/C, no fridge, and the shower was half-broken. Contrary to what Booking.com reported, there wasn’t a restaurant or food available. The locked fridge at the reception was full of warm beer, though. Despite all that the room was clean, and the place safe, which allowed for some much-needed rest.

With a fully equipped Royal Enfield Himalayan, I couldn’t go too fast or crazy. Therefore, I decided to continue along road DN67C, which is also called the Transalpina Highway. It’s probably a bit less known than the alternative, the Transfagarasan Mountain Road crossing. Bikers usually do both, one on the way, and the other one on the return. For me, it was a one-way trip, so I decided to take the Transalpina Highway, which was also closer to Hungarian border.

Dawn before crossing the Carpats and first stop in the woods.

Enjoying the Ride

 Leaving early, the sun was rising, and I enjoyed the fresh morning air. After putting the luggage back on the bike, I attached a GoPro to the windshield of the Himalayan and set the GPS to get me to Novaci Village, where I’d spend the next night. The entire Transalpine Highway is a little less than 150 km (90 miles), so it would be an easy one-day ride. I decided not to rush, enjoy the ride, stop whenever I wanted, and slowly get to my next destination.

The first part of the road, almost half the distance from Sebe? to Novaci, goes through the forest, and thanks to my early start, I didn’t meet any bikers and only a few cars. I enjoyed having the road almost to myself. I set the camera to record, and sometimes take timelapse photos, until I reached Obâr?ia Lotrului, a small stop approximately midway—an easy ride.

Early in the morning, I met almost nobody and enjoyed having the road almost to myself.

Tractari, Tractari, Tractari

 The road changed as I continued on after a quick coffee stop. From then on there were more curves and steep climbs. Sometimes cows wandered on and around the road. Shepherds waved hello from roadsides, and I noticed increasing numbers of cars and motorcycles. I met bikers from Germany, Bulgaria, Serbia, and Italy before I finally stopped looking at license plates so I could just enjoy the road—which was in really good shape, except for a few dirt-only parts. Unlike the motorists I’d met earlier in Romania, car and truck drivers were more careful and polite. Nobody was taking risks or doing anything stupid to endanger others.

Concrete barriers along the road were painted with the phone numbers of Romanian “tractari” (tow truck operators). Why the aggressive marketing? Inexperienced drivers pushing their cars too hard found their engines overheated on the steep uphill climbs, making these numbers handy. All bikers greeted me with the classic two fingers pointed to the road. Along the entire way, I felt a sense of community with other motorcyclists. I even spent that night at a house with six other motorcycles parked out front.

I Never Wanted to Get There

 The next day I rode a much more boring road to the city of Ploie?ti, and then to the Black Sea, ending up on the bank of the Danube River. I had to work past a traffic jam, the result of some car drivers trying to get ahead of a queue and completely blocking the road instead. A police officer tried to clear it but was only partly successful.

The ferry over the Danube River from Romania-to-Bulgarian border.

Since I didn’t know exactly how the ferry system operated, I asked a local boy if he spoke English. Luckily he did, and pointed me to a small building on the side of the road that was the ticket office. Then in a conversation about where I was coming from and going, he remarked, “You’re cool as fu*k!” I started to laugh, thanked him, and with a ticket in hand I boarded the ferry. We crossed the Danube in several minutes, with local tourists checking out my Himalayan, sometimes taking selfies with it before getting back in their cars. Most were going to Bulgaria. Not me; I stayed on the Romanian side, to continue on to the sea.

Rest on the Beach

 Disembarking the ferry, I was happy to be back on a proper road again, with little traffic and beautiful hills lined with sunflower fields and vineyards. However, in several villages I had to avoid more dogs chasing me, along with some children who tried to shoot me with slingshots for some reason, but aside from that, it was fun. I eventually pulled over in the town of Mai, not an hour from Constan?a, and just a few miles from the Bulgarian border. The villages from Vama Veche up to Constan?a offer exactly what you’d expect from the seaside: sandy beaches, restaurants teeming with fresh seafood, and salty air. I decided to stay a couple of nights to enjoy the sea before continuing on to Bulgaria to Turkey.

The beach by the Black Sea.

I loved the diversity that Romania offers, from the sandy beaches of the Black Sea up to the mountain passes with amazing views, and even though I was close to the border now, I knew I had to return one day.

Tomáš Slaví?ek lived and worked for years in southeast Asia. He worked as a journalist, and tour guide, and in the end, before returning to Europe, founded and owned a small café on the bank of the West Lake in Hanoi, Vietnam. His story was covered on Czech TV and Forbes magazine. During the last winter of the pandemic lockdown, he postponed his work in the Netherlands, where he’d been driving an ambulance and testing patients for COVID at their homes, and took his Royal Enfield Himalayan to meet his friend Tony for a beer in Hanoi. Therefore, he established the adventure project “Me and the Beast”. You can watch his ups and downs on Instagram, Facebook, or get more detailed info about his trip for a small fee on Patreon.