|
Erdély, Siebenbürgen, Ardeal: all of these names mean Transylvania in different languages. Centuries ago Magyars (Hungarians), German-Saxons and Romanians lived here, but, I swear, there are no vampires in Transylvania and never have been. This land lies on 103,000 square kilometers of Middle-East Europe. Sometimes a Hungarian principality, Transylvania was primarily a part of the Hungarian Empire. Since World War II, it has belonged to Romania and is still is waiting for its sovereignty.
My name is Attila D. Balazs, a Hungarian-Transylvanian mountain biker and journalist from the city of Nagyvárad (Oradea) in the western part of this region.
When I first received an issue of Dirt Rag, I enjoyed reading it in mountain bike's native language, English. But being a European man, I long for coverage of the Old Continent. So I wrote this article to show you, the reader, something fresh and new. In Transylvania, sometimes referred to as "Eastern Switzerland", there are mountains, hills and fresh air just the same as in the USA. The landscape is somewhat similar to Pittsburgh, PA (where Dirt Rag is located) and sometimes rocky, as my photographs depict.
From August 18th through 22nd 2001, my friend Kuin Lorant and I took a bicycle tour to the village of Torockó, which lies in a narrow valley in the West Carpathian Mountains. Nestled in the heart of Transylvania, Torockó features a consummate Transylvanian landscape. I was there years ago without my bike, and promised myself that one-day I would return to this picturesque land.
 Starting off, we rode our bikes east, straight up "King's Pass", a killer 4 km climb that is often difficult for cars. It was well worth the effort as the downhill was sublime. Nothing compares to the trails snaking down the valley. I recommend maintaining a 50-km/h speed limit.
This pass is 70 km from Nagyvárad, and since we are locals, we have done this route several times. On this occasion, we rode along the railway without incident to the historical capital of Transylvania, Kolozsvár (Cluj) City. From this medieval city, we went west some 12 km to Luna, and then south for another 10 km before the road changed to the tune of a 10-degree incline on hot asphalt. We needed half an hour to climb this section since we were each carrying 70 kg. We reached the top, took a long rest and looked forward to some downhill relief.
"Lorant, let's go!" I chided, and again we were off.
Though the road conditions worsened, the only risk factor was getting burned from strong sunshine. The road wound between hills, thankfully down them for the most part. It was along this stretch that I received my first and only flat tire. Lorant's Schwinn, which looks like a tank, wasn't so lucky.
At 7 o'clock we reached settlement Borév, where the Aranyos River murmurs. It was getting colder, so we had to hurry up. After 5 km I finally caught sight of the magnificent Szekelyko Rock, which "guards" the village. Torockóo was silent; save for the voices of Hungarian tourists heard from the Water Spring Inn. We spent the night in the garden of the Tobias house, which was built with the help of an emigrated Hungarian professor from the US.
 After eating our fill and setting up the tent, we took time to gaze upon the stars. The Milky Way was clearly visible in the night sky here, whereas the view is inhibited in the smoky cities.
Lorant felt a need to wake me at 5am the following morning.
"Let me sleep, Lorant! What is it?" I asked.
"The sunrise," he replied.
I had read in a tour guide that the sun rises twice a day here. The peak of Szekelyko Rock blocks the sun once again after it rises from behind the rock. (Szekely, incidentally, is the name of the Hungarians, who in medieval times guarded the borders of Hungary and still live life according to their indigenous culture.)
We decided to climb Szekelyko Rock that day. Rising 1129 meters, it seemed as though we were about to climb the Himalayas! Climbing the rock with our bikes on our shoulders was enough of a challenge, but the boulders and limestone outcroppings made it difficult both ascending and descending.
At the top we admired the most beautiful panorama we've ever seen. From this vantage point the small villages surround you and you can admire the far off mountains and the distant ruins of Torockószentgyörgy castle. We saw predatory birds hunting, which is not uncommon as Transylvania also hosts wild boars and wolves. In the winter you can often hear the howling wolves, and farmers often learn of their presence by way of lost livestock. The opposing peak, Ordasko (1220 m) received it's name from them.
 We had lunch around noon at the Tobias house. That's right, not only can you sleep at the Tobias house, but also you can get a bath as well as a hot meal. On this day we were treated to mashed potatoes and fried sausage. I know it's not the healthiest cycling diet, but we couldn't live on cornflakes alone! Mr. Dénes, the house's curator, is a very sympathetic man and gave us a good deal on boarding.
In the afternoon we "conquered" the castle of Torockószentgyörgy, which was built in the 14th century after the Mongol Invasion and served as home to both defenders and plunderers of the valley. The position of this fortress makes it very difficult to conquer, and there are a great number of similar fortresses in Transylvania.
The rain made the route slick, so despite the climb being manageable, the descent was ridiculous. I said to Lorant, "Let's take a photo when I am going downhill!"
He took the shot, but unfortunately I eluded the camera's eye by slipping to the ground, and adding camouflage when my white jersey turned grass green.
The sight was sublime from atop the ruins. While gazing upon the land I thought about the great battles, the ruling of the Thoroczkay lords, and wondered who was living there now.
It was 8 o'clock when we left this legendary place. Surprise, we were welcomed back to the house with a traditional meal, "Kolozsvárian cabbage. By that time a group of teenagers arrived here, on the occasion of an English camp. After getting acquainted, we planned the next day's activities: looking for the medieval mines and wondering in the village.
On our way to the mines we rode along narrow paths that were used to deliver the "iron bread" or raw iron to the city. I say city deliberately, because Torockó was considered a city in the middle ages, but is not a city by today's standards. The paths traversed creek crossings, beech forests, fields and huge tree roots, and to this day I dream of riding there again. The smell of the grass and wildflowers gave us power. My yellow GT rushed through the fields like a great flower. Haaaardcoore!
We reached the mine entrances, which from a distance made me imagine the gates of hell in a fairy tale I once heard. We left this romantic and silent place, which was littered with hazelnut trees, in the afternoon. The group from the house had followed us, and we were rather proud that they considered us "tour guides" but we had to strike our own path into the village center. The village reminded me of a city like Venice, with narrow streets and ancient architecture.
Beginning in the 14th century, the prospering iron mining and manufacturing industries influenced the development of the settlement. After the liberation of the serfs in 1848, Torockó had its most flourishing period. Unfortunately, the closure of the mines stopped the city's growth. This effectively preserved the old buildings. Ten or so wooden houses reflect the architecture of the end of 17th and of 19th centuries.
The stone houses in Torockó were built after the fire of 1870. Their large number and their unified architecture determined the unique image of the village. Their whitened front facades are richly ornamented. This settlement has two wooden watermills, too, one of which is still used to grind wheat. This was our last day here and at night we helped the group make a huge campfire.
 The next day we packed our tent and belongings in a rather sorrowful manner. On the way home we stopped at Bulz, near the foot of King's Pass. From Bánffyhunyad, our average speed was over 30 km/h. On the way between Nagyvárad and Kolozsvár we crossed the Kalotaszeg region, which is famous for its folklore (including song and dance) as well as its homespuns (textiles made by villagers), which are sold beside the road.
On the fifth day we valiantly climbed "The Pass" while sweating a great deal. What was up before, was now down, which made for a wonderful last leg of the journey, even if it meant arriving amongst city traffic.
Dear readers, if you need more information about this part of the world, please send me an email to my address, battila81@hotmail.com. - Attila D. Balazs
Related Links
http://www.trianon.hu
http://www.erdely.com
http://www.transylvanianet.com
|
