There are good days on the bike, and there are better days on the bike, but some days are just magical.
The day, back in 2013 when we cycled from Bran Castel Transylvania deep into Romania was just one of the most magical days to go cycling.
We broke camp and were on our way around 8 in the morning. It was a little cool and for the first time on the trip I needed to start the day with my riding jacket.
The pine forests were alive with the summer, the air was not only for breathing, but you could taste the freshness and purity of the day.
We had the most magical first 30 km making our way through small villages and waving to locals who all waved back, man woman and child.
We stopped for morning tea and was greeted by the owner who made us apple tea and an apple Danish type pastry. It was lovely and we all sat in the morning sun enjoying the day.
We continued our meander through the country side, stopping to talk to local farmers tossing and baling the hay all my hand. We could have made this journey 100 years ago and the view and people would have been the same.
My soul filled with joy as we pasted through village after village of country Romania.
We were getting close to the 1000 km mark of our journey and we all agreed to stop and mark the occasion with a photo.
As Terry was setting up the tripod all the kids in the village came over to see what we were up to. A local man stopped and the lady whose house we stopped outside of came out join in on our 1000 km celebration.
The lady did not speak English but a little Spanish and I was able in a very mixed up sort of way to translate basic information back and forth. Ema would have laughed if she could have heard me bastardise her native tongue.
The lady went inside and came out with 4 coffees for us to have, it was a very memorable stop and we rode away talking and chatting our adrenaline on high, and the kids chasing us down the street.
We cycled on, the road was flat and the wind on our backs, perfect.
Lunch was at a small village, we found a small shop to buy some bread and ham and make sandwiches whilst talking to the locals as they all come out to see what was going on.
We rode on and into our camp site by 4.00 pm, 110 km of easy flat roads with plenty of stopping to take it all in.
We managed to set up our tents and then the thunder storm rolled in so the 4 of us made for the cover of our tents with the gift from the campsite lady of homemade cherry liqueur.
Terry does not drink but I did the honourable thing and drank his, it would be rude not to.
So we toasted our day from different tents as the rain came tumbling down.
Now some might think that to sit in a very small tent with all your gear in a thunder storm is a pretty ordinary way to spend a holiday, but not the slow cyclist, this is living……..