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“Every adventure has a moment when you wonder if this was a terrible idea.” Unknown – Which is more of a constant theme for this trip than a moment in time.
You guessed it…today is another two-for-one special.
Last night, we were surprised to discover that we were staying in another “rustic experience” – this one with no cell service.
We did have electricity for one glorious hour to charge our phones, and there was running water…until it ran out…while I was covered in soap in the shower.
Yes, Massimo had to rescue me once again in the bathroom and let the owner know to refill the tank – which took about ten minutes.
You have no idea how long ten minutes is unless you are standing in a cold bathroom, naked in a “shower” without a shower curtain or door – basically a hose coming out of the wall – covered head to toe in soap waiting to rinse – with lukewarm water.
Hike #1
Today’s hike was another gut punch – which we have mostly adapted to.
Drama is the name of our game. 💪
Our breakfast, consisting of chocolate croissants and $0.67 coffee from a machine next to the shopping carts in the corner of the Carrefour grocery store (the only thing open at 8 am on a Sunday morning) quickly moved to a little makeshift bench in the city center where we became an instant attraction for all the locals…and pigeons.
Apparently, two filthy, exhausted hikers eating breakfast on an unsanitary bench is quality entertainment around here.
The Incident
Right out of the gate, we acquired a companion: a little black dog who started following us.
We named him Bernardo.
Bernardo was cute, sweet, super friendly, and clearly living his best life. All of the dogs stuck behind their owners’ gates seemed envious of him and his newfound freedom.
He didn’t give a hoot what they thought about him as he sauntered by their metal borders unleashed and uncaged flaunting his fluffy little black tail in their faces.
What a little shit.
I loved this about him. Confidence of a Saint Bernard on a rescue mission with a badass attitude.
Bernardo walked with us for several kilometers and then Carlo joined the pack.
We’ve decided to work our way through the alphabet when handing out dog names.
Both dogs were looking for an adventure – stopping to smell all the “marked” areas left by other dogs, chasing loose chickens, and drinking dirty water from the ditch.
They were in doggy heaven.
That was until “the incident.”
B & C followed us for at least four kilometers out of town and into the forest. At one point, we noticed that Carlo had dropped out and turned back near a church at the top of a hill.
Looking back, I think he knew what we were about to encounter. He was no dummy.
Bernardo, on the other hand, didn’t have a clue. He was too busy creating jealousy among the k-9 community.
As we walked up a slight hill through thick, tangled trees, we heard loud barking coming from what appeared to be someone’s home off in the distance.
I could see a man walking down the driveway toward us to meet us at the path.
Before we could see each other’s faces, I yelled, “Bună ziua!” – good day – to diffuse any confusion, and he replied the same.
And then our eyes met.
That’s when I saw it.
Behind him was a huge, monstrous, hairy black-and-white guard dog making a full-on sprint straight toward us. His gargantuan paws kicking up dust as he ran.
I don’t remember whether I actually screamed or if the look on my face was enough to alert the owner, but he turned around, saw what was happening, and immediately started yelling, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” in Romanian (which is the same as in English), while throwing his hands into the air.
The beast did not care. He bolted around him and his efforts and kept charging straight at me.
I was terrified and instinctively squinted my eyes, furrowed my brow, and raised my hiking sticks, pointing the tips in his direction.
The dog ran straight toward them. They brushed against his side, jolting me, and he darted around me and headed directly for Bernardo.
“Noooo!”
Bernardo tried to run but wasn’t so quick off the starting line.
Unfortunately, the beast had other plans for him – lunch. He wrapped his enormous, slobbering mouth around Bernardo’s neck.
I looked at Massimo and screamed, “He’s going to kill him! I can’t watch!”
Then I covered my eyes.
I heard a yelp from Bernardo, followed by a whole lot of commotion – dogs scuffling, the owner yelling, paws scrambling across the ground.
And then…silence.
Bernardo had somehow broken free.
He was off like lightning, tearing down the trail and back toward home, but the beast was not far behind.
They rounded the bend, one behind the other in a race of life or death, and were out of sight.
Massimo and I stood there for a moment, stunned. My heart was beating so fast, I could barely catch my breath. A small tear formed in the corner of my right eye.
But there was nothing we could do. He was long gone.
We turned back towards the trail and kept walking, feeling absolutely terrible about Bernardo’s situation.
I felt guilty, angry, and sad for the rest of the hike.
“It was our fault. We had led him into the woods.” I bemoaned.
We had no idea whether Bernardo was dead, badly injured, or somewhere hiding in a ditch nursing his wounds.
I spent hours thinking of and talking with Massimo about all the ways we could help him – or at least find his owner and let them know what had happened.
It wasn’t until we reached our accommodation for the night when we met another hiker, Agnes from Switzerland, that I discovered the fate of Bernardo.
I asked her if she had encountered any dogs along the trail, and specifically if she met the big mean dog after the church or the two others that surrounded us until the owner called them off about a kilometer after the “incident.”
No, she hadn’t met any mean dogs but she had met a little dog that followed her for several kilometers.
I showed her a photo of Bernardo, “Was it this little guy?”
“Yeah, that was him.”
I told her the entire story and then asked the question I had been dreading all day.
“Was he okay? Did he look injured?”
“Nope,” she said. “He was fine.”
I practically exhaled for the first time in six hours.
Then she added:
“And clearly he didn’t learn his lesson because he followed me almost all the way to that house you mentioned.”
Oh, Bernardo. You little shit. Confidence of a Saint Bernard but the brain of fruit fly.
Apparently, nearly getting eaten alive was merely a minor inconvenience on Bernardo’s European adventure.
But what a badass. Woof 🐾
Cab Calloway
The hike was hot and hard but it flew by in a flash because I couldn’t get my mind off Bernardo.
We were almost to what we thought was the accommodation we booked for the night when a man who looked like Cab Calloway but taller approached us in his Toyota Land Cruiser.
He was talking so fast I didn’t even know what language he was speaking.
Like, auctioneer-at-a-flea-market quickly.
After a beat, I finally realized it was German.
We are now in an area of Romania that is heavily populated with Romanians who speak both German and Romanian. So, I will continue this leg of the journey not understanding any of the conversations with the locals.
Ignorance is bliss.
My motto: Smile, nod, and toss around a few “Da’s” every now and again. Works every time.
I understood approximately zero percent of the conversation.
Massimo, who probably lied, claimed he understood about 90 percent.
Sure you did, buddy.
Apparently, Cab Calloway’s real name was Janic, and he was the owner of our guesthouse for the night.
Massimo had texted him a few minutes earlier to let him know we were getting close, so Janic had come out to check on us.
After our brief multilingual exchange – during which I contributed nothing except facial expressions – Janic waved goodbye and drove down the road.
Then he turned around.
This is usually the point in a horror movie when you realize you should have paid closer attention. Memorized license plates, facial scars, and the placement of upper arm tattoos.
Instead, Janic pulled back up and offered us a ride to the first guesthouse, about a kilometer down the road.
Excellent. I still love riding in cars with strangers.
And I was lured in by the white fluffy dog in the backseat.
We climbed in.
When we arrived, there was a man from Holland who was there for “other business purposes” – don’t ask – who spoke English.
Whew.
Finally, a human I could understand.
He explained the situation.
Apparently, the house we had originally booked – the one we were standing in – was undergoing a massive renovation.
There was no kitchen.
No shower.
And, as far as I could tell, not much else going on besides the renovation.
So, if we stayed there, we would be hungry, dirty and increasingly desperate.
When is this hike going to end? Stop the train already and let me off – or throw me under.
But there was good news.
Janic owned another guesthouse.
The bad news?
It was another four or five kilometers away.
And we had to choose right then where we wanted to stay – next house sight unseen.
I looked at Massimo and gave him what has become one of my most useful forms of communication on this trip:
The Code Face.
It said, Get me the hell out of here.
We agreed to stay at the other house. It could not be as bad as this Money Pit.
Janic offered to drive us because the road was extremely steep and apparently terrible…and we already looked exhausted.
Which was true. I’m done – not only with today’s hike.
Although, to be fair, we had also just been provided a German Beck’s beer, so our exhaustion had been slightly medicated.
Daniel, the Dutchman, warned us that the drive up the hill was going to be rough.
“Keep a loose spine,” he told us.
Apparently, the road was like riding a bull.
So off we went.
Cab Calloway and Massimo in the front.
Me and Mickey, the little white dog, in the back, with Mickey sitting on my lap.
And let me just say: Daniel was not exaggerating.
Janic was an excellent driver, but the road was less “country lane” and more mechanical bull with potholes.
We bounced, lurched, swerved and climbed our way up the mountain.
Sidebar: My next vehicle will be a Toyota Land Cruiser – this thing was indestructible.
At several points I was pretty sure Mickey and I were going to become airborne.
Eventually, we arrived.
And waiting for us was Janic’s wife, Emilia, who had prepared lunch for us – soup and stuffed peppers with meat in a tomato sauce.
Nothing says welcome to your new home for the night quite like a hot meal after being shaken like a martini in the back of a Land Cruiser.
The house wasn’t exactly what you’d call luxurious, either.
But it had a kitchen.
It had several bedrooms.
And it had the…interesting shower arrangement I mentioned earlier.
Apparently, this is their weekend house and it has been under renovation for twenty years.
Twenty.
Years.
At this point, I think “under renovation” is less of a construction status and more of a permanent lifestyle.
Not long after we ate, Swiss Miss Agnes arrived, followed by another hiker, Marian, a Romanian firefighter who is camping his way across this section of the trail for two weeks. God bless him.
It was nice to finally meet some more hikers and spend an evening together eating, drinking and swapping stories about our lives and adventures.
And by “evening,” I mean we were all in bed by 10 pm.
Rock. Stars.
It was both of their first day of hiking which is a surprise for any body and I wanted to capitalize on another night off from writing the blog.
Massimo just does whatever he’s told.
Kidding.
Hike #2
We shared a lovely but simple breakfast together before Massimo and I took off for the day.
After a month and a half of hiking, we are slow compared to their fresh legs and needed a head start.
Who am I kidding, I’m always slow. Fresh legs or not.
We said goodbye to Janic, Emilia, and Mickey and thanked them for the wonderful hospitality.
Then we headed back onto the trail.
The trail immediately went straight up through another beautiful forest.
The scenery around here doesn’t change dramatically – forest, hills, forest, more hills, occasional road, repeat – but it’s still beautiful and incredibly peaceful.
Still no bears.
Agnes was the first to catch us.
She is an Alpine hiker and has the endurance of the Energizer Bunny.
We walked together briefly, exchanged numbers, and then she disappeared into the distance. Gone with the wind.
Massimo and I continued a little farther before stopping for a snack.
Because unlike Agnes, we believe in pacing ourselves.
Or, more accurately, we believe in eating. It’s the one thing bringing me joy on this trip.
Prepackaged, chemically processed, and artificially flavored snacks. Delicious.
A couple of German guys rode up on dirt bikes and stopped to chat. They drove here with their bikes on a trailer to ride the hills for ten days.
Massimo assured them that it was a better choice than walking.
Marian the firefighter arrived a few minutes later and found us still sitting on a log. We shared some snacks, swapped WhatsApp numbers, and snapped a photo together.
He told us that he needed to reach one of the towns before 6 pm because there is a sporting-goods store and he wants to buy some sandals before they close.
Massimo has done it again…another convert. I have no idea what he says to these people. Apparently, whatever it is works. Or maybe he is drugging them.
We probably won’t see Marian again because he is walking 40 kilometers (almost 25 miles) today. 😳
Buh-bye!
We arrived at our accommodation early – an hour before our room was ready.
To pass the time, Massimo called to check on one of his hiking friends who unfortunately badly sprained his ankle on the second day of their guys trips in the Italian Alps.
He’s having about as much luck as me – but he was airlifted out of the mountains by a helicopter which is a much cooler story than I have to tell.
Get well soon, Giampiero! ❤️🩹
We also FaceTimed with our Via Francigena friend Huib to catch up and tell him all about this crazy hike he is missing out on.
I told him he is my replacement for Massimo’s next Camino.
I. Am. Done.
Much love & gratitude. Namaste 🙏
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On Sunday (Hike #1) we walked through a tiny village about the time that the locals were leaving church.
A lady (not pictured) approached us wearing her Sunday’s best and carrying two little white paper bags with bits of torn bread inside. I knew exactly what she was offering – the opposite of drugs – but Massimo didn’t recognize it at first and asked, “Thank you. What is it?” before wedging his bear paw hands in the tiny bag.
The woman made the sign of the cross.
She was distributing the “mobile communion” to the locals who couldn’t attend the services.
We’ve been blessed…or saved. I’m not sure which – but I can guarantee we need both.
Massimo’s English has gotten considerably better since I met him and his vocabulary is quite extensive.
But every now and then, the way he arranges his thoughts makes me laugh.
It’s adorable.
We were on a paved road and he was behind me – he stopped to text someone – and when he caught up to me he said, “Have you seen the salamander squeezed on the road?”
“Squeezed?”
“Yeah,” then he made the sound of a wet fart with his mouth and slapped his hands together – loudly.
“Umm, no, I didn’t notice it.”
“Let’s go!”
Apparently, this was urgent.
He made me turn around and walk 50 meters back so I could admire some roadkill.
For the record, it was indeed…squeezed.
