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“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.” Vincent van Gogh
Well, we had a good but short run – not even 24 hours – with our free can of bear spray.
Somewhere during the first 10 km (6 miles) of today’s hike, it quietly slipped out of the side pocket of Massimo’s backpack without either of us noticing. Looking back through the photos from today, I think it disappeared while we were chomping on chocolate and cookies on one of our breaks. Ooopsie!
Just as we sat down for breakfast at 7:30 am, the rain slowed to a slow drizzle and eventually stopped completely. It was only 50°F (10°C), and the forecast insisted it would rain all day. Somehow, though, the weather decided to give us a break.
After our goodbyes to Corina and Michael, we were out the door, in the car, and headed back to the trailhead to start today’s hike.
The hike was more of the same – beautiful scenery full of thick evergreens, rolling mountains, and muddy trails. Compared to yesterday, though, it was an easier stage. There were fewer climbs, cooler temperatures, and only about thirty minutes of rain near the very end.
No complaints here.
One thing that’s becoming clear is just how wild this trail really is. We’ve only passed through two actual towns since starting the hike. Most of our days are spent deep in the forest, where the only people we see are locals picking wild berries or hunting for mushrooms.
Making homemade berry liqueurs is a common tradition here.
Today was much the same, except for one unexpected stop tucked away in the middle of nowhere.
It was called Cabana Gigi Ursu – it’s surprisingly on Google Maps.
We stopped to grab a coffee and use the bathroom. When we arrived, a mother, father, and their teenage son were outside cutting lumber and painting. They were clearly in the middle of building something.
The son, who spoke flawless English, greeted us warmly and asked if we’d like coffee or a snack before showing me where the bathroom was.
While we were resting our legs and enjoying our break, I asked his mother what they were building.
“A pizza over for our son. He wants to make pizzas for the hikers.”
“What a great idea,” I said, “Everyone loves pizza.”
I looked to the young son and asked, “So are you a chef?”
“No, I’m only fourteen!” he quipped.
I chuckled, “Okay, but do you want to be a chef someday?”
“No,” he said confidently. “I want to be a pizza maker. Do you want to see pictures of the pizzas I’ve made?”
“Yes, of course.”
His mother couldn’t stop smiling as he proudly pulled out his phone.
The first photo filled the screen with a beautiful pizza – perfectly blistered crust, bubbling cheese, and the kind of slightly charred edges that make a delicious crunch in your mouth when you bite it. It looked like a professional made it – not a teenager.
“Wow,” I said. “That looks incredible. What kind is it?”
“Pizza Margherita.”
“How did you learn to make pizza like that?”
“YouTube.”
“Nice. Are you building a brick oven?”
“No,” he explained. “They’re too expensive. We’re making a gas oven for now. Maybe someday we’ll build a brick one.”
That conversation stayed with me for the rest of the hike.
What struck me most wasn’t just that a fourteen-year-old in a remote part of Romania had taught himself to make restaurant-quality pizza by watching YouTube videos.
It was his parents.
They believed in him.
They weren’t dismissing his dream because he was “just a kid.” They were investing their time, money, and hard work to help him build something real. They could see the opportunity created by the increased popularity of the Via Transilvanica, and they were helping him prepare for it.
At fourteen, I wanted to be a marine biologist, a firefighter, a professional basketball player, then a flight attendant. Like most kids, my dreams changed every few months.
Maybe his will too.
But that’s beside the point.
His parents are teaching him something far more valuable than how to make pizza. They’re teaching him that his ideas matter, that hard work is worth investing in, and that dreams become much more realistic when someone believes in you.
It also reminded me that the internet, for all the criticism it receives, can be an incredible force for good. Here was a teenager living in a remote mountain community learning a craft from people all over the world on a tiny handheld device, then turning that knowledge into a small business that could serve future hikers passing through.
Incredible.
If he builds it, they will come.
I’m sure of it.
While we were there, Massimo had a beer as well.
When he finish the half liter bottle, he looked at me and muttered, “I think I’m a little drunk…accidentally.”
Hiking after accidentally getting tipsy isn’t ideal.
I know this from experience.
The exact same thing happened to me while hiking Italy’s Cinque Terre.
Dinner tonight brought another first for us in Romania…fresh trout served with a rich garlic sauce.
Buonissima!
Much love & gratitude. Namaste 🙏
If you’re enjoying following my journey on the Via Transilvanica, I’d be grateful if you’d like and share this post.
This is the spot where I think the bear spray decided it no longer wanted to travel with us and is resting in the Romanian forest. I’m sure some happy hiker will pick it up.
RIP little bear spray – hopefully, you’ll never be needed by anyone.
It’s great to see that they are replanting trees and rebuilding the forest where they’ve logged the previous ones!
If you open the gate, close the gate.
One of the locals was understandably annoyed that a tourist didn’t shut the gate and two of his horses escaped.
Sometimes the smallest actions have the biggest consequences.
There is an insect that is killing the evergreen trees and destroying the forest so they’ve set up these bug traps all throughout the woods.
