Timothysalmon's Blog

Dyke path: Fajsz

The Danube rises on the edge of Germany’s Black Forest and pours its billions of gallons of water and tons of alluvial silt into the north-west corner of the Black Sea just short of Odessa. As far as Budapest – about half its length – it is accompanied by a dedicated cycle path: you ride without competition from any other kind of traffic, through beautiful countryside full of wonderful historic places, prosperous, cherished and organized: Passau, Regensburg, Linz, Melk, the Wachau, Vienna.

 From Budapest on it is a different story. Budapestilential and Belidegraded was my wife’s jaundiced name for it on a bad day in heavy traffic. But this is the bit we chose to ride. Why, you might ask, when the upper Danube is so incontestably prettier and more civilized? Well, this is part of the answer. Prettier and more civilized means tamer, more crowded (traffic jams of cyclists), less of an adventure.

 Fifty years of Russian-imposed Communism has held back the countries downstream of Vienna. They are more old-fashioned. People don’t speak other languages. You can’t read the signposts. In Hungary you can’t read anything. It is harder to find places to stay. Try taking a bike on a train in Serbia or Romania! You have to be resourceful, keep your wits about you.

 And because of all this it is much easier to imagine the Danube as the age-old frontier between civilization and barbarism. In Roman times the enemy was on the north bank, the wild hordes pushing into the Mediterranean world from the steppes of southern Ukraine. As Byzantium declined and the Muslim Turks pushed in from the south and east, reaching Vienna in 1530, the Danube became a bulwark against a southern threat.

 I wanted to see for myself these places where for so many centuries civilizations had clashed and mingled. And mingle they did, Turks, Germans, Slavs, Jews, Greeks, Romanians living cheek by jowl pretty much until the First World War.

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Budapest is beautiful, sitting spectacularly astride the Danube. Wooded hills and a castle crown the right bank; on the left all eyes are drawn to the gleamingParliament building, modelled on London’s, behind which stretch broad boulevards reminiscent of Haussmann’s Paris. Much is already chic and fashion-conscious –and much is blackened, crumbling and seedy.

 We got a taste of the seediness within fifteen minutes of arriving. As I went to greet the Romanian friend who had come to guide us to her house, I left the car door open and a shabby-looking fellow nicked a bag containing all our money, passports and camera. I gave chase and luckily he dropped the bag unopened. “That’s Budapest,” said our friend. “You must be careful. And when you get to Romania…”

Journey’s end: the Black Sea

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NOTE: If you live in London and  want to have your bike overhauled by absolutely trustworthy and helpful people before setting out on a long journey, go to my friends at The London Bicycle Workshop, 170 Clerkenwell Road EC1R 5DD, tel.020 7998 8738.