Eastern Europe on a motorcycle

Covering 700 kilometers on German highways in a day on motorcycle was a tough but necessary action. I wanted to leave as much distance behind me as possible and I wanted to get to the mountains. Fast. Besides, covid was still looming over my head ready to close borders around me so I wanted to do as much as possible before returning to uni again. Upon reaching Western Poland, I turned south and followed the most bumpy roads I've ever ridden through ripened fields and rose-colored villages. I tried to keep up with the 90 km/h speed limit on the Polish country roads in spite of the rough surface where a cupholder wouldn't be enough to keep a cup of coffee from spilling but I was still overtaken constantly by impatient local drivers. After a couple days' riding I was literally hootin' and hollerin' under my helmet when I saw the mountains. 

The view from my first accomodation in Poland

I crossed the border into Slovakia by a small mountain pass relieved to gain some altitude and, if only mildly, escape the hot August temperatures. It gets warm under all that protective gear. The Slovakian highlands were brimming with motorcyclists and the swirling roads were frequently decorated with signs urging motorcycles specifically to be cautious in the next turn. Still, my body was starting to feel all those hours on the bike so I decided to give it a break and do some hiking (yes, hiking counts as a break when you're sitting down all day). 

My camp setup

Sleeping below The High Tatras, Slovakia

The High Tatras is the most popular hiking spot in the country and it's easy to understand why with the jagged peaks, green slopes and deep alpine lakes. When I reached the summit, it was nothing but bulging rocks I had to crawl up over and the 360 degree panorama view was pretty spectacular. 

Hiking in The High Tatras, Slovakia

Reaching the summit

Riding through Slovakia was like riding through a magical kingdom. Church towers stood up from the green hills letting me know I was getting to the next village. In the misty mornings, I had to open my visor to let the fresh smell in. The bottle green landscape of Northern Hungary was just as enchanting a surprise. I found myself walking on cobblestones in the country's wine district. The fairytale did however come to a brief halt when I reached the Romanian border. 

Somewhere in Northern Hungary

The closest I got to a picture of myself with my bike

Campground in Hungary

So far, I hadn't had to show any documentaion, not personal nor the bike's, when crossing any borders but this time, I was not allowed entry because I didn't have the motorcycle's registration on me. I also got a ticket for trying to smuggle the bike into Romania without it. Nothing to do but turn around. It did not help my mood that the next hundred kilometers of riding was on a newly paved and completely, agonizingly, mind-numbingly straight road. No turns to put my frustration into. But then came the sunflower fields. So, so many sunflowers, I had a sea of them on each side and my mood started to turn up again like the flowers facing the sun. 

Evening hike  near campground in Hungary

I spent one more night in rural Hungary camping out at the foot of a small hill range before returing to Slovakia to do some more hiking. This time in The Lower Tatras where I took a gondola to the top and followed part of the ridge in the golden afternoon sun. 

Somewhere in Slovakia

Hiking in The Lower Tatras, Slovakia

The next morning I left early, dew still fresh on the tent, and abandoned the well trodden road to visit a local gem: The Vel'ká Fatra mountains. I left my bike in the scruffy parking lot and started walking with my tent and sleeping bag poorly fastened to my strained backpack. I thought I had a two-hour hike in front of me to a quaint mountain hut where I could pitch up my tent next to it. It turned out I had talked on the phone with the wrong hut and after five hours, I reached a different hut where I wasn't allowed to pitch up my tent and all their beds were full. 

Hiking in Vel'ká Fatra National Park, Slovakia

I met some friends along the way

With little daylight left and no energy to go back down, I ordered a beer and read, forgetting my troubles for a little while. When I returned my glass to the bar, I asked if there was a place not too far from the hut where I could pitch up my tent instead and the guy pointed to a small hill out the window. So I settled in for a night alone in the mountains when six Slovakian men walked past me and told me  they were camping out just a hundred meters further up the hill. They offered me to join them for a chat and some weed if I wanted to. I declined the latter but accepted the company and I did try their homemade apricot spirit a few times. Not a bad way to keep warm up there. They were incredibly kind, really funny and surprisingly good at English. When the sunlight had gone, we all lay down and looked at the stars since Vel'ká Fatra is on the International Dark Sky Parks list and we were there just in the middle of a few days of meteor showers. 

My camp for the night

The next morning, I woke up at dawn, said goodbye to my new friends and started walking down. Upon reaching the village, I met a fellow hiker who had just come down himself and we hitched a lift out of the valley to where my bike was parked. I rode back into Poland looking forward to having three nights at a familiar hostel in Krakow. I spent the days reading, visiting coffee houses, vintage shopping, drinking beer and drifting through the endlessly charming streets of the city. 

Waking up in The Vel'ká Fatra mountains, Slovakia

The weather turned as I embarked north on my finally stretch before returning home. I reached the night's accomodation chilled to the core from the grading wind. The owner of the campground was so kind as to not only give me a hot cup of coffee which I desperately needed and feverishly craved, he also offered me to sleep in a small caravan. I didn't know how much I wanted that before he asked me.

Somewhere in rural Poland

The following day, I finally reached the Baltic Sea and of course I had to go in for a swim despite the cold. From there, I took the ferry to Sweden and rode the last hundred kilometers or so straight west towards Copenhagen as the sun was setting piercing through my visor. An almost too perfect, poetic ending to my little summer adventure in a small corner of Eastern Europe.