Pants

I feel like I have let someone down. I was given some advice a few days ago and I haven't taken it. It was back in the campsite in Goslar in Germany. Just as we were saying our goodbyes, Lucas spoke to me. "Dad," he said, with a solemn look in his eye, "Dad", he said with an all knowing nod of his head, "Dad, you must change your pants every day". Such wisdom in a five year old. Such good, solid personal hygiene advice. But, how do you explain to someone of his age about the unwritten rules of when you are a man ? You never ask for directions (though Tom Toms are allowed as they are gadgets), when shopping for a barbeque you always buy three times as much meat as you actually need and finally, when wild camping, even if the opportunity presents itself, you do not change your pants. I'll do it in the next country. 

That next country happens to be Bulgaria and we are hurtling towards it at a rapid rate of knots. 

Morning up on the mountain was pleasantly cool and refreshing after the last week or so of very hot weather. The storm had wreaked some minor devastation. The barbeque was full of grey sludge and my sandals were soggy. 

I watched a bright red Ferrari set off down from the top at speed, screaming around the bends and accelerating hard on the short straights before it got held up behind a van. How I wished I could be driving that van. Bloody Ferrari drivers.  

I got Eileen out of bed and let him drive first. Poor Jezebel struggled up the damp grassy slope but with some excessive revving he managed to get her back on the road. The southern side of the pass is possibly not quite as stunning as the northern side, but still beautiful scenery. 

Still a lot of hard packed snow around despite the warm weather and last nights heavy rain. 

The winding, pitted road finally led us out at the dam at the southern end of Lake  Vidraru. I just managed to get some shots of Team Chameleon, Doris and Milly as they crossed the dam. 

Lunch 15 miles further in a small roadside restaurant showed the Top Gear influence around here. Apparently the team had a meal there in 2009 and their photos adorn the wall. 

And so, we are belting down the motorway towards Bucharest. It's a city I spent a dismal day in back in 1996 on a 12 hour stop over from Bangkok. I recall people looking at me strangely in my sandals, brightly coloured Thai baggies and vest top in the 4 degree heat. It seems to have warmed up a bit since 1996.

We shall be staying in Ruse tonight, just over the border in to Bulgaria and on the banks of the Danube. I would say Blue Danube, but I am reliably informed that it isn't. 

As for the other teams, most are ahead. The Lotus boys, the Swannies, Nightmares and Traumas are quite possibly there already and revelling in their fresh underwear. I shall just have to get another couple of hours worth out of mine.