The motorway system
runs seamlessly from Slovenia into Hungary. Too seamlessly it seems, because at
the border there are warning signs against travelling on Hungarian motorways
without a vignette (a permit), and there’s nowhere to buy one.
Is this a scam to
catch the tourists? We pass a stationery police car. It doesn’t follow. In about 50 miles a
sign directs us off the motorway to a hotel that sells them, so all is well.
We are heading for
a campsite at Szentendre, a small town on the other side of Budapest. There is
no ring road from our direction so we have to go through the centre of the
city: Jane drives, I navigate. It is busy, chaotic, and the road surface is
rough, but the Hungarians aren’t too aggressive and we get through just fine. Top
driving, Jane.
Camping Pap-Sziget
is potentially a peaceful riverside site. It’s currently full of school parties
that don’t seem to need any sleep. I’m sure we were like that once upon a time,
but one doesn’t think quite so charitably at 2.00am.
Now let’s introduce
you to Dave who checked in the day after us and set up next door.
Dave has cycled all
the way from Doncaster in the last five weeks, following the course of rivers,
currently the Danube that runs past our campsite. Great achievement, but it’s
the tip of the iceberg: Dave’s en route to Doncaster, Australia, over the next
two years, through places like Kazakhstan, China, South Korea, Japan, Malaysia,
Indonesia. If he’s pedalling past where
you live, do give him a wave.
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