Romania's Carpathian Mountains by Bike

Words and Photos by Lindsay Ryder • September 2024

The beauty of this place is like its history: layered, complex, and real. Strong post-communist vibes overlay rich Saxon, Austro-Hungarian and Latin histories. Romania certainly does feel wedged somewhere between Italy and Russia. And it's not only beautiful. Romania's Carpathian Mountains, which bend in a sweeping arc from the northeast down before making a sharp left to the west just north of Bucharest, offer endless possibilities for bikepacking. Their craggy limestone karst-like peaks abound with singletrack, logging roads, and gorgeous vistas. Take me there!

But first, I must respond to the question that so many of you likely have, “why…Romania?” Fair enough, and to be honest, the first time my friend brought it up almost three years ago I had to do some googling myself. Where is Romania, exactly? Hint: It is indeed wedged somewhere between Italy and Russia.

Indeed, Romania is nestled in Eastern Europe between Italy and Russia.

My good friend and adventure biking buddy, Jen, also happens to be a competitive triathlete. A couple of years ago, she qualified for an international tri being held that year in…Romania.

“Do you want to come with me, I can do my race and then we can go bikepacking?” she asked. “Yes,” I replied, even before having done the aforementioned googling.

My later googling confirmed that Transylvania is in Romania. Like it does for many others, Dracula immediately came to mind. I also learned that this stretch of the Carpathians is known as the Transylvanian Alps for their resemblance to the intensely craggy and stunning peaks that lie further west in Europe. OK, yes, I will go to Romania with you, Jen.

Ultimately, my plans with Jen were foiled by life as well as geopolitical horrors. Within days of us buying plane tickets, Russia invaded Ukraine, and Romania swiftly began receiving thousands of Ukrainian refugees. It didn’t feel like the right time. As I’d learn two years later when I finally did make it to Romania, these events were a contemporary marker on a long timeline of volatility for this beautiful country, which lies at the axis of some incredibly powerful forces throughout history, including the Roman empire, Ottoman empire, Soviet Union, Saxons and more. Today, Romania’s language(s), food, music, and culture are a tapestry of this dynamic history. Case in point, to my elementary ear the Romanian language sounds like an Italian-Spanish with a Slavic accent. Or something.

Over two years later, having done absurd amounts of googling and panicking about Romanian’s massive bear population (I’m from Montana, where grizzlies are a very real and present danger) and some lite Komoot route planning, my husband and I arrived in Bucharest, Romania’s bustling, beautiful, and hot capital city. We immediately got a taste for Romania’s public transit, schlepping our bike bags from the airport to our Warm Showers host’s apartment via train and bus. The incredibly kind and accommodating George and his girlfriend Alexandra lived on the sixth floor of a communist era block apartment. We took our luggage up to their apartment one at a time in the tiny rickety elevator. After George and Alexandra fed us pasta and provided guidance on how to handle the bears, we assembled our bikes in the tiny and very hot living room. The next morning, after George served us oatmeal (“Oh no, I forgot the cinnamon!”) we set off to bike through Bucharest’s rush hour traffic back to the train station, and toward the mountains.

Our bikes had their own train tickets. 

For the next twelve days, we peddled, heaved, pushed, and spun our hardtails over gravel roads, rutted trekking routes, pastoral single track, and yes - many miles of pavement. Accommodations ranged from a musty red and white windowless dome “refugio” set on a grassy saddle below the summit of Comisu peak to our tent in a decommissioned orchard of some sort where, right as the late sunset was deepening to dusk, a shepherd and his flock of sheep - and about six or seven very high strung sheep dogs - barked and bell tinkled and bleated their way around and past us.

Enjoying a ride sans luggage outside the town of Sibiu.

Our first Romanian bear sighting occurred at dusk the evening of our night atop Comisu peak. The bear was but a dark blurry blip moving at bear-like pace across a meadow on a lower hillside. “Bear!” we exclaimed, excited to have made contact in the most ideal manner: from a very safe distance above treeline. The next morning as we descended toward the flatlands on the north side of the Făgăraș Mountains, the trail disappeared as we crossed through a steep bumpy meadow amidst the dense forest. It was immediately clear that our bear had had its breakfast here earlier that morning; hefty clods of grass and soil had been clawed up to reveal the grub below. We pictured our bear friend flinging a couple pounds of soil with the mere flick of a claw until several hundred square feet of meadow were left scarred by paw sized holes. 

Bikes atop Comisu Peak, after plenty of pedaling and nearly as much pushing.

We spent a few minutes filtering water and reveling in the unseen but known company of the Carpathian’s many fauna friends before smearing down some very steep, greasy, rutted singletrack onto the gravel forest roads below - and eventually the paved rural country road into the town of Făgăraș.

Midday in the flatlands greeted us with blazing sun and heat. The road stretched out between cornfields well on their way of being knee-high-by-the-fourth-of-July, green stalks which would no doubt make their way onto the plates of Romanians in the form of polenta, likely served with sour cream, a dietary staple of the region.

Upon arriving in Făgăraș, we were greeted in the street by the friendly Dumitru (who’s name means “Dimitri” in Russian as he proudly explained to us - clearly delighted to practice his limited but utile English through his friendly smile of few remaining teeth). Dumitru was amazed to hear that we’d brought our bikes all the way from the United States, and promptly reached out to quickly touch his finger to my top tube.

“I touched American bike!” he remarked with a childish glee.

Yet Dumitru must have been in his seventies, and the gravity of his lifetime during Romania’s darkest years were revealed when, after waving hello to a fellow older man in the street, Dumitru turned to us and shared with serious eyes, “he is old friend from child, not many left after Communism.”

Using Komoot - paired with my trusty Wahoo Roam bike computer - we spent nearly two weeks pedaling - and pushing - our way up, over, and around the Făgăraş Mountains. We snacked on herbed cream cheese and pizza flavored bruschetta crackers along with little cans of Coke to refuel ourselves on the steps of a village bus stop corner market.

Being greeted by a cow tender and his herd as they move through our riverside campsite one morning.

Overnight stays in Sibiu and Braşov allowed us to explore these beautiful, bustling mountain towns - as well as ditch our bike bags and take off on singletrack pastoral day rides unfettered by panniers and handlebar bags. A touristy but must-do stop at Bran Castle was one of many highlights, as was a day spent weaving around the capital city of Bucharest sans bike before packing up and beginning the long trip back to Montana.

Let us know if you have questions about bikepacking in Romania! We learned so much about navigating their post-communist train system with bikes in tow, some absolutely must-dos and some parts to maybe avoid, and yes - how to manage the Romanian bears.