Some of you may remember Stu posting a link to the 5 Peaks 500 earlier this year, a bikepacking event in Hungary.
As I go to Budapest every year, It sparked an interest and seemed as good an excuse as any to get out of the city and see what rural Hungary had to offer.
It was described by the organisers as a tour rather than a race and there was quite some emphasis on the social aspect of the ride for those who wanted to make new acquaintances or just buy random strangers a beer.
So, with an eventual route of 575km and 8650m of ascent, I packed my bike, my bags and other belongings and flew out to Budapest, making sure I had a full day to faff before the 6am start on the Saturday.
Much as we bemoan the British weather, I rather appreciate cooler and damper climes for Summer riding, so the forecast for temperatures in the 30s didn't bode well for me or my fair, freckled complexion but I knew it was likely and had signed up nonetheless.
I attempted the TLS approach but was also mindful of potential language issues and the fact that there was a public holiday which meant that there would be limited re-supply opportunities on Sunday, Monday and particularly Tuesday, Saint Stephen's Day.
The weather forecast meant that I took lightweight camping gear. TiGoat kestrel bivvy bag, Cumulus 150 quilt etc, though a did indulge myself with a big, bouncy Sea to Summit pillow.
The only items I took but didn't use were my BB afterburner stove and associated gubbins and my tick twisters.
Due to the early start and limited to no breakfast opportunities, I made some cobs up Friday night and made the numpty mistake of slicing my right index finger open pressing on the wrong side of my penknife blade. Last minute packing doesn't go swimmingly with half a roll of Plenty wrapped around your finger. Ah well, it added a certain piquancy to my breakfast cobs and I avoided my hotel room looking like a crime scene.
Up before the lark then and out onto the Buda side of the Danube, being greeted by this sight can only help raise the spirits. A short five minute ride up to Margit Sziget (Margaret Island,) saw me joining the 70 odd bleary-eyed competitors ready for the off. I was one of the few on a mountain bike, the vast majority riding gravel bikes and a quick look at the demographic indicated I would be in the quartile that could be suitably described as the Old Git section.
A quick briefing and send-off from organisers Marcel and Adam resulted in a steady stream of cyclists heading from the island and along the Danube before veering away from the river and off up into the Buda hills.
The first section from Budapest to Checkpoint 1 (100km) was mainly off-road and for a good part, ideal for a mountain bike. Lots of ups and downs, lots of forest routes and an appreciable amount of singletrack. It was also where I first regretted not running tubeless, initially suffering a snakebite and then displaying admirable public spirit by hoovering up all the thorns before anyone else.
Punctures allow the obligatory leaning bike picture.
Eventually I dropped out of the hills down to the Danube bend at Visegrád and missed the ferry by about 5 minutes. Luckily, there is a restaurant there and so with the help of Ábel, a Hungarian participant, I ordered the quickest meal on the menu so that I was ready for the next crossing across the river an hour later.
A five minute drag across the river into Nagymaros led to a short huff and puff back into the hills and then the 700 metre climb through the trees up to the wonderfully named Nagy-Hideg -Hegy – literally Big, Cold Mountain. Despite the heat, this climb and most of the others, benefited from the shade of the forests that cover much of the Northern mountains and so I was nowhere near as hot and bothered as I might have been.
At the top, I got my brevet card stamped and wolfed down the gulyás provided by the organisers. Now buoyed by liquid and nourishment I set off afresh, whereupon it went a bit sub standard. The expected downhill soon thumbed its nose at me and headed skywards again but before too long I was hooning down the hill with abandon. Then a combination of heavy shade, sunglasses and years of uttering blasphemies had me hitting an unseen barrier at about 30mph. Some freddies may have interrupted the birdsong as I was launched over the handlebars in a rather graceful arc which became somewhat untidy upon hitting the road.
I came to a rolling halt and lay awhiles before wriggling various appendages to see if 1) They were still attached and 2) I could still move them. Obviously it was then a case of “sub standard! The bike!”
It seemed that baby Jesus wasn't too offended because my handlebar set up was at exactly the right height to act as an airbag and remarkably nothing seemed amiss with the bike.
Bastard barrier.
So I set off with the intention of reaching Bánk and the campsite there but it soon became apparent that the scuffs and cuts were not the only issues as my right wrist and knee took me to one side and asked WTF I was doing. I told them I was carrying on. “On yer bike!” they said. “Good, we're agreed then.” said I and off we pottered.
It was fairly level going into Bánk and as I pedalled around the lake to the campsite I was mesmerised by the event taking place which was a cross between a spinning class and Tron that dazzled the eye and insulted the ear. Across a little footbridge and onto the campsite I met a chap I had been speaking to pre-event. He was looking a little worse for wear, apparently full width Jones bars and narrow bridges with railings can lead to wobbling off into a concrete culvert and smashing your face in. He was out, which was a shame as he had been going great guns.
He told me that there was a bachelor party at the campsite and that it was already busy. I quickly decided to head on to Checkpoint 2 or at least a nice meadow on the way. Off I set then and as the night rushed to meet me, I was greeted by overgrown byways that threatened punctures, that reminded me of some of Stu's BB200 twists. With frequent “I told you so” admonishments from my knee, I made it into the next town to the inevitable flat tyre and the realisation that boost rims are too deep for the valves on my recently acquired replacement tube. Bugger, repair kit then.
Once sorted I continued on over mostly easy terrain to Sasbérci Kilátó arriving quite late at around 1am.
You will recall that I skipped Bánk to avoid a disrupted sleep and CP2 was in the middle of nowhere and so nothing would disturb my slumber, other than the chirp of insects, that and the bastard racket of a rave happy hardcoring it all sodding night somewhere in the woods. Bollocks.
Morning saw me aching and unrested but the organisers had a fire pit going with some sustenance to cook over it and so at least I set off with something in my stomach. A bit of descent resulted in another puncture, which was getting tiresome, especially as the hex hole in my maxle was turning to cheese and the prospect of a rounding off seemed a distinct possibility. A quick faff to the accompaniment of bleating goats and I was off towards Galyatető and the highest climb of the event. A resupply of all manner of rubbish food at the petrol staton in Bátonyterenye meant I had enough energy on board for the long climb and off I pedalled back into the trees, initially on a cobbled road being harassed by some tosser in his Lada rally car who delighted in wheel-spinning gravel at me and others before hitting the fire roads, then popping out back onto tarmac for the last bit of ascent to CP3. Card stamped, I decided to move on. I had intended to camp at the groovy bivvy pods they have in the lookout tower there but it was too early and a descent had my name on.
A rider who was ahead had mentioned a hut at the top of the next big climb and so I headed for that, after a while I had some audio encouragement from some live bands playing at a holiday event. As darkness fell I bimbled up the climb ignoring the mumbling from my knee and found the hut as described. Tarp left in the bag then and I settled down to the now distant warblings of whichever rock combo were strutting their stuff down in the valley. Rock combos gave way to more of that bastard techno which continued into the small hours but thankfully they must have all given up in a drunken heap around 1am. Head down then until some blokes with dogs had a look-see in the hut before carrying on with their nocturnal activities and leaving me be. Thereafter, other than mice exploring my stemcells, the night remained uneventful.
Up with dawn and a croissant and coke. Down off the mountain with glorious sunshine, fantastic views and some gentle terrain until the next big climb into the Bükk mountains. My knee was plotting with other weary body-parts to go on strike but I made it have it, going all Thatcher on its militant arse. That said, It was giving me serious grief and as I climbed the penultimate climb to CP4 it was becoming more and more painful to the point that I was going to decide at the top of this climb whether I was going to attempt the big climb up Bánkút. When I got to the top, I had a minute and checked the GPS, checked it again and did a little one legged dance – I was there, at the top of Bánkút, just shy of CP4. Even my knee managed a half-hearted hurrah as I made my way the last couple of KM to the hostel at the checkpoint.
Plenty of these lovely mountain meadows to bivvy in if you timed it right.
Another stamp and a bowl of tárkonyos palócleves saw me right but someone had posted they would not make the hostel tonight and offered their room up, so it took no thought at all to bag a bed for the night. I smelled like the inside of a bin lorry, my knee had packed its bags and I had serious saddle sores due to a seat-post that absolutely refused to stay up and so I had been sat wrong in the saddle for three days. The lure of a shower, cake and beer was all I needed to stay put for the night and finish the ride the next day.
What goes up usually goes down and so 6am ushered in a downhill start that went on and on. There was much talk of limited resources due to the holiday. I wasn't too concerned, I had a load of crap food left, which had plenty of calories if nothing else and I could always break out the afterburner for some expedition food if needs be.
Today would be a ride with no shade, exposed to rural Hungary's sun with little respite. Thankfully, most towns and villages have public taps, not all work but they are frequent enough to ensure you are unlikely to run out of water. Good job too in 38 degree heat. I also had my hyper-kewl headcap which proved to be a game changer, I might have looked like a twit but at least my brains weren't boiling in my skull.
In that this heat I might have gone mad.
Rolling countryside it was then my troubled knee mostly forgotten due to the pain from my saddle-sores, which felt like the torment of dentistry without anaesthetic along with some red hot poker branding. They also looked like a mortician's prank gone wrong. As a consequence I cycled about 85% of the remaining 212km stood up in the saddle, not ideal but I went with whatever worked. CP5 was a relatively short climb up to Regéci Vár. Not too steep but a rubble field meant some pushing to save sensitive areas.
Hoping for devine healing hands to reach into my shorts.
My occasional riding partners - Ábel and Abel.
The fifth stamp, ice creams pop and coffee gave me the boost I needed for the final push to Tokaj and the finish about 40km away. The downhill gave way to a gradual descent into town. I picked up a rider whose GPS had given up the ghost, night had dropped and we made good progress to the finish. It's amazing how the proximity of the end can make you ignore pain, I rode in the saddle whilst we cycled together and my knee was almost forgotten.
We arrived at the campsite in Tokaj to be greeted with beer and pörkölt and they had even arranged a hostel bed for us for the princely sum of £3. I would have been happy to roll up in my tarp and have an early morning alarm kick but a shower before bed instead? Oh yes!
The end in the light.
Coffee and beers whilst waiting to greet incoming riders,
Bikepacking Hungary will be doing this again next year, although a different route is envisaged. I think the way this year was organised was spot on. If you wanted to ITT, no one was stopping you and pitching it as a tour with the social potential that allowed made this a very enjoyable way to see a very beautiful country and meet some lovely people.
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