Tag Archives: Măgura

Măgura to Zărnești – Enjoying the results of a good decision

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Monday 22 September 2025 – The utter correctness of our decision to ignore the extreme hike that was scheduled for the day became apparent almost immediately we got under way. Before that, though, we had a pleasantly leisurely start. The bathroom was a clear winner in the “Best Bathroom So Far This Trip” competition, and since breakfast didn’t start until 9am, we were able to take things nice and easy. At a few minutes after 9, we got down to the rather attractive terrace outside the building, to find a forest of upturned chair legs, but people fairly soon appeared and got things in order

and we had a decently eggy breakfast to set us up for the day’s walking.

We were joined by the family cat.

Romania seems to be a very cat-friendly country. Wherever we’ve gone, cats have been in evidence. There has been the usual plethora of dogs which spend their day (and night – Ed) barking at nothing – we suppose that this is just such a part of the local way of life that no-one really notices – so it has been lovely to see cats being such a part of the pattern of life here.

Although we weren’t doing the Well ‘Ard hike, we still had some 8km to cover to get to Zărnești, and set off a few minutes after 10am.

The overall direction of the route was downhill, descending some 300m in the 8km. However, although I felt fine walking along the straight and level, there were a couple of very gentle uphill stretches to start with, and it was immediately clear that my body hadn’t replaced the energy sapped from it by yesterday’s exertions – my legs felt leaden and uncooperative, such as when being asked to walk past a pub. However, these gentle uphill gradients were short, few and far between, and we could enjoy the great views in the lovely weather – glorious sunshine and temperatures around 20 Centigrade.

Măgura is a textbook example of a “Kalibash Village”, a uniquely Romanian development. Farms are scattered along ridges with these dramatic views over the Piatra Craiului mountains. The emphasis is on harmony with the land and self-sufficiency in the community. Just as well, frankly; it’s bloody miles from anywhere and the local shop

doesn’t look as if it keeps a ready supply of life’s necessities. The library is small, but perfectly formed

and there are no tarmac roads. It’s a lovely place, very strung out, with well-spaced houses. It was a 2km walk through the village from the church end, passing a couple of interesting buildings, such as this fairly modern place with a very traditional turf roof

and this barn, which had a very unusual texture to its walls.

On closer examination, the texture appears to come from wooden tiles

which are of an unusual shape. If of clay and on a house, I would call these hanging tiles, but these were clearly nailed into position.

It was right at the far end of the village that our route left the dirt road and headed off into the valley.

The sign says that it’s 15 minutes to the Zărnești gorges. The path leads clearly downhill and we were prepared for it to be steeply downhill. Just as well, as it was probably as steep in a couple of places as anything we’d encountered yesterday.

Being the misguided macho man that I am, I tried to cover this 100m vertical descent without using my poles. However, there were a couple of places where I really needed them, so I was glad to have them with me. It wasn’t all steep downhill

but most of it was, right down to the dirt road that leads to Zărnești.

The overall gradient we walked down (ChatGPT calculates for me) was 1 in 7, which doesn’t sound very steep, but I invite you to consult my knees for a second opinion on that.

At the bottom is a riverbed, which seemed dry, with a dirt road beside it.


The area is part of Piatra Craiului National Park, and had we done the Difficult Bastard Hike originally planned for the day we would have headed off up there, to toil up 600m and then down 900m over 15km – er no. Bollocks to that. We went down the dirt road instead. It seems to be popular as a destination for a stroll; we passed several people just walking about, and you can clearly get a car up the dirt road so you don’t have to walk too far.

We passed some mystery buildings

labelled “Danger!” and with other ominous signs outside.

We also passed the point where the Difficult Bastard Hike would have rejoined our route.

The national park has an information centre, with info boards telling you about some of the lovely wildlife you might find there, and

also some for which care is recommended. There was plenty of poo lying around on the track, of various sizes and consistencies. Because this wasn’t actually in the woods, we assumed that none of it was bear shit, but we could have been wrong, I suppose. Some of it clearly came from a couple of cows that were grazing in the margins.

As we approached the end of the dirt road and the start of the tarmac that leads into Zărnești

we were adopted by a friendly little kitten

which I think was hopeful that we could feed it. It certainly did the kitten thing, running around us and between our legs. It would have been ironic to have made it down two mountainsides without falling, only to be tripped up by a bloody kitten, but we made it intact into Zărnești and eventually the kitten stopped following us.  It was a cute little thing, and it seemed harsh to ignore it, but there was nothing we could do for it.

Zărnești is an attractive town, with a few local quirks: driveways with decorated gates;

a relaxed attitude to piping rainwater away from the houses;

some interesting chimneys;

a stork’s nest;

and several rats’ nests.

One restaurant has a quirky entrance

and another house has a very fine grapevine growing all over it.

Our accommodation, Maria’s Dream House, was by the roundabout that houses the town fountain

and appeared to be closed, as we might have expected – it was not yet 1pm. However, Jane optimistically rang the bell and the door was opened by the charming, vivacious and moderately polyglot Ioana. Her languages didn’t include English, so we used a mobile phone app to understand what the deal was, and a very nice place it is, too.

We had free rein in the kitchen, which could have been fantastic had our bags, with their useful supply of Twinings finest Earl Grey, turned up. So we satisfied ourselves with Nescafe and mint tea and settled down to relax until the bags arrived and we could have a Proper Cup Of Tea, after which it was time go out for a bite to eat.

We got a nice surprise when we did, too. Jane had identified a candidate restaurant. It was identified on Google Maps as “Pizzeria Family”, but had a real name of Orașul de Sub Munte – “The Restaurant Under the Mountain”. We walked up through the town, which is handsome

with its not necessarily oil-driven transport

and passed the church, dedicated to St. Nicolas,

at which point we decided, hungry as we were, that it might be worth looking in. The very elaborate door

seemed to have swung shut, but we dismissed this as merely caused by a gust of wind and looked in. Inside was a chap in overalls and

a quite extraordinary interior – beautifully decorated. The church is 600 years old, but has been renovated more than once; the main part in its current state dates from 200 years ago.

The chap inside was delighted to allow us to see the church and particularly its museum, which was in the 400 year-old chapel beside it, featuring some remarkable original frescoes.

Serendipity is a wonderful thing; we hadn’t known about the church and might not have looked in and might therefore not have met the deightful chap inside who was so proud of the church’s wonderful treasures.

We carried on to the restaurant, where we had a very fine meal, of mici (Jane) and pizza (me). We got chatting to a neighbouring couple, who were American but had Romanian family connections, which was a nice distraction from the service, which was, well, strange. The lass who was supposed to be looking after the tables seemed to be lost in the teenage thing of it being NOT FAIR that she had to do all this stuff; but the food was very good. And they had gin. So we had a nice time there before stumbling back to Maria’s Dream home, where we could have another Nice Cup Of Tea.

We have a very relaxed schedule for the next couple of days. Tomorrow, if all goes according to plan, we will be whisked to Putna, some 400km further north. It’s a six-hour journey (at least, if our experience so far is anything to go by) and will deposit us in the area which is the main objective of our visit to Romania. The hiking bit is only a bluff really, and you’ll have to keep your eye on these pages to find out why we really came to Romania.

Bran to Măgura – why is Day 1 always a Bastard?

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Sunday 21 September 2025 – The day’s main agenda item was the first hike of this trip. According to our information, it would be fairly short – 10km – and take four hours. I suppose I should have inferred from those data what the route would be like; under normal circumstances, Jane and I would be able to walk 10km in around two hours; on other walking trips, maybe three. But I was blissful in my ignorance.

Breakfast at Casa din Bran was slightly weird.  The menu consisted of just four items.

I opted for number 3, and Jane made the better choice of number 2. It wasn’t bad, just odd to our way of breakfast thinking.

Anyway, we deposited our bags at the hotel’s reception and set off on a gloriously sunny day with temperatures ideal for walking, in the upper teens Centigrade. I took a final photo of Bran, which is very picturesque,

and we turned off the main road to seek our path.  The light was perfect for a couple of shots of Bran Castle.

As we left, I noticed a cross, perched high on a rock. Thinking that we’d be headed in a different direction, I gave it no further thought as we headed to the start of our hike. We saw a couple of hikers preparing also for the start of their walk

and seeming to be spending some time on those preparations.  When we got to the same place, we found out why. It was fucking steep, that’s why. It was so steep that we attepted to convince ourselves that other paths might be the right one, but no; this was the official route.

It wasn’t hiking, it was fucking mountaineering.

I have never before had to make my way up a path this steep. As well as steep, it was reasonably treacherous underfoot at times, which added to the general feeling of being hard done by. After a short distance but a somewhat longer time, we emerged at a viewpoint.

That was the very cross that I’d decided we wouldn’t be going anywhere near. And very cross is how I felt that I hadn’t taken a photo to show you how tough the whole thing was. However, the view was pretty spectactular.

As we were about to move on, a group of four lads, probably early 20s, came storming up the path which had virtually reduced us to hands and knees; they had only a short time before meeting a guide (presumably at the castle) so didn’t venture further; quite apart from anything else they were wearing regular trainers, and one was in a knee brace! We took their photo for them and went on our way – oh to be young and fit.

I got a couple of pictures of the castle that are even more satisfying for having been the reward for hard labour

however, the pleasure of getting these photos soon evaporated as the hard labour continued.

The path we were taking, you’ll notice, was headed perpendicular to the contour lines, i.e. as steep as possible given the terrain.

It had been 40 minutes unmitigated toil to get to the castle viewpoint. A further 40 minutes of similarly unmitigated toil got us to another viewpoint

where we realised that we were up with the eagles.

The unmitigated toil continued

then relented for a short while

before continuing once more

for another 40 minutes or so, overtaken at one point by a couple of rank cheaters.

By now we’d been going for a couple of hours, and so passing a table and benches gave us a nice chance for a rest

and to admire the view.

As we were preparing to leave, a goup of four hikers came from the direction we were headed. They were British, and so we had a nice chat for a couple of minutes before we pressed on.

And on. And up. And up.

We eventually reached the high point (geographically, not emotionally) of the trek after four hours of more or less consistently remorseless uphill. We’d climbed 600 metres in 5km and we were knackered. The views were great, though.

We rested for half an hour or so before embarking on what we fondly believed would be the easier bit – getting back down.

Wrong again.

The start of the descent was so steep that I needed to use my walking poles to help me get down. I’ve never felt the need to use poles on a descent before. This was what we came down

before continuing a much less steep downhill towards Măgura. There was an electric fence in our way, but its owner had thoughtfully made it easy for hikers to pass.

One might be forgiven for thinking that the rest of the way down was easy, and I suppose that, comparatively, it was. But we were both very, very tired by this point, and the continued stress on knees and thighs meant that the rest of the hike was still quite hard work. There were wonderful views, of course,

and we saw some of the haystacks that might possibly have given old Vlad the idea.

It’s an indication of our state of mind – and body – that when we reached the “road” into Măgura

it was an actual relief to be walking a strada bianca. (You’ll remember, of course, how much we came to hate these when walking in Italy.)  Finally, we caught sight of Măgura,

with a pretty church on the left and our accommodation for the night on the right, which is also the main restaurant in Măgura, called, imaginatively, La Măgura.

We had a slightly chaotic reception there, as all the staff were busy serving Sunday lunch, but the proprietress showed us to our room, which had a balcony with a lovely view

and enabled us to get a Nice Cup Of Tea and a couple of cold beers, things that we both really needed by this point. The four-hour walk had taken us 6 hours, but I suppose we were grimly satisfied that we’d made it, albeit at a trudge for the last four of them. The tea and beer on the balcony was wonderful and after a short restorative kip we went down for some dinner, which gave us the chance to plan for the morrow. As seems normal on our walking excursions, the first day’s hiking was an utter bastard. What was due to come next?

Our official schedule had us trudging hiking to the neighbouring town of Zărnești, which is some 7km away and somewhat downhill from Măgura. The benighted souls who had organised the itinerary for us had, though, invented a route which was 15km long and involved another 600m ascent (and therefore a 900m descent). Looking at OutdoorActive, the app which we’re using to not get lost, we saw that this route was categorised as “Demanding”, whereas the stroll in the park we’d undergone today was “Moderate”. So there’s no fucking way we’ll be doing that, then.  There’s a perfectly good cheater’s route which covers that 7km with no uphill at all so you can bet your sweet bippy that this is the route we’ll be taking. The Clint Eastwood option: “A man should know his limitations”.

I hope I haven’t bored you with my ceaseless whining about how tough today has been; indeed, I hope you’ve been able to have a gentle laugh at our expense, and will thus be prepared to check in tomorrow to see how our cheating went.