This paddle day happened on Saturday the 15th of June, 2024. We kayaked down the Bulgarian side of the Danube from Vidin to Lom, with Romania to our left.

Leaving Vidin + Saying Goodbye to Nimi

Our alarm went off at 5:30. That’s 30 minutes earlier than normal for a kayak day, but we’re anticipating to paddle a little less than 50 kilometers today. The sun rises at 5:45 in Vidin and we need about one hour and 15 minutes to drink coffee, finish packing, and walk out the door these days.

But today is still a little special, because we want to say a proper goodbye to our commie block cat we named Nimi. The evening before, we heard from our host that the locals refer to her as ‘Mama’ because she’s the progenitor of almost all the neighborhood cats. That until she got sterilized last month. She’s been a lot more sedentary since then and hangs out at this bench almost all day long. This matriarch is about 13 years old, according to him.

We enjoyed one more morning coffee with her from the amazing coffee machine of this Vidin Airbnb. I brought the sarong so she could make biscuits on my lap to her little heart’s content and I could endure them. To my surprise, she actually loafed down on my lap and sat there after making intense biscuits.

Oh, my heart melts! How far we’ve come in these six days.

Though the residents of this housing block feed her, I left with pain in my heart. She deserves to be an indoor cat with a nice thick blanket to sit on and make biscuits, her daily brushies, and a big scratching post. Nimi deserves the world.

When we left with all our stuff, the big bulky items scared her. I’m very sad that one of the last interactions we had with her was the duffel bag with paddles falling over causing noise and the general betrayal of leaving Vidin. I still petted her little head with the kayak on my back and then we left. Another scar.

We walked to the old city gate that leads to the beach. Jonas first checked if we could pump up Zucchini at the beach, but the water levels were too high so there was no space. Even at 6:47, there was already a swimmer. Part of the gate and city wall were under renovation during our time, so the passage was narrow and a little dodgy.

We walked back through the two gates to the patch of grass next to Baba Vida castle. We started inflating Zucchini when an early morning passerby took an interest. I said “Dober den” to be polite and kept dealing with the boat. The old man tried to say something, but I just answered “kayak, Dunav, Lom” to answer questions but also be generic. Jonas heard him say “vodka” apparently.

The guy kept standing around about 1.5 meters from our boat, too fucking close. I tried to focus on the task at hand, which was pumping up Zucchini, and told Jonas to be very aware of this guy. When Jonas and I squeezed the boat during the final inflation to test if we’re there yet, the man stepped forward to also lean in for a squeeze. I immediately yelled “STOP STOP STOP!” and Jonas said “Don’t touch it!” and blocked him with his body as he stepped back. I added in a “Back away from Zucchini, motherfucker. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Vodka man was a little flustered and backed off a little. He eventually walked off for a bit, when a man in an orange shirt and fishing gear showed up. We again said hello just to not be rude, but he didn’t say anything back. The orange man walked back to the park and had a chat with vodka man.

Jonas and I tried to get the boat ready as quickly as possible so that we could leave before vodka man would return and escalate things. Jonas put on his water shoes first, I did mine second. In public, we never do that at the same time so that someone is always ready to be on their feet. We carried the boat and all our luggage through the historic Top Kapia gate to the water. The slipway was too narrow, so we also used the beach a little bit.

The whole thing took 20 minutes. We’ve never set up the boat that quickly. If we’d worn our water shoes already for the short walk out the door, we could have done it even quicker.

We paddled away from Vidin at 7:19.

Headwind Around Bogdan Island

It kept replaying in my mind. What on Earth must have happened to a 70-year-old man in his life to think it’s okay to touch another person’s stuff? That’s something children do. And good parents tell their children to cut it out right this moment.

We paddled past the port of Vidin and the Rechna Gara. There was a cruise ship moored named Amaverde. Today it will only be 29°C, so I think the old folks aboard don’t need a heat warning for the top deck. It was funny to paddle past this place again, a section we’d already done the previous paddle day to check out of Romania and into Bulgaria. A cargo ship with several barges slowly came upstream. One of the barges carried the wing of a new windmill.

Today is our first full paddle day in Bulgaria. Though we’re a bit worried that the distance to Lom is going to take all day, we still have a strong current in Vidin. In the distance, we can see the Balkan Mountains. One peak in particular stands out, which I believe to be Midžor, the highest point of Serbia and the border with Bulgaria. It was still hazy, but it’s either that or the nearer peak of Belogradchik.

We paddled past the southern port portion of Vidin, which is where I spotted a Bulgarian water police base. No one was there as far as I was aware, but I could see their boats: dark blue base, white on top, and in white letters it says border police in Bulgarian Cyrillic. A little later, we passed an oil products terminal and some cranes. The port is very spread out.

I was hoping to front load today’s paddling work. It’s smart to try to beat the heat this way. So I kept putting in the work as much as possible without stopping it but also without tiring myself. There was a headwind here, though the forecast had said there would be wind from the west in the morning, which would later come from the northwest. We’re paddling south-southwest now, so I’m not sure why it’s giving us such a hard time.

Before Bogdan Island, we paddled close to some anchored barges. Some birds that had made it their oasis of tranquility flew up when we got close to one. We discussed which side to pass the island. Quite last minute, we decided to pass on the right, outside of the shipping lane, in hopes to get some peace from the wind. A tree on the head of the island looks halfway to falling. It will probably flow downstream during the next Danube floods.

It didn’t work. The entire three kilometers next to Bogdan Island, we had a stubborn headwind. Still, it only took us 22 minutes to pass the island from head to tail. As we were a little over an hour into the paddling, we did some simple math to calculate our speed. We’re going at roughly 8 kilometers per hour, which is a conservative estimate.

A Coffee Break in Ratiaria

Since passing behind Bogdan Island didn’t give us any respite from the wind, we decided to paddle past the next island via the left and the shipping lane.

The next one is called the Twin Islands (Близнаците) (Translit: Bliznatsite). We saw on satellite view that there’s a channel that runs through the island. During low water levels it’s impassable by shallow draft boats like us, like in the video below. But during our passage it would have probably worked. However, it’s also a protected natural area.

I asked Jonas if he wanted to find the right hole, but he didn’t want to. We still have quite some kilometers to go, and if the wind doesn’t change, this will be a very tiring day. We’re passing up this side quest.

While passing the island, we experienced a very uncomfortable crosswind that caused some choppy waves. We didn’t get wet, but it was annoying to paddle in. Once halfway past the island, we were in the wind shadow for a bit and could just enjoy things again.

I did some math and decided we’d paddled about 17 kilometers, or one-third of the way we have to go. So I asked Jonas for a protein bar at 9:19, two hours into today’s trip. If we’ve done 17 kilometers in two hours, things are going pretty well.

I chomped down the protein bar. This one is still from Drobeta-Turnu Severin in Romania. Though it has traveled with us for well over a hundred kilometers, it’s doing surprisingly well.

As we were turning eastwards, the sun that had been in our backs was facing us more and more. I was staring at the Bulgarian villages on the river. All of them had very steep concrete embankment protections, with usually very few ways to get up to the village. This concerned me for when we arrive in Lom.

The next thing I was looking forward to was trying to land at Ratiaria (or Ratsiaria). Jonas had found a riverside restaurant there the day before. Street view and satellite images had told him that we could land at the restaurant and have a coffee and some food there. The only problem is that it’s only 21 kilometers from Vidin. A bit early for an almost-50-kilometer day. But the least we could do was check it out.

I turned my internet back on to check if it’s open and read some reviews. Someone mentioned a dog. Not a fan of those.

Upon approach, we found the hole between some trees that led to the restaurant’s beach. There was also a small boat anchored belonging to the property. We approached with care, scanning the area for an aggressive dog, but no one showed up or even cared.

We landed at the downstream edge of the property at 9:46, where there was a patch of shadow. Zucchini stayed in the shadow on dry land while we walked up to the restaurant.

The dog was chained, thank Jeebus. There were three men enjoying a spicy-looking fish soup. A woman walked by and said some things I understood to be that you have to order in person inside. After some deliberation, Jonas and I decided to just have our second cup of coffee here and use the bathroom. No food.

The vista from the restaurant was quite lovely and the coffee in paper cups nice and strong, but I had some bad news about a family member from the home front. I didn’t find the experience that relaxing after all.

The Great Leap Eastwards to Lom

We left the restaurant without me visiting the toilet. The smell wasn’t right and it would have been a squat in the dark. So we returned to Zucchini. She was happy in the shadow, but a lot of bugs had come for a visit. Too bad for them, they’re going on a once-in-a-lifetime trip if they don’t leave right this moment.

We paddled away from Restaurant Ratsiaria at 10:21. A ship immediately passed us traveling upstream. The first priority was for me to find a spot to pee, which we found rather soon but far away from any towns. After that second landing, I spotted a small stowaway snail on our boat, traveling with us to parts unknown. Jonas kept an eye on it and sometimes rehydrated it with some drops of Danube water.

We continued paddling eastwards, but since the wind was now coming from the back, we wanted to maximize our profits and paddled towards the center of the Danube. The Archar River joined us from Bulgaria. Ahead of us were the first of many Bulgarian and Romanian river islands we’d have to find a way to weave through in a way we’re happy with the result. Our bias is towards the Bulgarian side since that’s where we’re checked in and because we don’t feel like meeting the Romanian water police.

We passed a red buoy and were now solidly in the shipping lane. It’s funny how we generally don’t feel unsafe there, since there’s such little traffic. Either that, or we’ve become completely desensitized.

When the wind came from the back, I asked Jonas if I should deploy the broken kayak sail. He agreed I should try, so I let it flop out. It looked bad, but not as bad as expected. And it still did its job of capturing the strong tailwind. But instead of round, it was shaped like a single leaf of a clover. Very sad it broke after five years.

The wind wasn’t always stable, so I tried to revive the sail or folded it away in a temporary manner. We heard the noise of a motorboat coming towards us from behind. They were headed right towards us. Water police? Which flag?

As they came closer, we realized they’re just two dudes in a boat. Still, I wasn’t amused by how they were headed straight towards us, so I grabbed my whistle and kept it in my mouth in case they’d violate any of my boundaries. Not much I can do except blow the whistle like a Karen to tell them to back off, but I’ll be damned if it’s going to be our second case of involuntary contact with older more tipsy men today.

I trust Zucchini—most of the time. She floats. But the biggest danger of this entire kayak trip isn’t professionals like cruise ships and cargo ships, or wild animals on the shorelines, or dams. The biggest danger in kayaking a major European river is contact with people on a motorized pleasure craft, like a motorboat or a jetski. They can be as drunk as a skunk and call it an accident.

As the guys in the boat came to our starboard side, I kept paddling and not looking to engage. Jonas later told me that they apparently sort of inquired if we’re alright. I think Jonas just gave them a thumb’s up, all good, not further engaging to become best friends. They zoomed off downstream towards the river islands.

So OK, perhaps they had good intentions. Perhaps they’d seen us with the kayak sail, which always looks like a struggle, but is probably worse now that it’s actually broken. But still… they simply don’t know how terrifying it is to be in a smaller boat that will definitely deflate and sink when receiving a major puncture.

It’s the same reason while getting driving lessons, I was taught to always overtake cyclists with at least 1.5 meters, while if I’m stuck in traffic in a car, they can overtake me with just 0.3 meters and it’s fine. The more vulnerable party can seek out proximity without being intimidating, but the big threatening party can’t do the same. If only everyone in a speedboat would just take a wide berth and maybe even slow down while passing us. And if we were in trouble, we’d A) not be in the middle of the river and B) wave/shout for help.

Weaving Romanian and Bulgarian River Islands

After the bit that got my heart racing, I managed to snap back and enjoy the paddling. Still, Nimi was on my mind. Could we have done more for her, like finding her a forever home that’s indoors?

We had begun our weaving journey between skinny and elongated river islands. To our left, Acalia Island in Romania, and to our right Povlek (Повлек), quickly followed by Dobrina (Добрина). Further to the right and completely hidden from our view is Skomen Island (Скомен), which would all be fun side quests if we had all the time in the world.

In the distance, we saw multiple ships coming towards us upstream. They had just passed the Romanian island of Pietriș (or Petrișul), which I think simply means ‘gravel island’. Though the wider channel of the Danube goes right of this island, the shipping lane goes to the left. We kept an eye on the ships as they came upstream. They kept dancing and switching positions from our view. We decided to leave the shipping lane for when they pass us, since we don’t want to be a part of this mess.

We eventually figured it out. It was two cargo ships and one cruise ship. Since the cruise ship has a deadline, it was much faster than the other two. When we spotted them earlier, the cruise ship was overtaking the first cargo ship. And now, it was on approach to pass the port side of the second cargo barge. The cruise ship was the Thomas Hardy, flying a Swiss flag, making a journey from Ruse to Budapest.

When there are no dams downstream, what are the odds that three massive ships are that nearby and overtaking each other one by one? While we’re here to see it? It’s very odd.

When all the traffic had passed, we decided to sail past Pietriș Island via the shipping lane that had just cleared out. But first, we reapplied sunscreen. With every use, the broken kayak sail started looking crappier and crappier.

The left side of Pietriș Island had a very nice speed. Jonas was more hungry, so he grabbed one out of three sandwiches, with vegetarian mushroom pâté, Leerdammer cheese, and sundried tomatoes. He realized halfway that he wasn’t that hungry after all, so I offered to finish the sandwich for him. We floated downstream with the Romanian side so close by that we could hear the voices of the few campers that were there. I still don’t understand how a Saturday like today sees fewer Romanian campers than that Friday where we wanted to go camping but ended up kayaking 74.4 kilometers because the beaches were so crowded.

A Break in Paradise

After Pietriș island, Jonas wanted to take a break on land to deflate Zucchini a little bit. The sun and heat of the day had made the side chambers a bit too tense for our liking. It was now 12:30 and we crossed back to the Bulgarian side, slowly. In the distance, we saw the Romanian island of Nebuna, which would translate to “crazy” or Nebună “madwoman”. And here I just thought it meant “no-good island”, like the Spanish no bueno, which would be a pretty intriguing name. Beyond the island I saw a smokestack of sorts, which must be Lom.

As we got closer to the Bulgarian shore, we were scouting for a place to land. This artificial forest kind of stood out. Jonas spotted a hole between the trees that had a patch of brown. We decided to paddle in. That was a good idea, because this beautiful spot with a moored rowboat appeared.

We landed there at 12:46. Jonas let out 15 seconds of air from both side chambers. I found a small stick for the snail to crawl onto. I put the snail elsewhere in the forest.

We sat down on the land and rested for a bit, analyzing the map before our imminent arrival in Lom. There’s a few landing spots in Lom we’d discussed the day before, but none of them were super promising. The TID lands in Lom very centrally. How they get out of the river there is a mystery to us. But we’ll need to find a balance between a sure landing spot and getting close to our hotel in Lom.

This spot in the artificial forest was quite magical. The light was beautiful and it would have been a great place to camp if we had the need to do so. Though there is a trail for cars here, I think one night of camping would be quite nice here.

Arriving in Lom

We departed our beautiful spot at 13:09. It’s less than 10 kilometers to go to Lom. Somehow, it felt like we were going at an excruciatingly slow pace. I don’t know why I got it in my head that we should arrive in Lom before 14:00. But as we paddled and time vanished, that became an impossibility.

Paddling between Bulgaria on the right and the Romanian island of Nebuna was fun. There’s not much on the island except a kilometer sign: 751. There was another such signs on the Bulgarian shore. I think this is one of the few times I could see (and read) a kilometer sign on both shores. Usually, they just exist on one side.

There were lots of beaches on the Bulgarian side with tents, vehicles, campervans, caravans, and little huts at the remaining kilometer signs of the day. But as expected, there was more river traffic here in the form of pleasure boats. I would regularly put my wonky sail down to see what was happening in front of us.

As we got closer to Lom and its towering smokestack, a blue dragonfly landed. First on my paddle, which was inconvenient, and later on my folded kayak sail.

The seriousness and permanence of the constructions increased as we approached the city. Soon we were in country house area, followed by second-home land, and eventually luxury villas. Some of the beaches had floating pontoons out there with lights and all. Very fancy. A motorboat passed us going upstream, another one overtook us going downstream. It was clear not all of the captains were completely focused at the task at hand. Or they’d let the child aboard drive the boat for fun. I clutched my whistle in anticipation of fuckery.

It was a little after 14:00 when we saw the humble beginnings of Lom proper. The current was still good, but we were also analyzing the shoreline. One of the options was to land at the Chaika Beach Club some 2 kilometers from our hotel and right at the start of the concrete flood barrier. We could dry Zucchini while having a beer and then take a taxi to our hotel. It also had a nice-enough beach for a quick swim if we wanted to do that. But Jonas said no and wanted to continue to a spot he’d found with the help of satellite view.

People were fishing and swimming from these beaches. And one guy unfortunately had a jetski. We kept paddling.

The concrete embankment for water protection was about four meters high. It’s only possible to go up at specific places where there’s a hole through them. There was some cargo 200 graffiti. I’m not sure of its meaning in the context over here, but they were kind enough to date it to the year 2022/2023, which is after the russian escalation in its war against Ukraine started. That’s also when these Soviet-era terms got popularized to a broader public. The landing spot Jonas had chosen didn’t pan out, so we continued a bit more.

We finally found some stairs leading out of the water. Though I’m not happy about it, these stairs were better than the ones in Vidin and we’re quite trained to do this by now. So we landed there at 14:31. Jonas got the luggage onto the embankment and we emptied the boat before lifting her out. For next time, we should really find a way to find good landing spots in Bulgaria. This isn’t a great start.

Above the embankment is the start of the city park that also expands to our hotel some 650 meters away. It was quite a beautiful spot with a good view of the blue Danube and the few cargo ships that visit this town.

We dried Zucchini, put on our shoes, packed everything up, and started the walk to the hotel. We had reserved this one by telephone, so it was a bit unclear whether the reservation had been completely understood. When we arrived, I asked for “Reservatsia, imena Jonas”. That worked. We paid for our three-night stay and received the key.

I don’t know why it felt like today was quite slow. Perhaps it’s the negative experiences with vodka man and the boat fellas, or the regrets of leaving Vidin and accidentally scaring Nimi with out big luggage. But we paddled a total distance of 49.6 kilometers at an average speed of 8.04 kilometers per hour. That’s the fastest we’ve ever paddled in 2024. The only times we kayaked faster were in 2019 on the two days the Twin City Liner threatened our existence. But I try to not compare 2019 and 2024 directly since so much has changed and the distances we do in one day are not really comparable much of the time. And some sources say that comparison is the thief of joy. Something like that.

Anyway, today was a very good day kayaking the Danube.

Our Stay in Lom

We stayed three nights in Lom. Here’s what we did:

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