This kayak day happened on the 4th of July, 2024. We paddled away from the city Ruse where we had stayed for 10 days. It was more than 60 kilometers to Tutrakan, also in Bulgaria. Though we’d initially planned a two-night stop in Tutrakan, we ended up shortening it to one night because of the weather forecast.

Departing Ruse After 10 Days of Rest

My alarm went off at 4:40. I was nervous and excited at the same time to get back to kayaking after 10 days of rest. Was it too much? Maybe. But we were waiting for a new kayak sail, waterproof phone cases, and a new paddle shirt for Jonas to arrive. They did arrive after only four days in Ruse, but cutting our stay short would also have been tricky. And I managed to get quite some writing and publishing done.

I made myself a coffee from the fancy Airbnb coffee machine with these horrible plastic cups. Jonas woke up at 5:00 and followed a similar routine. Once we’d brushed teeth, applied sunscreen, and packed everything, we left the Airbnb with our heavy stack of sandwiches. The walk to the river is about 600 meters.

We inflated Zucchini while some early-morning cyclists, runners, and dog people were out. I’d almost forgotten that we have a new kayak sail, until Jonas handed me the blue package. I installed it in the way I’d folded it up a few days earlier, anticipating a forecasted tailwind for today. Hopefully, it will deploy well when we use it later.

We carried Zucchini down to the water. The day before, we’d visited this launch spot as well to see the change in water levels. Though at first we didn’t see a change, I grabbed a photo from when we landed here on the 24th of June and realized that a whole second flight of stairs had appeared. The water levels have dropped by more than a meter. Was it maybe a little stupid to stay this long in Ruse? Time will tell.

At 6:36, we paddled away from Ruse in front of the Ukrainian pushboat Valerii Kydyk that had been in port since yesterday. The sun was still low in the sky, sometimes eclipsed by Ruse’s tall buildings. We paddled past many moored ships, including a Viking cruise ship where a woman on deck was waving at us and filming. I decided to wave back. We paddled past a kilometer sign: 495 kilometers to go to the Black Sea.

Kayaking Beneath the Giurgiu–Ruse Danube Bridge

The port area of Ruse is quite long and also our biggest obstacle on the way to Tutrakan. We paddled past berthed ships in a right bend, meaning we could never see what’s next too far in advance. Once the moored boats are over, there’s a bunch of anchored barges in the water. Most of the time, there’s no pusher boat to move them around. A train traveled along the waterfront in the same direction as us. I’m hoping it will cross the bridge.

Across the river in Romania’s Giurgiu, there is also a port. We spotted its cruise ship terminal. Though Giurgiu isn’t a particular destination as far as I’m aware, it’s the quickest way to the Danube from Bucharest and the shortest way to travel from Bucharest to Sofia by public transport.

Slowly but surely, the Danube Bridge became clearer. It also goes by the name Giurgiu–Ruse Bridge and the old communist name Friendship Bridge as it dates back to 1954 and was built with aid of the USSR.

We had a slight headwind as we paddled closer, which wasn’t predicted. With the water fallen, it felt like maybe we weren’t making that much progress. It’s crazy how we paddled 292.5 kilometers in nine days – of which five were paddle days – during the peak of water. And now we’re ‘chasing the wave’—though we’ll never be able to catch up.

We were getting closer to the thin strip of an island before the bridge. There were several transloading spots where things can be moved from ship to rail and vice versa on the Bulgarian side. One of them even had a large slipway going into the water that suspiciously looked like a landing spot for a ferry to me.

There hasn’t been a ferry here in ages, so either this is very old infrastructure, or it’s a plan B for when something happens to the bridge. At 70 years of age, I think this 2.2-kilometers long road-rail-pedestrian-cyclist bridge might have a shorter lifespan than the average commie-built bridge due to heavy use by trains, trucks, and cars. I’m sure someone has plans for a replacement bridge and a ferry with train tracks.

(Edit: I just learned that on the 10th of July, six days after kayaking beneath the Giurgiu–Ruse Bridge, repairs on the asphalt on the Bulgarian side will commence. How will trucks and cars cross? Ferry. Heh.)

As we’re getting close to the bridge, we try to check for traffic. The Romanian side has a pushtow moving some barges around. The coast is clear. We can now admire the middle part of the Danube Bridge, which has a mobile thing that lifts up for oversize ships. It’s 30 meters from the water level to the bottom of the bridge during normal water levels, so that’s plenty for the usual ship traffic. I tried to look for photos or videos of the drawbridge, but couldn’t find anything.

Once at the bridge, we snapped some photos and videos. Jonas had made a vlog on approach. The truss pattern eclipsed the sun a number of times as we passed beneath the tracks and the asphalt. The shadow was cooling this early in the AM. We were on the other side at 7:25.

This is the fourth-last bridge on the Danube. Three more to go!

The Blue Kayak Sail Era Has Commenced

There was no wind for a while, and then a slight backwind began. I’m hoping we get to use this for kayak sailing. But for now, it’s still a bit too busy with ships to deploy the sail. As the shipping lane comes over to the right, we cross it to the left. We pass a small island on the right, which is mapped on OSM as Romanian and on Google Maps as Bulgarian. To our right is the port city of Marten, which features a lot of industrial buildings right at the river. We’re having trouble to see traffic coming from the front due to the low-hanging sun. We’ve been kayaking for one hour.

There’s a border police building at the end of Marten, but it looks abandoned. Behind that are some nice beaches and fisherman’s huts. Now that the water has fallen by more than one meter, it should be easier to find landing spots. On the last kayak day to Ruse, I was getting a bit annoyed at that.

Next, we crossed the shipping lane once again to take a side branch behind the island called Aleko or Taban. It’s more than 7 kilometers long. Once we were in the correct channel, I hoped for stronger wind to use the kayak sail, but the wind was unstable. Now that we were close to shore, we could see on both sides that the bottom 30 centimeters of all trees was without leaves, leaving a straight line of brown below the lush greenery. When we passed a heap of sand, it was possible to see that one week ago, it would have been submerged and impossible to make a landing.

It was 8:36 and we were two hours in, which means I ask Jonas for a protein bar. We stocked up on the white chocolate rice crisps ones from DM in Ruse.

The current was quite slow in this branch, which didn’t come as a complete surprise. As we’d kept ourselves well-hydrated, we needed to look for a spot for a short break on the eastern end of Aleko. We steered closer to the island to find something. At 9:17, I found something promising and we turned around rapidly and paddled against the bit of current to land there.

Once we’d landed, the dream of easy landing spots was quickly shattered, as the retreating water meant that mosquitoes could breed in the wet, stagnant mud ad libidum. I would have liked to stretch a little and hang around, but we had to make our business quick and efficient. Still, I walked away with more mosquito bites than I could count and discover in that moment. With muddy shoes and a skin on fire, I hopped back into Zucchini and pushed us away from the shore to continue paddling. That was not at all what I’d hoped for or anticipated. And yes, even in an emergency, I’ll still find the time to take a picture.

Those weren’t the only bugs out today. While out on the water, there were also these tiny flies – probably gnats – that were mostly annoying but didn’t bite (I think). They’d hang out around my face, mostly my mouth, nostrils, and eyes. If you’ve ever hung around horses, it’s mostly them that have similar flies permanently at their eyes using it as a watering hole. My eyes were mostly protected by my sunglasses, but having them almost suicide into your airways is just disgusting and diabolical. It also messes with my paddle stroke rhythm; Jonas and I need to be in synch.

With my itchy face and body, we carried on. Towards the end of the island, the tailwind had picked up enough for us to try out the new kayak sail. At 9:40, I deployed it for the first time. The blue kayak sail era has begun. Long may she reign.

Lunch in Ryahovo

We sailed a little, but sometimes the wind would drop and the sail would drop on my head. She also didn’t really fully unfold as there wasn’t enough wind to make the sticky plastic window unstick itself. And I have a feeling that the materials are even cheaper than the two kayak sails before this one. I think the blue mesh is also letting through more air than is… good for a sail meant to catch wind.

We sailed past the island that has a ‘beach bar’ mapped as Ryahovskite Maldives (Ryahovo Maldives). The head of these river islands are often sandy, so if the water levels are low enough for landing, they make a pretty good campsite. This place has 13 reviews on Google Maps. During drought, the beach becomes so big you could probably walk to another island.

In the distance, I spotted a cruise ship coming upstream. But then it disappeared behind a big Romanian river island called Ostrov Lung/Lungu. The shipping lane goes all the way on the left of this island, which is actually a narrower channel than what we’re taking to Ryahovo.

We keep trying to sail to Ryahovo, which is appearing in front of us. Though it doesn’t contribute much, the sail does help. We paddle past the port of Ryahovo.

Jonas and I make sure we’re closer to shore as we approach the landing site. As always, the current picks up at settlements, so we zip past some drowned bushes around the corner and find the slipway of Ryahovo at restaurant Fisherman’s Meeting (Рибен ресторант – Рибарска среща). There’s a shadowy spot below some trees on the left, so we land Zucchini there at 10:26 so she doesn’t overinflate while we eat. We’re a little under halfway to Tutrakan.

At the restaurant, we meet a chonky calico cat who is a little too agitated to receive pets from us. We sit down and order food: Šopska salata, fries with cheese, breaded cheese with kiselo zele (Bulgarian sauerkraut). For drinks, we first shared an Erdinger and a small sparkling water before also ordering coffee to hopefully keep awake. I’d sometimes check around the corner to see if Zucchini is doing well. Once, there was a stork stalking frogs nearby.

I asked for sauce with the fries, but they didn’t have mayo or ketchup. She asked if we wanted lyutenica with the fries, and I said yes. I thought it was going to be spicy, because љуто in Serbian means spicy or hot. But apparently, it’s not always spicy. And to me, it’s indistinguishable from ajvar, which I love. So I didn’t mind when we received quite a bucket of lyutenica with our food.

I walked back to the cats a number of times. Another cat that was white with a black nose, ears, and tail showed up. He was very much into the pets.

All in all, this was my favorite riverside restaurant on the Bulgarian Danube, and probably along the entire Danube. Historically, it didn’t often make sense for us to have lunch on a kayak day. But I’m very happy how well this works in Bulgaria. It’s quickly becoming my favorite happy surprise country on the Danube. The TID spends one night in Ryahovo.

Continuing to Tutrakan + Shipping Lane Confusion

I took off my leggings before we continued. It was also time to reapply sunscreen and deflate Zucchini a bit. And I grabbed the bottle of mosquito spray to have it nearby. Several fishing people were at this slipway either preparing to go out onto the Danube or coming back from it. We said hello and they were very friendly.

We waved goodbye at Ryahovo and continued kayaking to Tutrakan at 11:52. That was quite a long break. I asked Jonas to film me while we were paddling out, but I was very distracted by the dead floating fish I had to dodge. Disgusting.

We paddled closer to the center of the river to both catch the good current, the wind, and to pass a river island on the same side as the shipping lane. The island is called Mishka (Мишка). As we approached, a cargo ship flying the Dutch flag named Orfeo slowly pushed upstream.

Beyond this island, we could see the next island named Golyam Brashlen (Голям Бръшлен). A ship with a Slovak flag was slowly moving upstream on the left side of the river, so I thought the shipping lane passed this island on the left. There were also buoys on approach to the left channel. A big cargo ship came downstream, so I assumed it would go left and we could paddle around Big Ivy island on the right with a wide berth and while using our kayak sail. But this black-and-yellow gas ship came over to our side. Is there a shipping lane on both sides?

We managed to stay out of its way and also give the ship coming upstream plenty of space while sailing. The captain of the Romanian-flagged pushboat with empty barges coming upstream waved at us. His happy mood put me in a happy mood. I like it when the merchant sailors of the Danube acknowledge us. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch the ship’s name.

I only figured out later that that the shipping lane also passed on the right of this island. I’d simply misremembered the map and the Slovak ship being that far to the left had thrown me off. Though there might have been a bit of conflict on our course with the big ships, I think it was all good.

1000 Kilometers Paddled!

It was now 13:34 and we weren’t that far from Tutrakan anymore. We could see the spire of its TV tower sticking above the trees near to us at times. The Bulgarian islands and wetlands to our right are part of the Kalimok-Brashlen protected area.

Only when a water extraction plant and a cute beach with many summer worshippers appeared on the Romanian side, I realized how empty this stretch of the Romanian Danube had been. There was nothing visible of Romania to us since Giurgiu. Granted, we paddled between the Bulgarian mainland and Bulgarian river islands at times, but still, there’s basically nothing between Gostinu and Oltenița in front of Tutrakan. That’s a distance of roughly 45 kilometers without paved roads or villages. That’s because the Romanian shores are (generally) even lower than the Bulgarian ones.

Though I didn’t realize it at the time due to the lack of (readable) kilometer signs, this is the area where we paddled past kilometer 447. We restarted this Danube kayak trip at kilometer 1447 in Mohács, Hungary 99 days ago. This means we’ve paddled 1000 kilometers on the Danube this year!

I find it interesting that when we paddled past our 100th kilometer (1347) this year on the day from Erdut to Vukovar in Croatia this year, I was super impressed that it ‘only’ took us three days to cover 100 kilometers. Now, we’re doing Ruse to Tutrakan to Silistra in two consecutive days and that’s a distance of 117 kilometers. Bulgaria and our luck with the high water levels have dramatically shifted our perspective of what is doable in a day.

Sailing to Tutrakan + Douchebag Boat

The wind picked up and we had an amazing time sailing. If we could land, perhaps Jonas and I can switch positions and he can finally try out kayak sailing. Since the setup of this sail is a bit different, I tried to attach the top carabiner elsewhere by passing it to Jonas. He held it stable for two seconds, but then the sail started flapping uncontrollably. So he has sort of had the experience. Attaching the carabiners elsewhere wasn’t a success, so I reattached it to my life jacket. It’s still a bit dodgy to do that, but there are simply no good solutions.

As we were now less than 10 kilometers away from today’s target Tutrakan, we wanted to find one last pee spot. We found something on Kalimok island, but when I set foot on it, it was way too muddy and I almost lost my water shoe. So we continued…

At 14:48, we turned a bit and the town of Tutrakan revealed itself in full. The TV tower was still the most identifiable part. We snapped a bunch of pictures.

At 14:53, a big white ship came from upstream. It was headed towards us at a great speed. It wasn’t a cruise ship or a reasonably-sized motorboat one can live on, like on the day we kayaked from Svishtov to Ruse. No, this one had small peepee putin-energy. And the wake it left behind was huge and terrible.

I hoped they would see us and slow the fuck down, but they came within 40 meters of us and they didn’t slow down. At all. Many friendly Bulgarian fishermen slow down in their motorboats when they pass us. And their wake isn’t even that bad.

This motherfucking douchebag-class vessel came close to us. I told Jonas to stop paddling forward, just turn Zucchini around, stand still, and wait for the wake. Before we’d seen this shit ship shipping shitty sods, we’d even considered landing in this area. But being on land would have been a terrible idea, as the first wake were these big undulating waves between 0.5 and 1 meter tall, followed by some shorter sharper ones. The entire shoreline of the island rustled as the trees were being swamped. And then the waves bounced off the shore and back to us. All of this is so unnecessary and erosive.

Arriving in Tutrakan

After this, we continued paddling till we found a good landing spot on Radetzky island. We spent a few minutes there and enjoyed a sit on the trunk of a fallen tree. Grapes were growing here. I wanted to show Jonas the messages from my sister, who was in the process of receiving a second cat through the Cat Distribution System. But there was no signal on this side of the island, so it had to wait till Tutrakan.

We continued at 15:14 and didn’t stop until we were in Tutrakan. It was really becoming clear now how this town is shaped. It goes up quite steeply, but luckily, our accommodation is not far from the water. Though we initially booked two nights here, the wind forecast two days from now is unfavorable, so Jonas changed the booking during today’s kayaking to Tutrakan and cut off one night. If they’re not chill with that, we’d still rather pay €36 for a night we didn’t sleep in Tutrakan rather than paddle to Silistra with a strong headwind.

Near the end of Radetzky island, a cruise ship overtook us from the back. We thought for a second it would also land in Tutrakan, but they sailed right past. The Romanian city of Oltenița at the mouth of the Argeș River on the opposite side became clear. There used to be a ferry across the river between the two, but doesn’t work anymore. There were plans to relaunch it in 2023, but there was no activity as we approached our landing spot.

We sailed past the 433 kilometer sign, the pontoon of Tutrakan with its crane, the church, and various other cool buildings. The wind was strong. There were many people enjoying the embankment, and it made me a little sad we’re staying only one night.

Jonas asked me to fold my kayak sail away and prepare for landing. Around the corner of the embankment, there was another slipway with many fishing boats. We landed Zucchini there at 15:57.

One Night in Tutrakan

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