Tracking bears in Transylvania, Romania
21.07.2023 - 08:41
/ roughguides.com
/ Greg Dickinson
Home to over 8,000 brown bears, the Carpathian Mountains in Transylvania , Romania are one of Europe’s last frontiers. Greg Dickinson joined Romania’s leading wildlife guide in search of a bear.
He was now just inches away from me. Sharp, feral fangs. Thick wires of hair covering every inch of his heavy frame. And not to forget the firm, assertive handshake. These were my first observations of Dan Marin, the man who was going to lead me deep into Romania’s wilderness in search of a bear.
I met Dan in his hometown of Zărnești, a former farming village bordering the historic region of Transylvania. Here cubes of Soviet architecture overwhelm, while the couple of saloon bars create a racket on the otherwise deserted main road. Everything about Zărnești would have compelled me to board the next tin can train back to Brașov were it not for the muscular Southern Carpathian mountains that guard the horizon just ten miles beyond.
Brasov, Romania © emperorcosar/Shutterstock
I was both intrigued and wary of these bear-infested mountains, and my fear was only exacerbated by the measly pepper spray can, apparently our only form of protection, stuffed in the side pocket of Dan’s rucksack.
“Here, eat this.” We had been walking for a few minutes when Dan stopped to tug a fistful of wilted leaves from the ground. I hesitated before shoving them into my mouth; a Wonka-esque burst of acidic berries smacked my senses. “This is sorrel. You will pay £5 for a bunch of this in England, but here it grows everywhere.” He popped a few into his own mouth, unflinching, and continued up the path. Since leaving his job at the local munitions factory in 1992, Dan has acquired an encyclopaedic understanding of these mountains, though perhaps even more impressive is that he has both taught himself fluent English and acquired a distinguished Home Counties accent.
The early stages of our route followed the trails of Europe’s last nomadic shepherds. Every summer a swarm of cattle stamps these paths flat, but today the traffic was made up of yellow-bellied toads who panicked from puddle to puddle. Dan delighted in scooping one up, showing me its elaborate colouring that would be far better suited in a Madagascan swamp. We soon discovered why they were in such a hurry.
“How long ago was it here?” I whispered as we bent over a series of bear paw prints. Recently, he told me, a few hours perhaps, and almost instantaneously my perception of the forest changed. Gaps between tree trunks became bears on their hind legs. Birds were no longer flying, they were escaping. Twig cracks and ground thumps closed in on us. The bear tracking had begun.
Our next clue was something that only Dan would have spotted.
“Do you see this yellow stuff here?” he was on