Fortunately, the place was touristy precisely because there were mountains.
Hoping to take a break from people, I devised a detour that would let me hit one of the surrounding peaks on my way through the region. Just past Tatariv, I would head up a gully between two ridges, summit the highest of the four corners of a saddle at the apex of the gully, then slide down the other side of the ridge into Vorokhta. My map, and guide, was a large tourist-information placard I passed on the road. I snapped a quick pic of it and continued onward.
|My 'map', complete with useless compass rose|
Sure enough, I quickly gave up pedaling and started pushing. After cresting one small shoulder, I realized that the climb would only continue, but the arc of my mood only followed suit. I love mountains!
Suddenly, I thought back to the handlebar extensions. Mountains are great, but lugging an overloaded bicycle up them is basically the height of absurdity. Might as well apply the noggin to simplifying the process, eh?
I had some paracord in my kit, and I figured I would just find a suitable branch that I could lash across the handles. Lo and behold, at that very moment, I looked up and saw a good-sized construction beam laying in the path.
|Detail of lashings|
It wasn't a panacea. It was still a ton of work. Being forced off the 'road' onto a 'footpath' (that may have actually been a deer trail) certainly exacerbated the challenge. But the lashings held, nothing broke, and I was buoyed with the feeling that I was channeling the spirit of both Bear Grylls and MacGuyver.
|Complete with rusty nails|
|Rolling hitch ftw|
More photos in my Carpathian album!