need a vignette . There are a lot of signs emphasising this . While I ' m stopped , I get out my atlas , look at the big picture , and decide at Győr I ’ ll get off the motorway . I have a want for some slower evening roads . It ’ s still 33 ° C , I ’ m feeling the fatigue I ' ve generated now , and I may possibly have a cold coming too . The backroad bonus : I stop at a village shop and stock up on some healthy food – a perfectly ripe avocado , cheese , tomatoes and bread , the staple of the road warrior .
One more fuel stop and then with the kind of timing a solo traveller would wish to share , a sign for a campsite appears . I pull in . It ’ s deserted . Closed .
With the stealth and instantaneous reaction of a lone biker , I ride past the gate . There are multiple gatherings of caravans and mobile homes , empty playgrounds , and locked toilet blocks . It just looks so available but is abandoned . Screw it , I ' m staying anyway . I strategically park in a way that could be seen as out of sight if no one notices me or looking for a site if someone does . Some people come , a Dutch couple , they open their caravan and confirm the place is closed . I ask if it ’ s OK to stay and don ’ t get a straight answer . I make a spectacular sandwich and decide to put up my tent . It instantly turns into a sweat tank . I turn it round to face the evening breeze . It doesn ’ t help . I lie on top of my sleeping bag and get my second night ’ s free sleep . Wild camping in a campground , it ’ s naughty-lite .
At 5 a . m . I see pink clouds through the open flap of the tent . I ' m late , I ' d prefer to be riding into that sky than looking out at it . Still , I slept soundly despite the gunshot crow scarer in the neighbouring field . With the regularity of a chiming clock , it soon lost its irritating qualities – to me , at least , if not the crows . It ’ s peaceful now , only the chirpy buzzing of this Hungarian
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