Day 22 - The Fried Castle
Thursday 17th July 2014
Mick has a problem with his bike. The left front disc is loose, friction has broken up the wavy spacers behind the collets and frequent braking has caused the collets to wear flats around the circumference.
.
He noticed a rattling noise a few days ago but at first couldn't find the source. It's not dangerous at present but further wear will become a big problem, so a fix is needed.
So
a change to the route is required. We ride over to Pecs where there is a
BMW car dealership. They cannot help. The nearest BMW Motorrad is north
at Balatonbogar on the shores of Lake Balaton, about 120km away.
So
that's where we go, to Full-Gas BMW and Suzuki dealership. There's a
service depot and parts. We get talking to a lad called Peter. He has
great English and helps us find our way around. He and his mates are off
on a tour to Romania this summer so we pick up some helpful tips.
In the service garage we find Gabor Gehringer working on the bikes. He has no English, but a little German, and he couldn't be more helpful. They don't have the required parts in stock, but he finds us an Odds and Sods bin and Mick starts rooting through. He finds two correct washers, two more right size but flat, and three of the collets. We wanted five of each, but it's enough to do the job.
Mick is going to do the work himself, but Gabor insists on taking a look and soon gets his tools out and gets on with the job himself. He craftily crimps the flat washers into a semblance of the real parts. They will do the job, and in twenty minutes it's all sorted. No more rattle. They will all be replaced when we get home but for now this fix should be good for the rest of the trip.
Gabor will take no money for the job. He can't speak our language, he's obviously got a stack of jobs to get on with in the busy service centre, but he helps out two English guys on tour from the goodness of his heart. BMW service at its best. Big thank you Gabor.
By now it's late afternoon. We drive along the main road for miles without even seeing one of the biggest lakes in Europe. It's about 50 miles long but hidden from view from the through road by trees and houses.
Eventually we turn down a side street and get a glimpse. We keep going and end up on the shores. Mick reckons it's like Blackpool on a lake. I concur. The afternoon thunderstorm is building. It's been sweltering these last few days in Hungary and by 4pm the pressure builds up into a storm. We decide to get moving.
Skirting the edge of the rain we turn south east away from the lake headed in the general direction of Romania. After 120km we stop to refuel. There's a truck stop over the road with accommodation. It doesn't look too appealing but we check it out anyway. The surly girl at the counter mutters something. My natural flair for languages rapidly translates the Hungarian into English.
"We are full, go away and stop bothering me, I'm trying to finish varnishing my nails", says Waynetta.
So
it's Tomtom to the rescue. I ask it for hotels near us and there is one
900 metres away. We follow the route and arrive at the marvellous hotel
Fried Kastely, a castle-styled mansion set in lovely grounds on
tree-clad slopes. It looks (and is) very posh. But Hungarian prices
being what they are we secure a twin room with breakfast for €44 each.
En-suite, towelling bathrobes, sweeties on the pillow, all the trimmings. Reminds me of my corporate days. The restaurant too is excellent. Greek salad starters, Carpathian trout for me, expertly filleted at the table by the waiter. Mick has goulash.
The wines are from their own vineyard on the slopes above the castle. I try both red and white. Mick sticks to Weizen Bier.
We
turn in early, tired from the heat and worries of the day. Tomorrow we
should get back on track and ride over to the Romanian border.
Mick has a problem with his bike. The left front disc is loose, friction has broken up the wavy spacers behind the collets and frequent braking has caused the collets to wear flats around the circumference.
.
He noticed a rattling noise a few days ago but at first couldn't find the source. It's not dangerous at present but further wear will become a big problem, so a fix is needed.
 |
| The shore of Lake Balaton |
In the service garage we find Gabor Gehringer working on the bikes. He has no English, but a little German, and he couldn't be more helpful. They don't have the required parts in stock, but he finds us an Odds and Sods bin and Mick starts rooting through. He finds two correct washers, two more right size but flat, and three of the collets. We wanted five of each, but it's enough to do the job.
Mick is going to do the work himself, but Gabor insists on taking a look and soon gets his tools out and gets on with the job himself. He craftily crimps the flat washers into a semblance of the real parts. They will do the job, and in twenty minutes it's all sorted. No more rattle. They will all be replaced when we get home but for now this fix should be good for the rest of the trip.
Gabor will take no money for the job. He can't speak our language, he's obviously got a stack of jobs to get on with in the busy service centre, but he helps out two English guys on tour from the goodness of his heart. BMW service at its best. Big thank you Gabor.
 |
| Clouds gathering over the lake |
By now it's late afternoon. We drive along the main road for miles without even seeing one of the biggest lakes in Europe. It's about 50 miles long but hidden from view from the through road by trees and houses.
Eventually we turn down a side street and get a glimpse. We keep going and end up on the shores. Mick reckons it's like Blackpool on a lake. I concur. The afternoon thunderstorm is building. It's been sweltering these last few days in Hungary and by 4pm the pressure builds up into a storm. We decide to get moving.
Skirting the edge of the rain we turn south east away from the lake headed in the general direction of Romania. After 120km we stop to refuel. There's a truck stop over the road with accommodation. It doesn't look too appealing but we check it out anyway. The surly girl at the counter mutters something. My natural flair for languages rapidly translates the Hungarian into English.
"We are full, go away and stop bothering me, I'm trying to finish varnishing my nails", says Waynetta.
 |
| Fried Castle |
 |
| Parked up under the cameras |
En-suite, towelling bathrobes, sweeties on the pillow, all the trimmings. Reminds me of my corporate days. The restaurant too is excellent. Greek salad starters, Carpathian trout for me, expertly filleted at the table by the waiter. Mick has goulash.
The wines are from their own vineyard on the slopes above the castle. I try both red and white. Mick sticks to Weizen Bier.
 |
| Great menu - check out the prices |
 |
| Greek salad starter |
 |
| Filleted Carpathian Trout |
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