Another day, another stretch of the Danube, and this time we arrived in Vidin, in the far northwest of Bulgaria where we visited Baba Vida fortress.

The area around Vidin is not wealthy. In fact, it’s considered one of the poorest in the country. Like so many of the other places we’ve visited, there are so many damaged and abandoned buildings, including the factories which once made this area prosperous. You drive through a village that looks abandoned – but then you spot a car, or a washing line.

Like much of the region, Vidin has seen people leave over the years, drawn away by work, opportunity, or simply the pull of a different life. The population has thinned, and with it, parts of the city feel like they’re waiting for something that may not return. One of the most striking reminders of that change is the synagogue. It’s a magnificent building, large and elegant, a testament to a once-thriving Jewish community. Today, there are very few Jews left in Vidin, and the synagogue stands as a kind of echo, a beautiful structure holding the memory of a population that has largely moved on.

But like much of what we’ve seen, that doesn’t mean the area lacks history. Quite the opposite. Vidin sits on the banks of the Danube, and its position made it important for centuries, a trading hub, a defensive stronghold, and at one point one of the largest towns in Bulgaria.

Baba Vida

Not far from where the ship docked stands Baba Vida, the best-preserved medieval fortress in Bulgaria. Its origins go back to Roman times, built over earlier fortifications, and later expanded through the medieval period. The structure we see today took shape between the tenth and fourteenth centuries, and like so much in this region, it passed through many hands. The Ottomans rebuilt parts of it and used it as a military store.

It’s an imposing place, thick stone walls and solid towers, built for defence rather than beauty. But there’s a story attached to it that adds a more human layer.

Legend has it that a local nobleman left his lands to his three daughters, Vida, Kula, and Gamza. The two younger sisters made poor choices, their husbands wasting their inheritance. Vida, the eldest, chose differently. She remained unmarried, ruled wisely, and built a fortress to defend her people. It stood strong against repeated attacks, and when she died, the fortress took her name. Baba Vida, the old woman Vida, a ruler remembered not for power, but for resilience.

I have to be honest, visiting an empty fortress like this one is dead boring. We could have done it in 15 minutes, not 45. Pete decided he’d had enough and walked back to the boat. He wasn’t the only one. I reckon he missed out on the next bit.

Belogradchik

From there, we continued on to Belogradchik, driving up into the hills along winding roads that gave occasional glimpses of the valleys below – and the rainclouds threatening in the distance. We were lucky in that regard – the rain stayed away from where we were. Just as well, as you’ll see.

If Baba Vida is solid and grounded, Belogradchik is something else entirely.

The fortress there is built into a series of towering rock formations that look almost unreal. The original stronghold at the very top of the rise dates back to Roman times, but what you see now is the result of centuries of additions and rebuilding, including significant work by the Ottomans in the nineteenth century.

The rocks themselves are the real story. Stretching for kilometres, rising up to two hundred metres, they’ve been shaped over millions of years from limestone and sandstone. Erosion has carved them into strange, almost sculptural forms, and like anywhere with formations this unusual, people have attached stories to them.

Each rock seems to have a name. The Bear, the Shepherd Boy, the Madonna, the Monks. Entire legends have grown around them. One tells of a nun who fell in love and was cast out, only to be turned to stone along with her lover and those who pursued her. Another follows a young girl and her tragic fate, again ending with transformation into rock. There’s a pattern here. If you live long enough in a landscape like this, you start to see stories in stone.

Our tour guide told us some of those stories, explaining that the nun and the young girl both prayed to God for help. I’ve gotta wonder about a merciful God who thinks the answer to problems is to turn people to stone.

But I’m here to tell you climbing all those stairs to get up to that arch is hard work for this septuagenarian. And I wasn’t the only one. Even then (younger, fitter souls told me) SURPRISE beyond that arch there’s another set of stairs and eventually steps that resemble a ladder. Pass. My heart and I had a conversation and agreed just below the arch was good enough. And the views were amazing.

We didn’t have time to explore anything in depth. That’s becoming a theme on this trip. You get the outline, the highlights, and just enough detail to realise how much you’re missing.

Still, even from a distance, the combination of fortress and rock formations is striking. It’s the kind of place that stays with you, not just for what it is, but for how improbable it looks.

By the end of the afternoon, we were back on the coach, heading once again for the ship, carrying another set of impressions. Bulgaria continues to surprise. Not polished, not always easy, but layered with history and stories.

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If you’ve missed any of the posts for this trip, go here. Europe 2026