When I inserted my driver card into the tachograph on Monday morning, the device reported an error and did not record my weekend rest. Instead of starting the planned route, I went to a tachograph centre in Martin, where a technician checked the card and confirmed the problem on a printout. Nobody knew exactly why it had happened, but sometimes technology fails.
Then I continued to an unloading point in Prešov. It was the same company where I had waited a record seven hours and fifteen minutes in Prague the previous week. At this branch, I waited “only” four hours, which almost felt like an improvement. I eventually unloaded, moved to one of our central warehouses and stayed there overnight.
Nine Thousand Litres of Alcohol and My First Customs-Seal
On Tuesday, I carried a load I had never transported before: nine 1,000 litre IBC containers filled with alcohol. Because the freight was heading to Hungary, a customs officer arrived, the declaration had to be processed and the semi-trailer received a customs seal.
The route took me over the Donovaly mountain pass. In summer, the road has a special charm as it climbs between the mountains, although I could imagine how difficult it must become in winter.
Driving through Slovakia is a serious trucking school.
Narrow roads in very, very poor condition, potholes, restrictions and mountain passes teach a driver to anticipate problems and handle a semi-trailer combination far more than endless motorways ever could.
A Safe Stop Seventy Kilometres from Serbia Border
After unloading, the dispatcher wrote that I was expected in Prešov by two o’clock the following afternoon. That plan, however, was based on Google Maps rather than the reality of truck transport. It was already around six in the evening, when motorway parking areas in Hungary fill quickly.
I parked beside the Zöld Vendéglő restaurant in the Hungarian village of Akasztó, ordered Hungarian goulash and a large beer, and stayed there for the night.
Only then did I realise that I was sleeping around seventy kilometres from the Serbian border. I was deep in southern Hungary and a long way from Slovakia.
From the Hungarian Plains to Gerlach
I set off at six on Wednesday morning, drove through Budapest and Bratislava, and crossed Slovakia to one of our central warehouses. A different assignment was waiting there: equipment for a large festival in eastern Slovakia. I also discovered that I was part of a small fleet of three trucks, each carrying a different part of the festival setup.
My remaining driving and working time did not allow me to reach the festival that day, so I stopped near Štrba. That evening became one of my best trucking days so far. I had started in southern Hungary, around seventy kilometres from the Serbian border, crossed the flat Hungarian landscape and ended beneath the High Tatras, a mountain range I have explored almost entirely on foot.
It was 28 degrees, the sun was shining, and I ordered fried Encián cheese with chips, tartar sauce and a draught beer. Gerlach, Slovakia’s highest peak, stood in front of me, while my truck loaded with festival equipment was parked behind me.
This was exactly the kind of truck life I enjoy.
Three Access Roads, a Locked Gate and a Festival Unloading
Thursday had a completely different atmosphere. The festival site was at an amphitheatre with several complicated access roads.
First, the navigation sent me towards a bridge with only 3.2 metres of clearance, so I had to turn back. On my next attempt, I approached the site from below and was told that I was completely wrong. There was almost nowhere to turn, so I had to use part of the grass. The second road led between houses, fences and parked cars, with only a few centimetres of space in places. At the end, I found a locked gate and a road from which reversing the entire combination would have been almost impossible.
Eventually, someone called the caretaker with the keys. He opened the gate and, in typical Slovak fashion, still told me that next time I should check the maps. The map could not show me that one of three normal looking roads would end at a locked gate. Behind it, I saw the third and by far easiest access route, leading directly from the main street near the hospital.🤦♂️
Unloading the refrigerators, parasols, cabinets and other festival equipment took almost three hours. Meanwhile, one dispatcher sent me my next transport, another later told me to ignore it, and a technician called me to a tachograph service centre.
A Difficult Day, Good Work and the Next Chapter
After the service visit, I loaded at another central warehouse and returned to Martin. I parked the truck, went home, took a shower, ate dinner and later walked to a nearby pub for a draught beer. Then I realised that nothing truly terrible had happened. There had been bad navigation, narrow roads, trees, a locked gate, a three-hour unloading, a service visit and confusion from dispatch, but I had solved every situation.
After sleeping at home, I returned to the already loaded truck on Friday and made four deliveries: two pallets, one, four and finally thirteen. More importantly, that calmer day confirmed something for me. I am looking forward to a stage of my trucking life when I might start early, finish around two or three in the afternoon and return home every evening.
Perhaps I am saving that kind of truck driving for my next chapter outside Slovakia.