Farm Roads of Moldova

I had the opportunity to spend a weekend in Moldova, tucked between a work trip to Berlin and Warsaw. It was short, but enough to get a feel for the countryside and its slower rhythm.

Arrival

I flew in on SkyUp Airlines, a low-cost carrier with routes across Eastern Europe. From my window seat, the land came into view in neat, geometric blocks of farmland stretching toward the horizon. Moldova doesn’t have dramatic mountain ranges or coastline, but it makes an impression with its simplicity and scale.

Chisinau Airport is small by European standards. That works in its favor: customs was quick, and within minutes I was walking to the Sixt counter for my rental car. The drive out of the city was straightforward, and by nightfall I pulled into the small farm guesthouse that would be my base for the weekend. The owners had waited up for me, and I was grateful to find a room ready despite the late hour. The farmhouse is Conacul Mierii. Highly recommended, a 10/10!

Breakfast on the Farm

Morning started with a table set for a proper country breakfast: fresh eggs, ham, cheese, tomatoes, crepe-style pancakes, and several homemade jams. The farm produced honey, and it appeared in abundance—served in a striped ceramic pot shaped like a beehive, dripping slowly off the dipper. Strong coffee rounded it out. It was the kind of meal that makes you want to linger, but I had running to do. Despite the amazing running, the breakfasts were the high point of each day!

Saturday Runs

I split Saturday into two runs.

The first was a short shakeout, exploring the immediate surroundings. Dirt tracks cut between orchards and fields, narrowing into shaded corridors where tree branches formed a canopy overhead. These trails weren’t mapped or marked—it was just me, the farm roads, and the occasional dog barking from a distant yard.

The second run took me higher into the hills. This route took me to Bălănești Hill, the highest point in Moldova. At just under 1,400 feet, it’s modest by global standards, but the ridgeline opened into sweeping views of the countryside, a patchwork of fields and villages that stretched out endlessly. Reaching the top felt like standing at the quiet summit of the country.

By evening, I was back at the guesthouse, sharing a meal on the porch with the family who ran it. They poured small glasses of homemade spirits, and we sat together as the sun dropped behind the orchards, painting the sky with soft colors. Their son stopped over and served as our translator. We had a lot of fun discussing everything from honey production to snow cat operations.

Sunday’s Long Run

Sunday began the same way as the day before—with that incredible breakfast of eggs, cheese, ham, tomatoes, crepes with jam, and honey fresh from the farm. It was hearty enough to power me through what I knew would be a longer outing.

I set out under a clear sky, following sandy tracks that climbed through fields of wheat, orchards, and rows of sunflowers glowing in the morning light. Along the way, I came across Le Fag Tree, a centuries-old beech fenced off like a natural monument, its immense trunk towering over the landscape. The roads carried me along ridgelines with near-constant views of farmland stitched together in green and gold.

Partway through, I came across a stone cross set alone on a ridge, overlooking miles of fields and villages. It felt timeless, a quiet reminder of history and tradition in the middle of an otherwise empty stretch of countryside. The long run rolled on from there, slow and steady, until I returned to the farm, tired but content.

A Different Kind of Destination

Moldova isn’t a country that draws runners with big-name races or mountain summits. What it offers instead is space, quiet, and authenticity. The roads are unpaved, the trails are raw, and life in the countryside is tied to the rhythm of farming and family.

For an ultrarunner, that simplicity is its own appeal. You run here not to conquer elevation or chase records, but to move through a landscape that hasn’t changed much in decades. The honey, the tractors still working the fields, Le Fag Tree, the country’s highest hill, the cross on the ridge, the sunflowers at sunrise—it all becomes part of the run.

Moldova may not be a common stop on the ultrarunning map, but it’s worth marking down. Out here, far from Chisinau, the roads hum with bees, the fields stretch forever, and the miles come easy.