Welcome to the Hotel Ljublijana

Day 136

Mileage 12068 (19308 km)

Ljublijana, City of Dragons

So we have finally made it to Croatia with our first upset of the trip behind us and a little uncertainty over future ramifications from some trouble we had at a border crossing. Leaving Bled after a couple of days of drying out and hiking we moved Southwest towards the capital, Ljublijana with the intention of briefly exploring the ‘City of Dragons’. As we packed our bikes we both noted the date, Friday the 13th, and promised each other we’d take it easy on the road ahead. Though neither of us is superstitious we wondered what the day would bring and as we pulled into the city center it appeared as though yet another party was in full swing. Slovenia was hosting the European Basketball Championships or EuroBasket and the capital was alive with fans and parties celebrating the event. The center was given over to street stalls selling a wide variety of food and merchandize so we strolled through the old town and sampled some of what they had to offer. We hadn’t planned to spend too much time there so by early afternoon we returned to our bikes and drove South towards the border with Croatia. A pleasant ride along Highway 106 took through the heart of this beautiful country to the border crossing outside Banjaloka where we assumed we could cross without hinderance. With my Irish Passport I was waved through without question but the Border Guard took a special interest in Beth’s US Passport and on further inspection he noted her only stamp, from Dublin, clearly stated she had been granted a 90 day visa. With well over 120 days on the road at this point he refused to let us go any further insisting he would have to classify her as an “overstayer” and put a fat red stamp in her passport to prove it. As this would undoubtably create issues later we pleaded our case and his only recourse was to allow us to turn back and consult our embassies in Ljublijana. As it was now late on the Friday we resigned ourselves to a longer stay in Slovenia than we’d planned for. 

Working on the bike at Avtoval d.o.o. in Grosuplje

With our initial experience of the country being so positive we returned to the capital and looked for a comfortable camp determined to research where we stood on the legal aspect of immigration and visa extensions. It didn’t take long to discover the Schengen Agreement and its implications for the various EU countries that signed it. Designed to ease border crossings for EU citizens the treaty has opened trade and commerce opportunities but dissolved the role of official border posts. It is now virtually impossible to get a stamp when crossing a land border within Europe though each country appears to have their own interpretation and guidelines for how it is enforced. On paper it looked as though Beth had overstayed but she hadn’t entered Schengen territory until we rode into France. Ireland and the UK refused to join. Each country  within Europe can be either EU or Schengen, both or neither and this rather observant border guard had mistook sweet, innocent Beth for a deviant criminal. Luckily for both of us he didn’t insist on a cavity search. The weekend passed quickly, we were able to catch a few of the basketball games with some of the locals and as Monday dawned we sat patiently waiting for our first embassy to open. We assumed between the British, US and Irish embassies we’d receive some help or, at least some useful advice. We had carefully checked our dates and it was just about 90 days since Beth had entered France but with nothing to prove it we hoped for a sympathetic diplomat to throw us a lifeline. The expressions “tits on a bull” and “chocolate teapot” come to mind when recalling how helpful our distinguished Foreign Service employees were. The best advice we received was “try to sneak across at a busier border post and hope for the best”. By lunchtime on Monday we realized it was time to come up with our own plan so we resolved to try to sneak across a busier border post and hope for the best. In the meantime we had become rather attached to our new friends at the Laguna Campsite on the outskirts of Ljublijana and on our intended departure day the heavens opened, yet again, and we spent the entire day sheltering from the rain drinking ‘Indian water’ at the bar with an Iranian, an Israeli, a Serb and a Croat. There has to be a punchline in there somewhere.

Motorcyclists beware of large red exclamation marks

While temporarily delayed in Ljublijana we decided to take care of some basic bike maintenance, the chain and sprockets on my bike were long overdue for a change, I had stretched their lifespan to a whopping 30,000 miles and had been reminded of this daily by an uncomfortable grinding sensation every time I rolled out of camp that this was a little too far. A visit to the local BMW dealership in Ljublijana proved fruitless so we tracked down another bike workshop on the outskirts of town who were most helpful, pointing us in the direction of another BMW supplier 10 kilometers away in Grosuplje. We made the short journey out of the city and talked to Dejan Valentincic who insisted on selling us the parts at a 15% discount and fitting them for free. For the first time in many years we left a BMW dealership feeling as though we hadn’t been taken advantage of, the mechanics even let us get involved in the workshop in case we had to do it ourselves somewhere down the road. The staff at Avtoval d.o.o. ought to be commended for lending support to people actually using their bikes for the purpose for which they were designed. 

The old and the new, Zagreb

With deep regrets that we couldn’t stay longer we bade farewell to our new found friends in Ljublijana who tried to ply us with more ‘Indian water’ on the morning of our departure. We adjusted our route to take us East towards Croatia through Slovenia’s second busiest border crossing.  By early afternoon we had followed the Sava River to the border and after a cursory glance at our passports on the Slovenian side we passed through a deserted Croatian border post and cruised on towards Zagreb. We found a camp on the outskirts of the city and spent the rest of the day exploring the capital. We met a friendly German couple who suggested we alter our intended route South to take in the Plitvicki National Park so the following morning we wound our way along Highway 1 taking in the impressive countryside of this new country. Quiet villages lined the road as locals worked the land harvesting crops by hand, another reminder of the impending end of the Summer season, the tranquil settings subtly marred by the pockmarked walls of shell shocked buildings, evidence of the conflict that gripped this region not so long ago. 

Plitvicki National Park, Croatia

Plitvicki National Park proved to be a worthy detour and we set camp for a couple of days to give us time to explore the area. Unfortunately our visit coincided with the weekend and an endless stream of tour buses converged on the park as we pulled up, we tried to get off the beaten track to explore the lesser visited areas of the park but the most popular attractions were swarmed with tour groups doing their best to keep up with overwhelmed guides. The park itself was beautiful, a cascade of pristine lakes linked by crystal clear waterfalls, criss-crossed by wooden walkways and narrow paths. We spent an entire day marveling at the wonderful sights and dodging the crowds before returning to camp and plotting the next leg of our journey. For as long as I can remember the coastal roads of Croatia have held a special place amongst the worthy roads in biker lore and we were both eager to see if they lived up to their reputation. As we came over the last ridge and the Mediterranean Sea opened up before us with countless islands stretching off over the horizon we knew we were in for a treat. We joined Highway 8 at Senj and turned South hugging the shoreline, the subtle tang of ocean air wafting up from the translucent waters. The temperature rose and the road surface improved allowing us to thoroughly enjoy the twists and turns, losing ourselves in the delight of riding this incredible stretch of highway. We were so lost in the moment we almost didn’t notice the gnarly old traffic cop in his crinkled uniform waving us over after checking our speed on his radar. Beth, ever the diplomat, cracked open her helmet and gave him a smile that instantly melted his steely expression, he was soon smiling with her and asking, respectfully, if we could slow it down a bit. Branching off the main highway we crossed onto the island of Pag and, riding to its most northerly point we found a camp and were soon settling down to a peaceful night under the stars. We enjoyed the warmer temperatures and slept fitfully, excited at the prospect of riding more of the Croatian coast.

Pag Island, Croatia

As day dawned we packed up and were soon back on Highway 8, passing tiny fishing villages clustered around pristine inlets. Blue skies and azure waters made for a spectacular day’s riding and before we knew it we had reached our destination. The city of Split on the Dalmatian coast has an incredible center nestled within sprawling suburbs. The Diocletian Palace forms the heart of the old town, a beautifully preserved Roman ruin that still serves as a bustling hub of shops, restaurants and accommodation. The polished stone pathways have welcomed countless visitors since it was first inhabited in the 5th century AD and after the deserted ruins of Rome it was refreshing to see and feel the complex brought to life. It didn’t take much imagination to get a sense for how it must have felt during the reign of the Roman Empire. A few enterprising locals in Legionnaire costumes roamed the streets posing for photos with tourist willing to pay for the privilege adding to the overall atmosphere. From our relaxed camp outside the city we could bus into town avoiding the choked city streets while enjoying a refreshing drink at the same time. Evenings were spent relaxing on the beach watching the sunset over the ocean and morning swims in the cool pristine waters made for a great start to the day. 

 Diocletian's Palace, Split

From here we plan to try our luck at the border of Bosnia-Herzegovina before returning to Dubrovnik in the near future. Our episode at the Slovenian border has served as a useful reminder of how officialdom can throw a spanner into our plans at any time and the likelihood of more difficulties as we progress towards less cooperative countries. We’ve received plenty of well intentioned advice but with the myriad of nationalities and bureaucracies involved only time will tell how our journey will evolve. 

Colorful Croatia