Bunkin' with monks.

Day 144 

Mileage 12958 (20732 km)

Ostrog Monastery, Montenegro

Refreshed after an early morning swim at our campsite south of Split we packed up our bikes and ate a quick breakfast before planning a route into Bosnia-Herzegovina. The obvious, direct path is rarely our first choice so we scanned our maps for the thinnest, most contorted roads to take us over the Biokovo Mountains towards Mostar. As we wound our way out of deep valleys along narrow switch back roads with hairpin corners it became apparent that our maps lacked sufficient detail to chart every road but with clear skies and a visible sun we kept our bikes pointed roughly east and hoped for the best. At one point the road virtually vanished beneath us, we should have guessed that the lack of traffic was an indication that something was wrong and as the road gradually deteriorated we soon found ourselves on a loose gravel bed where a road had once been. In the distance we could see an occasional vehicle using an alternative road so we pushed through and were soon back on asphalt with only a rough idea of where we were. Before we knew it we had somehow stumbled upon a border post and as we tentatively approached we wondered how this one would work out. 

'Stari Most' The Bridge of Mostar

One of the advantages of traveling the way we do is we have plenty of time and rarely a fixed destination for the day. This tends to diffuse some of the bluster and authority carried by those in uniform who can try to emphasize their own importance by making us wait. Unperturbed, we typically fold our arms and wait patiently until they find an excuse to let us pass. On this occasion the Croatian side seemed happy enough with our passports but a request for bike documents was met with a shrug of our shoulders and hand gestures indicating we’d have to dig through our luggage. An impatient wave hurried us through and it was now the turn of the Bosnian officials. A similar response to their requests did not work and they seemed perfectly happy to have us pull over and fumble through our gear for the necessary paperwork. Traveling through Europe on motorcycles with US license plates typically works in our favor, parking attendants, speed traps and traffic police have, so far, left us well alone, although there may be a mountain of tickets sitting on the doormat at our, long abandoned, apartment in California. One document we are required to carry is proof of insurance otherwise known as the ‘green card’ and we’ve been diligent about this since day one. The insurance companies, however, have conspired to make it as difficult as possible to obtain one policy that works everywhere especially when you get into eastern Europe. Our policy is good for most countries but not for Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina. It didn’t take the border guard long to point this out and he chortled “You have problem” as his colleagues gathered to look over his shoulder. They all seemed to be in a rather amicable mood and we suspect the empty beer cans inside their office may have been a contributing factor. After half an hour they grew tired of our refusal to become flustered and, returning our documents, told us to go, pointing towards Mostar, so we fired up our engines and took of into Bosnia. 

Blue skies over Bosnia

Some countries within the former Yugoslavia seemed to have recovered from the Balkan War better than others, unfortunately Bosnia-Herzegovina is not one of them. Driving through the small city of Mostar the damage was evident on the scarred walls of many of the buildings we noticed, most were still occupied but some lay in ruins awaiting final demolition. With evening approaching we made our way towards a campsite on the outskirts with the intention of exploring the city the next morning. Arriving at ‘Camp Wimbledon’ we were immediately made to feel welcome by ‘Valtah’ from Austria who insisted on having a quick shot of schnapps before we got settled and we spent the evening being thoroughly entertained by a group of young Germans and Bavarians. With our travels taking us further east we are beginning to notice subtle changes in architecture and culture and in the city of Mostar church towers and minarets pierce the skyline while church bells and the wailing Islamic ezan compete for the attentions of the faithful. After a traditional breakfast of bread and omelets we wondered through the maze of cobbled streets towards the old town and the infamous ‘Stari Most’ or Bridge of Mostar. Rising 60 feet above the Neretva River it became a popular tourist attraction where local boys would dive off it into the ice cold water below once they had collected enough money from onlookers. During the war it was senselessly destroyed but has since been beautifully restored and, while there, we looked on in amazement as a wiry, young local took the plunge. 

Local color at the Belvedere Hotel, Dubrovnik

After Mostar we made our way further inland along Highway 17 towards the capital, Sarajevo. We shared the road with a variety of vehicles, from slow moving Soviet era Trabants and Yugos to modern luxury saloons with ‘official’ license plates driving recklessly at breakneck speeds. In general the roads were relatively empty so it was tempting to push our speed beyond the posted limits. The locals appeared to have an uncanny ability to know where the police liked to set up their speed traps although we never actually saw a radar gun in use, instead the officer would wave at you with a little red lollipop and point to the side of the road where he wanted you to pull over. On most occasions they seemed rather baffled by what we were riding, too wide to be a motorcycle yet not enough wheels for a car. By the time they had figured it out we’d already passed them by breathing a sigh of relief on our uninsured machines. 

Sarajevo suffered more than most cities during the Balkan war, relentlessly shelled during a 3 year siege, it is still struggling to recover. The hollow remains of derelict buildings are gradually being replaced and the city has an optimistic air to it. The historical centre still bears many scars but it is as lively and vibrant as any we’ve been to and the mix of east meeting west adds even more character. We spent a day and a night exploring the Ottoman-era bazaars, sampling the local food and poking our noses into anything that looked interesting before the call of the road beckoned once more and we turned South towards the coast. A beautiful road took us through the Sutjeska National Park hugging the border of Montenegro before dropping us back into Croatia just South of Dubrovnik. The Bosnian border guard simply stated that “we did have papers for the motorcycles” before waving us through but it was the Croatians who proved to be difficult on this occasion. Instantly spotting our lack of insurance coverage for Croatia they called a local insurance sales representative who happily drove halfway up a mountain to sell us a policy that did cover Croatia along with all the other countries we had cover for already. It’s strange how helpful insurance companies can be when they are taking your money. Only 90 euros each for a policy we would require for the next three days before entering Montenegro which was conveniently excluded from the new coverage, what a bargain. 

Sunset, Dubrovnik Bay

Returning to the coast we were met with warmer weather and spectacular sunsets. Dubrovnik turned out to be one of the most beautiful cities we have visited yet and we spent our time wandering through the medieval city which is encircled by intimidating fortress walls on the shimmering shores of the Adriatic Sea. On the outskirts of the city are the haunting remains of the Hotel Belvedere which still stands in ruins after it was attacked during the war. Supposedly off limits to the public it is easy to gain access through many of the broken windows and wander the deserted maze of halls imagining how it must have looked during its heyday. An open air amphitheater overlooks the water and provides a superb view of the old city while allowing access to many recessed rocky alcoves ideal for a spot of afternoon skinny dipping. Once we had scared off most of the wildlife and several of the locals we donned our damp clothes and took a sunset stroll back along the shore and into the old fortress where a vibrant atmosphere awaited. Bars and restaurants buzzed with the sound of hungry diners and gentle laughter. 

Bay of Kotor, Montenegro

From Dubrovnik we took the coastal road to Montenegro unsure of what to expect as our new insurance policy would become ineffectual on leaving Croatia. The Croatian border guards took a cursory glance at us and waved us on and the Montenegrin official inspected our paperwork but seemed satisfied with what we had so we were soon enjoying our biggest surprise of the journey. With few expectations we soon found ourselves driving around the breathtaking Bay of Kotor making repeated stops in an attempt to absorb it all. The northern hemisphere’s most southerly fjord is flanked by steeply rising limestone mountains contrasting sharply with the deep blue waters of the Adriatic. Our planned route took us up into the Lovcen National Park on what we had thought would be a fairly major road. Barely wide enough for two vehicles and practically deserted it climbed higher than we had thought possible before leveling out on a lonely plateau dotted with old farm houses surrounded by stunning views of the darker peaks which give the country its name. Without a set destination we rode into the afternoon steadily moving North as ominous clouds began gathering on the horizon. Anxious to find a place to camp before the weather turned we spotted a sign promising ‘motorcycle club and camping’. Intrigued, we turned down a smaller road which eventually turned to dirt before reaching Etno Selo Montenegro. This ‘traditional village’ is owned and operated by the Blagojevic family and after a quick tour of the property we opted to stay in one of their little log cabins. With dark skies looming and the prospect of steady rain for the next two days the thought of camping lost its appeal. Even though the village was scheduled to close the following day for the winter, our wonderful host, Ivanka, promised us we could stay as long as we wanted and after she cooked us a hearty traditional breakfast on the first morning the warmth and charm of this hidden paradise took hold and we signed up for another night. Other than electricity and coffee, the village is produces everything it consumes and they hope to get completely ‘off the grid’ soon. In summer it is fully booked but this late in the season we had the entire place to ourselves. 

Our log cabin, Etno-Selo, Montenegro

Once the weather improved we left our cosy cabin and took the advice of a local guide who recommended a ‘special’ road through Durmitor National Park. As soon as we turned off the main highway we knew we were in for a treat. Our special road spiraled up inside and outside the mountains through rough hewn tunnels littered with fresh rock fall, clinging to the side of cliffs where no road belonged. We soon found ourselves within the Durmitor Mountain range where hardy villagers were busy preparing for the coming winter, the last harvest collected by women toiling in the fields while men gathered firewood or repaired their stone cottages. The weather had not completely cleared but the low cloud that remained simply added to the atmosphere of this natural conservation area. With every twist and turn in the road we were greeted with a new panorama seemingly refreshed and enlivened by the shifting cloud. We could have spent longer within the park but at such a high elevation even the daytime temperatures where chilly so we reluctantly moved on. 

Pa Emer Camp, Albania

Dropping back into the central highlands of Montenegro we took a detour up to the Ostrog Monastery, perched precariously in the face of a cliff 900 meters above the valley floor it offers the weary traveller a free bed and a free meal. We hadn’t planned to stay but the resident workers insisted we bring our bikes inside the compound for added security and we soon settled into the quiet bunk rooms after enjoying a simple but delicious dinner. Morning came soon as the devotees arose for morning worship at 530am. We rose with them but chose to watch the sunrise rather than impose further and by eight o’clock, our earliest start yet, we were back on the road. 

Albania lay ahead and it has been an exciting change since we arrived yesterday, challenging roads, chaotic cities and a wild variety of vehicles, old and new, somehow all combine to function fluidly in this unique nation. We thought we would encounter conditions like this further along in our journey but Albania has left us oddly satisfied. The rule of the road appears to be the biggest vehicle has the right of way and the use of turn signals is nonexistent. Four lane highways mysteriously become oneway lanes and perfectly smooth asphalt can quickly deteriorate into loose gravel or mud without warning. Every kilometer gained is its own reward and every stop becomes an excuse for locals to gather around the bikes and stare. Welcomes are warm and enquiries as to our intended journey genuine and open. As a young democracy much remains to be achieved but from our limited experience we feel the need to explore more. Sadly our goal of crossing the Sahara no later than December (even that is considered late) is pushing us onwards and our sights are set on Macedonia and beyond. We have met some incredible people along the way, other travelers on adventures of their own, some on foot, some on bicycle, some on a boat and it feels oddly reassuring to share stories and encouragement, there are some who feel as though this trip is a little foolhardy and irresponsible and there have been occasions when we have questioned our own motivations especially when plans go pear shaped. To those who have helped us along the way with kind words and good advice we are forever grateful and to those who doubt our judgement, "Not all those who wander are lost." J.R.R. Tolkein

Adriatic sunset