Cycling The Road Less Travelled

Another break in the tent this morning. This time one of the poles snapped as we tried to get the panniers out from the half functional door. That’s a total of three breaks in two poles. We’re going to need more tape. Now it’s just getting personal!

After an overnight ferry from Croatia, we are now in Ancona, Italy. It’s time to make some decisions. Up and until now we have been immensely enjoying the freedom of just taking each day as it comes; stay an extra day here, take a left instead of the originally planned right “just because”. But, a quick look at the calendar and the map and it’s obvious that if we want to get to all the places we want to see before the weather changes, we need to get a move on. So we have a decision to make. Where to go from here?

We’ve basically narrowed it down to two options. 1) We can cut across Italy through the flat, monotonous and at times industrial Po valley in order to get to France as quick as possible. Or 2) Take a much longer route through Tuscany and Umbria. Tuscany and Umbria is probably some of the best cycling in the world, but we have been before and like I said, we’re pressed for time. So, cycle through areas that may look like this or through scenery like this. Hmmm, right…decision made. Why were we debating this again? Yet another detour it is.

After Montenegro we cycled back up the coast to Dubrovnik. There is a very steep climb for the last few km but it offers really glorious views of this gem of a city. We had been looking forward to seeing Dubrovnik for quite a while and it didn’t disappoint. The colors are remarkable, the red roof-tops, the light reflecting off the marble streets in the early morning and late afternoon, the shimmering turquoise blue waters making for a brilliant back drop; it’s really a site to see. Do not miss the walk along the city walls.

After a few days in Dubrovnik, we made our way back to Split via the island of Hvar; a pretty island with tough but rewarding cycling. Our return to Split marked the end of our Crotian tour. We’ve spent almost three weeks in Croatia, mainly cycling the coast and the islands. Without a doubt, the landscape in Croatia is spectacular and glorious. Swimming in its crystal clear waters is a dream. We had a very nice time but to be honest we didn’t fall in love with it, we liked it just didn’t love it. While the scenery is world class, some aspects were disappointing. It’s not a great cycling destination mainly because the coastal road is way too busy for comfortable riding, at least in August when we visited. On the rare occasion when the traffic was light, the cycling was superb but unfortunately those moments were few and far between. The coast was overrun with tourists and all the trappings that come with that but again, the atmosphere may be very different in the off-season. We wish we had visited a few years ago before the mega resorts.

From here we catch a ferry; we’ll be back in Italy in the morning.

We walked past a giant mirror today and got a real good look at ourselves. Yikes! While we aren’t feeling at all tired of travelling, we’re looking pretty ragged; 8 months of cycling, camping etc have definitely taken its toll:

• Our clothes are faded, tattered, stained and shabby.

• We have the oddest tans imaginable (think bike shorts, socks, cycling jerseys, cycling gloves and sunglasses).

• We are covered in mosquito bites and/or heat rashes (or at least what we are telling ourselves are heat rashes ).

• Our skin is dry and flakey.

• Spiros needs a haircut. (I won’t even bother going into the situation with my hair).

• We’re carrying raggedy, stained backpacks with forks and spoons sticking out of the pockets.

• We can usually be found sitting on steps or some park bench eating our 18th pastry of the day or a bowl of cereal. (For some reason, eating cereal in public seems to raise quite a few eyebrows).

We’re definitely looking a lot like a “before picture”. Spiros has decided he wants a new “Young and fresh” look. In other words, we’re in desperate need of a makeover…or at the very least a really, really good scrub-down…with a fire-hose or something along those lines.

Our initial intent as we cycled back into Croatia from Bosnia-Hercegovina was to go to Dubrovnik but at the last minute we decided to turn south and go to Montenegro instead. We had heard really nice things about the coast and the city of Kotor and wanted to check it out. So, we rode to the coastal town of Herceg-Novi where we called it a night. The next day, we left our panniers at the camp and went for a day ride to Kotor, a Unesco World Heritage site both for natural and historical reasons.

The ride to and around Kotor was incredible, turned out to be one of our favorite rides in Europe so far. This ride has it all; quiet road that hugs the coast, beautiful seaside villages and stunning mountain vistas. Kotor itself is equally stunning. The historical town center is beautiful; one can easily spend a day strolling its streets. A “must-do” is to climb up to the fortress perched high up on the mountain overlooking the city. Climbing to the top confirmed three things: 1) The views are awesome. 2) Cycling all day makes your legs pretty strong. 3) Teenage boys really don’t like being beat to the top of a hill by a pudgy middle-aged woman.

Kotor is a photographer’s delight. I had trouble prying Spiros hands off the camera so that we can ride back to camp before dark; we just made it in time. It was a gorgeous day in Montenegro.

So there you have it, a little weary from the crowded coast in Croatia, we decided to head inland and spend two days in Bosnia-Hercegovina. We hoped to get off the main tourist track, we did. As soon as we got off the coastal road in Croatia, everything changed; the roads were quiet, locals outnumbered the tourists on the streets and in the coffee shops and prices dipped. The contrast was even more dramatic once we crossed the border into Bosnia-Hercegovina as the areas we were cycling in were, for the most part, remote and rural.

We cycled from Gabela to Trebinje, before turning south again and heading back to Croatia. The landscape was pretty, dry and mountainous. The only town of real note on our short route was the very lively and pleasant town of Trebinje where we spent a few hours. Though we would have loved to go to Sarajevo, that was way too far for our short detour.

One thing that stood out as we passed through small towns and villages was the scars left behind from the recent war. We were taken aback by the number of bullet riddled buildings we passed. Look carefully at the picture; those are bullet holes in the walls. There is also still an ongoing threat of landmines.

The cycling itself was quite tough because of the gradient and extreme heat we encountered. At one point, I looked down at my cycling computer only to see that the temperature was 42 degrees and the slope of the hill was 12%. Ughh, not a good combination but I can’t complain too much as most of the cars that passed us honked and gave us a thumbs up.

Two days of cycling really isn’t enough to get a good grasp of the country but what we did see and the sense that we got was quite interesting. We’re glad we made the detour.

We have two completely hypothetical questions for you all. Let’s say, for example, you were…oh, I don’t know…cycle touring in some European country. To pick one out of a hat…let’s say that country is…Bosnia-Hercegovina. So, you’re cycling along in Bosnia-Hercegovina, going through some pretty remote areas. The towns marked on your map appear to be either non-existent, abandoned or no more then a collection of three or four houses. You can’t find a campground, hotel, apartment, or room anywhere or anybody willing to help you out for that matter. It’s getting dark but fortunately you have your somewhat trusty tent with you; left without any other choice, you decide to wild camp. You find a good spot on what appears to be public land, and pitch up your tent. As you finish putting in the last peg you hear a car pull off the road, someone getting out of the car and then a few minutes later what appears to be…<pause for dramatic effect>…a gunshot, followed by…<yet another pause for dramatic effect>…a series of gunshots.

So, Question number 1: Do you assume that:

1. It’s just some teenagers shooting cans.
2. It’s someone innocently hunting for their dinner.
3. The gunshots will be followed by the statement “Get off my land!”.
4. It’s the head of the local crime ring just carrying out regular business.
5. You’ve accidentally camped in a military zone.

Question number 2. After pondering whether these are ‘nice folk with guns’ or ‘bad folk with guns’, would you then:

1. Get on the bikes and bolt even though its getting too dark to be on the road.
2. Run for the hills.
3. Get in your somewhat trusty tent and hide.
4. Approach the gunmen and exchange pleasantries. Perhaps offer them some of the crumbled up cookies you’ve been carrying around in your panniers for the past few days.

Again, we’re just looking for some input in case we should ever get ourselves in this completely hypothetical predicament…even though I’m sure we never would…ever. Wouldn’t happen.

August, as I’m sure you already know, is peak season in Europe. Hotels are booked up, restaurants and cafes are jam packed, and prices are jacked-up sky high. Beaches of course are particularly popular and so the islands and the coastline of Croatia are lined with resort style campgrounds, designed to accommodate and entertain thousands of people. (We found one campground that supported 6000 people). These campgrounds aren’t simply a spot to pitch up your tent, but full blown resorts with restaurants, tennis courts, mini-putt, merry-go-rounds, cotton candy, discos and occasionally a live band. Ahhh, the campground disco….I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve been lulled to sleep with such classics as “Que sera sera”, “Roll out the barrel” and “Dancing Queen”.

Last night, we were lying in our tent trying to get some sleep while our campground and the one next to it battled it out for “Most Rocking Campground”. They dueled it out for hours; “The Final Countdown”, the theme song to Rocky, “I will survive” and…but of course… “La Makarena”. Now, there is nothing wrong with the “Final Countdown”, “I will survive”, and “La Makarena” , unless you happen to be quiet, boring people like us who have spent one too many a night in one of these resort-style campgrounds despite great efforts to avoid it. If you are quiet boring people like us who have spent one too many a night in one of these resort-style campgrounds despite great efforts to avoid it, then you’d probably be lying in your tent trying to resist the overwhelming urge to run out and beat the speakers to a pulp with your tire pump or water bottle.

Unable to sleep, we talked about the next day’s ride; the conversation went something like this:

Maria, while staring up at the roof of the tent: “They’re doing the Makarena again.”

Spiros, also staring up at the roof of the tent: “Yup.”

<pause>

Maria: “I haven’t been able to get ‘I will survive’ out my head since that last campground.”

Spiros: “Hmm.”

<long pause>

Spiros: “It’s like living in a carnival.”

Maria: “Yup.”

<pause>

Maria: “Sigh”

<pause>

Spiros, still staring up at the tent: “Want to head for the hills? Bosnia?”

Maria, also still staring up at the tent: “Okay”.

<pause>

Maria: “I will survive, I will survive…Hey, Hey!”

And that’s pretty much it. A little weary of being on the main tourist track and the endless string of resorts along the Italian and Croatian coast, we’ve decided to head inland for a short 2 day stay in Bosnia-Hercegovina. We don’t have a guide book, haven’t looked into it much but our map of Croatia covers enough of Bosnia-Hercegovina to get us by. We don’t really know what to expect but there is something exciting about that.

I had a bad morning today. To be honest, I can’t quite recall the source of my discontent, which is a good indication of just how important it really was. At some point though, I bothered to lift my head and look at what was around me. I suddenly noticed the brilliant coastline. I’m sure you’re thinking: “Boy, what an idiot”. I am too; so much so that I felt the need to call myself out publically on this one. It’s not the first time and won’t be the last time but obviously I’m an idiot for wasting even a second of this awesome experience. So there you go; I’m an idiot.