[2021, June]
It’s been more than a full year since the entire world is fighting this stubborn pandemic and my original travel plans are still on hold. Each country is enforcing, then ending lockdowns, closing, then opening its borders, but only to certain travellers, asking for vaccination or testing proofs on its own, without any coordination with the other ones. Simply put, it’s a true chaos out there and I find it really difficult to block out a rough sketch for an overland route. Nevertheless, the summer is coming and I know I have to ride out somewhere, so I figure that my simplest and most risk-free option is to choose a desirable destination somehow closer to home; the Western Balkans might be that one, especially that the weather there is mild in early June and I know there’s plenty to see and ride around their fabulous landscape.
Considering I’ve already ridden and also driven several times Dalmatia’s spectacular coastline road, this time I’m going to explore as many of its close to the shore mountainous islands as I’ll be able to, starting from the Istria peninsula in the north all the way down to the wide sandy beaches of Montenegro; and, as I can’t restrain myself from also climbing some alluring twisty roads in the mountains, I’ll link a part of the Julian Alps and the Durmitor massif to my route as well. That’s the plan, so let’s go!
Go west! 760 miles
I can’t wait to get to the truly interesting part of my route, which starts in Slovenia, at the foothills of the Julian Alps, but that is about 700 miles away from home, so first I’ll have to ride for a couple of days in a somehow “transit” mode, crossing the well-known to me Carpathians and the vast and boring Pannonian plain. Therefore, I’m going to take the fastest and hassle-free possible route, on main national roads and a quite long motorway segment as well.
I start reasonably early in the morning, in order to avoid being caught in the usual traffic jam which is occurring almost every day along the Prahova River valley, I cross the Southern Carpathian range through the familiar Pârâul Rece pass, then I turn west towards the city of Sibiu and at noon I’m already more than halfway there, in the town of Făgăraş. Up to this place the road has been quite free and I’ve been able to make a good progress, without feeling the need for any breaks, but from here on the both ongoing and incoming lines of cars and trucks are dramatically slowing me down, so it takes me another full hour to ride the next 40 miles to the motorway junction nearby Sibiu. Motorways are usually something I like to avoid as much as I can during my travels, as I feel they’re ripping off my very purpose of breathing each and every mile of my route, but this time I’m compromising with myself, due to my eagerness to reach the core of this journey. Therefore, the rest of the day I’m fighting the monotony of riding the next 200 miles on the A1 motorway, up to the city of Arad, which is close enough to the Hungarian border in order to give me the opportunity of having a fresh start tomorrow morning. My only distractions from this mind-blowing boredom are the enjoyable landscape of the first half of this route, meandering through Southern Transylvania and the Western Carpathian range, and the annoying 10 miles long missing motorway segment which I have to ride on a bumpy gravel road due to the current roadworks. At about six in the afternoon, I finally get to Arad and decide to call it a day, even if it’s still early and there are at least two more hours of daylight left, but I’d like to visit the city and it’s also cheaper for me to get a hotel room here than further on, in Hungary. I spend the evening taking a tour of the Habsburg style old centre and a relaxing walk on the riverside promenade, then I go to sleep trying not to think about the even more boring route of tomorrow.
Considering I’ll gain an hour when entering Hungary due to the time zone change, I afford taking my time in the morning with coffee, breakfast and luggage packing. When I finally leave the hotel, I take the motorway for the last 30 miles to the border, then change to the national road which I’ll be following further on westwards. The border control goes on fast and hassle-free – the police officer isn’t even slightly interested in my vaccination certificate and confirms I’ll be subject to no travel restrictions at all while being in Hungary – and in less than ten minutes I get over with it. For the next hour or so I make my way through the loose but slow traffic in the densely populated area of the Mureş River valley, up to the city of Szeged, then I brace myself for the infamous road 55, which is crossing the Hungarian puszta / steppe for 60 miles of almost uninhabited area, all the way to Baja and the Danube. I have some bad memories about this road from the previous time I’ve ridden it, from the opposite direction, apart from it being unbearably boring, with endless straight lines and nothing but empty grass fields to see; the almost complete lack of human settlements along the road also means there is no gas station in between the two cities at its ends and, given that I was unaware of this fact at that time, I got some serious thrills because of my low fuel reserve when entering it, until I spotted in the distance the redemptive sign of one, in the outskirts of Szeged. This time, though, I know what I’m getting into and, with the peace of mind provided by a full tank, one hour later I’m taking a break in the shade of the central park in Baja.
On the Danube’s western bank the landscape fortunately changes to some forested rolling hills, which I cross on a narrow winding backroad, up to the town of Kaposvar, where a sudden torrential summer rain soaks me to the skin in no more than ten minutes, basically leaving me no time even to pull over and find some shelter. After passing by the town on its ring road, both me and my bike feel the need of a break, as I’m getting tired and it lights up its gas level indicator, but I take a glimpse on the map and decide to live dangerously :), that is to take our chances for 40 more miles until we reach Nagykanizsa, the last major town before the Slovenian border. After having a “luxury” lunch there, consisting of a hot-dog, coke and gas, I ride to the border crossing point at Pince keeping the backroad which is running parallel to the M70 motorway; normally there is no check-point over there, as both countries are part of the Schengen area, but due the pandemic travel restrictions a temporary border control had been put in place since last year, only to be disestablished by the Slovenes a few days ago, as I’ve read in the news. I pass by the last village, see the board marking the border and, to my surprise, two Hungarian police officers are getting out of a roadside container and pull me over. After checking my passport and asking their usual questions, like where I come from and how long I’ve been staying in Hungary, they tell me I cannot cross the border there and I’ve got to turn back and go to the motorway crossing point! That’s strikingly stupid! From the point where I’m standing, that is a couple of yards from the line on the tarmac marking the actual border, I can see there’s nobody on the other side and I try to talk them into letting me go, but to no success. For one second, I think of abruptly slipping the clutch and just crossing the line right under their nose, but I haven’t got the courage to do that, so I resign myself and turn the bike backwards. The detour isn’t long at all, just 4 miles, but the sole problem with it is that riding the motorway in Hungary requires the purchase of an electronic vignette, which I didn’t, as I was planning to stay away from it for my whole route. There’s no gas station in this area either, so I can eventually pay the damn fee, therefore I get on the motorway hoping there are no control cameras within this very short segment to the border, but my hopes prove to be in vain, because as soon as I take the motorway access road, I see a sign warning about their presence. With no options left and as I really don’t want to pay a big fine for basically nothing, I find an unorthodox solution to my problem: I pull over, take my towel out of the saddlebag and wrap it around the bike’s license plate, then, with my bike’s identity camouflaged this way, I ride the remaining couple of miles up to the first parking lot in Slovenia, which is a mere hundred yards after the border! Honestly, I’m not quite proud of what I did, but they should know better than mess with a Romanian guy when it comes to bypassing some futile rules :)
It’s four in the afternoon now and I’ve got about 50 more miles to go up to the area around Maribor, where I’ll cross the Drava River and reach the foothills of the Julian Alps, the first point of interest along my route. I’m planning to sleep there tonight, but as I can’t find a reasonably priced hotel in the city, I choose a rather secluded one, located high in the forested Pohorje massif. I set off towards it and I find it quite difficult to make my way through the maze of backroads in this area, especially that my phone keeps losing its internet connection from unknown reasons, so I can’t get the help I need from its navigation service. After almost two hours of wandering in the lowlands between the Mur and Drava rivers, interrupted by lots of wrong turns and forced stops, in order to repeatedly restart my phone and get a hint about the place I’m in, I finally find myself in the Fram village, where a just three yards wide road starts steeply climbing the mountain’s slope. At least the ride up to this place has been nice and refreshing, on winding roads passing through meadows and forests, quiet small villages and also two picturesque townlets, Ljutomer and Ptuj, so I’ve got no reason to be sorry for losing so much time. Leaving Fram, I continue on this ridiculously narrow and steep road in endless series of tight hairpins, through a dense forest and passing by isolated farms where cows are grazing lazily and, finally, half an hour later I get to Hotel Zarja, an elegant mountain chalet where I discover I’m the only customer for tonight. Not that I dislike not being bothered by anybody, but the real problem with this thing is that the restaurant is consequently closed, so I’ll have to go to sleep hungry. Now I regret the opportunities I’ve missed, as I passed by lots of roadside restaurants on my way here, but there’s nothing I can do about that anymore and I just cope with the situation.
Arad. The City Hall
The bikers’ heaven. 380 miles
Despite the weather forecast for today being quite grim, a threat which I contain by putting on my rain pants even since the morning start, I joyfully head on westwards to the Triglav National Park in sheer enthusiasm. First, I descend the mountain on a road quite parallel to the one I climbed yesterday and equally steep as well, then I take the old national road towards Velenje, which is nice and free, as most of the traffic is running on the nearby motorway. I take a short break in the town of Slovenska Bistrica, briefly admiring the small 14th century castle in its centre, then a much longer one at Velenje, where I climb to its hilltop 13th century larger one and take a walk within its imposing thick walls, as the sun is shining brightly and the temperature is rising to a milder value. Further on, I decide to skip Slovenia’s capital, Ljubljana, and cut towards the really high mountains taking a route north of it, along the green and picturesque Savinja and Dreta valleys, where I ride quite slow and relaxed on a flawless winding road, enjoying their idyllic landscape. After a quick descent from the 2,959 ft. high Črnivec pass, I follow a narrow and dim valley up to the towns of Kamnik and Škofja Loka in the wide and flat one of the Sava River, which is the gate to the iconic Triglav mountain range.
I take the road alongside the green Selška Sora valley, which is gradually narrowing as I move forward into the massif, then I climb to the village of Zgornja Sorica, whose nice and large houses are scattered around grassy meadows; another short but steep climb takes me on top of the Soriška ridge, where I get a majestic view over the valley below, then I start descending towards the Sava Bohinjka valley, which is connecting the Bohinj and Bled glacial lakes. My original plan was to visit them in this order, then find a campsite for tonight somewhere along the upper Sava valley, but sadly, right when I get to the touristic town of Bohinjska Bistrica, thunders and black clouds are gathering above the nearby 9,396 ft. high Triglav summit and the today’s forecast rain starts falling in that direction. I really don’t want to skip going to the Bohinj Lake, so I change my plan, hoping the rain will eventually stop later on, therefore I turn right to Bled, where I visit the 11th century castle, which is overlooking the turquoise lake from a high clifftop. About an hour later I return to Bohinj and take advantage of a short break in the cold rain to go all the way up to its upstream end, to the Ukanc small mountain resort. Unfortunately, the rain break is over in less than ten minutes since I’ve got there, so I abandon my camping plans and forcibly book a room at a fancy and expensive hotel located right at the lake’s other end; however, as a compensation for the high price I’ve paid for the room, I get a postcard prone view from the balcony to the calm lake, which is magnificently mirroring the surrounding peaks and white clouds, its picturesque old stone bridge and the nearby 15th century St. John the Baptist Gothic church. This is a perfect image to sleep over, dreaming about the more exciting views to come tomorrow.
Overnight the clouds had dispersed and, in the morning, the clear blue sky creates the best premise for another great riding day. I head again towards Bled, but this time, instead of taking the road which is following closely the bottom of the valley, I choose the one which is winding higher on the mountain’s slope, at the edge of the Pokljuka plateau. There is no traffic at all here and no human settlements either, so I ride about 30 miles in absolute silence through the dense and dark pine forest, experiencing a true beginning of the world sensation. Close to the Bled Lake I turn left alongside a narrow valley, where a glittering creek is making its way downstream over the rocky waterbed; the road narrows even more, looking like a simple trail in the woods, only it’s covered in flawless tarmac, and it suddenly comes to the large grassy clearing of Zgornja Radovna, where cows and horses are grazing free around a couple of good-looking traditional houses, cradled by the imposing silhouette of Mount Triglav. I’m so stricken by the beauty and peace of this place that I wouldn’t leave it anymore, but eventually I do, as I also know what’s coming next!
A short and steep descent takes me down to the Sava valley and in no more than half an hour I get to the Kranjska Gora alpine resort; from this place, the main road goes either to Italy through the Valico di Fusine pass, or to Austria across the higher Wurzenpass, but I turn southwards instead and start climbing the crazy series of 50 hairpins leading to the 5,285 ft. altitude Vršič pass, the highest one in the Eastern Julian Alps, offering magnificent views over the surrounding rocky peaks. The descent on its other side to the Soča valley is equally spectacular, then I make a good run for the next 40 miles downstream this rafting paradise emerald-green river up to Most na Soči, where I start gradually climbing the quite vertical slope on the Idrijca river’s left bank on an incredibly narrow road, which takes me to the Čepovanski Dol and, further on, down to the border town of Nova Gorica. Once again, I turn away from the Italian border but, however, I’m not through with the mountains yet and, after riding a busy road to the town of Ajdovščina, I climb a densely forested massif and cross it to its other side on a deserted dirt and gravel trail, down to the stunning 13th century Predjama castle, built within a large cave mouth. Unfortunately, the castle is closed for some restoration works, so I just have to settle for a break and a frugal late lunch at a terrace restaurant overlooking its impressive walls.
It’s already past four in the afternoon when I’m ready to go on, so I’m heading towards the Adriatic seashore down the old national road, which, due to being close to the motorway, it’s almost completely free; therefore, I make a good run for the next 40 miles on its speed tempting large bends and in less than an hour I park my bike on the sea-front promenade in the town of Koper / the former Italian Capodistria. I take an unhurried walk in the cobbled narrow streets and to the main square of its medieval centre, then I move on few miles farther to its Venetian heritage twin, the port of Piran, which traces back its history to the Roman era in the 7th century. As opposed to last night’s rainfall and low temperature high in the mountains, here on the seaside the sky is clear and the breeze warm, so I choose to spend the night in Kamp Fiesa, where I set up my tent on a tiny grassy terrace overlooking the sea. Later on, I spend the evening wandering through the compact maze of alleys and arched passageways within the walls of the old town and blending in the crowds of all nationalities tourists, which remind me of the pre-pandemic good old times.
Velenje. The hilltop fortress
Bled. The hilltop fortress
Lake Bled
Lake Bohinj
Zgornja Radovna
Vršič pass
The Predjama cave castle
Koper
Piran
Hopping from one island to another. 900 miles plus an awful lot of ferries
Although I’ve already had a brief encounter with the Adriatic Sea since yesterday afternoon, my true maritime journey begins today, when I’ll start exploring the Dalmatian coastline both on and off-shore. Croatia alone has more than 1,200 mountainous islands and islets and I’m going to ride along some of the bigger ones, using the extended ferry services which are connecting them to each other and to the mainland as well. Therefore, I start my day early in the morning, heading to the nearby border crossing at Dragonja, where a long line of cars is causing a nagging delay to my quite tight schedule. Then, after finally getting over with the passports and vaccination documents control, I ride down the Istrian peninsula’s west coast to the medieval port of Rovinj, where I take a short walk in the tangle of cobbled streets leading to the hilltop church of St. Euphemia, then to the ancient seafront city of Pula, whose main point of interest is the surprisingly well preserved 2,000 years old Roman amphitheatre.
After I’m done with this touristic intermezzo I’ve begun yesterday evening, it’s time for some serious riding again, as I have to get to the tiny ferry terminal in Brestova, on the Istrian peninsula’s east coast, by three in the afternoon, in time for today’s last crossing to Cres, the first one in the series of Adriatic islands I’m going to land on. Being quite close to the mainland, in a mere half an hour I’m disembarking on its rocky steep shore and head on towards its southern end. This island, like most of the Adriatic ones as well, is basically a long and narrow underwater mountain’s ridge, laying parallel to the Dalmatian coastline and its Dinaric Alps siblings. Therefore, the sole main road running along its length is actually a twisty and undulating mountain one, set close to the sea’s deep blue water, a true riding pleasure which I’m living so intense that I even skip stopping in the island’s main town and choose to go all the way to its other end instead. The only stop I make is a forced one, when I come to the Osor turning bridge, a real technological work of art; the 150 feet long metal bridge is connecting the Cres and Lošinj islands across the extremely narrow strait between them and it swivels by 90° for half an hour twice a day, in order to allow the fishing and tourist small boats to pass through the canal. Eventually, at about six o’clock I get to Mali Lošinj, a lovely small town with a broad promenade facing its secluded natural harbour. I reckon this would be a nice place to spend the evening, so I first go to the nearby Camping Čikat to check-in, before having dinner and a couple of beers maybe, in a terrace restaurant downtown. Unfortunately, this one is more of a beach resort, full of fancy bungalows, campers and caravans and obscenely expensive too, than a regular campsite and that is definitely not my taste. Nevertheless, I go to the reception and ask for a pitch to set up my tent, but the lady there tells me I have to wait for a staff member to come and show me the ones I can choose from. It doesn’t matter for her that I’m going to take whichever comes first, I still have to wait. And I wait for more than twenty minutes and there’s still nobody coming, so I decide they really don’t deserve my money and leave for another, friendlier place.
I still go for a coffee nearby the harbour and this place keeps on looking consistently unwelcoming to me, as I discover that each vehicle entering the old town has to pay a fee, but I’m behaving quite guttily in response and dodge the damn barrier, then I ride back to Osor, where I remember I’ve seen a quiet and simple campsite right beyond the bridge and the canal. That one fits me indeed, as the kind old lady at the reception tells me I can pitch my tent wherever I like, and I also have a tasty and relaxing dinner as a bonus, in a small traditional restaurant hidden in the narrow streets of the old village – as an absolute premiere for me I had a delicious donkey goulash there!
In the morning I have to hurry a bit packing my tent and luggage, in order to leave the campsite before nine, when the bridge turns away for half an hour, but this benefits me by making time enough for taking a short tour of the town of Cres, the one I’ve skipped yesterday afternoon. There’s not much to see over there though, so shortly I continue riding northwards to the Merag ferry terminal, where I embark for the thirty minutes sail to the island of Krk. This being the largest and most populous one in the Adriatic, I’m going to spend most of my day here and first I head to the Baška resort town on its south-eastern coast; the sun is shining brightly in the sky and it turned really hot meanwhile, so I think of going to the picturesque central beach / Vela plaža and maybe even taking my first bath this year, only to get disappointed by the fact that it’s not a sandy, but a white pebbles one, which I don’t like as much, so I just settle for a lunch in a sea view nice restaurant. Later on, I ride to the ancient main town of Krk, where I leave my bike in a dedicated and tax-free parking lot, then I stroll in the streets of its thick-walled Venetian style medieval centre. The island is connected to the mainland by a 0.9-mile-long concrete arched bridge – the longest one of its type in Europe – located in the Rijeka city area, but going that way means that I’ll have to ride down the coastal road southwards and I don’t want to, so I opt for sailing by ferry to the next island in that direction, Rab. Therefore, waiting for the departure time I spend almost two more hours in a seafront coffeeshop near the 12th century Frankopan castle, Krk’s iconic landmark, before riding back to the port of Valbiska.
This time the distance between the two islands is bigger and it takes the ferry about two hours to sail to Lopar, located in Rab’s north-western tip. I try to find a campsite here, but I stumble upon one belonging to the dreadful (to me) Valamar company, which means it is a fancy beach resort too, so I keep riding the island’s length in search for a more reasonable one. Unfortunately, that seems quite difficult to find, as the whole island looks to be a preferred destination for German and Austrian tourists, therefore featuring mostly up-market expensive accommodation facilities. It’s getting quite late as I’m advancing southwards, so I have to skip entering the main town – which is bearing the same name as the island itself, like most of the Adriatic ones do – and I eventually spot what I’m looking for right in the last village, Barbat. Camping Wodenca is a just twenty pitches small one, located right beyond the shore and facing the rocky crest of the close uninhabited Dolin islet; foreign tourists in campers and caravans are occupying all of this campsite too, but luckily there is only one free pitch left and that will be mine for tonight!
The morning ferry from Mišnjak, in the south-eastern tip of the Rab island and just 4 miles away from the campsite, to the mainland is scheduled to depart at ten o’clock, so there’s plenty of time for me to pack my stuff and have a coffee before I leave. Today I’m going to do a bit more riding and less sailing, as I’m planning to make a detour inland to the renowned Plitvička Jezera / Plitvice Lakes National Park, which is located about 60 miles away from the coastline, close to the Bosnian border. Once I disembark the ferry, I ride a bit northwards on the spectacular Jadranska Magistrala / The Adriatic Highway, up to the town of Sveti Juraj, where I get the sensation of running in circles, as I can see in the distance, across the sea, the beach at Baška on the island of Krk, then I turn to the east, climbing a brutal series of tight hairpin bends high in the densely forested Velebit Mountains. The road further on is in a rather bad condition and there is almost no traffic at all, which makes me think that either I’ve missed the correct route or the tarmac will end soon and I’ll be facing an unpassable dirt road. Some abandoned wood scraps left behind by past logging works and a couple of unaware deer crossing the road intensify my bad feelings, but my doubts dispel eventually, when I get to the touristic village of Krasno and I see a road sign indicating the direction of Otočac, a small town on the main road east. I guess these chills are somehow inherent when you’re riding the less travelled road, as I usually like and often do!
After 40 more miles on a better maintained road this time, passing through a wonderful landscape of fresh-air pine forests alternating with large grassy meadows, I get to the Plitvička Jezera Tourist Centre, an overcrowded place where most of the visitors are parking their vehicles in order to start hiking the national park’s trails, which are criss-crossing the forest, leading to the karstic lakes and waterfalls on the Korana River’s course. It takes a hiker almost an entire day to complete the full tour, but I’m not in the right mood for that, so I just ride all the way to Plitvica Selo on some poor backroads, sadly not being able to see much of the area’s attractions. Quite disappointed, I turn back, stop for lunch at a roadside diner, then head towards the sea shore taking a different road than the one I came on. Still, I don’t have any reason to feel sorry for this whole day long detour, as once again the landscape in the mountains is charming and the road clear and speed prone; a couple of hours later I stop briefly at the 2,985 ft. altitude Oštarijska Vrata pass in the southern part of the Velebit Mountains, where I get stunning views over the Adriatic Sea and the island of Pag, my next destination for tonight, then I steeply descend to the coastal town of Karlobag and a few miles further on, to the Prizna ferry terminal.
A fifteen minutes short sail takes me to the barren and rocky island of Pag and, even if it’s still early in the afternoon, I take advantage of the hot weather, ride to the closest convenient campsite I can find – Kamp Kanič nearby the town of Novalja, set up my tent in a secluded pitch, then go down to the sea for my first proper bath this year. As in too many places on the Adriatic seaside, there’s no beach over here, just a narrow concrete platform covers the sharp-edged rocks ashore, but the water is amazing, pool-like blue and clear, albeit a bit cold, yet totally worth a refreshing nice bath. In the evening I ride a few miles farther, to have dinner in a family restaurant, where I have the surprise of being approached – in Romanian!!! – by two couples of elder German tourists, who eventually reveal themselves as being Saxon ethnics born in Romania and emigrated to Germany some thirty years ago; this is really a small world we’re living in, as during my travels I keep on meeting fellow nationals in the most secluded and unexpected places!
Today I hope I’ll get rid of the running in circles sensation, as I’m going to ride farther south, to the big city of Split and beyond. I start alongside the barren and windy ridge of the long and slim island of Pag, I skip entering its 10th century homonym main town, as I get there too soon after I’ve left the campsite to already make the first stop and I’ve also got a panoramic view over it from the top of the crest, then, after I cross the interesting arched bridge that is connecting the island to the mainland, I turn right in the direction of Zadar, one of the main cities on the Dalmatian coastline. On the road there I have to get accustomed once again with heavy traffic, a thing I realize I haven’t experienced anymore ever since I was in the outskirts of Ljubljana, about a week ago, then I go straight to the city’s Venetian heritage old town, located on a small peninsula and enclosed within thick medieval walls. The buildings and imposing cathedrals inside are well preserved and good looking, but the narrow streets are overcrowded both with pedestrians and cars, so I take just a low-speed tour, then I move on out of the city, continuing southwards on a less spectacular segment of the Jadranska Magistrala.
There are about 100 miles up to Split and, due to having been spoiled with such unforgettable landscapes and perfect biking roads during the first part of my route, this time I really struggle to keep my focus while riding in straight lines through mild hilly surroundings. The only distractions from this monotonous interval are a couple of interesting viaducts on the bypass of Šibenik, a town I really don’t have the patience to visit, and the panoramic views of the medieval town of Trogir and its neighbouring island Čiovo, at the point where the road descends back to the sea shore. Eventually, at three in the afternoon I park my bike in downtown Split, right across the huge and extremely busy ferry terminal here, and considering I’ve got more than an hour left until my scheduled sail time, I go for a walk on its palm-trees lined waterfront promenade and inside the medieval walls of the old town.
Today’s destination is the island of Brač, one of the largest in the Adriatic and home to the world famous Zlatni Rat / Golden Horn beach, a white finger reaching out amidst the sea’s blue water, which appears in most of the travel brochures and has become a true symbol of Croatian tourism. This one is located on the southern coast and the ferry from Split is landing on the opposite one, therefore it takes me almost a full hour to get there, due both to the island’s size and its mountainous profile; at least, the steep descent from the Vidova Gora ridge to Bol, the small town nearby the beach, is highly enjoyable, so I get to the strategically placed Autocamp No.1 in a more optimistic mood than the one I’ve been into for most of the day. I quickly set up my tent, then I rush to the much-praised paradise, only to discover that, even if it appears to be sandy in the advertising pictures, it actually consists of white pebbles, but I have to admit that it looks great aside the intense green pine-trees ashore and the deep blue water of the Hvar Channel. [By the way, the opposite island of Hvar will be my target for tomorrow.] I spend some time here, taking a bath and lying in the sun like a true tourist :), then I get on my bike and go for a walk and a late dinner in the medieval harbour of Bol.
The morning comes with the usual routine of packing and getting ready to leave the campsite in time for me to catch the first ferry to the mainland. This one is departing from the picturesque harbour at Sumartin, where I arrive early enough to have time for a coffee break in a shop facing its small marina and waterfront Venetian style buildings. The sail to the town of Makarska is quite short and on the way there I can admire the imposing Biokovo massif, rising above 5,000 ft. high just one mile away from the shore and appearing as an impenetrable stone wall, although there actually exists a steep and tortuous road which climbs up to its rugged crest. In fact, that’s exactly where I’m heading to when I’m disembarking the ferry and a few minutes ride takes me to the toll booth and barrier at the entrance in the nature park; there is a long line of cars waiting to go uphill, as only a limited number of them is allowed to pass at regular intervals, due to the fact that the road is extremely narrow, steep and overhanging dangerous precipices. Luckily, this rule doesn’t apply for motorcycles, so the gatekeeper waves me off as soon as I pay the fee and I start climbing the tight hairpins on the mountain’s almost vertical slope. Once I get to the ridge, I continue on a narrow plateau, through meadows and clusters of pine forests and among huge white limestone rocks, to the main point of interest here, the Biokovo Skywalk, which is a glass-floored deck hanging over the abyss at the cliffs’edge and offering panoramic views to the entire Makarska Riviera and the neighbouring islands. Further on, I follow the single-lane trail even higher up the mountain, to its 5,780 ft. altitude Sveti Jure highest peak, a fabulous 360° vantage point over the ocean of barren rocky crests, all the way from the Adriatic’s open water to the Bosnian lowlands on the opposite side.
Soaked in by the wonderful landscape I’ve been riding through, I haven’t even noticed the time passing away and I’m surprised to realize it’s already half past one when I’m ready to start descending back to the sea shore. I’ve got a bit more than two hours left until the scheduled departure of the ferry that’s going to take me to the island of Hvar and 30 miles to ride to the terminal in Drvenik; it may seem at hand, but it actually isn’t, as more than half of the distance I’ll have to ride the single-lane trail downhill to the coastline and the rest of it along the always crowded Jadranska Magistrala, so I hastily get on my bike and take off. About halfway to the access barrier, I have another encounter of the kind I’ve experienced two days ago with the elder German tourists, when an also German licensed car’s driver rolls down his window and asks me, in a flawless Romanian, about the uphill road’s condition! My God, it seems I just can’t catch a break, can I?
I eventually succeed arriving in time for the ferry to Hvar and no more than twenty minutes later I already disembark on the island’s eastern tip. I’m definitely going to sleep here tonight, just that I don’t know exactly where yet, so I decide to ride all the way to its main town first, then choose a convenient accommodation. This island has a filiform shape – 50 miles long and only 3 miles thin – and its sole longitudinal road is winding along the forested crest, passing through most of the villages; half of it is narrow and quite unkempt, forcing me to ride at low speed, while the other half is freshly rebuilt, with nice bends and sleek tarmac which tempt me to twist up the throttle in order to gain some time. At about six in the afternoon, I finally get to the 13th century medieval town of Hvar, which is one of the main touristic hubs of Dalmatia. I take a short walk downtown and I like its powerful hilltop fortress overlooking the harbour, the well preserved Venetian style buildings and the marble paved, palm-trees lined waterfront promenade, but the numerous fancy and obscenely expensive yachts anchored there not so much; consequently, the prices in the restaurants and hotels are accordingly high, therefore I reckon I’ll better find some other place for tonight, as there are also no campsites close nearby – camping is not for the rich, am I right? I find what I’m looking for 15 miles back east, in the town of Jelsa, where Kamp Grebišće is an oasis of normality within an overrated tourist trap of an island, even if the restaurants at the harbour still aren’t as well.
My last day in Croatia will also put an end to my sailing incursions and I can sincerely say I’m looking forward to that, as I feel I’m really missing some serious all day long riding. First thing in the morning I go back to the ferry terminal at Sućuraj, where I even have time for some gift shopping before I embark the ship that takes me back to the mainland, then I head south-east along the sea shore towards the famous town of Dubrovnik and further on, to the border with Montenegro. The Dalmatian coastline, although mostly part of Croatia, also features a 6 miles long strip of land belonging to Bosnia-Herzegovina which I’d have to cross on my way there and this surely implies I’d also have to face two border controls and, presumably, some longish waiting time too. As an option to avoid this double hassle, I can bypass the Bosnian territory by crossing the sea one more time, from the port of Ploče to the long and thin Pelješac peninsula, and then continue my route within the Croatian exclave. Unfortunately, even if it takes me less than an hour to get to the terminal, also including a low speed tour of the small coastal town of Gradac, the ferry departure time is still about two hours away, which I’ll have to spend nearby the dull commercial port of Ploče; after all, the choice I’ve done is not as time saving as I expected it to be, but at least I don’t have to wait in line sitting on my bike, so I go to a restaurant and have an early lunch, as I’m not going to stop anymore today, until I’ll get to the Kotor Bay area in Montenegro.
The road along the Pelješac peninsula is nothing different to the ones I’ve ridden in most of the islands I’ve been to, a narrow strip of tarmac winding along a forested crest, up to the medieval town of Ston, where it passes close by its 14th century defensive wall, one of the longest in Europe. From here on, my route merges once again the Jadranska Magistrala and the traffic gradually increases as I get closer to Dubrovnik. I don’t stop there, as I’ve already visited it too many times during the previous years, but I continue to the crowded modern area of Kupari and Cavtat and beyond, to the Montenegrin border crossing at Debeli Brijeg. Over here the control is quite simple and fast and just a few minutes later I get to the town of Herceg Novi and the entrance to the Bay of Kotor. I haven’t ridden such a long distance today, but the chaotic traffic on the last 50 miles and the time I’ve spent doing nothing while waiting for the ferries and on board of them had really harassed me, so I’m feeling tired and I can’t wait finding a tranquil place to relax in the afternoon sun. Therefore, I decide to postpone going to the town of Kotor for tomorrow morning and head directly to the Lustica peninsula, where I’ve spotted on the map a secluded campsite located right on the sea shore. I make one more ferry crossing across the bay’s narrow neck at Kamenari – Lepetane, a short ten minutes sail which allows me to avoid riding for 30 miles along the bay’s outline in a painfully slow traffic, then I turn onto a shabby backroad winding through the peninsula’s densely forested crests. This area looks quite deserted, as there are no human settlements except for some scattered holiday houses, and I’m getting once again a little nervous about missing the right route or having to go off-road, but eventually I manage to get to Kamp Begović, where I set up my tent really close to the sea, in the shade of some sort of pine-trees.
Pula. The Roman Amphitheatre
Cres / Mali Lošinj
Krk / Baška
Rab / Barbat
Pag / Pag
Split
Brač / The Zlatni Rat beach
The Biokovo massif
Uphill to the Sveti Jure summit
The Biokovo Skywalk
Sveti Jure. Panoramic view across the Dalmatian coastline
Hvar / Hvar
Hvar / Jelsa
From the beach to the snow-covered peaks. 295 miles
Montenegro is known to be a tourist’s paradise, featuring well preserved medieval towns, both pebbly and sandy beaches and high mountains with lofty peaks, all these attractions being concentrated within a few hours riding time distance, and I’m going to take advantage of as many of them as I’ll be able to.
First, I have to complete my Adriatic coast sweep all the way to the Albanian border, therefore today I start with the UNESCO world heritage town of Kotor; its Venetian architecture centre, with stone buildings lining narrow alleys full of stray cats, is enclosed within thick defence walls dating back to the 6th century, expanded on the steep mountain’s slope above up to the towering peak of St. Ivan. I arrive there quite early in the morning, so I get to take a tour and have breakfast in a cosy coffeeshop before the flocks of cruise ships tourists start crowding every corner of this magnificent town. Close to Kotor, the famous P1 single-lane road, which is enlisted on most of the dangerous roads websites, is climbing in 16 very tight hairpins the almost vertical slope of Mount Lovćen, offering great views over the entire Bay of Kotor area and especially to the Old Town. Further on, I continue through the Njeguši plateau to the former capital town of Cetinje, then back downhill to the sea shore on a superb freshly rebuilt road which takes me nearby another nice, although a bit too touristy medieval port, Budva.
From this point on, I ride uninterruptedly along the rest of the Montenegrin Adriatic Sea shore, which takes me about one and a half hour to get over with, even if it’s only 50 miles long, due to the both usual and seasonal heavy traffic on route. I stop just a couple of miles away from the Albanian border, in the flatlands area of Donji Štoj, where I check-in at the beachside Miami Autocamp and set up my tent in the shady pine grove ashore. The wide beach here features soft sand and shallow water and it’s full of bars, umbrellas and sunbeds, so I blend into the crowds of tourists and spend the rest of my day as in a true seaside vacation.
While my first day in Montenegro has been dedicated to the Adriatic coastline, this morning I have to say goodbye to the sea, as I’m turning inland and going to climb the still snow-covered mountain ridges. Riding quite parallel to the Albanian border, I cross the 4,000 ft. high mountain ridge that separates the Adriatic coastline from the Balkans’ largest lake, Skadar / Skhodër in Albanian, then I continue along its scarcely populated south-western shore on an extremely narrow and broken backroad, which appears to me longer than it actually is, due to its disastrous condition which forces me to ride extra cautious and slow. Eventually, I come to the main road connecting the seaside to the Montenegrin capital of Podgorica, which I pass by without wasting any time, and continue northwards along the spectacular Morača River valley, a 20 miles long rocky terraced canyon. At a certain point, I leave the route heading on to the Serbian border and turn left onto the R18 road, climbing the Sinjajevina mountain range; there’s almost no traffic at all and, as I’m gaining in altitude, it gradually narrows down to a single lane winding through a dense and wild beech and pine forest. The place is dark and gloomy and a pessimistic thought crosses my mind that I’d be screwed in case of a flat tyre or any other mechanical failure, especially that my phone has got no service over here either. Fortunately, nothing bad happens and, after I cross a 5,000-ish ft. high pass, I descend to the Bukovica valley where the road broadens again and I start passing by small villages, until I eventually get to the town of Šavnik, at the foothills of the imposing Durmitor massif, which is my main target for today.
After a short ride northwards, including the 1.4 miles long Ivica tunnel, I turn left onto the single-lane Durmitor Ring, a spectacular alpine road that runs for 50 miles around the massif’s core and its 8,278 ft. Bobotov Kuk highest peak. The narrow strip of tarmac is winding in large bends and tight hairpins through barren meadows and clusters of pine-trees, passing by crystal clear glacial lakes and interesting limestone rock formations; its highest altitude point is the 6,256 ft. Sedlo pass, therefore winter is longer here and, in certain shady places, the snow on both sides of the road is still more than 10 feet high. I stop for a Montenegrin traditional lunch at the Eko Selo cottage in the hamlet of Trsa, then I continue along the massif’s northern slopes, where I get amazing views over the Tara and Sušice Canyons – the former being the deepest one in Europe – and the seasonal Sušičko Lake. On this segment I have to ride slower than before, as the road is even narrower, it passes along terrible drop-offs and is full of debris and rocks fallen from the steep slopes, but with increased caution and patience I eventually get to its end, in the tourist resort of Žabljak. I feel quite tired after this mountain tour and, besides that, the fast-running clouds up in the sky seem to predict an imminent downpour, so I give up camping for the first time in more than a week time and get a room at a cheap hotel. After all, I need a restful sleep tonight in preparation for the long haul tomorrow.
Kotor
The Bay of Kotor
Budva
Lake Skadar
Šavnik
The Durmitor National Park
The Durmitor National Park
The Durmitor National Park
The Sušice Canyon
The Tara Canyon
The long way home. 590 miles
As in most cases, cheap means poor service when it comes to accommodation and in the morning I lose way too much time for the average breakfast I eventually get. This wouldn’t normally be a problem I’d complain about, but today I’m kind of short of time, as I intend to get out of Montenegro, cross the whole of Serbia and also the Romanian border by tonight. Therefore, I rush onto the road passing over the spectacular Ɖurđevića bridge across the Tara Canyon, then on by the mining town of Pljevlja – where I miraculously manage to dodge a police speed trap – towards the Serbian border crossing at Jabuka. You know what they say, misfortunes never come alone, so I’ve got to ride the last 10 miles in Montenegro on gravel and dirt, due to some ongoing roadworks, and this consumes even more of my precious time. The double border control goes on as slow as I’ve been expecting it to do, and here I am in Serbia at a worrying eleven o’clock! [I really cannot understand why all the border controls between the countries once part of former Yugoslavia, that is between people speaking almost the same language, are done separately by both parts, instead of a joint team of officers, as they do in a lot of places elsewhere!]
The first part of my route across Serbia is also the spectacular one, so I don’t even notice the time passing by while I’m riding along the winding Lim River valley, then across the forested ridges of the Zlatar and Zlatibor mountain ranges, up to the latter’s namesake tourist resort. Over here, I’ve got to take a coffee break even if I know I’m late, but I don’t have the patience to enjoy it peacefully, so I’m quite quickly on my way again. Further on, I descend to the town of Užice and follow eastwards the Zapadna Morava River valley, passing by the long and meandering Međuvrsko Reservoir and arriving in the city of Čačak – not even halfway my route – at about two thirty in the afternoon. As I wouldn’t be late enough, getting out of the city I miss the right turn to the main road to Kragujevac and head north instead, only to realise this about 10 miles farther; taking a glimpse on the map, I decide not to turn back, but take a somehow parallel backroad there, the downside of this choice being that I’m not able to ride equally fast, due to its multiple bends and quite bumpy surface. Moreover, few minutes later it starts drizzling and I discover the tarmac has become slippery as hell, forcing me to slow down even more and ride with a constant stress in my mind. While I’m approaching the city, the rain stops for maybe half an hour, only to start again pouring this time. Fortunately, I avoid being soaked as I come over a gas station pretty soon, where I stop to put my rain gear on and also wait for the rain to dim a bit, with the result of losing some more of my time. That’s it, better to be dry than sorry! :)
After I pass by Kragujevac, the road turns into a dual-carriageway, then I take the motorway proper up to the town of Paraćin, speeding up to 90+ mph and gaining back this way some of the time I’ve previously lost. It seems I’ve got out of the rain zone for now, although threatening black clouds and frequent lightnings are still visible in the distance above the southern slopes of the Carpathian Mountains, exactly the place where I’m heading to. Up next, the 55 miles long road from Paraćin to Zaječar, which has been rebuilt a couple of years ago, is a true riding delight, as it allows me to keep on speeding while constantly winding in large bends, first across some mildly rolling hills, then alongside the Timok River valley. The latter is known to be home to the Vlach ethnic minority in Serbia, whose language – aside from the political driven dispute concerning their origin – is highly similar to Romanian and the convincing proof for this fact is the pleasant encounter I have in a gas station in Zaječar / Zăiceari in Romanian with two elder local fellow bikers; even if each of us is speaking his own language, they are still mutually intelligible, except for maybe a few modern time words imported from different sources. We chat about our riding experience both in Serbia and Romania, inquire each other about the bikes we’re currently riding, then I’m getting some valuable advice regarding the recommended route towards the Romanian border. Although I’m painfully short of time, it’s been a nice chance meeting these guys!
Getting out of Zaječar, I ride the remaining 75 miles to the Romanian border on a road which alternates some repaired segments with a handful of roadworks sections, therefore it takes me just a bit more than two hours to pass by the towns of Negotin and Kladovo and arrive to the Iron Gates dam on the Danube River. Daylight is over while I’m waiting in line for the border control, so I ride few more miles in the dark, up to the city of Drobeta-Turnu Severin, where I find a surprisingly nice hotel located into a completely transformed former apartment building. Later on, while having dinner on the terrace, the rain I’ve been dodging during the whole afternoon starts pouring hard, forcing me to hastily run inside. Never mind now, it will just help me have a sound sleep tonight!
In the morning, the sun shines brightly in the sky, promising an upcoming pleasant riding day. I don’t hurry at all, taking my time with breakfast and a short freshening up walk around the hotel, as I’ve got only 220 miles left to go home. When I eventually take off, I take the main road across the vast Danube plain to the cities of Craiova and Piteşti, having a quite relaxed ride overall, as the early Sunday traffic is low enough to allow me make a good progress until noon. I have a short break in a crowded gas station, where I meet a group of local sports bikes riders and we’re joking a bit about the size and weight of my large cruiser, then I take the motorway for the last part of my route and I arrive home unusually early in the afternoon. I’ve totalled about 3,000 miles during this couple of weeks, but the summer is still young and I’m already craving for more!
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