The best

Today was, in general, awesome. Easily the most beautiful stretch of road, almost exclusively through untouched forest on relatively empty roads. I also had better legs and unsurprisingly was in a better mood.

It started almost straight off the bat with a 20km climb to cross from Kosovo into Montenegro.

It started in a dense deciduous forest on the front of this wall of mountains.

By the end of it, it was all pine forest.

And at that point in time, after something like 19km of climbing, I was in the pain cave.

After the summit, it was a pretty long descent into Montenegro, and eventually into a river gorge.

Out of the river gorge, it turned very Swiss-like. Give Montenegran banks some dictator and drug cartel money and a pinch of nazi gold on the side, give ’em a few years to “invest” it, and you probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the two countries.

The worst

In one stretch of maybe 30 minutes, I had everything. Almost murdered by a tour bus passing within a meter of me, chased/attacked by a large killer dog, and forced to ride through an 1100-meter long tunnel, half of which was dark. And had traffic. Unpleasant goosebumps 3x.

The drivers are awful. They seem to believe that there is always space for two cars and a bike. Oncoming traffic be damned. They don’t touch the brakes either. F#%*ing idiots.

Adventure and rakija

Probably the highlight of the day was when things seemed to be going wrong about 40km from the finish. Because it had rained so much in the last couple of days, I deliberately set my route to stay on roads. It was obviously not a good sign then, when I was on gravel. Going uphill. At like 15%. Riding through what felt like private property. From somewhere unseen, I heard someone shouting, and then saw the guy emerging from his fruit tree orchard. Friendly yelling. In Serbian (or serbo-croat-montenegrin; point being, I didn’t understand). But he waved me over, and I kinda wanted a break, so I went. He then made the “drink” gesture, so I nodded and followed. I had committed myself. I took the seat that was offered, and then his wife came out with coffee and we played charades until it was clear that I’d happily drink a cup. The husband had disappeared, only to materialize with a bottle of plum rakija (schnapps) in hand. Oh boy. Before I could protest, a shot was poured, and the rules of hospitality meant it was going down the hatch.

At this point, I realized I had cell service, so I started using a live voice translator, and things went smoother then. Turns out the rakija was 44% alcohol. That was gonna hurt later. I learned they also have a daughter my age. I learned I had another 11km of gravel to ride before I’d hit asphalt. They also offered to prepare me lunch with their own cheese, peppers, and bread. Folks in the Balkans are awesome. When they aren’t in their cars.

Anyway, my break ended, I managed to grind out the last steep uphill, and then came a crazy switchback descent on washed out, but thankfully dry, “roads”.

I let out a little whoop when I got to asphalt, only to quickly round a corner and see a guy walking, looking back at me with a very strange look on his face.

After that, it was a fairly uneventful 25km to my cabin, where it just so turns out that my neighbors, a Dutch couple in their late 60s, are two weeks in to a 2.5 month tour. Something to aspire to!