Next morning I have breakfast and then cross the yard to the workshops. No industrial safety regulations here it seems. They have bus length service pits in the yard! I negotiate the hazard in a subdued mood. In the workshop a mechanic has the inner tube and tyre off already. He shows me the industrial quality patches already applied. There is a substancial gash on the side wall. I didn't know that a side wall could be repaired but this is seemingly normal here. It certainly looks thorough. I wipe dirt off the swing arm and point out the tyre's pressure. It is in no time back on the bike and I've now viewed the damage which is amazingly only as described. The left fairing panel is scratched as is the front mudguard. I tot up the list of parts I need to buy for it.Then to the battered pannier. I watch him use two heavy hammers with skill and confidence and return it to correct form and realign the mounting points. Incredible! I am impressed in this guy but also in the panniers. Sheepishly I repack the pannier now back in place and get out my wallet. I offer 20 Euros as cash straight to him. He accepts. Outside I find that the company accept this and there is no bill. This seems like good system to me. I am still not fully settled with all the information. I crashed the bike.It's damaged. I've breached trust. But I get a second chance. Lucky bugger! I ride more slowly for the whole of the rest of the journey.
Now I ride back up to the scene and park up. I learn that the tarmac was not frozen but is freakishly slippery. I've been told that two drivers a week crash here but that doesn't make me feel any better.

The morning after. Linzi

This is the view from the bridge down towards Rade's house. It will be way out of sight 20 km away. The air is heavy with water though warmer. I am very subdued now and set on the job of getting photos. I'm having no luck with this canyon though. The light is poor for photography. The day suits my mood. It takes me a long time to stop tormenting myself over yesterday. I was too damned confident. Now the day looks like: set off for Durmitor and get over to the next valley by nightfall. I can camp out now with my bag dry. I ride down the canyon road a bit first but there's too much cloud and moisture.

There's a lot of water in this beautiful canyon.



Oops, not too close to the edge. I cannot really imagine what this canyon must look like in summer. There are trees near the road all along it but devoid of leaves. I give up getting photos expecting them to be all under exposed.
Back up, slowly, to the bridge. I stand for a time at the site of the plaque and statue to the designer and lament that I can't read the writing. I am saddened to think of the man who created this bridge dying. It takes very little to make me sad today!
I ride up out of the canyon onto the open ground and set off towards the biggest mountains in Montenegro. My expectations are high. Linzi.

Out of the canyon the whole area is more harsh than I've seen yet. I wonder that the Adriatic is not far away, yet this looks like Norway to me. It is a bleak sight on a cold winter's day but still being nature I appreciate it. Getting a bit hungry but photos to be taken.



There are constant reminders that this is a poor area.

This is a cold, remote area at the moment, hardly a car passes as I seek out photos.


The slow pace is therapeutic. I am getting my sense of humour back if I can see hip swinging trees in the roadside pines.




Finally, about midday, I emerge to view the famed Durmitor mountains and obtain one of the most important photos of the trip. Oh yeh?

After the poor weather conditions for photographing in the canyon and at the bridge I park up in Zabliak to get some food for the day. The town is little more than the ski resort sevice town. Hotels and not much else. The roads have been snow ploughed clear but all else has had a good depth put down. I turn into a carpark and with feet outstretched very cautiously enter and park up in a corner with lots of space for me but too little for a car. I return to find a taxi has blocked me in. I have to either wait or go out over the pavement. There is only one way open. Up a step, round a tight corner and right round the building. All in ankle deep snow. I try to run up over the step. The problem with stalling is caused by the bike having too little torque to uproot the post caught by the left side pannier--no mirror there. I roll back, think a bit and---gun the throttle, lean the bike to the left and carefully let the rear tyre spin up and slide to the right! Dodgy but it worked. Third try and up the step, some tricky handling and I emerge back out on the road. My first snow riding. Surprisingly easy: with extreme care and caution. This will be useful later. I head out of town on the "main road" to cross the high land and reach the far valley for the night. I am not targetting any town in particular. I am deliberately not planning as I don't know what conditions to expect. So I take it as it comes. I've got a dry sleeping bag, food, water and fuel, so let's go.
Just outside town I stop at the sight of this road and view.


I think the road infront is coated in ice 300 metres infront of me. It's downhill and I can hardly turn this bike in this narrow road downhill. I ponder whether to not proceed. I am already on a slight slope so committed and decide to proceed and see what the road's like.
It turns out to be sunlight on a lighter coloured road surface. Phew.

The road is actually OK. The temperature is just below zero celcius, no wind, a very nice day actually. There is a tight right hand bend, still OK and several kilometres so. I stop to record some photos for the atmosphere here.



Ice cold, still lake,


sign warning of skid risk, but in this area you need to have your thinking cap on all the time.

The signs mean very little really. The road gets narrower after half an hour and there are hills and bends. There have been no snow ploughs here and less traffic despite it being a main road on the map. I am beginning to realize what a small country this is with little traffic between some towns. You wouldn't want to break down up here!


the uncleared road continues for an hour if I remember correctly. I stop and check the map for distances and check the time for darkness onset. I shall press on to Savnik and make a decision there. It's cold but the weather looks stable. The little Beemer continues to impress me.

The narrow, uncleared road continued for long enough that I lost track of time. It became very twisty but the snow had by now melted here and the road dropped to a lower level. The chill had gone from the air as I reached the rough, basic town of Savnik. Sorry to the locals but I didn't even stop. The thight hairpins look on a map very entertaining but there's so much competition for best road here that I miss them! At a major road at last. The road from Podgorica to Sarakevo no less. Now there are two lanes and super tarmac. Right. North. Sarajevo in my sights. There's still lots of daylight left so I intend to go over the border and overnight in Bosnia.
After a smooth ride of 20 minutes or so I descend into Pluzine. This town has the air of a pioneering town in BC, Canada. There's an air of a logging community about it. I need a bank before replenishing myself or the bike. No sooner have I stopped and removed my helmet than a man asked what help I might need! Damn fine citizens here. He indecated the bank down the hill. A block of flats housed a tiny bank in it's basement. Not much need in this little, isolated community. This man, hearing that I am from Scotland said he'd had great times with Irish and Scots in Portugal. I'm sure I know what he means! The bank's ATM directed me indoors. Needs a pay rise it seems. Inside they couldn't help with my card nor change my Serbian Dinars. I had underestimated how far from the usual services I am. Got blase after Podgorica. Another two ATM's in the town were empty or switched off. Butch and Sundance must have had a hard time in Bolivia too!
I have loads of fuel range thanks to the engine's economy and set off for the border. I'll cross and sort things out at the larger town in Bosnia. The road to the border is, sorry, really fab. I ride smoothly up along a long, narrow flooded valley. The inevitable dam appears and I stop to admire the height and the extensive tunnels along the other bank. My intended use of a camera is not permitted. Must be a military reason I suppose. Off then over the dam, immediately through a tunnel and now, rather than 10 metres above water level, I am dizzyly high above a toy valley floor.
After a couple of minutes of riding I notice in the darkness of a tunnel a sice tunnel letting in light. It must connect with the old road I'd notice clinging to the spur of the cliff. A horse track, no more. I slowed, pulled in and u-turned. No traffic for half an hour but careful all the same. I turn into the tiny tunnel. Over the earth mound meant to stop HUBBers! Out to the spur and get a distant photo of the dam.

The border wasn't much farther. I got through the Montenegran side swiftly, automatically almost. Downhill, round a bend and out of sight. The Bosnia policeman said I couldn't buy green card cover at the border much to my surprise. He said I needed to return to the last town and buy it there. Don't listen to him, he was wrong. Up the hill to the Montenegrans again there si obviously a problem. I attract interest. Let me say here that the Montenegran authorities here were as easy going and friendly as elsewhere. They said the guy down the hill is mistaken but take a look at the insurance document. I seem to have no green card insurance here either! Oops. Now I remember Tony mentioning this. It should be purchased on entry but I entered by train, forgot and what could I have done anyway? Oh dear. Don't worry dear. It's only a blog! The Montenegran says I have a problem here as well as in Bosnia. So true! But he "asks" me to return to Pulzine for the insurance cover. He apologises! Wow. Oh, now I have to ride all the way back and return, a whole afternoon on an excellent road in super weather. Shit!
In Pulzine I park by the same food stand to think things over in this little, isolated frontier town. A, rather gorgeous, tall, blonde, young woman accosts me. Perhaps I've underestimated this town! She asks if I need any help. She indicates there's another ATM hidden at the side of the shop and a hotel down the hill. Thank you, I beam. Off she goes with my eyes followng at a discrete distance.
After assorted fruit, juice and a whole packet of biscuits, I decide, leaning ever so cooly on my dusty steed, to pack it in for the day and use the hotel. How decadent! But it's been a long day of concentration. I only regret having no travel companions to chat with about it.
The hotel was a bit cracked and motheaten. The first signs of communist times I've noticed. Thoughts of cold war fiction as I hand over my passport but the staff were friendly as always.

The heavy rain that had passed through the night left a bright, cheery morning for me to load the bike in. A real armful of assorted gear to carry down. In one go like a nutter! The breakfast had been great and I felt invigorated.
With the bike loaded I opened out the Montengran map with five colours of brown ink, rather hilly. Why bother you might ask. I am shocked you should ask! To look for a road less travelled to reach the border. I mean to ride the same road three times is not on!
From Pluzine there is a white route to the west of the lake. Interesting to me because it weaves around and rises a bit to come in near the dam. Looks interesting to me. Right that's decided then. A mini adventure. This trip is getting too boring. Let's explore.
I ride down past the lakeside houses. This seems more interesting and strikes me as worth a visit in summer. The sun's warm but summer would make it all come alive. The houses as the town gives way to nature are more and more home made and shack-like. The road here hardly warrants the label. I wonder if I should turn back. It is mountain bike stuff on broken tarmac. Often patched but in some bygone era. I turn a corner in the lake and the town's gone. Alone and happy now. I gaze down at the water and am astonished at the clear, bright colour. Some shade of blue which I can't name. Like Swedish girl's eyes with a dash of green gets it.

The road continues for half an hour weaving and ducking along the lakeside in no hurry to head in the right direction. It finally manages to squeeze round the end of an arm in the lake and gets down to business. It begins to rise into the hills. It is a beautiful route and would also be lovely in summer but the day's balmy and my heart light. The bike is just taking it easy too. Lots of low speed cruising really. I enjoy it so much I seem to have failed to photograph the lake or much of the road. But no. It transpires that some of the photos didn't come out. Whether knocks or water I know not but the Canon EOS died in Italy, finally succumbing to Croatian humidity I think.

I look back at the lake which I have now left below in the sheltered valley. I am now gaining height and the view exnpands. I wonder quite how high and cold the road will get for it's major leg up to towards the dam. I remember the condions on the way from Durmitor










I can't view the road ahead as it still lies way around the shoulder of the hillside I am climbing and I must descend before really committing to the track over the mountain. It is getting bleak again though. I often wonder about going back but the further I go the longer the road back gets. The track conditions are OK though. It's just the question of what might lay ahead before I reach the dam.

The day is still and calm but up here the air is cold and near freezing. I see lots of what must be summer grazing homes. Farmers must bring their cattle up and stay over for several months. All the houses are now shuttered against the inhospitable weather which could whip in here rather quickly and there's no shelter at all from any arctic blast with snow.





The conditions are still excellent for the little Beemer and I must now be close to half way so I press on expectantly. Very soon now I'll be able to see round the mountain.



There at last. The highest that the track reaches. Another kilometre or so, but snow and maybe five kilometres of that til the altitude is reduced. Just don't know. Long way back. Snow. Decisions. Need to be responsible up here. OK I'll give it a go, prepared to abort if it is too difficult but nearly cracked it now. Feels great up here.

I approached the snow carefully, avoiding it where possible. There came a section of track which had to be committed to and meant snow, no way out. I was OK on the right wheel rut but looking ahead decided to change to the ohter rut as there was less snow in it further on. Mistake. A tiny lean, greasy snow, wham! Time for reflection. A cigar if you've got one. Bike's OK on the soft snow. It strikes me that it must be 1C not freezing 'cos the sodding snow is soft and mushy. This is not a "situation" though. Not if I can lift the bike. Now if I can't that would be interesting. Sleeping bag's dry but it's a LONG walk for help. No not a real option. Who'd come up here? I must be self reliant. I came up here and must be self reliant.
I plan out this bike lift thoughtfully as its pretty important to get it right. I remove all the gear to a safe place back down the track. We're going home from here after all! The bike rolls round easily on the snow to leave the lift to be downhill. I clear away snow from tyres and for my boots. Both need grip. Put it in third gear and select grip points. The heavy little beast comes up and I rest at 90% lifted. It promptly slides over! With care I repeat the WHOLE thing, including the final fall. So much fun that I do it again. I cut the palm of my hand, a layer of skin gone. No pain in this cold. THis is getting worse.
The fourth time is done in one to fully lifted before a pause.




The outlook is spectacular even when you're about to go back the way you just came. I've come about 20 km in one hour. Ho Hum.

An hour later the intrepid, independent traveller pottered past the lakeside lodges and the bemused road workers. All in the plan, said my air of confidence I hope. I decided to give up on the Sarajevo trip totally. I set off south towards Niksic for food and to spend the night.
Only a short distance down the excellent road cloud rolled in from Durmitor and rain began. I pulled over and donned my overtrousers and jacket and set off again. After a short distance fog developed! How did that happen? I pulled over and considered not continuing due to risks in fog. I decided to continue and had a hard ride in very bad visibility to the large town of Niksic. It was bitterly cold in the fog. It felt colder than riding in freezing conditions. Yow!

I got to Niksic and found it only has a large and expensive hotel. I learnt this in the warmth of a cafe. Another disarmingly friendly person met in Montenegro. With a snack having been eaten and with my body heat up again I looked out at the thick whiteout. Nothing for it but to bivi outside the town's limits. As I made my way by compass west out of town, rain began. This increased to a deluge before I had decided to put on my waterproofs again. My leather jacket is not too bad but my trousers were worse off. I became desperate as I couldn't find anywhere at all to hide. Soaked absolutely, I took to a slippery chalk track and turned off this in dense fog to what looked like a secluded spot. Torrential rain, no cover, cold again. Caught out a bit eh! I negotiated lumpy rocks sticking up with soaked grass and chalk to ride on--at less than walking speed. I park up and plan in the rain.
Damien's tent poles seem to indicate a very complicated tent. Forget it. I lay out the flysheet and put under it all I need for the night. Locking the bike and panniers I duck under the flysheet and set up home. Surprisingly perhaps, it was dry and warm, just a bit odd to hear the hammering next to my ear. Zzzzzz.