(Just a note from the editor: I went up the mountain and dropped the bike, stayed in hotel, then next day tried the border. Passing Pluzine, I headed for Nikzic having decided to miss out Sarajevo and try another border as I couldn't buy a green card. Ooh! Naughty boy. My memory is failing me already!) I need to get thinking to get back in the groove of good writing, sorry. Also would love to post larger photos. Linzi.

a good account of your interesting adventure, keep it coming. the photos are fine for these pages.

I really couldn't sleep with the noise of rain next to my ear. I kept pushing the flysheet and twisting it to leave an opening to avoid a build up of breathed out CO2. The flysheet was sopping wet and insisted on folding back and pressing on my face. By morning the mouth of the bivi bag and sleeping bag were very wet.
It is still pelting hard rain with daylight spreading over the scene. I am tired as if drugged and loathe to rise through lethargy and aversion to a total soaking. I hear the voices of several men outside but ignore them.
They leave, I doze, it rains. They return, I doze, it rains. They leave, it rains, I doze. They're back. It must look odd from outside. In this mucky, chalky mess, a parked bike with panniers. Beyond, a large plastic sheet over a bundle. These guys are persistent, but I'll only remain dry if I don't badly disturb the flysheet. My sleeping bag is vulnerable and I'm in fleece, with waterproofs and sodden leathers under the flysheet. Finally I don't speak Serbian. They poke and lift the fly. I object, they leave finally. I peak out and spot combat boots, cammo trousers, dogs and guns. Ah. Hunters. There will only be deaf deer left near here now!

At last I get up despite the rain still falling. I'm bored. I push my sleeping bag down into the bivi bag to try and protect it from the rain. I fling the flysheet back ready to leap into my clothes but the rain is only light spitting. The sound had been amplified by the material close over my face. I pull on my totally sodden leather trousers-hard to pull up like that. My jacket must be treated in some way as it is almost dry. My boots, army combat boots with goretex are soaked inside. Put them on anyway.
I pack the flysheet up like a parachute really. It makes my arms wet. It's now quite warm though. The temperature's all over the place, what with altitude changes and weather changes. I clear up, all packed onto the bike. Check for dropped paper or anything forgotten. All clear. OK now out of here. The bike's a pig loaded and on uneven, wet grass and chalk. I only trust myself to move it sitting on it. I dare not lose the balance in here. I'm not hungry, oddly, but I have had enough of this place.
I want to get a wash and shave in a building rather than out here. I wish I could have dry boots and trousers but my feet are now warm and the trousers are not an issue really over fleece. I just squelch when I move.
I ride into town and can now see what I rode through--Spread out suburbs. Not as I've seen before though. The spread of homes are farms and old buildings. I later learn that Niksic is the largest town in the Balkans. That's not population but area. I understand that--it's just been one after another a son has set up near his parents and out the town spread.
In a cafe I stop for a coffee. I seem to have gone off food and be sustaining myself somehow on coffees! On the ride in, the cloud was wall to wall and low. It just leaked. The air feels very humid indeed. This is not as before a thunder storm it's just very, very wet. When I look out the cafe window I am shocked to notice that the street outside seems to be full of smoke. It's fog! Wow! I have no ability at all to read the weather here. It's always catching me out, last night, now this. Is this a new, warm and wet airmass touching colder land? I stay in the cafe for a time as I don't like to risk riding in fog. I ask about it and the answer is that it's likely to last all day! Not good.
Early afternoon I decide to go to a hotel rather than ride in this blanket. It takes a time to locate it though as the fog is very dense indeed. When I locate the hotel it is one way too far up market for my budget. A city type job. Damn. I take perhaps two or three hours then to get onto the correct road out of town and en route for Dubrovnic. This includes a stop at a police station for directions but signs can't be seen and, "third right", leaves me wondering when the third road has actually been reached!
A man must have seen me pass several times, criss crossing the area. I had no chance of finding the road especially as I didn't know what town name would be on the sign! A car stopped and the driver asked something. Obvious what. So I said, "Trebinje". This is the town just over the Bosnian border. He gestured to follow and guided me to the important last turn onto the correct road. Wow, thanks! At last! Now let's get going--at 20kph!

( Ed's Note: The author is no longer able to continue writing. Recounting his departure from Montenegro and marking his birthday, he overindulged on comfort foods, notably chocolates. An energy slump and deep depression have made him lisstless and disinterested. I think looking over his damaged Moto Guzzi was the last straw. His bivi bag and sleeping bag are missing. I shall try my best to continue in his absence using his diary and photos. )

As I understand the border was simple with 21 Euros green card for 7 days in Bosnia. His onward journey took him down a very steep and high hillside, out of fog into a cold, bare valley. The view back up to the hill top he said was quite spectacular. The border post just visible with back lighting from a full moon.

After a half hour ride through farm land dotted with small holdings he arrived at Trebinje. I think he recieved help with the roadsigns from a car driver as Dubrovnic was not shown. He stayed the night in a hotel. No wonder as his sleeping bag and clothes must have been soaked! I found one photo from the hotel room but I think he mentioned that a roll of film of this area didn't come out. Damp in the camera is suspected.

He mentioned that in Bosnia breakfast is not included in a room's rent. This room cost him 25 Euros, was well equipped and large but the hotel was only JUST finished. The tiles and plaster looking as if finished the day before. The people friendly again though some of them very tall indeed. In particular he mentioned the length of legs on the blonde receptionist. Don't blame me.

He mentioned that he had the indicators and mirror fixed here but I need to look for the photos. Sorry I'm a bit disorganized. Ed.

Midwinter, curtains back, arms back and yawn. Note the rapid, cheap construction. The rush to prepare for a tourist inflix. Also note the air conditioners under the eves. Does it perhaps get a bit hotter here in summer? Oh yes!



As breakfast wasn't included he went to a cafe in the town centre. I think he said this town had a more prosperous, faster feel than Montenegro. He seems to have been so taken by the pace and feel of Montenegro that he didn't notice these Bosnians are pleasant, helpful people too. Perhaps it's the slicker, fashionable clothes but I think he was a bit harsh on Bosnians. After all a man in the cafe, seeing the slight damage on the bike, introduced himself and guided him to a workshop where the slight damage was repaired, as it might have been in Montenegro.
The mirror doesn't match the original but works fine. Came off a cruiser I think. Apparently there's a local bike club and Bosnians have an active bike club scene modelling itself on the traditional Harley biker model. I suspect there's a ready market for importing bikes to Bosnia. Linzi could well be intending to try that. Another hair brained idea. Ed.

One of the things I remember Linzi telling me was of a side trip he made in the hills above Dubrovnic just before the Croatian border. He mentioned that it was just a hunch which had him stop at an unmarked tarmac road leading off the Trebinje to Dubrovnic road. The road was wide enough for one car only and though in good condition and looking still in use it weaved over and around ground features. After a couple of kilometres and out of sight of the the road this was the scene.




I too would have been tempted to get a photo of this scene. My guess would have been a forest fire in summer. But I changed my mind when shown the following photos. The villages were about 15 km from the main road but only 8 or so km from the coast. Just where forward military forces would have been to guide the artillery barrage of Dubrovnic. Ed.

There are a few haunting photos of deserted, ghost towns. He found five about 5 km apart each. Only the red roofed house seemed to be occupied. He considered that explains the road's signs of slight use. The rest of the buildings were all destroyed, many burnt, all with roofs gone and devoid of fittings or belongings. Frequent rain seemed to have kept the roads clean but the war here was about 10 years ago. The whole area seemed to had a sobering effect on Linzi. He said it must have been war damage which he found later out on the main road. Dubrovnic itself was of course damaged but has been repaired whereas here remains empty. Where are they now?






A cruel sense of humour! It's not real. What does it symbolize. What happened to the communities? Or to individuals? He obviously didn't find out.





He was observant enough to spot the excellent "draw" of the stove pipe up the house wall. Cosy once. Not so anymore. Nice helmet though. Ed

The road as he said must have been important. Just look at the work involved in pushing the route to the communities through. There must have been families living there for generations by looking at the photos of the substantial houses and the road in. Sometimes cut through.


Sometimes built up, through this rough, inhospitable landscape.




linzi mentioned he saw no sign of farming or how the people had made a living. It was, he said, a somewhat moving visit. Far removed from the touristy comforts of Dubrovnic just a shell's shot from here. A howitzer would have done nicely. I looked at the rough ground and wondered what military forces came here. No tanks or other vehicles off road here!
In summer it must also be a very hard landscape. Heat, no shelter and no apparent water. Not my cup of tea, summer or winter. Ed.

excellent story Linz, i hadnt looked for a while as i wanted an evening doing nothing to enjoy it. sounds an amazing trip & much more interesting than a 'then the film crew got us food, then the crew got a luxuary hotel' etc story


oh by the way the HUBB limits for file size shouldnt apply to your pics as you are hosting them on photobucket rather than here.

The road back is through much land like this apparently. Burnt bushes and rough rocks. Barely a sign of soil. The whole Croatian coast's landscape was similarly dry. The land that is, not the weather from what I heard!



Whoever still lives in the village has a long drive to a lonely site.



From the main road he continued to the Croatian border and must have been in subdued mood. For whatever reason he asked about Croatian green card insurance at the first police post--Bosnian police. Their answer was to return to Trebinje for it. Only 20km, that's what he did. In the same cafe, with a new coffee, he learnt that the insurance should be available at the border. Stupid fool, is what he told me he thought when he realized his error. It must have been a bit irritating to return to the border, pass to the Croatian police and be told no green card is needed. You're already insured!

After several weeks inland it must come as a slight release to arrive with a view of the sea. It would look more spectacular in summer sunshine though. Ed.

I know he spent years flying hang gliders and can easily understand why he was so enthusiastic with the above photo. He pointed out the great, smooth lift that would result when the wond blew from the sea, as it would every afternoon he said. This would be caused by the hot air developing by midday would rise and suck cooler air in from the sea, up the smooth slope and give perfect soaring conditions for a paraglider. He says it's possible to buy a lightweight paraglider made for mountaineering which weighs only 4kg. This would easily fit on the back of a bike! Hm. He always has been after action.

This must have been one of the few dry days he had on the coast road. This is Dubrovnic, showing the old town and its ancient narrow streets and surrounding walls. Apparently, trying to get down close to walk in he got caught up in nearly stationary traffic in a huge traffic jam. He filtered out and gave up, saying that while the drivers were really patient and well behaved he felt the town was now too popular to be a pleasant experience these days. A victim of its own fame.


This shot shows almost all of the old town for which Dubrovnic is famous. Ed

Above Dubrovnic this was a town, or had been a town, which drew his attention. He said it spread to the left as far as in the photo and the vast majority of buildings were still derelict. I can just make out the rev counter showing the engine's on. Later, he said, he found the time and irritation of getting out the camera that he kept it round his neck and filmed with his helmet on! He said it was just too much trouble keeping it in its cover in a pannier. Trouble is it got too wet and died.



Some distance north of Dubrovnic was this picturesque harbour. I agree with his comment that the ideal way to see this coast is probably from a yacht! But then you'd miss an amazing coast road.



I know he said the coast was much longer than he remembered and it took two days to get up to Trieste. Some of the way can be done on motorway if speed is required but the coast road there is rated by Tony too as an incredible road for bikes. The surface is perfect and clean, almost no towns, winter traffic non existent and no police. The geometry was that of a race track.
The houses have been built right down to the sea level. Don't forget that the Mediterranean has a very small tide too.

He pointed out to me how this shot shows how wet the sleeping bag was. It packed down more than normal in the bivi bag.

This coast line looks beautiful to me but oh it must be so much better in summer. It really is a rocky coast though.



The few towns are only villages really, leaving the open road sections to go on for hours.



Rain was the norm for most of his trip up the coast but just look at the quality of the road.

Not camera shake he said but rain on the lens. Superb road though. Coral used as wall in forground puzzled him as he didn't know there was any coral in the Mediterranean and neither do I.




I have to agree this looks like a lovely place for a hideaway. Even has steps down to the waterside.


There's still water on the lens, no wonder the camera got wet I suppose. He didn't know how delicate the SLR was going to be.



Interesting to see poplar trees dotted along the coast. I remember him telling me that each time he stopped for food or petrol he had forgotten he wasn't in Greece. It came as a surprise each time to see the cyrilic writing. Oh yes it's Croatia. I see what he means. Ed.