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105km
It is hard to sum up this day. It was really exhilaterating, annoying, and inspiring. We are not sure that we have experienced anything like riding our bicycles into the capital of Albania. Tirana is breathing a new life to our journey to say the least. This is a place of orderly chaos and makes us look forward to visiting the rest of this country.
Our campsite near the lake this time, not the sea
Ridng across a bustling wood plank bridge in the outskirts of Sckoder (Photo by Tobias)
The wood plank bridge of the outskirts of Sckoder (Photo by Tobias)
Tobias in front of the Mosque in Sckoder
Horse drawn cart driving down the same crappy, under construction highway we had to ride
Holy S**t!! Going through the round-a-bout on a ten lane highway! Suprisingly the most organized chaos we have ever been in the middle of
73km
At some point in the past, we had planned to go Bosnia to visit Sarajevo. This began to seem less and less likely considering the mountains and the weather. We completely nixed it at some point in Croatia. Then when we took the bus, we realized we have a bit more time on our hands to go elsewhere. We had originally planned to take a ferry from Bar, Montenegro to Bari, Italy and then a ferry from Bari, to Patras, Greece where we would resume riding. But Albania was calling our name and to Albania we went to much satisfaction to date. Crossing the border was unreal. We felt as the feeling of being somewhere totally different. It is not so much the landscape or the architecture, which is certainly different than say the historical cities, like Ljubljana, rather the people and the culture seems so different here. Feels like we have left the west, so to speak. We have rode our bicycles down expressways along side horse drawn carts and a thousand large semi-trucks with mountains all around. People wave from three fields over and children race along side us just to say hello or ciao. We feel we have finally entered a different place. We once again found ourselves in a tight spot in terms of a camp site. Trash lined the lake and people were everywhere. We finally found a quarry with a few potential campsites. We saw a man walk into the adjacent home and called out to him. The whole family came out to se what we wanted and the young boy acted as our translator. He spoke very good English and was frank. “where do you want to sleep?”, “We would like to sleep on Grass” “Okay, you can sleep over there. Good night” . We cooked dinner while listening to the the last calls to prayer of the day coming from the distance Mosques.
The sea below our coastal cliff campsite
Our Camp site in the morning (photo by Tobias)
Our morning swimming spot
Refreshed after our morning swim in the sea
Town center - Bar, Montenegro
This woman and her husband gave us like 10 kilos of the best pomogranates and Persimmon (japanese apples they call them)(photo by Tobias)
Grizzley man eaten a Japanese apple. It tastes something between a mango and a papaya(photo by Tobias)
Jowita smashing her face into the ripe Japanese apple(photo by Tobias)
We couldn't figure out what the heck this donkey was doing here, just chillin, we suppose
Ugh, another dirty tunnel, guess through a mountain beats climbing a mountain
Jowita splits riding through a short canyon in Montenegro
Cute old woman who would lift her bottom off the bag she sits on to say tahnk you and hello (photo by Tobias)
81km
This seemed like a really long day. The morning was really nice. The pictures speak plenty to the reasons why the bay is a World Heritage Site. However, the day turned when we set out on the main road and the 1.5km long tunnel out of the Old city of Kotor. Traffic was really heavy and dirty, but the other route led us up over 1000m into the mountains. The traffic really got to us, but eventually it eased a little bit. As 3:30 hit we realized that this was formerly our 4:30 cue to begin thinking about a campsite for the night and we found our selves in much the same position as the previous night. Fading yellow light and too many nearby homes along the coast. We had top switched our lights on but stumbled into one of our best and most unexpected sites to date. We made a campfire and stared into the lights of the town across the bay.
Our campsite in someones lovely bayside garden. (photo by Tobias)
Morning coffee at our campsite at the Bay of Kotor
Morning Silohuettes
Morning around the Bay of Kotor
The many churches of the Bay of Kotor
Chad standing over the Bay of Kotor
Archways in Kotor
Old city Kotor
Our friend in Kotor
Leaving Kotor through a very long, dirty tunnel...ugh (photo by Tobias)
Riding along the coast towards Bar, MNE
71km
The clocks rolled back an hour and we were out the door by 7. The rode was pretty busy along the coast despite being a sunday. Lots of tour buses going from town to town, viewpoint to viewpoint. Chad became really nervous about his out of true wheel and decided to take a leap and reapair it himself. With a little bit of time the wheel became as close to straight as he could get it, while Jowita drew, deflecteing the curious eyes the tourists eyes that peered over her shoulder. Once we got past the tourist zones, the traffic eased and we had a nice ride. Summer had returned and we rode in shorts and short sleeves, and sweated to much relief.
We crossed the border into Montenegro. It seemed mostly the same as Croatia but quickly we began to take note of the amount of trash littering the beaches. It was pretty off-puitting to say the least. It was growing dark and the bay was full of homes and trash until we entered the World Heritage site of the Bay of Kotor where the traffic eased, the homes were more sparse and the perfect little private garden called us int to pitch our tent. The view was great and the sunken patio was a welcome kitchen for us.
Nice view from the climb out of Dubrovnik
Kiwis??? We have never seen how kiwis grow and here were thousands!
0km
Chad tried to get his wheel trued in Dubrovnik. He carried the dirty wheel around the city in search of the tourist information and then in search of a phantom motrcycle repair shop. Apparently, no one rides a bike here and those who do never break down.
It rained a bit more but was much warmer. We explored the old city a bit, but were a little overwhelmed by the number of tourists pouring off the Carnival Cruise ship sitting like a floating city in the bay.
Steps of Dubrovnik
Old Town Dubrovnik
72km + 400km on a bus
We screamed a lot this day. Not at each other of course, but at the wind and then some more at the rain. This was one of our hardest, most exhausting days yet. The morning views from our coastal campsite were really breathtaking. We knew the skies meant trouble for us ahead, but the drama of the clouds made it hard to blink. The colors on Pag, and especially with severe weather, are amazing but riding a fully loaded touring bike through the sand is a real bitch. Yes, we screamed at the sand too.
We drove hard into the coastal wind. We screamed; maybe felt like crying; stomachs always feeling hungry; and then it began raining and did not stop. Despite the strength of the wind, we moved pretty fast. We had been getting much earlier starts than we had been used to thanks to ever shortening days, our efficient German Friend, and the series of early ferries. Yesterday was no different. We woke and got on the road by 8 and rarely stopped. We even chose to forego a lunch break (who wants to stop once one is soaked to the bone and chilled from the wind?) We arrived to Zadar and went to the Information center to inquire about a place to sleep for the night. We were directed to a slum hostel that was too expensive. Combine this with a rainy forecast for the next couple days, and you get a trio of minds not keen on staying any longer than forced to in Zadar.
First plan, Train to Split, ride from Split to Debrovnic. (too long of a train ride for too short of distance but surely we could take our bicycles aboard the train)
Second plan, go to the bus station and try to convince a driver to let us pack our bikes on the underside us the bus to Split (risky but more frequent service and more likely to be able to bribe)
We chose the plan we didn’t make ahead of time (ride the bus all the way to Debrovnic.)
This decision would get us past the rain and give us minimum five days extra time to be spent elsewhere. Ultimately it was a good decision, however, the journeyman’s mind had to justify the appropriateness of the decision repeatedly along the way. It was, at times, really hard to sit on the bus for nearly 8 hours watching the same road we would have been riding for five days straight pass by so quickly. It felt as though we were robbing the heavens of time. Gobbling up kilometers in hours and minutes rather than days and nights. It tasted of betrayal. It made our kilometers feel somewhat insignificant. Today, we traveled one quarter of the toal distance of our trip to date, in one day.
We stared out the window of the bus, moving our eyes between the white line we would be riding and the coastal view we would be experiencing. Then we watched as the bus hits the collected water on the edge of the rode and the 3 meter high wave projected in its wake. We watched the traffic along the coastal road. We watched each curve and each and every time the bus dropped to sea level and raised back up into the mountain edge. Our eyes would return to the white line and picture us there as the bus passed, and we knew we made the right decision.
Today, we bought a week for 200 Kuna (less than 30 euro) each and we discovered that the computer is not broken!
Our disassembled campsite on Pag Island
Morning on Pag Island
Bike packed into the underside of a bus
175 Kuna per person buys five days time in Croatia and keeps one dry, out of the spray of the passing bus wheels
68km 1128m gained in elevation
This was the day of three islands, a mainland, and a ton of climbing. Ferry from Krk to Rab; Ferry from Rab to Mainland; Ferry from Mainland to Pag. Each time you went to a ferry you went 300-400 m down to sea level and each time you got off a ferry you went 300-400m up into the hills. Island Rab was pretty overbuilt without much planning, and was rather unattractive and off-putting, overcast skies to no aid. The mainland was intense, with high peaks to the east and dramtic coastal cliffs to the west. Pag was out of this world beautiful. The photos speak for themselves.
Sinking vessel on Island Rab
Chad cold on the ferry from Island Rab to mainland Croatia
Port town of Jablanac, mainland Croatia
a courageous family of five cycling towards Pag ferry on Croatian Coast
This place really felt like riding through a desert, but chilly
Our road from the ferry on Pag Island
Riding through the rocks of Pag island
Endless grids of stone walls
Jowita on island Pag
25km
It was a very cold night here. When we woke the thermometer read 3c and there was ice crystals on the tent poles. We had to be on the road very early to get to the ferry to island krk on time. We had planned to go to Island Losinj but opted out for fear of being stuck there all week until we could get a ferry to Zadar. So we retraced our steps a bit to the ferry to Krk about 25km from our campsite. It was a very beautiful morning ride. We got to Krk and found out that the next possible ferry to Island Rab wasn’t for ten hours and would put us there in the dark. We were gung ho for it until we found our own empty beach with a perfect campsite. We bought beer, pondered over our maps, and swam in the sea.
One of the many sheep ampitheaters on Island Cres
Decent to the ferry on Island Cres
Taking a load off on an empty beach on Island Krk
47km
We woke early to catch the ferry to Island Cres. We were instantly charmed by this island as we began the slow rise into high ridge line that runs down it. Hand stacked rock walls made their mysterious prescence widely known to us as we worked our way up the hill. They existed everywhere; in the most absurd locations, where building them must have been a lifetimes worth of labor and appeared as though with a single gust would tumble to the ground.
We found a hole in one of the walls and wandered in to find a really nice secluded campsite. We stole some rocks from the walls and built a tall fire pit to keep our fire from wandering into the dry grasses.
Wersja Poska 10.20.09
Wyspy Chorwacji uslane sa drzewami oliwnymi (ktore sa wlasnie w sezonie i sama sie przekonalam, ze prosto z drzewa sa wstretnie gorzkie!!). Male poletka pokryte trawa lub onisto pomaranczowo gleba pocwiartkowane sa plotkami z kamieni. Wydaje sie, ze ktos uklada je porzadkujac wszystkie kamienie na wyspie, a jest ich sporo! Panuje niesamowity lad. Czasami niewiadomo co te ploty oddzielaja szczegolnie gdy polozone sa na niesamowicie stromych zboczach oddzielajac jedna bezuzyteczna czesc gory od drugiej. Towarzyszy nam wiatr, a przydrozne owce czasami witaja nas beczeniem.
Tea Time by sheep ampitheater
City of Cres
Ripe Fig from the tree
Oct 17 – 73km
Oct 18 – 72km
The roads from Mareda were pretty busy and and the surroundings were swallowed in the signs of the tourist economy now going into hibernation. We tried to buy some meat from the roadside pig roasts without asking the price first and the man tried to charge us something like 30 euros at the register. Naturally we balked and continued down the road, sure to find another one at a reasonable rate. The fresh roastted pork was a hungry vegabonds dream and we stuff ourselves only to have to ride into a hard climb, belching the whole way up. For most of the day we were trying to out run the dark clouds behind us but eventually got caught right as we needed to pitch our tents. It rained hard enough to soak our shoes through but not for long enough to keep us inside our tents. Yet again, we found a great seafront site.
The next morning, just as we were about to head out, Chad made a painful discovery. The prior evening he carelessly moved his bike from one tree to the other so that it could be closer to the tent. He forgot to check to make sure all of his bungee cords were properly stowed and this morning when he saw a small bungee that was missing a hook, he instantly feared the worst. And so it was. Broken spoke by the sea. This is exactly why we both left for this journey with extra spokes, but we never figured it would be human error but rather a cause of nature, the nature of constant riding a bike day in day out for months.
Chad kept calm for the most part and got busy repairing the wheel, and did a decent job for being his first. We headed to Pula, the next big town to find a bike shop to true the wheel only to discover that it was sunday. Nothing is open on sunday, so we took our chances and headed dead on into the wind up the Istrian coast to get us to a campsite near the Brestova Ferry to Island Cres.
Campsite near Fazana, croatia
Striping off the tire to replace broken spoke
Roman Ampitheater in pula, croatia
