89km

The last apple we had picked was way back on the road from Ljubljana to Postojna, Slovenia. We have been blessed with fresh fruit from the source at no cost for the whole of our journey thus far. Apples had been with us for the entire first month and ended as we dropped over the Karst to the Slovene coast. The Mediterreanan climate brought new opportunities for fresh fruit; we gathered massive pomegrates, Japanese apples (we think these are more commonly called persimmon but like the Slavic name Japinski Japko), occasional figs, grapes, and some kiwi. Suddenly, just by crossing a small mountain range, we had entered apple paradise. Our little apple orchard proved just a beginning to our feeding frenzy for the day. We continued down the road, passing through a valley lit with the colors of our continuos autumn, one more mountain ridge, and into a region where the apples grew bigger, sweeter, and more plentiful. This area was bumping with the apple export and the piles of apples lined the energetic streets.

and this where we got married!

Raj o smaku jablkowym

Ever since the rainy day along the river bank in Albania, the sky had been threatening us with dark clouds that felt as though they would bust open at any minute. While this exuded a certain anxiety, it also produced a remarkable drama over the landscape that kept us in awe.

We made it past Bitola to within 10km of the Greek border when the sun was forcing us to stop. After spending the day admiring the landscape and all of its camping potential, we crossed another mountain pass and found our selves in a large flat valley blanketed by commercial agriculture devoid of the day’s scenery and beautiful campsites. None-the-less, we found a scrubby corner near some abandoned railroad tracks and a harvested field to call home. It was pretty low class, but it seemed safe and our best option. We could spot the approaching rain storms dropping over the distant mountain range and prepared our site for a rainy night.