Macedonia

A hop skip and a road side watermelon from the border we entered the Macedonian capital Skopje. An infectiously ludicrous city which has seen literally hundreds of statues erected over the last three years by the right wing government. When added to the ample number of soviet monuments already extant and the result is more Madame Tussaud's than Roman grandeur.

Part ideological desire to create and celebrate Macedonian nationalist heroes (leading to fun discoveries like a 15 foot statue of an obscure lexicographer) and part attempt to woo tourists to a capital formally described as frumpy - the result is a schizophrenic collision of styles with modernist concrete swoops vying with fake baroque pretense all against an Ottoman backdrop.

While the execution may be lacking, and the renovation of the central square has left it feeling like Disneyland meets Las Vegas as the governing classes seek to manufacture a picture postcard view, it is hard not to be charmed by the city.

At the hostel Fred and I stayed in a local girl, Mariana, raged against the mess that was being made of her city claiming she could hardly recognize it. Following the earthquake here in 1963 an international effort was made to assist with reconstruction; overseen by the great Japenese architect Kenzo Tange. There can be little doubt that his vision has been sullied by the current spate of reckless revisionism but the vigour and vitality of the city shines through with bustling bazaars and a cool riverside bar scene. We amused ourselves playing spot the statue and trying to keep tally. (Impossible)

A snapshot of Skopje and it's many littered statues.

Albania and Kosovo

I think it's fair to say that Albania does not enjoy the best reputation. Residents of former Yugolsavian states who can't agree on much (Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia, Macedonia etc.) all seem similarly disparaging and sincerely warn you of the dangers in visiting Albania. 

[Later in Greece I would have similar stereotypes parroted]

I think a similar though less pervasive stereotype exists in the UK with Albania generally often dismissed as a land of thieves and cut purses.

While it's true that I saw rather more UK car registrations than UK drivers I also found Albania to be by some distance the warmest and friendliest of all the countries I have visited so far. Every 5th car would beep enthusiastically while waves and calls of hellos would follow you down the road from pedestrians. I might have expected such attention to be a trifle bothersome but it was in fact really nice.

My first full day in Albania began at 04:30 with Fred's alarm ringing. The sky still black as we set off for Koman to catch the 09:00 ferry. We felt confident that we had budgeted plenty of time to cover the 43k and any contingencies.

However we hadn't expected the last 30k to Koman to be quite so challenging. It wasn't that the road was a tough up hill along pristine lakeside ridges. (It was) But rather that the road conditions were nothing short of abysmal. Pot holes 3 feet deep vied with tarmac-less stretches and even sections where the road had seemingly completely slid off, leaving 45 degree angles to cycle across. 

With a time limit we couldn't afford to take the road slowly. The inevitable result occurred 5k from Koman at 08:00. My first puncture of the trip. 

Bugger.

I tried pumping her up and trying to cycle the last few k but within 200m I was back down to the rims. With the clock ticking I began undoing the back wheel and sent Fred on to the ferry telling him not to wait for me.

Lady luck smiled. A flat bed truck carrying an Albanian family turned the corner five minutes later and having flagged them down and mimed my need for a lift to the ferry the bike were allowed to hop in the back. 

Not a relaxing trip but certainly exhilarating.  

The Bay of Kotor

A muggy day with low clouds heralded my first day cycling through Montenegro proper.

Racing out of the mountains to the sea at Herceg Novi I was soon careening along the coast roads towards the Bay of Kotor. This flooded river canyon bears resemblance to a Scandinavian fjord and as I rolled into its sheltered surrounds, watching as sheer mountains materialised on all sides, the sun started to peep out.

Connecting up the little villages and beach towns that dot the bays northern edge

Hanging out

Croatia has been well known for it's naturism ever since King Edward the VIII and Wallis Simpson went skinny dipping on the island of Brac in the 30's.

As I prepared to leave Croatia I was a little disappointed that, ignoring my own skinny dipping, I had not had a chance to partake. I find the idea of naturism quite rational and intriguing but my own insecurities and British reserve have combined to prevent me from experimenting.

Until now! a quick google showed that Montenegro also had some nudist camps one of which, just over the border, was run by a friendly English couple Steve and Denise.

So it was that I set off and followed the tricky directions that led me up into the mountains, for which Montenegro is both famous and named, in search of some where to drop keks.

Marco

Heading out from my Dubrovnik crows nest I hugged the coast south enjoying the seemingly unending loveliness of Croatia's coastline.

While that loveliness remained soon the surroundings had taken on a more rural outlook as I left behind the busy surrounds of Dubrovnik and it's neighboring touristy towns and entered Croatia's southern hinterland, Konavle.

The heat was blistering as it had been constantly since entering the Balkans and despite an early start in the relative morning cool I found myself running low on water as I left the main highway near Cavtat. I hold it to be a truth self-evident that as soon as water runs low you will be unable to think of anything else and a previously perfectly comfortable throat will become desperately dry and scratchy.

So afflicted I began to look around for water points or a shop but after 25k of cycling I had found exactly nothing meeting that description. Of a sudden I heard the strains of classic 80's pop drifting towards me

"girls just want to have fun, girls just want to have fuuuuun"

King's Landing

What sentiment can be expressed about Dubrovnik that hasn't already been formulated far better by more articulate souls over its 1000+ year history.

As you cross back across the Bosnian-Croatian border at the tall hills of Brgat the Adriatic splashes back into view. I raced to meet it, flying down the switchbacks to the coast.

After meeing the busy coastal highway a short run north presented me with a first glimpse of this city...

I left my Hertegovina

Crossing the mountains which separate Croatia and Bosnia had been a slog and it was late as I crossed the border. Entering the broad plain I'm not sure what I was expecting; but the pretty fields, well built houses, light hum of activity, roads filled with Mercedes and Croatian flags everywhere and wasn't it.

A last look back at the western range.

During my brief cycle with the Italians they had mentioned Kreviche Falls and after finding a throw away one liner about it in a guide book I decided it was as good a place as any to head for en route to Mostar. Its location however appeared to be something of a state secret with many divergent accounts. All agreed that it lied somewhere near Ljubuski but where from there was a subject of debate, conjecture and general vagueness.