The evening before, we had a bit of a debate about how to sneak our way into the mountains without running into snow again. The previous plan was to ride around Durmitor, but the chances of ending up with a trekking hike instead of a bike ride were higher than ever.
Secret software
It crossed my mind once again that for people not so weathered in the ways of tourism, all our planning, charts, and maps must look like sheer shamanism. Just like any specialized field to the uninitiated, really.
In the end, we just drove the minivan at random in the general direction, hoping to figure things out along the way. We dropped by Žabljak, stocked up on Ajvar, which is a veggie spread, Ljutenica, which is the same thing but with peppers, and, well, booze: local wine and rakija. What I bought, by the way, got drunk on my birthday; it was all tasty and smooth, especially the rakija. True, the very next day things turned out such that a rift started in my personal life, ending in you know what. This all cemented my resolve to quit drinking again, and I haven't had a drop since.
In general, I realized there's no point in trying on other people's norms. You gotta look at what works for you and practice that. For me, it seems drinking just doesn't work out, even though it's fun sometimes.
A local ranger explained to us that the roads we needed were snowed in, so we'd better take others. Our journey began from the Nevidio canyon, and it was a lucky start because the place is breathtakingly beautiful.
Three old-timers in this tavern were smoking right under the “no smoking” sign
Guesthouses
Once upon a time there was a sea here
And now - a restaurant
Signs banged up by hot-blooded guys
We rode and rode, and arrived at a cliff
Before this, somehow I hadn't seen such sheer cliffs in Montenegro, even though it seems there were plenty of chances. Either way, this one left an impression. Maybe thanks to what lay in the valley. Or maybe because the multicolored rocks hung menacingly over us.
Visla rolled out like he's straight from the Matrix in his trendy cycling glasses
Everyone had gotten so used to it that they're standing on the edge of the cliff with zero jitters
And here's the classic group photo you've been waiting for
Down below, the Piva river suddenly appeared
The color, naturally, blew everyone away and inspired us to pedal faster to reach this beauty sooner. We had to descend to the bridge to cross it, and then climb back up again.
Made it down the switchbacks to the bridge
Yes, the water was exactly the color you see in the picture. Looks like a travel brochure. And that's exactly how it was there, insanely beautiful. We got incredibly lucky — we basically rode at random, and this marvel just dumped into our laps. Viya, for example, saw such beauty for the first time in her life, and I'm always very happy when I get to share such magnificence and awesomeness. Unnoticeably to myself, I've gotten not quite as young and susceptible to the beautiful (though I do try), and sometimes I'm just gladdened by the thought that other people can still experience such vivid and pure emotions. And it bums me out, of course, when I can't share the beauty, or when current generations, slightly poisoned by the amount of flashy and strong stimuli in their lives, go “meh”, like, “so what?”
The water color, by the way, comes from a high content of lime or related minerals, that's what Rob said, and so it turned out. In Belarus, there is a place like this too, ought to hit it up sometime.
Doomer didn't miss the chance to take a dip, and almost hijacked a pirate junk
Max, by the way, passed us right at the beginning and rode off somewhere to the side, but already after the bridge, when we had, gritting our teeth, barely made it back up, returned like a prodigal son.
But at least he snapped pictures of what we only saw on other days. Here, for example.
An official bike route, by the way. And the signs are sponsored by beer
The omnipresent sheep and rams
These are the kinds of switchbacks we were riding down and up
The very bridge that offered the view in the photo above
Same one up close
Andrey didn't miss the chance to take a highly artistic photo
If anyone thinks I'm being ironic, by the way, don't. I mean, of course I'm being ironic, but I do that permanently about everything, so no need to single out Andrey's photos specifically.
When we scrambled back up, another miracle awaited us. Next to a sign for “Izlazak Ethno Village” sat a wonderful restaurant with very tasty food and cute waitresses.
The already familiar salad, Shopska I think, or maybe Serbian
The portions are decent, though not cheap
Doomer is always positive
Don't be scared by the prices, that's for an overnight stay, or overnight with meals
Interesting rock formation
At this spot, I remember, I was telling Max and Olga how Doomer told me that the best thing that ever happened to him was getting dragged into cycling and bike touring. I can confirm this 300%. First I got into lifting and swimming, then, more intensely into cycling, and eventually I realized that this is all me and will be mine for the rest of my life, and I can't and don't want to live without it. If I ever get an injury so bad I can't do any sports, I don't even know how I'll survive a situation like that. (Although when I was stuck at home for half a year, it wasn't all that bad, but back then I believed it was temporary).
After having a proper lunch, we set off further along a rather boring highway. There was another road through the mountains, a more fun one, but after the previous, quite eventful days, our energy levels were no longer the same; the switchbacks and the hearty lunch were also taking their toll.
Rollin' along
On the asphalt we goofed around a bit: who could pass who, and how long you could sustain an intense pace. A smooth highway with few cars is an order of magnitude better suited for such amusements than crumbly mountain dirt roads.
Along the way we were caught up by a businesslike guy in a car, who asked where the boss was, and after the answer that he's at the head of the procession, rolled on up to Oleg. There he vividly described all the goodies he could offer us at rock-bottom prices, and gave us a business card in Latvian!
The address of his bait is - www.zabljak-hotel.com – demand a 20% discount, it's marked on the card. Judging by the site, the guy is alright, gives a discount to cyclists, as well as to other true social groups.
Team Snail has its own leaders and champions, and passions boil hot
But during a break everyone is equal
We got to the car around 19:00, tired as hell, having ridden 90 km through the mountains. The road ended unexpectedly, so the only person who was expecting its end, namely Oleg, arrived first with his wife.
This was our last day in Montenegro, and it was a success. It's always nice when everything wraps up so wonderfully all by itself, even without any complex preliminary plans.