Because ist was too hot close to the sea, I decided to go back to the mountains, to the Durmitor national park to be more precise. This meant I had to go back almost the same direction I came from. Comparing this and last episodes route, one might think I dont’ have a single clue what to do and where to go, meandering from the mountains to the coast and back. And it’s genuinely true, I had no idea what I was doing. Remember that first post or the grand introduction as I called it? All those lies told in the first paragraph? The part about not having a plan is actually true.
Anyways, I was crossing the mountains again on some of the narrowest roads I could find until I reached Žabljak in the national park. The scenery changed again, this time from the mediterranean to an alpine landscape, combined with the forests, the dark clouds and the architecture in the villages, I felt reminded of the Carpathian Forests in Romania.
Next National Park stop on the route was Biogradska Gora, didn’t stayed there very long (and took no pictures). Instead I first went around, then up the mountain and camped in front of a mountaineers hut. Soon after clouds were approaching and it started to rain. The next morning was rather bleak, thick fog and rain awaited me outside the tent and it was cold enough for me to wear thick gloves and thermo underwear. What a difference to the 30° and sunshine I had the days before. I had no idea that those were the last drops of rain for the next two months. Descending from the mountains in these conditions was a tricky business because the wet clay-like earth on the paths was slippery as hell and cold wet hands don’t really help with concentration and throttle control. I dropped the bike twice before I reached a paved road.
It wasn’t long until I crossed the albanian border, but I won’t lose too many words on the two days while I was crossing Albania. Oncoming traffic in your lane in a blind corner is pretty much normal driving on the Balkans and nothing new at that point, although I’ll never get used to that. Sleeping next to a swimming pool which became a party venue for albanian pupils who passed the last exams before summer vacation (including deafening balkan-techno for the best part of the night) isn’t much more than a sidenote. Only the roadside café owner who offered his daughter for marriage should be mentioned. The girl was nice but she spoke only albanian, so no deal for me. Honestly, I couldn’t make up all that stuff, no matter how hard I tried.