Day 56
Riding into to istanbul was probably one of the most insane things that i have ever done! All of Europe's Asia bound truckers get funnelled into a six lane bottleneck of mayhem that flies towards the bosphorus at around 70 miles an hour. i had been warned by several people that riding into istanbul wasn't advisable. the cycle touring handbook reccomends getting a bus into town and my dads cousin, who knows the city reasonably well, suggested skipping istanbul alltogether on account of the headcase drivers roaming the streets. desperately trying to remember everything from our cycling preficiancies and clenching our buttocks tight we persevered and made it through by the skin of our teeth. i particularly enjoyed it when our 2 lane B road merged with a motorway and came out the otherside of it thus obliging us to cross 3 lanes of high speed traffic. such was the intensity and stress of our 2 hour battle that by the end of it i felt like i'd sat my finals again!
That evening we found ourselves in istanbuls oldest nargile (water pipe) smoking joint. the people watching was sublime and as the nicotine coursed through my veins i could feel the previous weeks hardships slowly trickling away. a turkish art dealer named hasan made his way past moustached pipe smoking gents and through the smokey haze to take a seat next to us. we talked about turkish art and premier league football (he couldn't believe that turkish footballer Tuncay had left turkey to live in the north of england). Hasan was also the first of many turks to point out to me that he felt european. "look around" he said, "we're in europe". he couldn't believe that turkey was not in the EU but (supprisingly for me) i didn't want to engage in a political discussion after the day i had so i quickly steered the conversation back to football.
Days 57 and 58
the next two days ollie and i spent marvelling at sights such as the marble cladded aya sofia and stupendous blue mosque. we indulged ourselves. i think i might have eaten my own body weight in turkish delight. we embarked on a tedious hunt to find a decent turkish road map, which we finally found in an art gallery of all places! i gained the assistance of a turkish speaking sweede named Eylem who helped me track down a new sleeping mat (my previous one had given up in Bulgaria which probably contributed to my dislike of the country). i ate some more turkish delight. from the wonderfull galata bridge, which had hundreds of fisherman standing shoulder to shoulder on it, i looked out across the bosphorus at asia. i made several trips to 'The Pudding Shop'. we strolled through the spice markets and spent a small fortune on getting our clothes washed.
Day 59
ollie and i rushed to catch the ferry that was to take us from europe to asia. we sailed to a town called Yalova where we were going to meet a freind of mine called Fulya. Fulya was great fun. she bought us lunch in a fantastic little cafe where the enthusiatic german speaking hosts kept giving us sugared milk which was meant to power us over the anatolian plateau. they commented that we were hansom enough but could really bennefit from a shave. having thought that we were both looking a little scruffy we plucked up the courage and threw ourselves at the mercy of a turkish barber. and what an experience it was!
under strict instructions that i wanted a turkish style moustach my barber, named yusseff, first used some clippers to remove the wort of my beard. he then massaged a balm into my face before lathering me up with some shaving cream. he then begun very skillfully passing a razor over my face, pinching my face, chin and neck to get as close a shave as he could. once the worrying bit was over he covered my entire face in an alcoholic balm (to make me "look like a baby") which made my eyes run everytime i breathed in. "are you crying?" asked fulya. this balm was blow dried onto my face turning it white and then removed with a coarse horse hair brush. i was then bent over a sink and my face was washed and shampoo massaged into my hair. yusseff then cut my hair and used a flaming rod of meths to singe whatever fluff there was left that he didn't like. He then sculpted my turkish mustache (in Cappadocia i have been mistaken for a turk such is the authenticity of my new facial hair). i was then passed to his assistant who gave me a massage!!! never have i been so pampered and all of this cost less than a fiver! as we said goodbye to our barbers and fulya in yalova i thought that Ollie looked particularly sharpe with his new goate.
that night we were discovered in our campsite. a motorbike came down the track we had put our tent by and dissapeaerd without a word. the driver (we assume) then returned later with five other men who wanted to know what we were up to! my heart pounded as they approached us in the dark and started looking ar all of our stuff. fortunately we had gotten fulya to translate a letter explaining who we were and that combined with our new clean cut looks seemed to satisfy our assailants. as they departed one ran back to give ollie a torch - very bizzare!
Days 60 - 65
The next day was great. we rode along lake iznik where the olive harvest was in full swing. we then began our climb up onto the anatolian plateau where, later that afternoon, we were to recieve out first taste of the anatolian generosity. passing through a remote village we stpped to ask for directions and were quickly invited into a cafe for chy (tea). Rahim, the cafe owner, then laid on some food for us and gave us bread to take away. we had only just eaten our lunch but could hardly say no to this kindly man who wanted to give us everything he could. we departed with a hug which was so good i went in for a second!
it is the cheery generosity of the turkish people that has really defined our experience travelling across the plateau. the following day the weather was filthy and we were invited into another cafe for free chy, they let us eat the food we had just bought in a shop and they dried our cloths and even my sleeping bag. in another village we were trying to find some fresh vegetables, of which there were none, so a shop keeper jumped on his motorbike and went to his house to bring us back some from his own larder. people come running from their houses like mad men in the hope of inviting you in for chy. we've had to get good a politely saying no as we'd never get anywhere if these exceptionally generous people had it all their way!
with the exception of that one wet day the weather has been good. clear sunny days to help emphasise the rolling yellow beauty of the plateau. we've had a tail wind which has been great but at night the temperatures plummit bellow zero. our water freezes and so do we! it takes us longer to get going in the morning as our bodies wont function properly in the early cold hours but as the sun rises we thaw out and our spirits pick up. we've covered around 400 miles in six days which has felt like a real achievement as daylight is becoming sparse as the nights draw in. the villages we pass are all fascinating and worlds apart fro istanbul. the agricultural scenery has been very interesting too. shepards on donkeys and wierd contraptions that lift whole tractors and trailers 30ft in the air to help them tip their loads! we even met a spanish cyclist called silvestor who had been riding around the world for 10 years. the only thing that ive not enjoyed about the plateau has been the dogs! they chase and bark at you at every opportunity and we are now in rabbies land so there's twice the reason to be worried.
Day 66
we met a fascinating character called Burant (or Jimmy as he wished us to call him) on top of a hill where we had stopped to take in the view and brew some coffee. his friend had passed us in his van and rung him to say "there are some tourists coming your way, see if they need any help". obligingly he had left the cattle that he had been watching over and came to see if we needed anything.
Jimmy had spent 7 years working illegally in the uk and with two sets of intesrestd ears to appease he unravelled the twists and turns that had brought him to that hill watching over the cattle he had bought with the money he'd made there. apparently hundreds of people had left his village, now full of modern buildings, for the uk in the late 90's as immigration controll was non existent. he had worked in kebab houses from newquay to dundee. he'd run a coffe shop and even smuggled in cannabis hidden inside of red cabbages. he had a spell in prison in scotland. he had both a turkish wife and children and an english gilfriend and children. he told us about the mafia, people trafficking, the pkk's cocaine growing, his love of the uk and how he dreams of being back there every night, his gambling and finally how he was caught and deported back to turkey. despite his colourfull background he was a genuinely nice bloke! he'd been on dartmoor and ollie and he hit it off talking about cows as they both breed simintiles. he took us to see his two year old bull which he was particularly proud of and wanted to sell it to ollie for 3000 pounds. he gave us his number and offered his assistance should we need it anywhere. he also warned us that there is no garlic sauce in cappadocia! After we left him i thought to myself that there is a very good chance that he might have served me a kebab in newquay! small world.
That evening we finally made it to cappadocia and laid our heads to rest in the flintstones cave pension, both excited about the day of exploration to come.
Day 67
Cappadocia is amazing! ollie and i spent the day seperately exploring this wonderous landscape which i think is best done in solitude. i started in the open air museum in gorome and was amazed by the 12th and 13th century churches that had been carved in to the sandstone. i really enjoyed climbing in and out of the various rooms and imagining the lives of the monks that would have lived in them. i then rode and carried the bike through some seemingly impassable valleys. the shapes that had formed in the stone around me were simply phenomenal.
kemal seemed just as surprised to see me as i was to see him when i stumbled across his juice shack in the remote corner of one valley. i bought a pomegramete juice and he gave me a chy and my first ever lesson in backgammon. begginners luck saw me victorious but i still dont really understand how to play! i then rolled on down the hill to see to wonder at anthropormorphic rock forms and the rose valley at sunset. i highly reccomend a trip to cappadocia!
that evening ollie and i started planning the next leg of our trip. we're going to be going higher and getting colder on our exit from turkey but hopefully we'll warm up in syria!
i'll keep you posted!
Monday, 23 November 2009
Saturday, 14 November 2009
riding with rob continued
days 49 -51
i can't say that i massively enjoyed macedonia after the wonderous experiences i had had in albania and kosovo. the people were nice enough but the scenery less attractive. it was great no longer having to worry about mines and we even managed a campfire in lovely orchard one night.
on day 50 we crossed into bulgaria and had a nightmare trying to refuel my stove - we stuck liquid parafin in it at one stage - this certainly doesnt burn and is meant for stomach upsets!
day 51 was a sad day as we had to say goodbye to dad. he had been great company and had really enjoyed the experience. he was quite emotional as we said our goodbyes in a cafe in dupnica. i was really proud that he had managed so well. i think he had ridden around 450 miles with us over some tough passes and through some terrible weather. i hope i'm ticking along as well as he is at 55! what a great experience to have shared together i thought.
I hope to put more detail up on the following days (52-55) that led ollie and me through bulgaria, greece, and turkey to istanbul, needless to say that they were the toughest yet. more head winds. borring scenery (landscape decemated through intensive agariculture) and hard hard miles! both of us were relieved to make it into istanbul, although getting into town wasn't without its own hardships (more to come on that). but since our time here the city has really lived up to its reputation!
i can't say that i massively enjoyed macedonia after the wonderous experiences i had had in albania and kosovo. the people were nice enough but the scenery less attractive. it was great no longer having to worry about mines and we even managed a campfire in lovely orchard one night.
on day 50 we crossed into bulgaria and had a nightmare trying to refuel my stove - we stuck liquid parafin in it at one stage - this certainly doesnt burn and is meant for stomach upsets!
day 51 was a sad day as we had to say goodbye to dad. he had been great company and had really enjoyed the experience. he was quite emotional as we said our goodbyes in a cafe in dupnica. i was really proud that he had managed so well. i think he had ridden around 450 miles with us over some tough passes and through some terrible weather. i hope i'm ticking along as well as he is at 55! what a great experience to have shared together i thought.
I hope to put more detail up on the following days (52-55) that led ollie and me through bulgaria, greece, and turkey to istanbul, needless to say that they were the toughest yet. more head winds. borring scenery (landscape decemated through intensive agariculture) and hard hard miles! both of us were relieved to make it into istanbul, although getting into town wasn't without its own hardships (more to come on that). but since our time here the city has really lived up to its reputation!
Friday, 13 November 2009
Riding with Rob: Croatia - Bulgaria via Montenegro, Albania, Kosovo and Macedonia.
Day 41
I woke early and set off alone to squeeze in some final sightseeing and joined with gave later to see whether we could get our bikes to a mechanic (mine was feeling a little out of sorts after riding on the track out of Podbuce). unfortunately though, it seems that you can buy a cheap chinese made bike in Dubrovnic but if/when something goes wrong with it you're screwed as no bicycle mechanics exist in southern croatia!
on my way out of town i was accosted by a wild eyed man who had the appearance and alcoholic aroama of rab c nesbit and the agenda of an english herritage warden. "This is a padestrian area" he exclaimed "get off now!". i had no problem with this at first but when he grabbed my handle bars and started shaking the bike i took exception to his less desiarble qualities. a stand off ensued with him blocking my path and me refusing to get off my bike. seeing the fury welling in my eyes he let go of the bars and i promptly got to my feet. "tsankyou" he shouted. "no, tssssankyou" i replied.
Yan was sailing to italy that afternoon where he would begin his ride home. so we said goodbye over lunch and then dad ollie and i set off with the scots to montenegro.
the croatian border guards joked with all of us about not having papers for our bikes - dad's face was a picture when he thought he might be in some sort of trouble. - this changed to nervous smile when he realised it was a joke.
our first night in montenegro was spent in a dodgy looking park where we put our tents up in the shaddows and hoped that no trouble would come our way.
Day 42
Day 42 was a perfect cycle toring day with sublime scenery, a pefect host and an explosion!
It started disasterously when i found myself squating over a cafe toilet short of loo roll . my judgement over loo roll quantities is usually pretty good and i would have been fine if it hadn't been for a 'secondary movement'. not wishing to soil my cycling shorts i thought to myself what would bear grills do in this situation - and so i begun unravelling the loo roll tube as finely as i could and made do with that. it was rough as hell but got me out of a...sticky situation.
After this incident we said goodbye to the scotts who wanted to save themselves 20km by sailing across the kotor fjord. MISTAKE! the 20km ride around the fjord was undoubtably the most scenic riding of the trip so far. spectacular 1500m cliffs plunged into turqouise water, the roads were flat as a pancake and we refreshed ourselves with pomegramets that were growing alongside blooming purple flowers at the waters edge.
We then rode into Kotor town where i was met with a Bianca-esque RICKYYYYYYY from across the harbour. the scots hadn't got very far and it seemed that we were destined to spend another night with them. they set off up the 900m hill towards Montenegro's capital, Podgorica, agreeing to let us know if they found a decent campsite.
Dad Ollie and i then set about exploring the wonderful medievil citadel. Whilst in the main square ollie and i got talking to an american film maker. what happened next was riddiculous. i remember subconsciously registering that someone had come over and said "ok we're gonna do the explosion now" but i didn't take much notice. the next thing i knew there was an almighty bang and i was struck in the back by something. indeed i had been hit by shrapnel from a plant pot that had just been blown up from a 1st storey window. i genuinely felt shaken and all the film maker could say was "that was really f#cking dangerous!" we promptly left kotor and climbed the pass in evening sunlight. the fjord looked fantastic and the views only got better as the sun began to set over the adriatic.
We camped that night in the garden of a montenegran named alex. Alex was a fascinating character. he invited us inside for some grappa telling us that he was normally a drinking man but was on medication due to a recent car crash. the crash was a blessing in disguise for us as he was a big man and i wouldn't have wanted to feel obliged to keep up with him! he regailed us with tails of his life in the merchant navy, his time in britain where he fled as war broke out in his country and where he became montenegro's first rugby player after having a stint at london welsh. He was quite the wheeler dealer too with a real estate business, a hunting business and a gun importation business called barretta (i got a bit worried at this point) which he had had to set up after 9/11 when his hunter tourists could no longer bring their weapons with them. His sister, Svetlana Drugovic, is montenegros top artist and her work can be seen in the offices of the countries top officials. she even met the queen of england after winning a competition in london! he told us about the history of his country and talked frankly about "bullshit" wars and dodgy politicians. he warned us about bears, wolves and albanian bandits. it was an informative and entertaing evening, he'd been the perfect host!
Day 43
the next morning alex invited us in for eggs and more grappa. one to warm us and one for the road! an old girlfriend of his appeared on the morning news, "what the fuck, she was with me in london" he exclaimed.
we rode through deep autum colours towards Podgorica. the capital was unimpressive. an ugly soviet block type town so we left.
we had our final final night with the scots on the border with albania and dad put on feast of chocolate for us - which he had bought with euro coins he didn't wish to lug over albanian mountains.
Day 44
Day 44 was stressfull. we had planned a few days of big rides that would hopefully get us through the landmine infested north eastern albania unharmed. we all felt a little apprehensive before going to albania and the pressure was on dad who's fitness was inevitably not up to mine and ollies (as he hadnt just ridden 1800 miles), so tensions were high.
the morning started well though. after fixing dads 1st puncture of the day we crossed the border into albania and the culture shock was incredible. i couldn't believe that i was in still europe! hosre and carts were everywhere. children rode motorbikes. concrete bunkers dominated the landscape (known as mushrooms the defence obsessed former dictator had thousands of them built in every strategic position immaginable, there is one bunker for every 4 albanians!) the 'A' road we were on was as rough as a badgers arse, some tarmac, some track. the train tracks were used as sheparding highways. there was rubbish everywhere (it was like riding through a beautiful rubbish dump). the dogs were out of control and half of them lay dead by the road. livestock roamed free. it was absolute mayhem and i loved it. the people were exceptionally freindly and seemed just as fascinated by us as we were by them.
We weaved and dodged our way to Shkoda where the road to Kosovo turned away from the road to Tirrana. Shkoda was lively too. East met west and where churches sat next to mosques and call's to prayer could be heard over the top of dance tunes booming from boy racer cars.
We followed the road towards kosovo and people began to look more and more surprised that we were there. chow! they would yell. and ollie raced kids who were on scooters and on bicycles.
lunch however was very stressfull and set the tone for the rest of the day. we found a quiet spot in a provincial town and ollie went off to find a toilett. he returned having failed to find one, followed by a dozen boys who he left with dad and me whilst dissapearing to find a different loo. dad got another puncture and started dealing with that. slowly the boys surrounded us getting closer and closer until they were in my face and all over the gear. it was all i could do to make sure that nothing went missing form and my 2 eyes were not enough to watch over all of ollies, dads and my things. more boys arrived and i could feel myself getting panicky. dad wanted me to help him with his bike but i simply couldnt stop watching the bikes. ollie returned and we left quickly. dad thought that i had somehow had a relaxing lunch stop compared to his punture repairing 'ordeal' and made a sarky comment accordingly. i exploded at this and all the tensions i had felt in being surrounded flowed from my lips in a verbal tirade.
we were riding over tough mountain passes battered by winds that threated to blow us off our bikes and struggling to find somewhere to camp. we had been warned not to be on the roads after dark and after a long physically demanding day dad was struggling up a final set of switchbacks . i strapped one of his panniers over the top of mine and ollie sped off up a pass and fortunately found us somewhere out of sight to camp. unfortunately we had camped well short of where we had planned. This made it likely that we were not going to make it to the safety of a hotel the following evening, leaving us with the possibilty of having to camp in the Kukes region, a particularly iffy frontier area on the border with kosovo.
Day 45
we got up in the dark and were riding by the time the sun rose. the unrellenting winds continued to batter us and the pressure of needing somewhere safe to camp meant that tensions continued to run high. chilled by the wind we stopped in a cafe for a drink. the charming manager fixed us up some great coffee and we communicated by drawing little pictures on his note pad. he asked how much my bike was and not wishing to disclose the actual price i told him a conservative 100 euros. he quickly said that he would love to buy it at that price! we said goodbyes with hugs and hand shakes and pointed our bikes into the head wind once more. we began to feel optomistic about reaching kosovo and the hotel until we realised the maps we had (both of them) were wrong and that the hotel was actually about 15km further on than expected. with this we resigned ourselves to fate - which was just as well as dad said he was at his physical limit.
as the night began to close in on us shepherd boys walked their flocks home and lorry drivers gestured to their watches suggesting that this was no time for cyclists to be on the road! again there was no where that we could see that looked safe enough to camp and irrational fears about bandits began to kick in. i kept thinking about the foriegn office warning "we advise against all travel to the north east border areas (ie the district of kukes) between albania and kosovo because of the risk of unexploded ordnance...avoid traveling at night". we were in the district of kukes and traveling at night.
The fear got me in a praying mood and salvation came in the form of the Dedas family. as we began descending from the pass we stopped at a small farmstead, tentatively walked through two gates and knocked on their door. they were only too happy to let us put our tents up in their farm yard and they promptly set about bringing a light out so that we could see what we were doing. we then began cooking our supper but before the pasta was done we were invited insde for coffee and racki! Nicole senior, 75 years old and a former general in albania's communist army, was the patriarch of the family. he had six sons including Nestor who i spoke in broken spanish with, christian who helped us put up our tent and edward who made the coffee, 3 daughters were present, one son in law, Nicoles wife and his charming 4 year old grandson nicole junior. we spoke about his time in the communist army and the livestock he had on his farm. ollie and i made the mistake of accepting a ciggerette which meant that they were continually forced (in the nicest way possible) upon us the rest of the evening. they gave us the best seats right by the fire and bent over backwards to make sure we were comfortable. for example when dad sat on the floor to take his shoes off before entering the living room, edward was quick to give him a stool to do it from.
we dissapointed our hosts by returning to cook our supper but when we went outside we found that the dog had eaten all our food. "no problem" the Dedas said! they quickly set about putting together a grand albanian feast for us. Tirrana beer flowed and the women ate in a different room to the men. prime cuts of mutton were presented to us and i was utterly humbled by the whole experience. i went to bed that night knowing i had just had one of the best experiences of my life and feeling very privilaged to have seen the dynamics of such a tight albanian family in full hospitality mode.
Day 46
i felt like i had been on a heavy night out when dawn broke. my head pounded from the racki and my lungs felt like a chimney. the moment i emerged from my tent i was presented with a glass of warm milk. it seemed that the dedas were as un-relenting in their hospitality as the albanian wind had been in blowing in our faces for the previous two days! they gave us eggs and a tour of their lovely farm. the real highlight being nicoles homemade distillary where the racki was made!
sad as it was we had to leave and cross into Kosovo we promised to send them the photos that had been taken of the evening and the whole family posed for one fianl shot.
on the way to kosovo we stopped for lunch in a field beyond the town of kukes. i almost shat myself when a self loading shotgun went off above my head. unbeknown to us a man had spotted a pigeon in the field we were in, stopped his car, crept on to the bank above our heads and blown the thing away. i thought a mine might have gone off and felt edgy until the gun wielding gent strode across the field and picked up the pigeon. he walked back towards us said something to dad before dissappearing again. ollie noticed that the pigeon was still winking and this put me off my lunch more than the fright of gun shots!
we crossed the border and made it to Prizren in southern Kosovo. i got talking to some German Officers who there working for KOFOR, the UN force providing security in the country. "what do your parents thinks of you making a crazy tour all over the balkans?" he asked. i told him i had brought one of them with me!
That night we were privilaged to some fine kosovan hospitality in Besinis family resteraunt and then went to bed in a bed. which was great!
Day 47
Riding out of Prizren the following day it was a shock to see the burnt out buildings riddled with bullet holes and churches heavily guarded by KFOR troops. it brought home the reality of war and made me conscious of the instabilty in the region. we rode over another attractive pass and ended up staying in a hotel in strpce. Strpce was unusual as it was a serbian enclave and the serbian flag flew everywhere not the kosovan. we were welcomed into the hotel though and once again the hospitality shown to us was fantastic.
Day 48
Our hosts provided us with omlettes and racki for breakfast and i noticed that a group of truckers were already well tucked into the beer (this was at 8 am).
The weather got bleaker and bleaker until we were riding head on into snow and sleet. everything became wet and my hands and feet were frozen stiff! every garage we passed invited us in so that we might warm ourselves. at one garage we stopped and a man wound down his window and handed us three alcoholic energy drinks called 'dracula'. this powererd us on towards the macedonia. we stopped at a resteraunt on the border for one final dose of kosovan hospitality. they hung our wet things by the fire and made us as comfortable as we could be. drinks were on the house and the manager made it clear that he loved the british and americans for helping kosovo gain its independance. i told him that i was happy that he was happy about this and cheers errupted around the resteraunt!
we then crossed the border into macedonia and whizzed through skopje during rush hour.
so this is as far as im going to get with the blog tonight. sorry for the delay in letting you all know where i am. its currently day 58 and ollie and i are in istanbul. 2600 miles on the clock. hopefully i'll be able to fill in the blanks for you before setting off tomorrow.
best wishes!
I woke early and set off alone to squeeze in some final sightseeing and joined with gave later to see whether we could get our bikes to a mechanic (mine was feeling a little out of sorts after riding on the track out of Podbuce). unfortunately though, it seems that you can buy a cheap chinese made bike in Dubrovnic but if/when something goes wrong with it you're screwed as no bicycle mechanics exist in southern croatia!
on my way out of town i was accosted by a wild eyed man who had the appearance and alcoholic aroama of rab c nesbit and the agenda of an english herritage warden. "This is a padestrian area" he exclaimed "get off now!". i had no problem with this at first but when he grabbed my handle bars and started shaking the bike i took exception to his less desiarble qualities. a stand off ensued with him blocking my path and me refusing to get off my bike. seeing the fury welling in my eyes he let go of the bars and i promptly got to my feet. "tsankyou" he shouted. "no, tssssankyou" i replied.
Yan was sailing to italy that afternoon where he would begin his ride home. so we said goodbye over lunch and then dad ollie and i set off with the scots to montenegro.
the croatian border guards joked with all of us about not having papers for our bikes - dad's face was a picture when he thought he might be in some sort of trouble. - this changed to nervous smile when he realised it was a joke.
our first night in montenegro was spent in a dodgy looking park where we put our tents up in the shaddows and hoped that no trouble would come our way.
Day 42
Day 42 was a perfect cycle toring day with sublime scenery, a pefect host and an explosion!
It started disasterously when i found myself squating over a cafe toilet short of loo roll . my judgement over loo roll quantities is usually pretty good and i would have been fine if it hadn't been for a 'secondary movement'. not wishing to soil my cycling shorts i thought to myself what would bear grills do in this situation - and so i begun unravelling the loo roll tube as finely as i could and made do with that. it was rough as hell but got me out of a...sticky situation.
After this incident we said goodbye to the scotts who wanted to save themselves 20km by sailing across the kotor fjord. MISTAKE! the 20km ride around the fjord was undoubtably the most scenic riding of the trip so far. spectacular 1500m cliffs plunged into turqouise water, the roads were flat as a pancake and we refreshed ourselves with pomegramets that were growing alongside blooming purple flowers at the waters edge.
We then rode into Kotor town where i was met with a Bianca-esque RICKYYYYYYY from across the harbour. the scots hadn't got very far and it seemed that we were destined to spend another night with them. they set off up the 900m hill towards Montenegro's capital, Podgorica, agreeing to let us know if they found a decent campsite.
Dad Ollie and i then set about exploring the wonderful medievil citadel. Whilst in the main square ollie and i got talking to an american film maker. what happened next was riddiculous. i remember subconsciously registering that someone had come over and said "ok we're gonna do the explosion now" but i didn't take much notice. the next thing i knew there was an almighty bang and i was struck in the back by something. indeed i had been hit by shrapnel from a plant pot that had just been blown up from a 1st storey window. i genuinely felt shaken and all the film maker could say was "that was really f#cking dangerous!" we promptly left kotor and climbed the pass in evening sunlight. the fjord looked fantastic and the views only got better as the sun began to set over the adriatic.
We camped that night in the garden of a montenegran named alex. Alex was a fascinating character. he invited us inside for some grappa telling us that he was normally a drinking man but was on medication due to a recent car crash. the crash was a blessing in disguise for us as he was a big man and i wouldn't have wanted to feel obliged to keep up with him! he regailed us with tails of his life in the merchant navy, his time in britain where he fled as war broke out in his country and where he became montenegro's first rugby player after having a stint at london welsh. He was quite the wheeler dealer too with a real estate business, a hunting business and a gun importation business called barretta (i got a bit worried at this point) which he had had to set up after 9/11 when his hunter tourists could no longer bring their weapons with them. His sister, Svetlana Drugovic, is montenegros top artist and her work can be seen in the offices of the countries top officials. she even met the queen of england after winning a competition in london! he told us about the history of his country and talked frankly about "bullshit" wars and dodgy politicians. he warned us about bears, wolves and albanian bandits. it was an informative and entertaing evening, he'd been the perfect host!
Day 43
the next morning alex invited us in for eggs and more grappa. one to warm us and one for the road! an old girlfriend of his appeared on the morning news, "what the fuck, she was with me in london" he exclaimed.
we rode through deep autum colours towards Podgorica. the capital was unimpressive. an ugly soviet block type town so we left.
we had our final final night with the scots on the border with albania and dad put on feast of chocolate for us - which he had bought with euro coins he didn't wish to lug over albanian mountains.
Day 44
Day 44 was stressfull. we had planned a few days of big rides that would hopefully get us through the landmine infested north eastern albania unharmed. we all felt a little apprehensive before going to albania and the pressure was on dad who's fitness was inevitably not up to mine and ollies (as he hadnt just ridden 1800 miles), so tensions were high.
the morning started well though. after fixing dads 1st puncture of the day we crossed the border into albania and the culture shock was incredible. i couldn't believe that i was in still europe! hosre and carts were everywhere. children rode motorbikes. concrete bunkers dominated the landscape (known as mushrooms the defence obsessed former dictator had thousands of them built in every strategic position immaginable, there is one bunker for every 4 albanians!) the 'A' road we were on was as rough as a badgers arse, some tarmac, some track. the train tracks were used as sheparding highways. there was rubbish everywhere (it was like riding through a beautiful rubbish dump). the dogs were out of control and half of them lay dead by the road. livestock roamed free. it was absolute mayhem and i loved it. the people were exceptionally freindly and seemed just as fascinated by us as we were by them.
We weaved and dodged our way to Shkoda where the road to Kosovo turned away from the road to Tirrana. Shkoda was lively too. East met west and where churches sat next to mosques and call's to prayer could be heard over the top of dance tunes booming from boy racer cars.
We followed the road towards kosovo and people began to look more and more surprised that we were there. chow! they would yell. and ollie raced kids who were on scooters and on bicycles.
lunch however was very stressfull and set the tone for the rest of the day. we found a quiet spot in a provincial town and ollie went off to find a toilett. he returned having failed to find one, followed by a dozen boys who he left with dad and me whilst dissapearing to find a different loo. dad got another puncture and started dealing with that. slowly the boys surrounded us getting closer and closer until they were in my face and all over the gear. it was all i could do to make sure that nothing went missing form and my 2 eyes were not enough to watch over all of ollies, dads and my things. more boys arrived and i could feel myself getting panicky. dad wanted me to help him with his bike but i simply couldnt stop watching the bikes. ollie returned and we left quickly. dad thought that i had somehow had a relaxing lunch stop compared to his punture repairing 'ordeal' and made a sarky comment accordingly. i exploded at this and all the tensions i had felt in being surrounded flowed from my lips in a verbal tirade.
we were riding over tough mountain passes battered by winds that threated to blow us off our bikes and struggling to find somewhere to camp. we had been warned not to be on the roads after dark and after a long physically demanding day dad was struggling up a final set of switchbacks . i strapped one of his panniers over the top of mine and ollie sped off up a pass and fortunately found us somewhere out of sight to camp. unfortunately we had camped well short of where we had planned. This made it likely that we were not going to make it to the safety of a hotel the following evening, leaving us with the possibilty of having to camp in the Kukes region, a particularly iffy frontier area on the border with kosovo.
Day 45
we got up in the dark and were riding by the time the sun rose. the unrellenting winds continued to batter us and the pressure of needing somewhere safe to camp meant that tensions continued to run high. chilled by the wind we stopped in a cafe for a drink. the charming manager fixed us up some great coffee and we communicated by drawing little pictures on his note pad. he asked how much my bike was and not wishing to disclose the actual price i told him a conservative 100 euros. he quickly said that he would love to buy it at that price! we said goodbyes with hugs and hand shakes and pointed our bikes into the head wind once more. we began to feel optomistic about reaching kosovo and the hotel until we realised the maps we had (both of them) were wrong and that the hotel was actually about 15km further on than expected. with this we resigned ourselves to fate - which was just as well as dad said he was at his physical limit.
as the night began to close in on us shepherd boys walked their flocks home and lorry drivers gestured to their watches suggesting that this was no time for cyclists to be on the road! again there was no where that we could see that looked safe enough to camp and irrational fears about bandits began to kick in. i kept thinking about the foriegn office warning "we advise against all travel to the north east border areas (ie the district of kukes) between albania and kosovo because of the risk of unexploded ordnance...avoid traveling at night". we were in the district of kukes and traveling at night.
The fear got me in a praying mood and salvation came in the form of the Dedas family. as we began descending from the pass we stopped at a small farmstead, tentatively walked through two gates and knocked on their door. they were only too happy to let us put our tents up in their farm yard and they promptly set about bringing a light out so that we could see what we were doing. we then began cooking our supper but before the pasta was done we were invited insde for coffee and racki! Nicole senior, 75 years old and a former general in albania's communist army, was the patriarch of the family. he had six sons including Nestor who i spoke in broken spanish with, christian who helped us put up our tent and edward who made the coffee, 3 daughters were present, one son in law, Nicoles wife and his charming 4 year old grandson nicole junior. we spoke about his time in the communist army and the livestock he had on his farm. ollie and i made the mistake of accepting a ciggerette which meant that they were continually forced (in the nicest way possible) upon us the rest of the evening. they gave us the best seats right by the fire and bent over backwards to make sure we were comfortable. for example when dad sat on the floor to take his shoes off before entering the living room, edward was quick to give him a stool to do it from.
we dissapointed our hosts by returning to cook our supper but when we went outside we found that the dog had eaten all our food. "no problem" the Dedas said! they quickly set about putting together a grand albanian feast for us. Tirrana beer flowed and the women ate in a different room to the men. prime cuts of mutton were presented to us and i was utterly humbled by the whole experience. i went to bed that night knowing i had just had one of the best experiences of my life and feeling very privilaged to have seen the dynamics of such a tight albanian family in full hospitality mode.
Day 46
i felt like i had been on a heavy night out when dawn broke. my head pounded from the racki and my lungs felt like a chimney. the moment i emerged from my tent i was presented with a glass of warm milk. it seemed that the dedas were as un-relenting in their hospitality as the albanian wind had been in blowing in our faces for the previous two days! they gave us eggs and a tour of their lovely farm. the real highlight being nicoles homemade distillary where the racki was made!
sad as it was we had to leave and cross into Kosovo we promised to send them the photos that had been taken of the evening and the whole family posed for one fianl shot.
on the way to kosovo we stopped for lunch in a field beyond the town of kukes. i almost shat myself when a self loading shotgun went off above my head. unbeknown to us a man had spotted a pigeon in the field we were in, stopped his car, crept on to the bank above our heads and blown the thing away. i thought a mine might have gone off and felt edgy until the gun wielding gent strode across the field and picked up the pigeon. he walked back towards us said something to dad before dissappearing again. ollie noticed that the pigeon was still winking and this put me off my lunch more than the fright of gun shots!
we crossed the border and made it to Prizren in southern Kosovo. i got talking to some German Officers who there working for KOFOR, the UN force providing security in the country. "what do your parents thinks of you making a crazy tour all over the balkans?" he asked. i told him i had brought one of them with me!
That night we were privilaged to some fine kosovan hospitality in Besinis family resteraunt and then went to bed in a bed. which was great!
Day 47
Riding out of Prizren the following day it was a shock to see the burnt out buildings riddled with bullet holes and churches heavily guarded by KFOR troops. it brought home the reality of war and made me conscious of the instabilty in the region. we rode over another attractive pass and ended up staying in a hotel in strpce. Strpce was unusual as it was a serbian enclave and the serbian flag flew everywhere not the kosovan. we were welcomed into the hotel though and once again the hospitality shown to us was fantastic.
Day 48
Our hosts provided us with omlettes and racki for breakfast and i noticed that a group of truckers were already well tucked into the beer (this was at 8 am).
The weather got bleaker and bleaker until we were riding head on into snow and sleet. everything became wet and my hands and feet were frozen stiff! every garage we passed invited us in so that we might warm ourselves. at one garage we stopped and a man wound down his window and handed us three alcoholic energy drinks called 'dracula'. this powererd us on towards the macedonia. we stopped at a resteraunt on the border for one final dose of kosovan hospitality. they hung our wet things by the fire and made us as comfortable as we could be. drinks were on the house and the manager made it clear that he loved the british and americans for helping kosovo gain its independance. i told him that i was happy that he was happy about this and cheers errupted around the resteraunt!
we then crossed the border into macedonia and whizzed through skopje during rush hour.
so this is as far as im going to get with the blog tonight. sorry for the delay in letting you all know where i am. its currently day 58 and ollie and i are in istanbul. 2600 miles on the clock. hopefully i'll be able to fill in the blanks for you before setting off tomorrow.
best wishes!
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