July 1, 2015
Final Day In The Balkans: Kotor to Bar.
City hostels aim for through their guests to improve the local economy by excursions to places of interest and walking tours and in the evenings, tours of the city's nightlife. The latter is misrepresented in name, commonly dubbed "Pub Crawl". I don't know who drinks so much alcoholic beverage that they cannot stand up and resort to crawling along from one bar to the next.
What a ridiculous name for a social evening out with the sole intention of talking over a drink with other like-minded travellers. "Hostel Social" not very imaginative, but more aptly describes the nature of a group of hostellers going to a few bars with a guide. The guide takes the group to the best places. The social meeting in Sarajevo we were brought to an old movie theatre where local musicians played local Bosnian folk music. And after a drink of the local "Rajkia", a plum brandy, we'd only a few beers the rest of the evening.
The social evening out in Kotor, began with a barbeque on the beach with a few cans of beer, followed by a tour of the best bars. However at some stage later things went pear-shaped for me, as I woke up this morning not remembering having returned to the hostel, or getting into an upper bunk in the dorm.
I come out of the bathroom this morning and needed desperately to return to bed. I had nauseating headache and needed awfully to lay down again. I slept.
When I awoke sometime later, the sun is beaming in through the window and I could hear lots of chatter and activity in the street below where the hostel reception and common area opens out upon. I assume it must be quite late. Then in the mix of voices I hear Kyle's English accent say "Could you get my bike out of the luggage room...." Kyle is up so it must be late. I gabble for my watch in my shorts pocket and see it's ten to nine. Well maybe not too late.
I struggle getting dressed and walk uneasily downstairs and having taken my yogurt and orange-juice from the fridge, take a seat by the window. I pour a glass of yogurt and drink.
There's a shinny new mixt-frame bike leant against the wall opposite. A hire-bike. Then Estel, the eco-tourism guide from France appears with a small day-pack. She told me the evening before she was hiring a bike to explore around Kotor and now she having had an early night, is ready to set off. I wave and she smiles.
Moments later Kyle come along the cobble street wheeling his loaded bike, a red Specialized Hardrock with grey rear Ortileib panniers and a basket on the front. I go to the door to see him off, saying I'm not feeling great, so will remain here another day, to which he counters, "I would too, but it's July and the price has gone up to fourteen euros". With this news, I decide to leave as well, as I'd paid eighteen euros for two nights and fourteen for one night is a big increase.
It is eleven o'clock when I've had a coffee and feel fine another to ride. I call at the supermarket just outside the walled citadel, buy a sandwich, a two litre bottle of lemon Fanta and litre carton of orange-juice. It is already uncomfortably warm out of shade as I set off on the narrow road that follows along the fjord from Kotor with towering mountains on either side. This road avoids the main highway that climbs, then goes through a tunnel. There are houses all the way on the left near vertical slope, lots of holiday appartments and on the right beach-front, parasols and sunbathers.
There's not much traffic, except on occasion when a car does pass, there'll be an oncoming car and the car that has just passed is forced well into the side to let it come by and I'll have to stop and wait; it being unpleasantly warm to stop and stand still: better to keep on the move in order to have a cooling breeze.
Once turned the corner and Kotor behind me disappears out of sight, I soon pass a short ferry crossing from the other side of the narrow channel and thereafter the road is standard one lane each way. And being the holiday season, the traffic is a constant flow. The road averagely good, good as it could be without a shoulder. The drivers always leave at least a metre between them and me when passing. This I've found to be the norm during my seven weeks in the Balkans. Never once did a car skimp by with too little space for comfort. The sort of passing where they behave as if you are not there. They tend to sound the horn here when approaching from behind. This can be a bit annoying, but you bottled it as they just want to make sure you're aware they're coming pass.
I pass through Tivat, then there's quite an uncomfortable climb in the heat as the road goes inland, crossing a peninsular. There's no where to stop because there is no shade. The climbing is hot and tiresome but less so than stopping.
Once creasing the hill, the road descend to Budva, an expensive beach resort town by the look, and thereafter the traffic lessens and it is a pleasant coastal roller coasters up and around headlands and I'm soon back on the road I rode out of Bar seven weeks earlier.
At the ferry terminal I find out there is no sailing to Bari until tomorrow evening, so later I plan to ride a little out of town and find somewhere free to camp. The big plus with the overnight sailing is I'll arrive in the morning and have a day riding in Italy ahead of me.
I ride back up from the ferry terminal and stop at the same eating-place I had breakfast the day I arrived off the ferry back in May. I have omelette and chips for dinner and a cool beer. The riding today done me good having sweated off yesterday evening's intoxication and two coffees later I've written my diary up to date. Now all that remains is to find a free place to camp.
Today's ride: 80 km (50 miles)
Total: 6,111 km (3,795 miles)
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