It’s midday somewhere in the mountains of southern Bosnia. I’m in a foul mood as I just got stung by a bee right under my right eye. My whole face hurts and the steep climb seems like it’s never going to end. It’s the sixth day of our trip in the Balkans and all of a sudden, at the unlikeliest of moments, that whole journey starts making sense.
Starting from Ljubljana, my girlfriend Fanny and I have ridden around 900km to reach this place we never heard about. An unknown pass somewhere, so stunningly beautiful, it gives justification to all the hours in the saddle, the considerable amounts of sweat, the few sketchy stretches of busy roads and the inevitable boring flat bits that we encountered on the way.
I’ve always found that the magic of bike touring is that all you need to make days of effort worth it, is one exceptional, unexpected, unforgettable moment of perfect solitude in a spectacular landscape. We’re just like gold miners crushing tons of rocks for the sake of a few grams of gold.
I forget the pain in my face and just let the beauty of the place sink in. It reminds me a bit of Kyrgyzstan in how rocky and devoid of trees it is. It has a different scale of course, not as wide and intimidating, but the same harmony. We get to the top and during the downhill the mountains change one more time. That whole day is just pure bliss. And it ends splendidly, with a long descent in one of the most impressive canyon I’ve ever seen.
Why did we choose to ride here, in the Balkans? I’m not quite sure. We were not willing to travel far as we only had a couple of weeks. We know France and its neighboring countries fairly well. We were not willing to take the risk to get rained on by going to northern Europe. And I had fond memories of my time in Slovenia 9 years ago. So we decided for the Balkans.
The first few days were nice but honestly nothing to write home about. Northern Slovenia is much more scenic than south of Ljubljana. Our short stint in Croatia didn’t have that wow factor either, though it was quite interesting. Our first two days in Bosnia were a bit better but not still quite good enough. And everyday, while I was riding, I couldn’t help but wonder if we should have stayed home to take care of our new house. When our hometown was Paris, any bike trip was an improvement compared to our daily life. But now that we settled in a beautiful part of the French countryside, we need stunning landscapes even more.
And so after 6 days, we found them. Starting from Konjic and riding to Foca, we encountered a variety of mountainous landscapes that blew us away. The next day really hit the spot too. Riding out of Bosnia, into Montenegro, straight to the Durmitor National Park. We knew this ride would be a highlight of the trip and it didn’t disappoint. The amount of climbing was insane but it was well worth it. Montenegro kept delivering after that. Empty mountainous roads, high peaks as far as the eye can see, remoteness and wilderness.
At this point, there was no doubt in my mind that we had made the right choice to spend our holidays bikepacking rather than doing home improvement. The places we’ve seen undoubtedly rank among the most beautiful in Europe. Not only that, they’re also as lonely as it gets on a continent so populous. Montenegro impressed me so much that after just one day there, I already wanted to come back.
After three days there, we crossed into Albania where more mountains were waiting for us. We immediately noticed a change as we entered the first nation of our trip that was not a former Yougoslavian republic. A change in culture, but also in landscape. Different mountains, gentler climbs. Not as spectacular as what southern Bosnia and northern Montenegro had to offer, but still scenic enough for a great day of cycling. Once again, the higher we got, the less people we saw. Riding on roads that see virtually no traffic now that there’s a motorway connecting Albania’s major towns.
We rushed through Albania like we rushed through all the other countries. First the mountains then the coast. We like moving fast, covering distance, seeing things change quickly. Seeing a little of many countries rather than visiting one thoroughly. I’m not sure why. Sometimes it feels a little wrong. Montenegro was so beautiful and empty that I wanted to see more of it. Albanians were so friendly and welcoming that it seemed rude to not spend more time there. Time we didn’t have…
In Bosnia, we met a bikepacker that had been on the road for nine months. And while I know I would not enjoy being on the move for so long, I was kind of envious of the opportunity he had to just explore more when he found a place he particularly liked. But there’s also a sense of accomplishment in seeing the line on the map grow longer at the end of each day. In the end, while I truly don’t know what is better, I’ve made my peace with the fact that I am one that rushes through places rather than one that takes the time to really explore them. Because there is a euphoria in movement. And because I’m always curious to see how much things can change when we cross these imaginary lines we call borders.
We did however give an area a bit more time. After riding 200 km along the Albanian coast, we hopped on a ferry to Brindisi. For the last few days of this trip, we explored Puglia, riding close to 400 km in the heel of the Italian boot. But that’s a different story. One about having an actual vacation after a wonderful but intense and tiring exploration of the balkanic peninsula. I don’t think it’s a story that I will one day tell. It’s a love story rather than a travel tale. And while I do enjoy telling you about my two-wheeled adventures, I think I’m just a bit too shy to write about what goes on once the rides are over.
Sofiane Sehili 