Distance: 106km
We were woken once by a pack of dogs, sniffing around the tent and bikes, but they only needed to be yelled at once to disappear. We were sleeping soundly in the early morning when footsteps on the gravel woke us. A box was put on the ground next to the bikes and a young guy started to graffiti the wall as if we weren't there. The next 15 minutes were strange, as we tried to tell him to go away, but he insisted in broken English that he had to do it "at this moment". He was close to the bikes, and spray paint began to inadvertently land on them and our gear. He apologised and tried to move Sam's heavy bike. Sam yelled at him to leave. He insisted he had to do it so the people on the train could see... back and forth it went. Realising we would get no more sleep we gave in and packed up. It was another tough day - temperatures in the high 30s, more altitude gained, nowhere to buy food or water, headwinds... It was a day to make us wonder why we do this to ourselves. We found a restaurant in a small town where we were overcharged for a small bowl of pasta each, but we met a friendly Italian, Pablo, who chatted to us about his motorbike travels around Europe. It was lucky we had the pasta though - in the afternoon we went up a hill of 850m altitude with gradient of up to 15%. It was too much and we had to push up a particularly steep section. In the hot sun the mountain was particularly tough, but the plateau on top was beautiful, and drinking the cold mountain water we found coming from a well at the top made it worth it! For the rest of the day the road would lose altitude, only to gain it again. In the early evening we rode into the city of Potenza at 850m altitude. The plan was to buy food and get out of there before dark. But we spent an hour riding around trying to find the road for the next leg of our journey. And we couldn't find a supermarket. We were getting very frustrated and worried we would have to stay in a hotel. We ate some pre-packaged sandwiches and were able to think clearer... We picked a direction to head in, and rode down from the top of the city. We had no luck finding our road, but luckily Sam found another place to camp - our most bizzare yet. It was inside a bridge near the freeway. No one could see us, it was cool, and we were too tired to keep going. It was all we could do to find the energy to put up the tent and eat our cereal for dinner.
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Distance: 62km
Getting going today was harder than we’d hoped. We spent the morning trying to work out how we’d get to the Saint Bernard Pass on the border of Italy and Suisse (Switzerland) in time to meet Sev and Francois. We had no luck with the buses and trains, and so we worked out a separate route where we’d go to one of Italy’s most famous island mafia strongholds. But first, our destination was Potenza, a city in the Italian foothills at over 800 meters in elevation, we hoped it would be a little colder. By the time we cycled out of Bari it was almost 2pm, and almost 35 degrees. We didn’t figure on not being able to find water, so we left with our bottles half full without realizing what was ahead of us. All afternoon we pedalled hard and seemed to cover little ground. The service stations were all closed. At one service station, which was open, the shop was locked so the attendant gave us some water he had in his car. It was a simple act but improved our mood dramatically. In the evening we stopped in the city of Altamura and found a supermarket. The altimeter on Sam's watch said 420m - we had been climbing all day. That partly explained why it had seemed so hard. The sun was setting and we rode furiously to get away from the city and find somewhere to camp. Sam located the perfect spot - under a bridge next to a rail line. There were no houses around and we were looking forward to a quiet night. Waking to a beautiful panorama of Dubrovnik bay and its capital we wondered just why it was we were leaving this place. But we'd already bought our tickets and it was too late to turn back now.
That and we were now in a hurry to get to Switzerland, where our friends Sev and Francois are waiting for us to meet them at the Saint Bernard hospice, at 2480 meters in allevation, one of the highest motorable passes in Europe and the highest point in last year's Tour De France. But first we had to get there. We made it to the bottom of the mountain in five minutes and stocked up on food for the eight hour journey to Bari, Italy. We had originally planned to cycle to Split and catch a ferry to Ancona, but the traffic in Croatia pursuaded us to leave earlier than planned. Once we arrived in Bari we would catch a ferry or train or bus further north, closer to Switzerland. The ferry was filled with Italian pilgrims who would spontaneously break into a chorus of gospel singing and were frequently fingering their rosary beads. They even took over the inside salon for an hour an held an impromtu worship service. We wondered where they had been... Arriving in Bari as the sun was getting low (why do we always arrive in new countries when it is getting dark?!) we went to the train station to see about catching the night train to Ancona. There were a few trains running - but we couldn't take our bikes. We were referred to the information desk where a little English was spoken. They had the same answer. No bikes. But Italians love bikes?! Apparently you can only take bikes on some regional (country) trains not inter-city, and even then only on certain trains marked with a bike on the timetable. The office staff were not helpful and just wanted us gone. They had no timetable for me to check if there were any trains we could catch. And provided no options for us to consider. So the train was out. We tried to find the bus ticket office. But again, no one was interested in helping us and it seemed the office would be closed by now anyway. It was dark - too dark to find a campsite - and we were stuck in this city. We searched for a cheap hotel, and the cheapest we could find was 60 euro - our most expensive one for the whole trip, and a dump compared to most places we'd stayed. We needed internet to look at our options for getting out of this city, so we cycled around the Bari in the evening dusk, until we found, in a dimly lit alley way, a small internet cafe with four big black guys standing outside. Can we go in, we wondered... Dejectedly we spent hours looking up ferries, trying to find out about buses and trains... without really finding any economically viable options. How do people with bikes get around in Italy?! Distance: 70kms
Sorry still no wifi... but we can't wait to find some to post up some photos! We left The Bay of Kotor with a few sad glances, looking behind us to wonder, or hope, that one day we'd be back, and headed along the coast up a few small but steep hills towards the Montenegro/Croatia border point. Around lunch time we arrived at the checkpoint, and after climbing the 150 or so metres in altitude at about ten percent gradient between the borders, no-mans land you might say, we finally arrived in Croatia. For maybe twenty kilometres the riding was pleasant, a little hot and windy, but mostly enjoyable, but then the road veered towards the hilly coast, and the traffic increased dramatlcally. The coast was a beautiful site, as we hope you'll see through the photos we'll post as soon as we can, but it was a little scary riding alongside so much traffic with so little room for error! Aftter ascending a mountain alongside the ocean for what seemed like more than an hour, we stopped to admire the unbelievable view of Dubrovnik, a fascinating medieval coastal city, at a small shop atop the hill. We bought a drink (for an exorbitant price) took some photos and then sat down to rest our legs and admire the view. Just before we set off I looked at the temperature, it was 39 degrees (in the sun). As we began our descent into the city, thunder and lighting struck, and despite the sky above us being perfectly sunny, the heavens opened and the rain began to pour, freezing cold but refreshing drops of icy rain. The contrast with the heat of the day was startling, the rain hitting the road and instantly turning into steam. Down into the city and we found the ferry terminal, perched near the water, seeming to quietly await our arrival. Leaning our bikes against the wall to find and fish out out the wallet and our passports I suddenly realised that once again I'd left the wallet behind, back up on the hill. Or had I? Stil unsure at this point, I began to look through my bags when two angy Croatian men began yelling at Shanna to move the bikes. The sick feeling began rising in my stomach with the realisation of what I thought I'd done, the men yelling to move the bikes, why, where to, where did I leave it, is it up the mountain, could it be somewhere else... and our introduction to Croatia was a little more difficult than I'd anticipated. An argument ensued with the mysterious men yelling at Shanna to move her bike, maybe she wasn't moving it quick enough for there liking, and enough was enough. I began yelling back, 'we're moving, shutup you idiots.' Moments later a police officer arrived. Asking what the problem was, we explained we'd been told to move and where in the process. The officer turned to the men, and to our relief, gave them a stern talking to, after which they tucked their tails between there legs and walked off. I cycled back up the hill. Finally arrived, exhausted, sweating, and walked up to the little shop counter. Strangely I was ignored for a little while, and even when I asked if they had found the wallet I was met with a blank stare. Seconds ticked by, I searched the area with my eyes, and then, after more hesitation, my wallet was produced. Relief!! Looking inside, cards are here, but.... no money. Eighty Euro, gone. I tried to get some back, even half I argued, you can keep half, more men appeared from nowhere, 'there is no money' they said, gesturing wildly. Back down to the ferry terminal, 'you just missed it' they motioned, 'next one leaves tomorrow at 11am.' Later. We cycled under a massive suspension bridge and found a place to swim and wash. The ocean water was cool and cleansing, and I stayed in a long time despite the coldness, watching the boats float past whilst the sky began to shake, thunder and lighting once again enveloping the horizon. Catharsis, maybe not, but some sort of purging nonetheless. We cycled back up the mountain, and turned around to see a sunset we'll never forget, and a man, an old man, sitting disconsolately, saddened, head down, holding a sign. Stopping to take photos of the beautiful scene, before pushing up further to find a camp site we wondered about this man. Back in Dubrovniks inner city we'd been approaced by at least twenty different people asking if we needed a hotel, he was another of these, but he hadn't said anything to us, unlike the others, some of them even following us into shops to push us into accepting. 'How much?', Shanna asked. Sorry its been so long since our last post, its been a challenging few days, and we've been unable to find any internet.
We decided to stay another day in the beautiful Bay of Kotor in Montenegro. We spent the day fixing our our tent, our sleeping mattress, making a short video, washing our clothes, swimming in the ocean and eating some fantastic food that included fresh raspberries with a thick cream yoghurt, palacinkes (a rolled pancake filled with chocolate cream and nougat cookie crumbs), and delicicious chocolate and pistacchio ice-cream... We also sampled some hamburgers, delicious, huge and cheap at only £2 each!!! We took some great photos along the water in the evening - make sure you have a look! Distance- 85km We left our strange campsite early in the morning, the nudists and their accomplices were already up and about. Both a little tired from having to blow one of the sleeping mattresses up around six times during the night, we struggled to push our bikes through the trees and up over the rocky path, finally getting to the road after helping each other over the steepest section. Stopped at a small mini-market to buy breakfast- nectarines, plain and flavored yoghurt and milk for the cereal we'd been carrying. Back on the road, pouring with sweat, temp today ends up touching 35 degrees. The coast road is steep and winding, but amazingly beautiful. At one point we pause at the top of a hill to catch our breath, sweat dripping into our eyes, and look across to see an archaic little town built upon a small islet. It looks old, thousands of years old, and we wonder who lives there, have they lived there for centuries, lucky them... In the evening we're nearing the border to Croatia (25kms) and decide to look for somewhere to camp. We stumble upon a small and isolated road closely following the bay around, and stop to marvel at its beauty. Leaving our bikes against an ancient stone wall we jump into the ocean, its cold, refreshing, and after cycling amongst the cars, the trucks, and through the heat for most of the day, extraordinarily soothing. Swimming out, around a yacht, looking up, seeing the water splash gently against its bow, I can feel the sways of the tide, the pressure of the water swelling about me, and the sweat being washed away by the clear coolness. And just now, at the moment you're reading this, thunder erupts, lightning flashes across the sky, and I can see a storm pushing in, over the mountains that look as though they are rising from the depths of the ocean beneath. Sometimes its moments like this that make it all worth it. We sit in a small restaurant, the storm ceases, the water so close is almost beneath our feet... and watch the world cup. Shanna decides to look for somewhere to sleep, to check if there is anywhere cheap, although we don't think there will be, and plan on camping somewhere- but she finds the most beautiful place we've stayed yet... for only 25 Euro per night. And a wonderful Montenegren lady makes us feel like family. 'Do you love our place' her face seems to wonder, to implore us, a simple kind honest face... knowing we will. 'We love it,' it says to us. Sitting back on the balcony and looking at the water we wonder to each other, 'how come nobody knows...' |
AuthorSam and Shanna Evans are from Melbourne, Australia Archives
September 2012
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