FoMo is stupid

Day #69

Wednesday, the 08.07.

From Mostar to Klek

Country: Bosnia and Herzegovina / Croatia

There was a good double breakfast. My usual mix of oatmeal and the rest, and Ruben made some eggs as well.

In the absence of a pot, I cooked in a pan with water. So without a shell.

Creatively solved, the result is acceptable.

Then it's time to say goodbye, as he takes another rest day before riding the same route as me.

To make it worthwhile, we reuse our names once more.

Shortly after departure, I find another side pocket has fallen off.

The zip ties are at hand, and soon after we can finally leave the city.

Fortunately, it's only briefly on the main road until I turn onto a quiet side road, always following the signs of the Ciro Trail.

It gets curious when I have to stop at a level crossing.

Eventually, the barrier rises without a train passing by.

Almost understandable that a car has crossed beforehand.

At the beginning, I follow the Neretva River and make good progress through the plain, always keeping my eyes on the mountains rising to the sides.

I reach an old railway bridge that looks more rotten and dilapidated than trustworthy.

Well, I’m already used to that from Albania.

First of all, it’s time for a break, and additionally, I find myself at a crossroads.

And while I’m still munching on my bread and thinking through my options, I can watch a small praying mantis devour a whole fly right next to me.

It would make sense to leave the bike path and take the shortest route towards the coast from here.

But I decide to take a detour, even though the inclines on the old railway track are starting now.

Or precisely because of that.

I want to see where the trains used to ascend, pulled by two locomotives and pushed by another to transport the wagons.

Moreover, there are supposed to be some tunnels where bats also reside.

So far, it has been smooth asphalt and a relaxed ride, but that will soon change.

How naive and oblivious I am in my decision to follow the trail.

At first, I seriously doubt that I am on the right track given the steep incline and the gravel.

The confirmation comes with the first of many railway tunnels, and I have to realize that my idea of a bike path is far from reality.

There should be one, but in my understanding, it involves more than just removing the tracks and sleepers.

The track bed with its coarse stones is still there, and riding is correspondingly laborious.

This is what I get for wanting to know how it continues.

Stupid decision.

No wonder I don't meet any other bikepackers throughout the day.

At least I know that Ruben wants to battle down this way tomorrow as well.

Hopefully, he enjoys his rest day.

Turning around is long no longer an option for me, so I keep pushing forward.

After all, there really are bats in one of the tunnels.

Exciting and a bit eerie.

Due to the gravel, I am slow and have to keep making balancing swerves as the tires slip.

When I repeatedly brush against the thorn bushes by the roadside, the fun is complete.

As I approach a crossing fast road, the decision is easy to switch directly onto it.

The route will lead over this main road anyway later on.

And so I manage, after a few last elevation meters and a descent to the sea, to reach Neum.

There’s still a restaurant to go to, so I can save myself the trouble of cooking later.

Replenished, I ride to the border to Croatia, which is practically just around the next corner.

Which is good because it’s taking a while.

The ID check is quick, but an officer asks me to follow him, and the craziest check I have ever experienced begins.

I have to empty all pockets, and I have quite a few.

Additionally, it’s like a Matryoshka; inside the pockets are more dry bags.

When he eventually offers to get a dog, we’re maybe halfway through, I gladly accept that.

Anything is better than having to unpack everything for no good reason and then repack it.

While I’m actually thinking about where to spend the night.

Thankfully, the dog is spared from having to sniff my things.

Because the supervisor of the eager officer comes by, at least that’s my assumption about his position, he asks about my trip, says something to his colleague, and then I can finally leave with a friendly goodbye.

The positive aspect of this action is that I use the time to ask the two about a camping site for the night, and I’m given a beach behind the next curve where I can set up my tent.

Wild camping on the advice of the border police, I’ll take that.

Once past the beach bar there and then beside the olive trees.

It feels strange, as there are still many people there and loud music is playing, so I sit down for a moment and take care of my social life before I set up my camp.

At some point, the peace returns, even if it’s only around midnight, and I can fall asleep in the tent that I have set up in the meantime after an eventful day.

Song of the day:

Goran Bregovic - Polizia Molto Arrabiata