Names are just sounds and smoke

Day #67

Monday, 06.07.

From somewhere near Tušila to Mostar

Country: Bosnia and Herzegovina

[Note from the editor: Nicko had everything ready, then accidentally deleted all the text while copying it because he thought it would be a good idea to publish the report after a swim in the sea with wet fingers. He hit the keyboard and replaced everything with an o. Then he rewrote half of it, only to remember that there was already a first draft with Jenni in the news. Yes. So he combined both, and maybe it has turned out slightly longer than it already was. Enjoy reading.]

The night was relaxed and free from animal visits, but the knowledge of landmines causes a queasy feeling.

And that despite the fact that there are no warning signs in this area, and I am on a road, albeit a remote and unused one.

First, I need to tackle the last kilometers of yesterday's rocky ascent, and despite the early hour, just after eight, I soon start to sweat.

After all, I'm carrying less weight; there's less food and water that I need to transport.

Upon reaching the top, I encounter a Swiss bikepacker coming from the opposite direction, who is dripping just as much as I am.

After a brief exchange, I continue on.

Over the rubble down, which means letting it roll slowly and braking.

I skip the town of Tušila as it forms a dead-end for my route and turn left directly; the next steep climb awaits me.

Just one last small up and down, and finally, I've reached above the tree line and also the highest point.

At least regarding the road.

A little higher, there is a flag and I smile at the drivers going there to pose for a photo.

Time for a break. Finally, I've reached above the tree line and also the highest point.

From here, it's all downhill for a long stretch.

It has to be that way at some point.

But first, a break is in order to enjoy the moment, surrounded by green meadows and an otherwise barren rocky landscape, which is also impressive.

The view of the curves ahead of me, promising a fantastic descent, is also beautiful.

A group of three women passes by, who, as I later learn, are supported travelers, meaning they have a luggage transport.

They ask me if I lost my hat.

I saw it during a short descent but was too quick to pick it up.

The descent is great until I have to stop briefly because of a car in front of me. It’s moving too slowly for my liking.

Finally, I roll over asphalt again, allowing me to glide smoothly and take in the surroundings.

Always keeping an eye out for the next pothole.

Along the way, I meet another German bikepacker and we exchange information.

He warns me about the stage that comes on the TD (TransDinarica) behind Mostar, and I become ever more convinced to switch to the Ciro Trail heading towards the coast, even though it means veering south since it is an old railway line that has been converted into a bike path.

And despite the expected holiday traffic there.

For now, I continue, and at the end of the descent, there’s a small shop where I need to make a purchase.

The options are scarce here and it's probably the last chance before Mostar.

And I’ve given up on the idea of making it there today after looking at the route profile this morning.

One way or another, it’s clear that it won’t continue until the day after tomorrow from there and there are still a good 50km and a few elevation meters to conquer.

In front of the shop, there sits a bikepacker from England, and we go through the usual questions about where we’re from, where we’re going, and whatnot.

He moves on while I’m still packing my meager haul.

Shortly afterward, we meet again, and since it’s time for lunch and there’s a holiday village here, we decide to stop at a restaurant together and continue our ride together afterward.

We agree to take a longer route around Lake Boračko.

Komoot wants to go up through serpentine paths in the forest, but we take the longer route of the TD, knowing that it saves us some stress and pushing.

Still, it’s more rocky and loose stones into the inclines.

At the top, he has to ask a farmer for water, and we speculate that it’s exactly the farmer that the Swiss, whom we both met independently, told us about.

Very hospitable and also keen on getting close.

We ride further and soon take a break with an incredible view into the valley and rugged cliffs rising in the distance, illuminated by the evening sun.

And then there’s asphalt again. The descent on gravel would be a disaster, so we can rush down before tackling one last climb.

Being on the road together makes it significantly easier to ignore the exertions and distract ourselves through conversation, making for a pleasant ride.

Finally, there's a view into the next valley.

However, it’s very foggy, and there’s a lot of smoke between the mountains, significantly limiting visibility.

We suspect it’s still related to the forest fires that occurred here in the past few days.

Meanwhile, Mostar is getting close, and anyone paying attention might already sense it; we book shared accommodation since we can be in the city by early evening.

Until then, it’s just under 30km left over one final long descent, interrupted by breaks to let the brakes cool down, and a flat section that will take us into the city.

After checking in, I head into the city on foot to take in first impressions.

Also, I really want to see Stari Most, the old bridge.

Alone because the Englishman stays back at the accommodation.

I still have to refer to him that way. We get along well, but neither of us has seen a reason to introduce ourselves by name.

When I find a bar in the center, I write another report, ignoring the football broadcast, before heading into the old town.

By now, it’s so late that I’m almost alone there and I can admire the city's landmark from the riverside.

Then, it’s urgent to head to bed.

The day has been long and exhausting, especially since I broke my previous climbing record again.

Song of the day:

Infiltrator - Remnants of Battle