Gravel up to the starry sky

Day #66

Sunday, July 5th.

From Kamp Stark Dud to somewhere just before Tušila

Country: Bosnia and Herzegovina

It was a cold night, but my sleeping bag managed well.

As I did last evening, the tent is spread out first in the sun.

This time, to let it dry from condensation, then breakfast will be had.

After departure, I shop; luckily, a small shop is open, and I can get an onion, new pasta, and water.

I adjust my route slightly to stay on the main road.

This saves me from climbing 300 meters over gravel. The route will later lead back to the same road anyway.

Maybe I would have decided differently on a weekday; for Sunday, I expect moderate traffic and thus also to remain safe.

While I pedal through the gorge, the view of the rock wall is enough for me to enjoy the ride.

The alternative would have been to be up there.

And I will still have enough climbs to tackle throughout the day; moreover, I have information that there will be virtually no asphalt.

In the tunnels that were dug for the road, I have my full lighting on to draw attention to myself by all means.

And I am a bit surprised when I see a person ahead of me walking along the road.

At first, I think of a farmer or something similar, but it’s Angel.

A hippie from Mexico, headed to a hidden festival that is supposed to take place here in the mountains.

It’s an exciting story from the rainbow family, but I graciously decline the offer to accompany him.

I've been on the way to a festival of my liking for a few weeks already.

When I stop to take a photo of the river, now far below me, a biker stops and asks if I need help.

Very kind, and at least I get confirmation from a local that I am heading in the right direction.

And on we go, now actually consistently and strenuously uphill.

Initially still on asphalt, but soon it continues over loose stones, scree, and dirt.

And this is an official road; Sarajevo is among the signs. And gravel stays with me throughout the day, except for a few exceptions, in all its facets.

During the lunch break, a few cows lazily pass by me. For them, no problem, always following the bell that hangs loudly around the ox's neck.

Very different, however, is the guy who shortly after comes along on his bike, hectically separating his herd.

In the next village, I must seize the opportunity to shop in the tiny store.

The options are sparse here.

A bikepacker from Switzerland comes from the opposite direction while I'm still stowing away my meager haul, and I learn from her that the French couple is ahead of me.

This sparks a bit of my ambition, but I must keep following Beppo; haste only causes stress and no progress.

So, a break comes again in between.

Eating brings the necessary energy to actually get somewhere.

It's exhausting going up on gravel roads, and annoyingly going down on gravel roads.

Instead of making progress, I am busy braking too much.

Knowing that after the lowest point, it will go steeply back up again.

But it's presumptuous to wish for a bridge from one mountain to another; asphalt would be a nice start.

I would have liked to have completed the last climb entirely, but the sun is already setting, and there is no twilight in the mountains.

The sun is there, then the sun is gone.

Fortunately, I find a spot that I like right away.

In a curve, an old path goes ahead, half-hidden by a tree, which I can follow.

Behind the next bend, I also pitch my tent along the path.

Even 30 years after the war, there are still many landmines in BiH, and it will take a few more years before one can enter the forests safely.

Cooking myself dinner is almost becoming a habit.

Pasta is available everywhere and makes a nice change from daily bread.

For safety, I remove myself from my campsite to ensure the smell of food is further away.

The groceries are then pulled up into a tree, as I am very secluded in the forests.

This also prevents any reception, and it's the first time that I can't send Jenni a message that I'm fine.

Fortunately, we discussed earlier that this situation would likely occur, and she is prepared accordingly.

Later, I ask myself why I only covered so few kilometers.

A glance at the altitude gained is enough of an answer for me, and then there are the slow descents.

For the tent, I forego the rainfly, as I want to be able to see what’s going on outside in case of doubt.

Snoring would definitely be practical today to draw attention to myself and inform animals of my presence in time.

But apart from a few fireflies, I don't see any animals.

That’s totally fine with me, and so I ultimately fall asleep relaxed under the starry sky.

Song of the day:

Dubioza Collective - No Escape from Balkan