Leaving Montenegro, Turtle Saving, and Entering Paramus... errr... Albania

Day: 32 (Ulcinj, Montenegro to Tirana, Albania)

Average Speed: 18.6 km/hr (11.5 mph)

Distance Cycled Today: 130 km (80 Miles) 

Distance Cycled Total: 3266 km (2029 Miles)

Mood: Indifferent

Another distinctly different ride for the third day in a row. More of a behind-the-scenes peek of Montenegro before leaving, and then a ride through Albania's nether-region. 

It was exciting to start with- I was riding a small country road that cleverly snuck its way around a multitude of small mountains. It was beautiful, and the road was fun- it was always a surprise as to what was around the next corner. 

I even got to save a turtle who was moments away from being roadkill. First one of the year. And as all bike-packers know, the main mission of a trip is to save turtles. Thankfully, this one didn't pee on me. 













I didn't realize it at the time, but I should've appreciated those last twenty miles in Montenegro more than I did, because as soon as I crossed the border into Albania it got a bit... ugly. 

I hate to give a negative review of a place based on a single day's visit, but Albania does not seem to care much about first impressions. Immediately after the border crossing, litter lined the road and the road surface deteriorated. And once on the main path to Tirana, I couldn't fathom it being much uglier. The route I took had the flatness of Kansas with the scenic vista of Paramus, New Jersey. 

One of the better looking moments...

It was an easy 80 miles today- no doubt. But rather joyless. Possibly the best part of the Albanian portion of the ride was when I wound up on a proper highway (it said bikes were permitted, so I went for it...). I had a wide traffic-free shoulder to ride in. I could've done figure eights if I wanted. I don't know why I would ever want to do figure eights on a highway in Albania... but I could have. 

Highway riding... eeew.

I also could've stopped under a bridge in the highway and bought "fresh fish" from a guy with a crate of anything-but-fresh fish. Again, I don't know why I'd want to buy fish under a bridge on a busy highway, but I could've. 

Eerie greeting from Tirana

I was hoping that the ugliness would eventually give way upon arriving in Tirana, Albania's capital. But wrong again. This is a city worth skipping from what I've seen- no need to put it on your top ten list of places to visit on your next Euro-vacation. It's a sprawling city with confusing traffic patterns, and although I'm sure there is something to see here, I'm going to skip that too and head out of town first thing. 

CHEERS FOR THE BEER,
fellow blogger AMY REYNALDO

I found a couple of other bike-packers via Instagram who are on a similar route and got in touch with them. They chose Durres- a port city- as their day's destination. 

They had a great ride today on back roads. 

They stopped and played with piglets and sent me the pics to prove it. 

They weren't using Google maps. 

Sounds like they know what they're doing. 

It's a short ride to Durres.

Think I'll go introduce myself. 

P.S.

Should've read the whole sign before I went in...

A Black Feather, a Wedding Invitation, and a Race with a Hitchhiker

Day: 31 (Kotor, Montenegro to Ulcinj, Montenegro)

Average Speed: 16.3 km/hr (10 mph)

Distance Cycled Today: 85 km (52 Miles) 

Distance Cycled Total: 3136 km (1948 Miles)

Mood: Great

A rare sight in Montenegro... a bicycle.

I’m glad I stayed in Kotor last night. I could’ve gone further, but that was the place to stay.

After 30 kilometers of peaceful, traffic-free pedaling on (relatively) flat land around Kotor Bay, it would’ve been a shame to aim for anything further… because shit got real again today. 

Two things immediately came back with a vengeance: Traffic and Terrain. 

That's some serious cycling...

One of them I could do without. 

The mountains I described as “beautifully intimidating” yesterday met me with a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass. Don’t be fooled by a route that follows a coastline: it doesn’t necessarily stay at sea level- and today was proof of that. It was relentless. One moment I would be within water's reach, face-to-face with huge yachts and partying beachgoers. Kilometers later, those boats looked like mere toys and the people like tiny ants. Big ups and big downs nonstop. 

But I loved today. It was great. Sometimes, a 3 kilometer steep climb was offset by a 7 kilometer lazy descent. Other times a 5 kilometer lazy climb offered a 1 kilometer thrilling Downer. Relentless, for sure. But fair. 

Children are playing on this road??
I don't have the credentials to judge from a parent's perspective,
but c'mon!

And although I certainly wouldn't complain if tourists stopped darting from one town to the next in impatient vehicles, it has stopped bothering me. I’ve dealt with it before in the States… and now here. I was pampered with cycle paths until the Croatian border, and I’ve accepted that it’s not a thing anymore. Neither are road shoulders. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I very nearly bailed off of the bike today when an 18-wheeler passed and seemed to forget he had a trailer attached to him (closest call to date for me), but what can I do? Nothing. May as well enjoy. 

Some of these coastal towns look like a four-year-old
just got his hands on a Sim City game and went apeshit.

If this were someone’s first day of cycle-touring, I’d feel sorry for that poor bastard. Crazy climbs. Blazing heat. Insane traffic. 

If it were me on Day One, I’d book the next flight home. 

But it’s not my first day. To be honest, I’m slowly starting to feel… experienced. Not in a proud or cocky way- not at all- but Traffic? Heat? Non-Stop Mountains? 

That feather is already in the cap. It’s the black feather of a raven with a thin white stripe that reminds me of my place on the road… but it’s still a feather. 

Besides, it’s easier for me to get from one place to another on a bike than to try thumbing a ride like the absurd number of Millennial hitchhikers do, right? 

They’re all over the place. 

My favorite technique that I’ve seen is to have the good looking girlfriend pleading for free transport while her beau hides in the bushes, waiting to surprise the unassuming male motorist who thought he happened upon a cheap date. 

One solo guy I passed early on in the day held two different signs with two different destinations. 

Idiot, I thought. You need a girl and you need to pick a destination if you're going to get anywhere.

A few kilometers later, I realized we had a lot in common. 

Me and... ummm... these people. I see them every day.

Whereas bike-packers were everywhere throughout Scandinavia and Germany, they’ve slowly petered out. I’m back to being a rarity. A Belgian I spoke with last night mentioned that when he saw a couple of cyclists on the road, he thought they were crazy to pedal in such traffic. And I only saw two others today. Actually, I’ve seen the same couple for the last three days because we’re on the same route to Tirana and I pass them at some point every day. They even stopped for a selfie with me. I don’t know their names. I’ll ask tomorrow. 

The complete absence of bicycles in the area was best exemplified by two children who were mystified by my ride as I went into an electronics store to replace my earbuds that were tragically lost a few days ago. They politely waited for me to return before touching anything, but once I gave them a green light to go nuts, they had a field day. I won’t lie… I cringed when they shifted the gears and discovered how to let air out of the tires, but if my bike can handle the forests of Austria, it can handle some innocent curiosity. There’s really only one reason kids would be so curious about a bike: They haven’t seen one up close. 

Pink is the new black.

Let ‘em have their fun. 

Even if it’s like those moments where Mom went into the post office when you were a kid and you messed with every setting in her car while she gossiped with neighbors for 45 minutes. No harm done. Windshield wipers on high. Spanish music blaring. No big deal. 

Sure, it's a bit annoying when you need to pull over and re-inflate your tires, but whatever. Those squirts had fun. 

(Side note: My new earbuds are pink. So sassy.) 

It was indeed a short ride today- perhaps due to my 11:53 AM start (made it out before noon!), but a rewarding one. 

My shirt is supposed to be light grey... that's all sweat. 

On the steepest and longest of 
the climbs, a large group of tourists was gathered at the summit. And when they saw me pumping my way up, they started cheering for me. Big time. It was a proper celebration when I reached them. Their jubilance was so over-the-top that my own laughter slowed me down. 

And when I said “You all must be Italian!" it was their turn to laugh. 

I was right. 

They offered coffee and apples, and had no problem gathering around a sweaty mess of a human being for a photo-op while we all sang the U.S. National Anthem.

I would've Googled
"Is it okay to give puppies commercially produced marble cake?"
But my phone is out of data

It’s a rare moment when you meet a group of strangers for five minutes and they end up inviting you to the wedding they’re all attending in Albania, but that's what happened. I have the address in my pocket and I'm considering showing up. Besides, I barely ate at all today- gave my all my rations to a stray pup on the side of the road- and I could sure go for some Italian Wedding Soup. 

It wasn’t a long ride. It wasn’t a perfect ride. And I’m not champing at the bit to do that ride again. But it was pretty damn good. 

This place is full-on pirate themed.

And to top it off, I found an incredible hostel for ten bucks. The Pirate Hostel. I wasn’t even oriented when Jack from Melbourne and Oisin from Dublin invited me out to dinner. I hadn’t had a chance to change out of my sweaty clothes when the receptionist sat down on the couch with us and told us exactly where to go in order to make the best out of our stay. And I certainly wasn’t prepared for the endless free beer they offer from 9 PM to 12 AM. 

CHEERS FOR THE BEER,
MAUREEN CARDINALE!

Bear in mind I spent four times that price for a pirate themed campsite in Norway... and beer was not included. 

Hosteling is the way to go with the right mindset. I’d rather be here than in a stuffy hotel room. 

You get to meet so many people instantly. 

Like my new friend, Timo. 

Timo is on a hitchhiking tour. 

And as we started talking, I began to realize that I’d seen Timo before.

“Wait… were you by any chance holding two cardboard signs with two different destinations written on them just outside of Kotor? One for the town of Bar and another for...”

“I was.”

Dammit. 

Timo arrived to the hostel two hours before I did.  

And he still had both signs with him.
I lose.

P.S. 

Just doin' as the sign says...

And for once, I appreciated the honks from traffic!

A Late Night, a Late Start, and a Late Arrival

Day: 30 (Dubrovnik, Croatia to Kotor, Montenegro)

Average Speed: 17 km/hr (10.5 mph)

Distance Cycled Today: 90 km (56 Miles) 

Distance Cycled Total: 3051 km (1896 Miles)

Mood: Lackadaisical

Welcome to Montenegro!
Put another sticker on that bike!

I actually did some research before leaving today. Not because I wanted to be better prepared for entering yet another country I know nothing about (Do you know what the national language of Montenegro is without Googling?). I was just trying to delay starting my day. 

Of the 18 pictures we snapped trying to find the perfect lighting,
this one is the best. Ugh.
Michael, me, and Mark.

Last night, I had full intentions of going to bed early and waking up at the crack of dawn in order to get a long ride in today, but you know how that goes. I had left a bag of mine in Old Town Dubrovnik and needed to go pick it up... and then I forgot to leave. Rather, I hit the town with Jane and Madange again and wound up chatting the rest of the night away with two very entertaining Scottish brothers, Mark and Michael. Their lengthy and increasingly passionate rant against American sports had me wiping away tears of laughter. 

A goodbye from Croatia.

It's not uncommon for Europeans to express their disdain for American sports. They typically condemn baseball as one of the most boring events in the world and football as an inaptly named wimpy version of rugby. They'll concede to basketball and hockey as being "real" sports, but that's about it. They'll stare at you in wonderment because you are unable to name a single soccer... errr... football club in Europe.

They make a solid argument.

Mountains know no borders.
Hello, Montenegro.

Eventually I called it a night, but it was already past 3 AM and I still had to cycle over a mini-mountain back to my hostel. 










And based on the lack of acknowledgment from my roommates this morning, I assume I didn't sleep quietly. Whatever. Who cares? I like to think I at least gave them a story about the noisiest sleeper they ever had to bunk with. 

Old Town Kotor

I barely made it out before noon, and had little motivation to make any distance whatsoever. To be sure, it was a quiet and lazy day, and I set my goal practically for the night: Kotor, Montenegro. Though I had never heard of it prior to my "research," it turns out to be another one of those Whatever-You-Do-Don't-Miss-This kind of cities: A smaller, quainter version of Dubrovnik's Old Town- A walled-in fortress, mazes of alleys, ancient buildings. Lots of cats.

 Amazing. 

Main Square

The fact that a place like this exists and is still a living and breathing city brimming with nightlife rather than a carefully preserved museum is a bit mind-blowing.

The city ain't guarded by no dragon...

And while I mentally tuned out for the first half of the ride today, I very much took in the second half: The ride around the Bay of Kotor was breathtaking. Ignore the traffic. Ignore the awful "courtesy honks" that motorists feel compelled to give you when they're three feet from your left ear. 

Easy to enjoy the view of mountains
when cycling on a flat road!

Enjoy the beautifully intimidating mountains that surround the bay. Appreciate the flatness of the road that outlines the coast- flatness you haven't seen since Prague. Gaze at the ancient towns like car-free Perast. 

Perast

And when I reached my destination, I tried to type my blog several times before I gave up. I'm actually writing this the following morning and pretending as if it were still yesterday. 

Said with Christian Bale's Batman voice:
"They call me The Green Saddle..."

Even that's hard to do. There are too many interesting people to meet. Too many conversations you'll miss if you insist on hacking away at a computer when you arrive somewhere. 

Great location! Wonderful staff! Five stars!
(they're giving me a discount to say that on my blog,
but it's actually true)

And when one of my bunkmates from the Old Town Hostel (where I am currently staying) approached me an hour ago at a cafe while I was trying to get this write-up finished and asked if he could join me, I happily closed the lid of my laptop.

"Are you working?" he'd politely asked before sitting down, not wanting to interrupt me if I were.

CHEERS  FOR THE BEER,
TARA KLINK!

There's only ever one answer to this question. It doesn't matter how badly I want to update my blog before my memories evaporate, or how desperately I want to get a jumpstart on the day. 

Am I working?

"No. Take a seat."

P.S.

Of course I forgive awful typos in non-English speaking countries,

but when it's on a postcard? C'mon!

I comend you to fix that.

Goodbye Jamie Norton

Day: 29- with a couple of days to hang out (Banici, Croatia to Dubrovnik, Croatia)

Average Speed: 15.9 km/hr (9.5 mph- speed don't matter here)

Distance Cycled Over Last Three Days: 95 km (59 Miles) 

Distance Cycled Total: 2957 km (1837 Miles)

Mood: Lucky

Jamie's bike- haphazardly packed for his flight back home

I like being alone. 

Love it actually. 

I'm not talking "J.D. Salinger alone," but I definitely like the freedom that comes with being unattached. I go to see Broadway plays alone. I dine out alone. I take vacations alone. 

Jamie disassembles his bike. 

Don't get me wrong- I love being around people. But I like to say goodbye to them as well. 

For me, the idea of distance cycling for weeks with someone is extremely off-putting, There are too many variables- too many things that can create an awful experience. 

What if the person you're cycling with only wants to put in 50 kilometers a day when you want to do 150? What if he/she talks too much? What if he/she doesn't talk at all? 

What if he/she is in a bad mood when you're in a good one (or vice-versa)? 

Tunnel vision.

What if he/she complains too much, or is too dependent on you, or doesn't know how to share? 

What if he/she doesn't have the same filthy sense of humor as you, and doesn't laugh at your jokes?

If he/she never waits for you at all? Or is super competitive?

Or doesn't want to stop to eat at the same time? Or is too picky? Or wants to do laundry too often? Or doesn't have the balls to camp in the middle of nowhere when you're lost? 


Can't handle the traffic? The mountains? The woods?

Or doesn't understand the fact that you need a day or two to ride alone?

"Dad... I think your back sweat spells REDRUM..."
"It's a butterfly, son. That's a butterfly."

Sounds like I'm over-thinking this, right? I'm not. I know me. I could write for hours about things that can go wrong with a cycling partner. This is coming from a guy who tour-cycled on a tandem with his father for 600 miles at a time. I made Rorschach Tests out of his back sweat. I love and miss that man so much, but he certainly taught me my limits. 


What I'm trying to say is that I'm not looking forward to being alone the next couple of weeks. 

I'm leaving the perfect cycle partner behind. 

Outside of Old Town.
Easy to find your way in.
Hours to find your way out.

I was skeptical of his end-goal being Dubrovnik. I mean, I've never seen that city mentioned in a crossword puzzle... and therefore, it can't be all that great.

But another thing you need to have with a cycle partner is trust. 

So I went along for the ride. And trusted his destination.

No regrets. 

Dubrovnik from above.

Dubrovnik now shoves all other places I've travelled to aside and takes first place as far as favorite places I've been. 

And we finally got to be proper tourists too. 

Typical alley in Old Town.

I could not believe my eyes when we visited the city's Old Town. Every major European city seems to have an "Old Town" and a "New Town," but not like this. Holy crap. I don't even know how to describe it. It's an absolute Medieval maze of stairways and ramparts. Of alleys and plazas. Of hidden shops and secret pubs. 

In America, when we say something is old, we mean 200 or 300 years old. In Europe, "old" means... old. 

Dubrovnik is playing this card big time.

Touring Dubrovnik is kind of like being on the set of Game of Thrones. In fact, it's really like being on the set of Game of Thrones. Because guess where they film that show? 

Dubrovnik. 

And although I tapped out after the first two seasons (don't expect someone with my attention span to follow 300+ main characters), I couldn't get the damned theme song out of my head.

Stairs. So many. So everywhere.

Two things that you will never see in this place: Cars... and bikes. No way. Impossible. And there are plenty of places to escape to if you don't like being around tourists... because most tourists don't seem to like stairs. And there's a shitload of stairs. 

CHEERS FOR THE BEER,
TERRY SANDFORD!

And when we found a bar (which was quite literally a hole-in-the-wall... we had to walk through a hole... in a wall... and then we were on the outside of the fortress on a shear cliff) and watched the sunset over the Adriatic Sea- I was totally sold on this place as a destination. Sorry San Francisco... Dubrovnik just kicked your ass.

My awkwardness in photos continues...

Probably the most important thing (an absolute must) in cycle touring with another person is that he/she must be willing to change plans on a moment's notice: You're not going to make your goal every day. You can't see everything that you want to see. You need- NEED- to be flexible without getting frustrated. Again, (in my opinion) there are too many variables- mountains, water supply, state of mind, weather, issues with equipment- to plan too carefully. 

Sailing with strangers

Jamie had one full day of scheduled relaxation on this entire trip. Just one. A cycle-free day in Dubrovnik. And he had a plan. 

But when you accidentally brush arms with two other tourists, and that leads to a night cap, which leads them to inviting you on an eight hour private sailing adventure the following day, you need to be willing to throw your plans in the garbage. 

And that's what we did. 

No filters on this pic.
Photo credit: Jane

Jane and Ange (appropriately nicknamed "Mad-Ange" or rather "Madange" pronounced like it's French) made sure we saw this place properly. Total strangers giving us an unforgettable day. A private sailboat. A skipper. The bluest of the blue water. Spontaneous swimming. Exotic lunch on an island. 

And a confessional game of "Never Have I Ever." Look up the rules to that if you've never heard of it.

We found out a lot about each other in a very short amount of time.

Jane, Jamie, Jim, Madange, and...

Perhaps over-sharing reached its limits when our 27-year-old captain confessed that he very nearly had a swastika tattooed on his chest "in his younger years." 

Cricket. Cricket.

I'm almost glad he confessed that. The skip was way too good looking, suave, and manly to compete with. But guess who's more attractive than Ryan Gosling if he were to suddenly publicly empathize with the KKK: This guy. It's a rare moment when you score points after someone professes their affiliation with white supremacy.


He did a fantastic job of showing us a good time on the coast- can't take that away from him- and I'm not sure of his name, but he'll always be Adolf to me. 

Don't worry dude. Pretty sure you can keep it in
your pocket during the body scan.
It's not metal.

A sunset. Some more laughs. Paradise on the horizon. 

And a pair of underwear that Jamie pulled out of his pocket the following morning just before going through airport security.

Dubrovnik. 

The 20 mile ride into this haven from Banici was great. And the 15 mile ride I took today to see Jamie off at the airport was even better. 





I'm headed towards Greece now... I think... so maybe I should've kept on going south after the goodbye. But instead, I turned around, climbed a mountain, and headed right back to Dubrovnik. 

One more day in paradise.

Our End-Goal Achieved.

Cheers, mate. 

Another trip under our belts. 

Another chapter over. 

I truly hope to see you next year. 

There's no one else I'd rather cycle with.

P.S.

The Definition of "Trust":

If you haven't figured it out... I'm in green.