Biking the Balkans pt. 3 - The Dalmatian Coast to Montenegro
“Here! Take keys! Drive car! Go eat!”
This generous offer from our host came as a bit of a surprise to us, as Mladin, the patron of a small farm and guesthouse in central Montenegro, had just watched us greedily gulp down multiple bottles of his vineyard’s “black wine” in short order. We were particularly thirsty and famished after one of our bigger days on the bike, and had found ourselves a long pedal from a place to eat at dinnertime in the rural countryside hills above Lake Shkodra. After asking him if we could buy a charcuterie plate or some bread to soak up some of this rich and delicious wine, our host started to get creative in solving our dilemma, offering up his Audi to drive the 20 minutes to the nearest restaurant. We were exhausted, and had just downed many glasses of wine on an empty stomach, so none of us felt particularly ready to take the wheel, and vocalized this to Mladin.
Sitting across from us in a crisp Adidas tracksuit and tight buzzed haircut, chain smoking cigarettes, enjoying a tall can of Niksik domestic beer, Mladin was the perfect embodiment of the cliche Slavic “dude”. Incredibly friendly and chatty, enthusiastically regaling us with stories of his family’s 150 year ownership of the farm, while simultaneously typing furiously on his phone, apparently making business deals with his contacts in the country’s capital, Podgorica, a few hours away, and our final destination for the trip.
In the end, he decided to drive us to the restaurant, offering to pick us up anytime we were ready. His enthusiastic chatter continued for the entire car ride, explaining that the Lake provides the best tasting carp in the world, while simultaneously continuing a constant flurry of one handed typing away on his phone, seemingly not actually paying attention to the single lane winding road he seemed to be treating as a rally car raceway.
Was it terrifying? Of course.
Was it a memorable cultural experience? Absolutely
Is there such thing as good tasting carp? I’m doubtful
Sadly it was a rare miss on the food front, which was especially hard for poor Zac who was on the tail end of a stomach bug that messed him up pretty good for our Montenegro leg, but the overall experience was a memorable one. Montenegro was our final country on the Balkan bike journey, which gave us the best local cultural experiences of our trip.
Following our train misadventure in Croatia, Mary and I arrived in Split to connect with Zac “Honk” Holden and my parents for a few days of rest and chill on the bougie island of Hvar, famous for its beautiful beaches, lavender fields, historic sights, as well as a destination for the mega wealthy and their mega yachts. The restored historic centres and hilltop forts make for great exploration, and the quiet island roads are ideal for cycling to the many excellent restaurants and wineries.
Success with a Croatian ferry! On our way to Hvar from Split
We spent a night in the beautifully maintained old town of Split, containing the Diocletian's “Palace”, a walled fortress/massive retirement home for the 3rd century Roman emperor Diocletian. By this point of the trip, we had really figured out the routine of:
1) Look at very old things
2) Eat ice cream
3) Drink local wine
4) Repeat 1-3 until ready to fall asleep
Zac had joined us by this point, and we synced up with my parents for a few sites and sounds, before we got on a ferry to the Dalmatian island of Hvar.
Hvar Town
Hvar well lived up to its reputation: It was beautiful. It was great for biking. It had some realllllly big private yachts.
Fortunately although it was the most expensive spot on the trip, considering the obvious clientele, it wasn’t too overpriced, and we had some quality seafood meals. We had a great time riding bikes across the island to Stari Grad, for, you guessed it, looking at old things and eating ice cream, and visiting a nice farmstead for afternoon wine and charcuterie.
After a few days relaxing and resting the legs, we were ready to continue our journey south. We packed the bikes up and rolled out to the Hvar ferry to Dubrovnik, which fortunately was more reliable than previous Croatian ferry lines, and after a scenic cruise we were debarking in the city now most famous currently for the filming of Game of Throne’s Kings Landing. We were told it was very touristy, and by this point we didn’t really need to go out of our way to see another old walled city, so we pedalled through town towards our next and final country of this itinerary, Montenegro.
Dubrovnik
Bay of Kotor, Montenegro
The ride started out pretty miserable on the busy highway south of Dubrovnik, but after lunch, we were rolling through beautiful Croatian wine country on empty back roads, before descending down towards the Montenegro border at the entrance to the Bay of Kotor. This stunning inlet provides a safe anchorage and popular cruise ship destination, and is flanked by various different holiday destinations around the perimeter. We slowly wove our way through a busy seawall that traversed many hotels restaurants and beaches, and had a decent dinner on the ocean. We found a hotel room above a bar, and drank radlers on the patio consuming significant second hand smoke from the super friendly gay chainsmoking host who was drinking much harder than we were, with a playlist of exactly three pop-house tracks playing on repeat.
At this point I had to look it up, cause it was definitely a noticeable cultural phenomenon: by one study, the AVERAGE per capita adult consumption of cigarettes in Montenegro is 18 a day. We were not surprised!
The cost of food and drink dropped when we crossed the border, but so did the quality. This was to affect poor Zachy especially hard the next day…
We rolled out of the west bay of Kotor in the morning, anticipating a big day. We had the biggest climb of the trip ahead of us: the incredible “Serpentine” road climbing from sea level to 1200meters over 16 switchbacks above the bay. We enjoyed seaside riding for the morning winding around the bay, including a ferry to cross to the east bay. By the time we were ready to stop for lunch, Mary and I knew something was up with Zach. He was riding super slow, and looking pretty rough, and wasn’t able to get down any of his lunch. It was seeming like he had some sort of food poisoning or similar gastro issue, so we started to put together and alternate plan.
Zac laid on the ground in visible pain beside the lake while Mary found us some accommodation so Zac could recover. We were just outside the town of Kotor, which had a beautiful old town centre to explore, so she booked there, and we rolled over to check in in the early afternoon.
What we didn’t realize was that we didn’t book a full rental, but a room inside a tiny family home in the old town connected to a cat museum to celebrate the famed street cats of Kotor. So we have to get poor Zac into this rental, which was run by the most adorable, and most Eastern European, elderly woman imaginable, who spoke precisely zero English. She came at us strong with individual cake and offerings of tea, trying to get Zac to eat her cake, and not quite understanding that this wasn’t a time of indulgence for him. We awkwardly shuffled a near catatonic Zac into the room and put him to bed, and in broken language and Google Translate, managed to communicate the situation to this very generous, kind, and enthusiastic lady.
We thanked her, and Mary and I set off to explore the town. Meanwhile, she immediately went into full mother mode, assembling a care package for Zac. Without asking or knocking, she brought it straight into his room—tea, biscuits, and medicine arranged on a tray covered with cat photos. All the while, likely chatting away to a semi-conscious Zac, who was curled up in the fetal position on the tiny bed, unable to understand a word she said.
A fairly comical situation, and one I’m glad to have been the observer on and not the receiver. Mary and I had a great time exploring Kotor, which does indeed have a fucking insane amount of street cats along with feeding stations and little wood houses for them. The town was beautiful, and we enjoyed one of the best Italian meals of the trip in a beautiful basement bistro, and hiked up above town to explore the ancient fortifications protecting the 1000+ year old Byzantine village.
Almost felt guilty enjoying one of the better meals of the trip while Zac struggled to exist in the care of a tiny Montenegrin “Babushka” cat lady.
The next morning we awoke to a slightly recovered Zac, and a hard talk about plans for the day. We needed to keep moving, but we were directly at the foot of a monster climb on the bikes. Zac could have taken the easy route and chucked his bike in a taxi, but he chose the path of pain and suffering like a good lad, and crawled his way up above the bay with not a single word of complaint.
For Mary and I, the slightly slower pace, and the terrific lower grade of the 16 switchbacks actually made the pedal fairly benign. It helps to have such incredible views at every turn, and the end of 3 weeks of daily cycling for your fitness baseline. We were still very stoked to be at the top for celebratory beers and snacks.
A rare smile from the poor lad
Getting higher!
Stunning views of the Bay of Kotor. Old town of Kotor just below us on the right next to the docked cruise ship. The night before that we stayed at the very top left of the photo in the distant bay.
Ziveli!
The broken man
Mary doing her best to motivate
Now in the Montenegrin high country, we pedalled through beautiful countryside, with the destination of Lake Skadar for the night, before our final roll into Podgorica. We managed to find a source of protein in a small town on our ride, with a typical slavic spread of meat and bread and French fries and more meat.
Misty river draining into Lake Skadar
Carafe number 2 of the Rustic Village Rijeka’s black wine, where our host Mladen told great stories about his multi-generational farm, and how delicious the local carp is, before giving us an exciting rally car-esque ride to dinner on a single lane country road while texting and telling stories all at the same time. Zac made the poor choice of attempting to validate the carp claim, which did not vibe with his current digestion issues. But many laughs were had, and the spirit of the tracksuit wearing quintessentially Slavic Mladen will live on with us for the rest of our lives.
Photos from Mladen’s farm.
Lake Skadar
The final leg of the trip was ahead of us the next morning, with a very pleasant ride along the lakeside of massive Skadar, the largest lake in Southern Europe. We decided to go easy on the still recovering Zac, and use that as an excuse to skip the final urban bike ride through the rougher city of Podgorica, Montenergo’s capital, and the final destination of our Eastern European cycle. Through some conversations with Mladen and some google investigation, there was a lakeside town that hosts a train station that runs daily trains to downtown Podgorica. So we just had a very hilly, but very beautiful 45km lakeside pedal to the town for lunch, and a train right into the heart of Podgorica where we would stay before our departing flights the next day.
We still had some work to do to get our bikes boxed up for the return, but I had coordinated with the bike shop before the trip so we knew where to go. We got our bikes sorted, found a brewery to celebrate, and then took a still recovering Zac to our Airbnb to crash while Mary and I did some exploration of the city, which had a lovely riverside park and an old town district with a mix of old Catholic orthodox churches, and some very cool street art.
On the one hand, it felt nice to have the bikes packed up and moving on from the daily logistical challenges that a bike tour like this can bring. But we were not ready to finish, and it felt like I could have continued this type of lifestyle indefinitely. The experience of exploring a new environment at the meandering pace of a bicycle was incredibly rewarding. We had great food, shared laughter with strangers, and soaked in landscapes that would have blurred past from a car window. The slow pace of bike touring transformed every day into a series of small discoveries—whether it was Mimosa’s great bakery in tiny Most Na Soci, Slovenian, stumbling upon a farmstay with great wine and the cacophony of a huge Italian family celebrating a birthday at dinner, or exploring millennia old walled townsites like hilltop Motovun or seaside Piran, steeped in ancient history.
Slovenia, in particular, was a revelation. Its emerald rivers, snow capped mountains, and meticulously preserved towns like Ljubljana and Piran made every kilometer spectacular. The food was fresh terrific, with a beautiful blend of Italian and Slavic tastes, alongside incredible bakeries. Enjoying the delicious local wines daily after our rides was a great way to celebrate the day’s accomplishments.
.Of course, not everything went according to plan. When our ferry connection in Pula was cancelled, we found ourselves rerouting through northern Croatia by train - a detour that cost us a day and forced us to rethink our schedule. But these missteps became part of the adventure. Piecing together a new route, and rolling with the unexpected was a good challenge, and it reminded us that flexibility is just as important as determination on a trip like this.
Meeting up with my parents on Hvar was another highlight. Sharing the joy of bike touring with them in such a stunning place was unforgettable, particularly a stop at a farmstead winery for a leisurely charcuterie lunch. Sitting together, savoring fresh bread and local cured meats with a glass of wine, perfectly captured the simple pleasures that make bike touring so rewarding.
As a final bonus, Mary and I had scheduled a four-day layover in Istanbul on our way home. With our bikes boxed up, we flew to Istanbul, left the boxes at airport storage, and set out to explore one more unique, fascinating, and ancient city before returning home.
