Hiking to an Ice Cave

Thursday, July 22nd

We decided to hike to an ice cave today called Ledina Pecina (“le-dee-na pa-chee-na”). It began with an easy stroll along a paved road to a beautiful lake with mountains behind it. The trail then followed part of the lake before it began a long ascent, first through the forest and then along rocks and small shrubbery. After almost an hour and a half, we had a snack break on a small plateau where a decrepit mountain house/shack was located. Rejuvenated we pressed on for the cave. The trail got trickier and trickier as it gained in steepness and some loose rocks. We passed some patches of snow that had so far resisted the summer sun. To add to the difficulty, when we were within 500 meters of the skies opened up and huge rain drops began to fall. It was just a localized shower due to overdevelopment over the peak of the mountain we were ascending, Globa Glava. I was a hundred meters ahead of Garth and Holly and they shouted up that they were going to turn back. Holly only had running shoes and the terrain proved too difficult for her footwear.

The lake at the start of the hike:

Getting a bit higher:


The hut near our first break:

The hikers:

A relatively large lizard near the hut (at least 10 inches long):

The colourful path:

We wandered upon some snail sex, but didn't have enough time to see it through to fruition:

I decided to press on as the cave was super close. There were three hikers with large packs resting just inside the entrance, out of the rain. A large patch of snow carpeted the 60 meter alleyway down into the cave at a steep angle. I could see the stalagmites of ice in the cave below. I descended into the cave by facing the snow and using existing “snow steps” that other hikers had left. The cave itself was approximately 20 meters in diameter but I could not see the top of it. The ice structures inside were stunning. I felt as if I was in Superman’s home back on Kryptonite. One bonus was that I was the only one down in the cave at the time. I spent about 10 minutes admiring and snapping some photos of the ice before ascending the snow staircase and beginning the descent to catch up with Garth and Holly. Thankfully the rain had stopped. The descent was faster than I expected as I was able to “boot ski” down a couple of large snow sections and the second one caught me up to the other two who were resting. We had lunch and then began our return hike. We marvelled and chuckled at a few of the footwear selections of hikers that passed us, still heading to the cave. Teva sandals looked challenging, especially considering the guy was carrying a heavy pack but the lady wearing her pink crocs took the cake. Her feet must have been in agony but at least she was colour coordinated!

My first view of the cave:

The ice cave:

In the cave:

The view from the cave entrance:


We arrived back at the lake around 3pm (having set off at 9:15am). There were a few busloads of tourists milling about the shore. Our water supply was gone but we figured we deserved a drink in a restaurant by the lake. It wasn’t too full when we first arrived but then it quickly filled up and we sat patiently for about 15 minutes but then gave up and decided to walk back to Betty and find our beer in town.

We visited the tourist info booth for our third or fourth time and probably asked two questions the young man and woman hadn’t had before. The first was about those strange posts with the white squares on them and two of Garth’s theories were right. They were property markers and they were made to be photographed from a plane. The second question came from an incident the day before at the grocery store. I was at the checkout counter and as I put a half dozen of 500ml bottles of beer on the till, the lady said something to me in Serbian and I knew it wasn’t good. Then she pointed to a little handwritten sign in English that said that in order to buy a bottle, you had to return a bottle. Well I had just arrived in the country so how was I to be in possession of empty bottles?!? The cashier spoke to another store worker and there was an exchange of the bottles for cans as the line grew behind me and I received a few glares. So the answer was that I could have paid about 11 cents more per bottle to then get in the Montenegran bottle game...but I hadn’t been offered that option. I didn’t mind getting the cans but sadly they don’t recycle them in this country yet, I guess they haven’t thought the whole program out yet.

We found a new campsite after dinner and headed to bed. Unfortunately the night was not fun for Holly as her salad she had for supper must have been cross contaminated in the tiny kitchen at the restaurant as she suffered through a bout of food poisoning all night. Ah, the fun of traveling sometimes...

A new beer at the campsite:

Heading to Montenegro

Wednesday, July 21st

We had a tea/coffee on the patio of Rad’s house (the owner of the campground) in the morning and noticed his flag collection on the ceiling. Garth had mentioned that he had asked the night before whether we had a Canadian one and indeed I did have a little one so we left that with his wife. As we got on the road, we ran into Rad and his daughter as they were herding some cows to some good eating grounds. He thanked us for the flag as we began our drive north along the beautiful Tara canyon. We stopped for a walk across an impressive bridge spanning the rift which also sported the 7th highest bungee jump in the world (although there was no activity at the time).

Betty by the cabins:

Rad's house:

The bridge over Tara canyon:

Closer to the bridge:

The view down from the bridge:
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Arriving in Zabljak, we stopped in a tourist info booth to find out our hiking options. We had the options of hiking to the highest peak, to an ice cave or checking out the deepest point of the canyon. It had been raining outside with some lightning and the first two options were too long to start at this time of the day so we chose to drive to the canyon where there was a couple kilometer hike. We stopped briefly at a lookout and then began a slightly harrowing drive along a narrow dirt road on the side of the mountain. It was a steep descent and I wondered how Betty would fair climbing back up. Consulting our map from the tourist center, Garth thankfully realized that we had gone too far so we turned around and Betty climbed back up to the lookout. This was where the short hike was.

Part of the town of Zabljak:

Trying a new beer ("Nik") at lunch:

Only 900 meters in, we had a superb view of the wide canyon below us although it was a slightly hazy day with thundershowers still making their presence known off in the distance. We took a different path to return to the vehicle and through one section we kept stopping to try and capture butterflies resting on flowers with our cameras (yes, a bit airy fairy). It was also a bee heaven up there with all the colourful wild flowers. The day before and today we saw many small sticks planted in the ground with a small rectangular piece of wood painted white nailed in the top. What are they for? Originally I thought they pointed out viewpoints. Garth then had a hypothesis that they were property markers but they seemed too frequent and randomly placed. His next theory was that they were for geographical mapping using airplanes. We must find out the answer...

Betty and I precariously by edge of the canyon:

The main canyon:

The butterfly effect:

After the hike we set out to a campsite. There were two close together that were recommended by the cute young woman at the tourist info center. They were both quite busy with similar minded hikers but we found a spot in the second one and set up for the night. Earlier in the day I had remarked that it was surprising how long that my butane tank had lasted (for cooking and running the fridge when I’m parked). Well of course, that evening, it ran out. We drove back into town to see if we could find another tank but there were none of the same size and type. It looked like to was going to be a cold dinner but we could make a bean salad and had some lovely pate from Louise which we could have on bread. Sadly all the freshly baked bread in the stores was gone so it was going to be pate on hamburger buns...yum. As we arrived back in the campsite, Garth asked the old lady running the place if she knew where we could get gas (which wasn’t easy since she didn’t speak English) and she kindly gave us a camping stove to make dinner so instead of pate on hamburger buns, we had chicken tikka masala! After dinner Garth annihilated me in Yahtzee and then it was off to bed. We hadn’t noticed the bright floodlights near our site and poor Garth and Holly’s white tent was actually brighter inside than out! I think we’ll find a different location tomorrow.

Betty camping in Zabljak:

Leaving Kosovo

Tuesday, July 20th

Louise was off to work in the morning and Judith was kind enough to give me a lift out to pick up Betty. We stopped by a store that was considered a “grey market”. Deals were to be had there but it was likely a place linked to organized crime. I was hunting for some new quick dry zip off pants as I had had a pen explode in one of my two pairs. When you only have three pairs of pants, two of which turn into your only pairs of shorts, losing one is tough to take. I was unable to find what I was looking for so we headed off to the garage. I was quite surprised to see a red Lamborghini Countach parked in front of some partially built apartment buildings. Although it wasn’t in great condition, a car like this definitely seemed out of place.

Looking over Pristina:

The out of place Lamborghini:

Arriving at the mechanics, it was not good to see Betty outside with one front wheel removed. The mechanic explained that the front brake pads needed to be changed and that they also had changed one of the fuel lines that had a crack in it and that this was causing my starting problem. He figured she should be ready in a few hours so I thanked and said goodbye to Judith and sat and read a book while my campervan was fixed. They were finished sooner than expected so I called Garth and Holly to taxi out to meet me and then we would continue on west to Montenegro. They took longer than I expected to arrive and didn’t come in a taxi but with Louise! We decided to have a last lunch together and then started our drive around 3pm, much later than originally anticipated. We retraced the road that I had taken to arrive at Pristina, including the fun 45 minutes on broken road out of the capital. We decided to refuel just before the big mountain climb to the border and guess what...Betty wouldn’t restart! Damn, my renewed confidence in her had disappeared. With the help of a few friendly gas attendants, we push started her and were off to the border.

Lunch with Louise:

The border check was cursory and we descended the other side of the mountain into Rosaje and then pressed on with the intentions of arriving in the high plateau town of Zabljak. Accidentally we took a wrong turn and after 25 minutes of driving, realized our error. We backtracked and headed up the road along Tara Canyon, the supposedly second “biggest” in the world (we think they mean deepest at 1300 meters at one point) as the sun began to set. Our hopes of arriving in Zabljak with some daylight to set up camp were fading. Thankfully we found a campsite along the canyon and Garth and Holly opted to rent a small cabin. The owner, Rad (or something like that) didn’t speak English but his daughter followed him around as his translator. We were pleased to have found a place to rest and after a pasta meal in Betty, we hung out in the cabin. Surprisingly I have no playing cards in Betty so with some origamic creativeness from Garth, he and I played some exciting Yahtzee with dice made from paper and rolled with the help of a colander. I sadly lost 2-1 in a best of 3 with the whole match coming down to the last few rolls...there’s always tomorrow Garth!

Yahtzee!

Foiled at Yahtzee:

Wandering Pristina

Monday, July 19th

I decided to take advantage of potentially cheap mechanics in Kosovo and Louise was kind enough to escort me to a garage. Unfortunately everyone but one mechanic were on holidays for 2 weeks so we tried a second place with some luck. She explained the problem with Betty and we left her there to pick up the following day. Louise took me to her office where I then hopped in a cab to go back to her place. The plan for the day was that Garth, Holly and I would check out Pristina on foot.

Near the university:

Garth and Holly:

We strolled through the small university, down a pedestrian street, had a nice lunch on a patio, and visited the national museum and a few art galleries. The museum consisted of two floors, the first being ancient artifacts but one couldn’t help but notice the posters claiming that most artefacts had been stolen by the Serbs and they would like them returned. Upstairs was completely dedicated to the relationship that Kosovo has with the United States. The Kosovars love the US for their aid against Serbia in gaining their independence, so much so that there is a Bill Clinton Avenue in Pristina.

One of many people who went missing during 1999, when the Serbs cleansed the area (granted, I think this guy was a pirate):

Outside the museum:

The call for artefacts to be returned:

The US tribute:

A strange book on display in the museum:

The love for Tony Blair:

After a visit to a couple of small art galleries, we grabbed a drink on a nice patio before heading back to Louise’s. I decided to check out Rugova Park for a few minutes which consisted of a poorly maintained grassy field and a graffiti covered concrete new age looking monument. Rugova’s grave was pristine however, thanks to the ever present police protection.

I found a local office of my previous employer:

Rugova's grave:

We enjoyed a beer on Louise’s balcony as we watched the sun set followed by a lovely fajita meal. Her friend, Justin, originally from Rwanda, joined us later as Garth, Holly and I gleaned information from them for our imminent travel to Montenegro. Although it was a Monday night and Louise had to work the next morning, we were up until 2:30am enjoying our last night in Kosovo. Louise was a hostess extraordinaire...big shout out to you Louise!

Feeding grapes to our gracious hostess:

Judith and the sunset:

Hiking Brezovice

Sunday, July 18th

We were up relatively early and the lovely smell of freshly baked banana muffins greeted me as I entered Louise’s place. She fed us breakfast as we waited for three RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) officers to show up. Louise is a lawyer working with the European Union and the three officers are on a yearlong secondment to help out with the best practices of various departments of the Kosovo police force. Louise picked up the guys from the airport a few weeks prior and helped get them settled in. Mark, a 48 year old living in Nova Scotia, George a happy Newfoundlander and the youngest, 40 year old Mark from Vancouver all seemed like great guys from the get go. We finished up breakfast and I jumped in their EU sponsored SUV while Garth, Holly and Judith were with Louise in her car. It took about an hour and a half to reach our destination of a ski hill, called Brezovice (pronounced “Brez-o-veech-ah”). Louise mentioned that this ski resort was the backup for the Sarajevo winter Olympics.

The mountain we were heading for:

A war memorial on the drive to the mountain:

There were a couple of military jeeps with Polish soldiers just hopping in; they must have just finished some exercises. There was one main building which was a bit dilapidated and looked closed. In general the lifts, additional buildings and auxiliary equipment all looked like they had seen better times and also had a bit of a communist era feel to them. Definitely no high speed chairlifts here. As we prepped for the hike, Louise gave us a general overview of our goal, heading up a grassy slope to a ridge and then working our way along it to some higher ground.

Getting ready:

The ridge we were about to hike:

Starting the hike:

We began our ascent as the sun shone down yet cumulus clouds were beginning to build over the mountains. Our path seemed to disappear but it wasn’t a problem hiking up the grassy slope and knowing where to go. The views from the ridge were spectacular and after a short break, and some discussion, we decided to go a bit higher, cross a saddle and hopefully meet up with the top of a chairlift and then follow a beat up dirt road down. We stopped for lunch at the apex of our hike as thunderclouds began to rumble nearby. Everyone thought we were going to get soaked on our descent but thankfully the skies began to open up just as we arrived at the carpark. Fabulous hike that took us about 3-4 hours.

Taking a break:

An old school communist rocket:

A happy hiker:

Looking down at the parking lot where we started:

Darker skies:

Stopping for lunch:

A defunct ski lift:

Hopping back into our vehicles, we drove about an hour to the city of Prizren to meet up with another RCMP officer for dinner. Brian, like the others, has only been in the country for a couple of weeks but seemed to be settling in fine. We had a lovely meal in a restaurant overlooking the muddy river flowing through town. We arrived back in Pristina around 9pm after a long but fabulous day...great people, great scenery and great food...life’s good.

Priren:

Arriving in Kosovo

Saturday, July 17th

I hit the road for my final leg to Kosovo around 9am. I thought I might be an hour or two late for meeting Holly and Garth at their 1:30pm arrival at the Pristina airport but at least it would be close...oh, how naive. The countryside south of the capital of Bosnia consisted of small, partially tree covered, rocky hills with the odd conglomeration of houses sprinkled about. I eventually turned onto a secondary road which actually was a better road for the first half an hour and then it began a hilly climb filled with switchbacks. Surprisingly a lot of the road was freshly paved and I couldn’t help but think of how wonderful it would be to rollerblade it. After finishing one big climb I admired a cluster of farmhouses with people of all ages out raking up the cut hay...there must be a more efficient way to do that! My original thought of making it into Pristina around their landing time was soon dismissed with the thoughts of making it by dinner time and then eventually with hoping to get into the capital before it got dark.

The main street of Sarajevo:

A cemetery in the middle of a highway offramp in Sarajevo:

I crossed the border into Montenegro at a tiny bridge spanning a river after driving a crazy one lane windy road for over half an hour, cruising at a max speed of 20 km/hr. I later found out that most driving in Montenegro is quite slow, but beautiful. I passed over a large dam that must supply a lot of this little country's electricity. The lake must have been 10-15 kilometers long and I passed through numerous tunnels bore into the rocky shoreline, it was quite a pretty drive.

Dam in Montenegro:

The lake created by that dam:

Hills of Montenegro:


After one climb up a mountain, I expected the reciprocal descent but was surprised when it opened up to a large, grassy plateau. The asphalt road snaked along the open countryside and I soon arrived at a town called Zabljak ("zab-lee-yak"). The houses had steep, colorful roofs and the area felt like it could have been in Norway or the Canadian north. It was a ski town in the winter and seemed to have many hikers visiting in the summer. Nice place.

To get to the border to Kosovo, between a town called Rozaje and Pec required a big climb through a windy coniferous forested road. I arrived at the border of Kosovo on a two lane road that was blocked by a bunch of parked trucks carting raw logs and gravel. I parked and walked to see what was up and realized that passenger vehicles were allowed to press ahead, provided no one was coming the other way. The cute little border had a little log house building where I needed to provide my passport to the local police. I was fairly quickly waved on and thought I was in Kosovo. Having driven fairly non-stop since the morning I was feeling quite peckish and decided to stop at a pullout on the side of the road that had a magnificent view of the level ground of Kosovo below. I was excited that I may be close to the end of the incessant turns and switchbacks that had proliferated my last numerous hours of driving. One more hill to descend and I can actually drive straight for a while! A border cop car passed by and saw me taking a photograph. I thought nothing of it but after 20 minutes of hanging out there, they passed by again, at a very slow speed. Little did I know but I wasn’t actually all the way through into Kosovo. Down the hill there was another stop and it was here that I was informed that my European Green Card insurance was not valid and that I would have to purchase some insurance. I walked back up to the white building and presented my papers. The guy gave me a bit of a hassle that my ownership documentation didn’t actually say that I was in a campervan. I tried to explain that a “motor caravan” was the same thing but in the end he made it seem that he was doing me a favour by letting me go...as a teenage girl would say, “Whatever”. I descended the hill and was elated to drive straight for a while. As I crossed the Kosovian countryside a lightning storm broke out which I enjoyed watching (as much as I could while driving Betty). Just 30 kilometers outside of Pristina, the road turned from nasty potholes to a dirt road that was being prepared for a massive upgrade. The problem was that one could only drive between 25-30 km/h (if you cared about your vehicle). I was impressed with Betty’s performance yet it did take close to 45 minutes to return to asphalt.

Dusk was settling in as I reached the outskirts of the capital. My plan was to find a cab, ask him where the big hotel (Ambassador Hotel) that Louise, Garth’s friend, recommended as a landmark was. I wasn’t actually sure if I was in the capital so I stopped, asked a woman in a pizzeria and she told me in sign language (not the one for the deaf...but the one for when you don’t speak the same language as someone) that I wasn’t quite there. I approached a roundabout that was massively backed up, gridlocked in fact. Betty and I fought through it and eventually got into the core of Pristina. Thankfully I located a taxi stand and a friendly cap driver agreed to lead me to the hotel for the meagre cost of 3 Euros. I forgot to tell him that my van is a bit slow and had to really gun it to keep up. We found the hotel and I went inside hoping to telephone Louise. Sadly there was no answer on both her mobile and her home line...hmm, what to do. I opted to hike up the hilly road, Bedri Shala, and tried to locate her place, number 70. I knew from a previous email from Garth that even the cab drivers had a hard time locating her home but I pressed on. Sadly, for some reason almost all houses don’t have house numbers on them. I wondered whether one could make a killing here selling house numbers. I asked in a few shops what their address was and occasionally got befuddled looks as if “Address, what would you need an address for?” A store at the end of the street claimed to be #58...so where on earth could 70 be? I headed back towards the hotel and Betty, and started to consider my options. I had seen some flat, vacant parking spots near Rugova Park, a park in memory of a recent president Ibrahim Rugova who was instrumental in gaining Kosovo’s tacit independence. It’s times like these that yes, a cell phone would be handy. Perhaps I could find an Internet cafe and there might be an email update or I could call them via Skype. Lo and behold, within 100 meters of my vehicle was just such a place! I sat down at a terminal and then tried to log into my email...and tried and tried. In addition to the computer being super slow, the keys were all in different spots and my password is more of a pattern of typing and some of the symbols I couldn’t even get to work on the keyboard. Eventually I got in and there was an email from Garth that they had safely arrived and that they had gone out for dinner. Now it was just a matter of getting a hold of them on the phone.

An hour later, around 11pm, I tried skyping Louise one more time and did get through. Turns out they were returning and only a couple of blocks away from me...sweet! We headed up to Louise’s place, a spacious two bedroom apartment on the top floor of a lovely building. A visiting Austrian friend of hers Judith was already sleeping so we just had a drink in the living room and I retired to Betty allowing Garth and Holly to have the living room to themselves. I was happy to have been able to find them and looked forward to a big hike that Louise had planned for us.

Driving to Bosnia

Friday, July 16th

I was on the road by 7:30am. I cruised by the outskirts of Innsbruck, I believe the home of another winter Olympics. Within a few hours I crossed the Italian border, my first time in this country. My SatNav has been acting up lately and not properly charging as I drive so I decided that today I would turn it off whenever it I didn’t need it. Well I was a bit late turning it on at one point and just drove past my turnoff. “Recalculating” she announced in her proper British accent. I’ve come to recognize this statement as “Dave, you messed up!” I took the next exit which was another 8 kms down the road. It was a toll highway so I had to pay to get off. Driving a right hand drive is always fun when you arrive at tollbooths...quickly throw it in neutral, pull the parking brake, undo my seatbelt, reach across and roll down the window, pull out my wallet and pay (and then do most of those steps in the reverse order). This sign led me to believe that my credit card should go in stripe side up so I slid it in and it just stuck there. I pushed it as far as my fingers could get it to go and it still was not sucked in for payment. Hmm...I debated my options: try to retrieve it or go all the way. I opted for the latter and used my bank card to push it in even further. Thankfully it was a quiet exit and no one was behind me. Even more fortunate was that there actually was a human inside the booth. He came out, said something to me in Italian, realized I was English speaking and went back inside to retrieve my card. Apparently I had put it in upside down but I re-examined the graphic and have to admit that it was misleading. Oh well, no harm, no foul.

Near Innsbruck:
The Austrian countryside:

I cruised through some Italian countryside along a relatively slow but somewhat scenic route. After an hour I got my first glimpses of the Dolomites, some steep and rocky mountains that I hope to paraglide at some point this summer. I crossed back into Austria and ran east along a valley with modest mountains lining the north and south ends. I then briefly ducked back into Italy, into Austria and then a brief, about 10 minutes, stint into Liechtenstein (now you do know someone who has been to Liechtenstein Sean!). Next was Slovenia. I stopped at a highway gas station to see if I could find a map for the Balkans as my faith in Miss SatNav was gone (granted she was supposed to only be functional in western Europe). It was over 32 Celsius at 4pm and felt even hotter in a tarmac covered rest stop. I did find a map in the store and as I prepared a sandwich in Betty, a young man approached me and asked whether I was headed to Zagreb and if he and his two buddies could catch a lift. They were three third year university students from England and I agreed to his request. Cass, Joe and Charlie were attending Manchester University and were on vacation for a couple of weeks before taking on summer jobs. They had previously seen Betty on the highway as they had hitched a ride with an older lady whose car had broken down and then managed to catch a lift to this rest stop. In true Betty fashion, she didn’t start but I was able to roll her backwards through the parking lot at get the motor purring. Worst case scenario was that I had three young lads to give me a push. We crossed the Croatian border without even a question and soon hit the capital of Zagreb. I pulled into a big shopping mall area where they were happy to be dropped off. I bid them adieu and returned to the motorway where i was able to let Betty run at her max speed of 130 km/h for over an hour covering some good ground as the sun began to set.

I arrived at the Bosnia-Herzegovina border with a beautiful red glowing globe of a sun setting behind me. The line at the border was slow moving and it took close to an hour before I made it through. When I actually approached the guards, I chose the one of the two lines with a woman border guard. I showed her my passport, said hello, and she reciprocated with a smile and then said “Good luck:”. Just ten meters ahead I noticed a few vehicles being searched. Did she mean “Good night” or did she think I had an unlikely chance of not being searched? I think it was the former as after a cursory check by the next border guard I was on my way.

Crossing the border into Bosnia:

There was a stark difference between Croatia and Bosnia in the quality of the infrastructure. Fewer streetlights, bumpier roads and the scent of garbage fuelled fires entered my nostrils. As I left the lit streets of the town Brod, I couldn’t believe how suddenly third world the area seemed. I passed a nicely lit gas station but wasn’t really in need of fuel and decided to continue on. Suddenly, there were no lights, the road was half ground up in preparation of repaving while the other half that I wasn’t driving on was already new black tarmac. The lack of lights and street lines combined with the wafting smoke of unseen fires and my dim lights on my campervan transformed my driving into a white knuckled affair. I passed a few people walking along the side of the road that I did not see until they were within 10-15 feet of me. I passed another gas station but could not see anyone in it. Due to my uncertainty of whether I was in fact on the correct path to Sarajevo, I decided to pull a u-turn and head back to the first petrol stop. As I opened Betty’s fuel cap, a gas jockey jumped out and offered his services. He spoke next to no English but was a friendly fellow. I asked him whether I was on the right road to Sarajevo and he confirmed it. I had seen a few signs before I had turned around that were in Cyrillic writing so I grabbed a pen and paper to try and find out what Sarajevo might look like on the signs. It turns out that the major cities are not written in Cyrillic...whew. I paid for the gas and a well needed orange Fanta drink and tried to leave the gas bar but Betty had other ideas and would not start. I grabbed the can of starter spray, sprayed it into the air vent and begrudgingly, after a few attempts, she fired up.

Thankfully after about 6 kilometers of harrowing driving on the aforementioned conditions that even included a bit of low lying fog, I got on to better roads with a bit more light. It was still a bit of white knuckle driving and I cranked some AC/DC to power me through. I couldn’t believe some of the insane passes that some people were pulling. It was after 12:45am when I pulled into Sarajevo. I immediately saw a motel but pressed on a little bit figuring that I was on the outskirts of town. I eventually reached the main street that was lined with newly built hotels and restaurants. It seemed to be a one road town. I thought it was interesting that the curving off ramp that I took to get on it had a cemetery in the middle of it...some place to rest in peace! I could tell that the ten to twenty storey hotels would be a bit pricey so after a brief search. I decided to return to the first place I saw. There was a pseudo night watchman there and although he didn’t speak English I found out that it was only 15 Euros for the night, perfect. And it was even a decent room! After driving for close to 18 hours, I needed a shower and I then discovered the only flaw in the room which was that the drain was pathetically slow and after a 3 minute shower, I had to cease my cleansing. Time for bed...