War torn Mostar

Wednesday, July 28th

We headed off north along the coast and decided to turn inland towards the Bosnian city of Mostar. A fellow Canadian paragliding pilot that Garth and I know, Fedja, who is originally from the Balkans had mentioned that this was once a beautiful town but was decimated in 1993 and many scars from the war would still be prevalent. It was also a potential paragliding spot but that would just be a bonus. The drive inland along a river was fairly picturesque and we passed fairly easily through the border. Arriving in Mostar, we were all quite shocked at the number of bullet and shell ridden buildings in town. We followed signs to the Stari Most, meaning “old bridge”. As we approached, there were some local men controlling the street parking and we were surprised that they were asking for 5 Euros for parking. The national currency is the Converted Mark but Euros are happily accepted. Five Euros seemed quite steep as one could get a room for 17 Euros...so we said thanks but no thanks and found a free parking spot just 3 blocks away.

Still damage to be seen:

A bullet ridden building:

We found a tourist info place with a super friendly young woman working there and free access to the Internet where Garth and I tried to locate the local flying details. Garth asked about the parking situation and she explained that it was the local mafia milking the tourists. I slightly worried that Betty’s tires might be slashed on our return but that concern was not to be realized. We walked along a tourist shop lined cobble rocked (not stoned but round rocked) road to the bridge. Soon Garth and I dismissed the option of paragliding thanks to some dark clouds coupled with a northerly wind (which was bad for the supposed launch direction).

The pedestrian bridge was impressive but we soon learned that it had been blown to bits in the conflict so it hardly was an “old bridge”. There were stone, castle-like buildings on either side of the river and on our side it housed a war museum along with a “diver’s club”. We decided to check out the museum which was a small photographic display of the devastation of the area 17 years prior. It was amazing to see how much destruction had hit the area. I had a new appreciation that although there were still many buildings riddled with war damage, the majority had been rebuilt of fixed. The divers club turned out to be a bit of a misnomer. We sat on a nice patio about a hundred meters from the bridge and enjoyed an ethnic lunch while looking at the bridge. We noticed a few of the Speedo clad divers pacing up and down the bridge and at least ten minutes passed before finally one of them took the plunge. Now granted that it was probably about twenty meters down to the water which is pretty high, but all the dude did was jump straight in, feet first. We expected a somersault or dive at least...but no, just a straight jump. They should be the jumper’s club, not the diver’s club!

What the area looked like after the shelling:

The bridge area:

Garth at lunch near the bridge:

Me and yet another new beer:

One of the so called divers:

We hopped back in Betty and headed on a slightly different direction to the coast. We made a couple of stops on the way. The first was to Medurgorje (“gorje” meaning church). Holly explained that supposedly many people had had visions here and hence it had an incredible draw to many Christians. The church itself was not terribly impressive nor was it terribly old but it was amazing the number of cars lining the nearby streets and more incredibly the plethora of souvenir shops selling “Jesus gear”. Rosary beads galore, Mary emblazoned plates and necklaces and anything you could name of with some Christianity connection to it. We really wondered the validity to the “visions” claim and thought perhaps it was just a fantastic marketing scheme.

Our next stop to the coast was the Kravice waterfalls. We took a slightly wrong turn on the way there (actually we can blame the helpful lady back at the Mostar tourist info office but it was only a 10 minute detour). We parked the car at a 5 Euros cost but felt that this was unlikely a mafia run affair...but we could be wrong. There was still a fair procession of people heading down the gently sloping, paved switchbacks down to the river. Half of the road consisted of beautiful stone while the other half was asphalt painted an ugly pale green. We figure the paint kept the heat of the pavement down and the segregation was to delineate between pedestrians and the odd car, which we figured were maybe VIPs (mafia?) or just overpaying customers. The falls themselves were quite lovely and the cool cascading water moisturized the nearby air causing a relief from the late afternoon heat. There were a few people enjoying a swim while most were hanging out in a few casual watering holes on the shore. We enjoyed a beer and then decided to get back on the road as we hoped to return to the coast and find a campsite.

Kravice Waterfalls:

Garth and Holly at the waterfalls:

The campsite we found seemed promising at first but oh my, was it packed...like sardines! It turned out to be alright and after a lovely pizza dinner down on the waterfront we were off to bed and the busy place turned out to be quieter than we expected.

Doing Dubrovnik

Tuesday, July 27th

We caught a bus into Dubrovnik (which was 20 minutes late) and walked 10 minutes into the old town. The stone walls were quite impressive and I couldn’t imagine how armies of years gone past could have even imagined breaching them. We followed Holly’s lead of doing a “walkabout” first to get our bearings. In a place like this, it was quite easy to do, walk the perimeter of the stone walls. It cost 35 kuna to get up on the walls (about $7 CAD) but it was well worth it. The walk was between 2-3 kilometers with half of it bordering the Adriatic Sea. The views both inside and outside of the old sea were beautiful and intriguing. It was amazing to think of the damage done in the war not that long ago and the reconstruction was slowly, painstakingly done to try and preserve the original architecture of this old city. One could easily tell however which buildings had not been hit by their aging roofs.

The entrance to the walled city:

Starting to walk the perimeter:

Walking the walls:

Holly and I on the wall:

Looking over the roof tops:

Great views:

Looking cool in Dubrovnik:

After the perimeter walk we strolled along the main avenue and after a rehydrating drink (read: not beer) at a small restaurant, we ventured into a war photo exhibit. We all had mixed reactions to the pictures we saw which represented conflict not only in the local area but Palestine, Chechnya, Ossetia, Pakistan and some other regions. The photo that stuck with me was seeing the old town of Dubrovnik on fire in 1991.

We had some lunch and then I subtly persuaded Holly and Garth to take a short glass bottom boat tour for 50 minutes. The glass bottom was a bit unnecessary as sadly there were hardly any fish or vegetation to look at. Seeing the old town’s stone walls from the sea was worthwhile and one could see why the walls were twice as thick on the land side as there were some tricky rock walls facing the ocean that would prevent any army from mounting a substantial attack from sea. We toured around a small island off the coast which included a small “clothing optional” beach.
Back on shore, Garth headed off to climb the local hill while Holly opted to meander around the old town a bit more. I was still not feeling a 100% so I planned to head back to the campsite although I was feeling well enough for a beer on a sidewalk cafe and a bit of people watching. I took a local bus to the main bus station and asked about getting back to the town of Zaton where we were camping. The lady expressed that I could get a bus in 45 minutes but I would have to pay more than double what it cost me to get into town as it was more of a long haul bus and I would specifically have to ask the driver to drop me off. It also sounded like I might end up at the next town and could have a long walk back. I decided on catching the proper bus that left another hour after the first one. I figured I could explore the “new” Dubrovnik harbour in this time. There was only one cruise ship in at the time and a number of large yachts but nothing super impressive (am I becoming a yacht snob?!?).

The busy mainstreet:

The old harbour:

On the glass bottom boat:

The city walls from the boat:

I got on the bus and there was a ticket collector working his way back along the aisle way. We were getting close to Zaton and he was chatting up a fellow one row in front of me. On boarding the bus I had asked the driver if I was on the right bus but I didn’t have faith that he would have remembered the stop. I eagerly showed the collector my ticket and he yelled up to the driver...cool, I should be good. Well the bus rumbled past the campsite and the market Garth had been to the day before. It kept going and going. As it past another campsite on a peninsula that we could see from where we were staying I knew I had to take action, I could end up in a city hours away. I stood up and went back to the ticket collector, expressed that I wanted to get off and he shouted to the driver who promptly stopped. Whew. I did have a 20 minute walk back but at least it was a pleasant one along the shore...no harm, no foul. Still with a tentative stomach, I had a small, basic dinner and soon headed to bed after setting up Garth and Holly’s tent (probably the easiest tent I’ve ever set up so I’m not looking for glory here). They had a nice dinner out by the waterfront in Dubrovnik (Date Night!) and we all had a decent night’s sleep.

I almost forgot to mention the super strange, eccentric late 60s guy who ran the campground along with his mother. He told Garth and I that the house and property had been in his family for over 800 years! The night before Garth and I had tried to pay for camping and he was drunk as a skunk and would only accept Garth’s payment since he and Holly might only be staying one night whereas I was there for two. He couldn’t do simple math to save his life and I couldn’t help but be concerned that I had to leave my passport with this guy for the night. The villa where the reception was in was cavernous and impressive, but did not convey a warm “home” feeling. There were old pictures of generations past on the walls and the furnishings were stark and cold. The next day when I went to pay, he didn’t even remember me....yikes.

Old Hospitals and Old Cities

Monday, July 26th

Garth knocked on my window to wake me up and he immediately apologized for waking me up so early. It was just after 6am and unfortunately Holly had been ill all night with severe pains in her side. We set off to find a hospital. The first one had a checkpoint building at the entrance and the fellow waved us on. We drove up to a four storey, white fading hospital building that appeared to have missed any kind of up keeping for the last 3 decades. It didn’t look like a promising medical facility but I was reminded of Harry’s comment the night before that this country didn’t have the best health care...I guess we were about to find out first hand. At first we couldn’t find anyone to help us out. The hall way was bare and all the doors closed but Garth hunted around and found someone as I parked Betty. Ten minutes later we were told to head back from where we had come to another hospital where there would actually be a doctor. Turns out that this place was more of a palliative care place.

The palliative hospital:

At the next hospital, Holly was seen right away by a few ladies all dressed in red. One was a nurse but the other a doctor although it was tough to tell the difference. They took her vitals and asked a number of questions. She was soon put on an IV to provide her with some fluids, some painkillers and vitamins. Garth and I hung out for about an hour as Holly was revitalized. We couldn’t help but joke that this facility must have been cutting edge, some thirty years ago in a communist run country. I need to visit the little boys room and yikes, it was the standard squatting toilet that wouldn’t have passed even a restaurant’s hygiene test in Canada. There was a bucket beside the toilet where used toilet paper was stacked up...double yikes. Nonetheless, after her IV and at a cost of 12 Euros, Holly was feeling better and we returned to the apartment they stayed at for her to get a few more hours of sleep. The apartment was interestingly decorated with dark red walls and a variety of knickknacks and a seemingly open door policy. After her rest, we all showered up (surprisingly in a shower with the best water pressure I’d experienced in Europe so far and a great view of the fort) and then hit the road towards the town of Herceg Novi. Holly slept most of the way as Garth and I admired the terrain and views of the large tidal lake.

The second hospital:

Our brave patient:

The scary hospital bathroom:

Driving around the lake:

Arriving in Herceg Novi, a possible paragliding venue, we drove to the far side of town and found a beach, yet another crowded one, for a spot of lunch. The conditions didn’t look great for flying and ironically I also didn’t have a terribly happy tummy although not one requiring hospital assistance, just a traveller’s type issue. We decided to press on further towards a definite stop on our tour, the city of Dubrovnik. We stopped at a fantastic lookout point just before arriving in Dubrovnik for a few pictures. The city sports an amazing walled old town that was nearly decimated in 1991 by the Serbians. The stone walls are up to 6 meters thick in areas but that didn’t prevent over 60% of the buildings within from being hit. Massive meticulous reconstruction has returned it to its previous glory and we were in awe of the sight including some nice islands in the background. We found a campsite north of Dubrovnik and set up for the night. Tomorrow we shall visit the city.

Beautiful Dubrovnik:

The Kotor Castle

Sunday, July 25th

After a mediocre breakfast buffet at hotel we set off north. Our goal was to check out a small town called Kotor that Louise had recommended. Although it was only 40 kilometers away, it took probably an hour to get there as the road along the coast of this massive sheltered bay was narrow, windy and often had swimsuit clad locals walking around. As we neared Kotor, Garth spotted some rock walls of an old fortress zigzagging up the mountain on the other side of the lake. It turned out to be the Kotor fort which we later visited. Betty’s brakes started to get less and less reactive as we wound along the lake. I wondered whether the recent visit to the garage in Kosovo where the front brake pads were changed was related. It was raining a bit as we reached the town and it was quite disconcerting when the wheels locked up as I approached a roundabout. We found a parking lot just outside the entrance to the walled old town and found a restaurant inside for some lunch. The plan then was to climb up the fortress then return to deal with Betty’s brakes as it looked like the brake fluid level was low so maybe that’s all she needed.

Driving to Kotor:

The castle from a distance:

Spot Betty with the other rides...tough to say whose is better...

A church in the old town:

For lunch, Garth and I had these strange, deep fried, rolled salt pancakes with cheese and ham in mine, bacon in his. They were recipes for heart attacks for sure and I barely finished the first of two I was given and Garth was beaten even before that! We wandered through the narrow streets of the old town and found the stairs to begin the climb up to the fortress. It was at least a couple of hundred meters up with partially broken stone steps zigzagging up the steep hill. A number of stone walls were lined with archery slits every meter, it was phenomenal to think of the number of arrows that could have rained down on an attacking army if this fortress was fully armed. Just as Garth mentioned that we should have brought some water with us (we’d only brought our raincoats figuring the weather looked inclement as we had left Betty), he turned around and sure enough there was a local who had carried up a cooler full of cold drinks, water, pop, even beer...at an inflated price of course. It was 1.50 Euros for water, only 50 cents more than usual so not too bad. We bought a couple and continued our ascent to the top. At the top, there was yet another vendor who had obviously worked a lot more than his competition, his prices: 2.50. Garth brought up the interesting point that near the end of the day, surely the prices had to go down as he did not want to have to carry them all the way down. I didn’t think of this until typing this, but perhaps he has a secret stashing place.

Garth's rating of the rolled pancake:

Hiking up to the fort:

The view from the top of the fortress was spectacular and we snapped many pics. It was one of those places where many tourists were more than obliging to snap a pic of you and your group for the return favour. Garth and I pondered the possible paragliding opportunities. The landing zone was easy to figure out with a large soccer field down in the town and it was easy to see a possible launch area. To one side of the fortress there was a switchbacking path that wound its way up the mountain at least another two times what we had climbed. There looked to be some power lines up near the top which could possibly be a hazard but I’m sure something could be figured out...it would just be a bit of a bummer to hike for 2-3 hours with a 35 pound backpack only to find out you have to turn around and go back down! It was already past 3pm so it didn’t look like an option for today and regardless, we had Betty’s brakes to deal with already.

The archery slits:

Looking down, tough to spot Betty:

Holly and I at the top:

The view:

Garth and Holly:

After a little time at the top, we descended back into the old town, had a drink at a cafe while people watching and then decided on our next plan of attack. After consulting the local tourist info booth, I was off to the nearest gas station for brake fluid. I got the fluid and sadly it didn’t seem to make a difference to Betty’s brakes. I met up with Garth and Holly and they were going to suss out an apartment with a room to rent for 50 Euros a night while I was headed to find the nearest mechanic to see if I could park and sleep in Betty there. I eventually found a dilapidated large garage and the first few guys I met didn’t speak English but were happy to find a guy that did. It turned out that Saul, who said call him Harry, primarily worked on boats but he was happy to hear my story and give some advice that I just might need to bleed the brakes. I asked whether he had a good jack and he offered to hang around until I returned...what amazing luck on a Sunday night at 7pm. I returned to Betty and Garth and Holly were already there with good news that they would be okay with staying at the apartment they checked out. We started to leave the parking lot only to realize that we couldn’t find the ticket to exit. Damn. I was able to do a 50 meter reverse back up the nearly full lot and pull into an empty stall where we did a thorough search...nothing. I walked to the booth and it was going to be 10 Euros to leave...no biggie, we figured we’d be paying 5-6 Euros anyways and I didn’t want to delay Harry.

Arriving at the garage, some other guy who didn’t speak English helped us with a hydraulic lift as Harry showed up. He had some other task he wanted to accomplish so Garth and I set about getting Betty jacked up to remove the front wheels (turns out we had to first jack it up with my jack in order to fit the hydraulic one next). After removing the wheels, Harry returned and helped us with the brake bleeding. He was surprised that we had visited Kosovo and as Garth put it, he was a dower fellow who claimed that he preferred the communist times of Yugoslavia than the mob driven country that he now lived in. He also felt that it was merely “half time” (in soccer terms) for the Serbs and their motives in the area. It was an interesting insight to the feelings of a local.

Working on Betty's brakes:

Betty’s brakes felt a bit better after the bleed, still not 100% but definitely better than earlier. I parked just outside the apartment that Garth and Holly were staying at and we walked back into the old town for a nice dinner...another interesting day on the road...

Flying in Budva

Saturday, July 24th

After a morning swim in the ocean (lovely water temperature!), we headed into Budva to try and find an Internet cafe to try and find some information on paragliding in this area. We eventually contacted a British guy, Robin, who spends half of the year here flying paragliding tandems, mountain biking tours and vineyard walks. He suggested we go to the beach in neighboring Becici (“be-chee-chee”) and look for other tandem pilots there. There were a few wings in the air as we arrived and we watched where they landed and spoke to a guy mentioned by Robin called Doshan. He hooked us up with some Russian guys heading back up to launch to do a tandem so we followed them in their 4x4 Lada and I was impressed that Betty could keep up!

The launch was nice with a couple of large mats covering the dusty ground. The view of the town and beaches below was astonishing but behind launch wasn’t so hot, being the municipal dump or at least it looked to be. A couple of Bulgarians that we had chatted to arrived at launch as Garth and I were setting up. They had said that it had been fairly turbulent earlier and weren’t going to fly again but they had changed their minds. I was the first one off and launched in a weak cycle. It was not problem with the actual launch but I lost a lot of height quickly and didn’t find much thermal activity on the glide out. It was a short flight but the views were awesome and I especially loved flying over the packed beach of arranged parasols and small figures frolicking in the water. The landing zone was relatively small and was the grassy front of a hotel with a white steel fence around it, a few trees on one side, a small maintenance building in the middle and if you overshot, you were heading to the overcrowded beach. I was happy with my approach and landed safely on the grass where I was met shortly after by Holly who had gone for a swim in the ocean during this time. Garth had a good flight too, a bit longer than mine and he had a solid landing. It was his first flight outside of Saudi Arabia in a long time and had a renewed spring in his step as Holly put it.

The launch:

The view behind launch:

My launch:

The gorgeous coastline:
Flying to the beach:
Garth's view of the beach:

My landing:


Robin was heading up to do a tandem flight so I split a taxi with him to go and retrieve Betty. His passenger was an engineering professor working in Norway but of Serbian descent. She specifically worked on the wind dynamics of bridges and was a pretty cool lady. I walked to launch with them and made sure they got in the air before heading down to catch up with Garth and Holly. Robin had offered a room to us for 30 Euros but we decided to return to the same campsite as we planned to head further north tomorrow. We ate dinner at the same place (why mess with something you like?). Part way through the meal a thunderstorm ripped through the area. We were rushed off the patio into the main part of the restaurant as it turned into a torrential downpour. As it subsided, we returned to our campsite only to find that Garth and Holly’s tent had collapsed and their sleeping bags were quite wet. Thankfully they snagged the last hotel room available. The storm was visible for a few hours as it rolled south along the coast. I don’t think I can remember the last time I saw so many lightning flashes in one storm. At its peak it must have been a flash every second or so...super awesome to watch!

Driving across Montenegro

Friday, July 23rd

Today’s goal was to head to the Adriatic coast. We drove off along some of the same windy and slow road that I had driven to Kosovo and there were some fantastic views. We took a short side route to see a canyon and then pressed on to the capital, Podgorica. We just skimmed the outskirts of the capital we no desire to head into the center as it was over 30 degrees and what we did see of the city, including some rundown communist era apartment buildings, just didn’t entice the soul to see more. We passed a large saltwater lake and considered having lunch there but pressed on to the coast and we were rewarded with that decision. We climbed a big mountain, opting to take the overland route versus the toll tunnel and the view of the coast was absolutely stunning. We pulled over and soaked in the Montenegran coastline with a few islands in sight.

Our second campsite at Zabljak:

The high plateau plains by Zabljak:

Hauling wheat in Montenegro:

Seemed like a sign to nowhere:

The view from the canyon:

The ugly capital of Podgorica:

The massive lake:

Betty and I arriving at the coast:


After a tasty meal of bread and Kosovar pate (thanks again Louise!) along with some freshly picked raspberries, wild strawberries, blueberries and a bit of chocolate, Betty rolled us down to the seashore and we entered a town called Petrovac. It was a busy place with hundreds of beach goers waltzing down to find some sun and sand. We found a place to park and headed to a beach ourselves only to be flabbergasted by the sea of humanity there. The 500 meter long, 10 meter wide beach must have had a few thousand people on it, there was hardly an unused space. Wow.

The busy beach:

More beach mayhem:

At least we could get a beer at the busy beach:

Garth and a not so busy sweater vendor (what was he thinking?!?):


Holly and Garth went for a swim and then I did (we needed someone to keep an eye on our valuables). I followed their recommendation of heading a bit more to the right in the water as there was sadly a fair amount of garbage floating about. After the quick dip, we had a beer under a shaded table with a nice view of the rocky coastline. We jumped back into Betty and headed north to try and find a campsite near the larger town of Budva. We ended up finding one north of that town at a beach called Jas. We camped in a newly weedwhacked grassy area just 100 meters from the shore. This beach was not as busy as Petrovac and thankfully the water seemed to be garbage free. We had a nice meal at a seaside restaurant (excellent calzone!) and then called it a night.