Let’s start with yet another broken resolution. I find myself once again on an impossible trail, forced to climb… And I’m not turning back. But there’s almost no vegetation to force my way through, so my legs won’t end up bloodied. Not too far off from a little , health walk, really! Umm, how can I put this? With a photo!

Here I’m nearing the summit, but imagine climbing hundreds of meters of elevation gain in this way. Speed: less than one kilometer per hour… for an effort worthy of a legionnaire, or any total nutcase (like me – yeah, yeah, I know). My legs hurt a lot less than my upper body, my arms are completely stiff. After all the falls and bumps, the inevitable happened… I broke the other side of my luggage rack, which jammed my wheel. Does that remind you of anything? Once again, night is approaching and I decide to leave the bike behind to head to the nearest shelter, 5 km away. I’m carrying way too many bags to make good progress… But I don’t want to leave any food smells on the bike (bears, always bears).

I arrive just as the sun is setting.

I’m still in a nature reserve, Paklenica National Park. Here again, camping is strictly prohibited, and the area is patrolled. But the great thing is that there are unmanned cabins here that are true havens of peace. Judge for yourself : isn’t this paradise?

So the next morning, I set off again to retrieve my abandoned bike. I take the time to tie the bike down as tightly as possible with a rope. In the sailing world, where I come from, this rigging technique is called lashing!

It holds up for the descent, even while I’m carrying the bike. While I still have to be careful not to fall, it’s physically easier to handle. I’m singing ; I’m happy, even though it’s tough to descend from an altitude of 1,600 meters, which I’d worked so hard to reach, back down to 500… I’ve spotted a village with an auto repair shop that should be able to fix my bike rack. But before that, I find a rocky trail just the way I like it, perfect for a full-throttle descent all the way to the road. So I launch myself like a man possessed on a descent averaging 50 km/h. I needed those thrills so badly after all that hard work. God, it feels so good!! I even treat myself to a few jumps, which I admit is completely idiotic (sorry, Bébert, my trusty bike).

When I arrived in the village, I showed up at the mechanic’s shop, filthy and smelly. But hey, speaking of smells! I’m trying to document my entire trip. EN-TI-RE. Right down to the smells (at least the flies are enjoying it)…

Let’s get back to my new buddies, the mechanics. Just as dirty as I am, we seem to recognize and like each other right away. The boss, a bit of a joker with a twinkle in his eye, wins me over immediately. He’s really good at mimicking my French accent, and he makes me laugh heartily. Exhausted, with my clothes, face, hands, and legs caked in grime, I blend right into the background as I go lie down against the pillar in the entrance. While they work on my bike, I savor the moment. Exhausted, I finally get some rest, eat the sweets they bring me, and revel in the rough-and-tumble language of one of the mechanics. I don’t understand a word of it, of course, but there’s no doubt he’s mad at his engine. I’m overjoyed! Happiness isn’t always where you expect it to be.

With the bike back in working order, I find a campground. And the height of luxury, I’m sleeping in a trailer. I’ll be able to rest and think about what comes next. I absolutely have to change course ; I can’t keep going like this. My legs are covered in bruises, but I’ve always loved rainbows. No, the real problem is that my bike won’t last much longer at this rate. I decide to head due north, rather than east, all the way to Bosnia, which I’ll reach sooner than expected. I’m still in the Dinaric Alps, but the mountains are less steep, and I should find trails that actually look like trails. In particular, I’ll follow the Green Trail of the Via Dinarica. So be it!

Goodbye, Siddha! A German woman who’s been staying at her friend’s campground since August. We really hit it off and had some great conversations. I owe her some invaluable advice. Up until this point in the trip, I hadn’t dared to film or take photos of people. I was afraid of being intrusive, of taking something from them, basically. But she made me realize that I could simply ask. So I’ll do that from now on, making it very clear that my request is in no way mandatory. Thank you, my friend!

The closer I get to Bosnia, the more the landscapes change. And above all, the poverty becomes more apparent. Over there, the minimum wage is barely more than 500 euros (560 $), while the cost of living is relatively high. There’s little tourism, the economy is sluggish, in short, it’s a completely different reality. But I’m not there yet. For now, I’ve just climbed a long, rocky trail, lost in the mountains. Even though it’s fall, the sun has been beating down on me all morning. And what a relief, here’s the forest, right at the pass before the descent. A charming, shady spot, perfect for a break. I need to eat something and rest a bit. But I don’t understand, I feel uneasy here. I look all around, but nothing explains this bad feeling. So much so that I hesitate for a full five minutes before deciding to take my break anyway. Not a minute goes by before a huge Jeep comes barreling up, right in front of me. A cop gets out, nervous and aggressive. He barks at me, demanding to know if I’ve seen anyone, people who look like migrants. He’s on the hunt. After insisting heavily, he drives off, still at full speed. A few moments later, he comes back the other way, in a cloud of dust. And me? Well, I grab my stuff and get the hell out of here!!

The next leg of the adventure will take me to Bosnia, a country where I’ll end up spending much more time than I’d planned. But I can already tell you that I love this country.

See you soon, and poljupci poljupci (kisses kisses, in the local style) ♥️😘

From Bihać, Bosnia and Herzegovina.

The post Croatian tribulations, up to the Bosnian border appeared first on Dreams Can Be Real.

I’m finally leaving Venice on September 17, and to put it mildly, my butt is on fire! It was about time to get going! Even the sky seems so moved that it’s weeping. But hey, a little restraint, please! Two thunderstorms and five hours of pouring rain, that’s enough, right? Well, now my butt is REALLY on fire (the skin’s raw, ow, ow ow). Eight hours of chafing from soaked cycling shorts is more than my butt can handle this early in the trip!

I’m overjoyed to have crossed this first border! On a bike, that’s no small feat, and I’m already thinking about the next ones… which I hope will be many! As for Slovenia, I’ve decided to take the shortest route through it. I was lucky enough to cross it on foot a few years ago. Far from claiming to know it well enough already, I nevertheless have limited time. So I’ve decided to focus on the rest of the Balkans.

As soon as I enter Slovenia, the elevation gains skyrocket. But on the pavement, it’s almost easy. Once I arrive in Croatia, the scenery changes dramatically. The good weather and my joy keep me going.

Joy, did I mention? Well, right now, it’s an absolute blast! Both for me and for these little Croatians, who are crazy about mountain biking. When they see me coming on my bike, loaded down like a pack mule, with a camera on my helmet, they immediately get all excited. I film them, we have a great laugh. Thanks, kids!

The next day, I’m bursting with anticipation. In a few hours, I’ll finally reach the hiking trail I came here to find: the White Trail of the Via Dinarica. Luckily, at that moment, I still don’t know what’s in store for me… The Via Dinarica is a long-distance hiking route, known for being difficult and poorly marked. The White Trail is the most alpine and the most challenging. Difficult and poorly marked? You can say that again!

I have to force my way through the vegetation, lift my bike over numerous fallen trees, and climb rocky sections. All of this on a mountain bike that must weigh 40 kilos, including my supplies.

It’s Sunday, and I run into several hikers. At first, they all look at me in shock… What the heck is this weirdo doing here with his bike? And how on earth did he even get this far!? Well, buddy, it’s just like when you’re struggling in life: one step at a time. Most of them are armed with bear spray and confirm that there are plenty of bears in the area. No surprise there… But what I learn, and what really sends a chill down my spine, is the strict enforcement against camping. The consequence? A €2,500 fine -> nothing left but my tears -> end of the adventure.

I reached the summit after five hours of struggling, falling countless times while carrying the bike, my legs scraped raw. Shortly before that, my bike rack had broken, and I’d had to improvise a makeshift repair (in a hurry to get out of there before nightfall). Since it was blocking my rear wheel, I couldn’t even push the bike anymore. Never mind, I’m finally at the top, and the view is magnificent. So I take a deep breath and soak up some positive energy. If I still had water, I’d find a secluded spot to sleep, and to hell with the bears. But I’m starting to get seriously dehydrated.

What follows is a race against the clock; I have an hour and a half left before nightfall. I make it to the bottom just in time, completely exhausted. What happened next, I owe to an angel. I’d met Marko that morning. He was a cyclist who’d stopped at a mountain pass, and I went over to ask him where I could find water. No water, but a warm smile and a heart of gold. He offered to let me stay at his vacation home. Come on! No need! Everything’s fine! I’m going to camp out tonight (yeah, right…)! I thanked him properly and took his number anyway.

It was a good thing I did. Marko and his wife Vania did everything they could for the miserable, down-and-out adventurer that I was. They fed me, gave me a comfortable bed, and a nice hot shower. Above all, even though I felt a little awkward about their generosity, they made me feel completely at ease. It was also a chance to talk about Croatia, France, our respective lives, and life in general. Thank you, my friends, I won’t forget you anytime soon!

The next day, I found a mechanic who fixed my bike rack. I’m ready for the next leg of my adventure, yay! I’m heading back to the Via Dinarica White Trail and the Velebit Nature Reserve.

The scenery is gorgeous, and I can sometimes see the Adriatic Sea. I’ll admit, I often have to push, but at least I don’t have to carry anything.

I also treat myself to some rides, just the way I like them!

I promised myself I’d turn back if I ever found myself on a trail that isn’t really a trail, where I might end up getting beaten up again… And I also promised myself I wouldn’t sleep in the woods in areas where there are bears. Oops, oops… I won’t be keeping any of those fine resolutions.

Starting with this campout in the forest. It’s beautiful and peaceful (for now), and I’m well hidden from the park rangers. The same can’t be said for the bears, of course. But I have a good feeling about this spot, so I’m staying. Around 11 p.m., I hear a hell of a racket in the trees. The animal is big; its movements are heavy. And when I hear its growls, I have no doubt left. I record it with my camera, but the footage is poor. The most surprising thing about that moment is that I feel no fear at all. There’s a bear 20 meters away from me, and I feel safe. Recklessness? I doubt it. I’m lucky enough, despite all my flaws, to have one quality I know I can count on: intuition. Especially since it sharpens while I’m traveling. Once the bear was gone, I fell into a deep, restful sleep until morning.

A little while later, I’ll have proof that my intuition works well. This time, my internal alarm will warn me of a danger that would otherwise be undetectable. But that’s a story for next time (which will come much sooner than this first post)!

With love, from Bihać, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Mwah 😘🫶

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