Croatian tribulations, up to the Bosnian border

Croatia still has a few surprises in store for me, and, dare I say it, some real hassles! More acrobatic climbing, arm-powered cycling (a new sport?), and damage. Enough to make me decide to change my route. But my spirits remain high; the views and the people are as wonderful as ever (with the exception of a bad encounter with a Croatian uniform…). Heading for Bosnia, but before I get there, here’s the story of my Croatian trials and tribulations!

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!

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.