Montenegro

Montenegro, or Crna Gora, meaning Black Mountain in the local lingo, is a visually stunning country - very mountainous from the coast to way inland. But in trying hard to catch up with neighbours like Croatia in the rush for the tourist dollar, they've messed some things up. Let me explain....

Monica and the rest of the gang from our Huck Finn cruise dropped us in the drop dead gorgeous little settlement of Sveti Stefan on the Montenegrin coast, and after settling in we did a bit of exploring. It was then we began to see things that we didn't like.
Sveti Stefan is famous for it's gorgeous little island just off the mainland, connected by a narrow causeway to the village. Great to photograph, but the whole island and it's buildings has been bought by an exclusive hotel, and only hotel guests are allowed to go out there. They also have exclusive rights to  the beach on the northern side of the causeway, charging 50 euros to walk onto the beach. The next 2 beaches north were the same, controlled by exclusive hotels which charged 75 euros, yep, that's right, 75 euros to walk onto the beach! We were told the government had given the hotels a 30 year lease - I'd like to think they'll come to their senses when the leases come up for renewal, but there are probably too many pockets being lined to hope for anything like that.
Meanwhile, the only beach available "free" to plebs like us has been ruined by overdevelopment. Five and six story apartment blocks built right on the beachfront along 2/3rds of the beach without even a walkway between them and the sand, er, stones. Then they've allocated 2/3rds of the "sand" exclusively to sun lounge vendors, leaving just a bit at either end for the people who just want to spread their own mats and/or towels on the "sand".
Most of the development in this area comes from Russian money, and it seems to be a case of grab the money and stuff the rape of the coastline. However, the sea was still clean, clear and free, and great for a swim - but watch out for the idiots on jet skis!
It wasn't all bad, though, and we had a restful 3 nights at Sveti Stefan before picking up a car and heading for the mountains.

To start our drive, we headed back to the Bay of Kotor, and took the winding mountain road up countless switchbacks with a few stops to look at the stunning view over the bay.
Our first stop was Cetinje, the one time capital of Montenegro. They moved the capital to Podgorica because Cetinje was hemmed in by mountains and could not grow. But we found Cetinje a nice little town, with traffic free streets full of cafes and restaurants, and lots of families out promenading in the evening. In the main square there was a guy hiring out electric powered mini quad bikes to kids. The kids had a ball charging around, no one got hurt, and their parents sat at outside tables having a drink and a chat.

We then moved further inland to the mountainous Durmitor NP, staying 4 nights in an apartment in the town of Zabljak, just outside the park. On the way we detoured to a monastery - Ortog - built high up on a mountainside under towering cliffs, and dedicated to St Basil. Not sure what Basil's claim to fame is, but he must have been a cool guy to have a monastery like this one in his name!
The drive up to the monastery was, typically, the most exciting part. Once again, 1 and 1/2 car widths wide, heaps of hairpin bends, no guard rails and HUGE drops off the side. Susie was frequently beseaching me to get the wheels away from the edge, but I couldn't, I already had my door mirror folded in to inch past the guy coming the other way! But we made it, and it was worth the hair raising drive.

On our first day in Durmitor we went rafting. Not white knuckle stuff. Just very easy little rapids, and very easy paddling, but passing through the very spectacular and deep, Tara Gorge. They say it's the second deepest gorge in the world behind the Grand Canyon. Don't know about that, but it was pretty deep, and very beautiful. Actually, the most exciting part of the day was the drive out of the canyon in a clapped out VW van with the raft on the roof up a very steep and winding gravel track. I was pretty impressed with our driver's skills!
Next day we headed out to the closest and most accessible of many glacial lakes in the park. Crna Jezero, or Black Lake, is actually 2 lakes linked by a narrow channel which flows in different directions at different times of the year depending on snow melt and other stuff. We had a nice walk around the lakes and through the surrounding pine forests, punctuated by a picnic lunch, before a lazy late afternoon and evening in our apartment reading and watching our resident cows (we christened them Bessie and Dora) munch their way around the paddock outside our back door as the sun went down and the moon came up.

Feeling like giving our legs a bit more, we next tackled a longer walk, up to another lake. This time it was 2 and 1/2 hours of fairly steep uphill walking to reach our objective, Jablan Jezero, and we were just a tad disappointed to find there wasn't much water left in the lake. The long hot summer had taken it's toll, but it was still a beautiful place, watched over by the soaring cliffs of nearby peaks. Once again we had taken a picnic lunch, so found a grassy alpine meadow to sit on and admire the view, and munched contentedly on our simple, but delicious fare.

Friday 16 Sep we drove on to our next stop, Kolacin, near another mountain NP called Biogradska Gora. But before setting off we decided, on the advice of our host, to go check out the local ski facilities at Savin Kuk, about 5 kms out of town. The resort was, um, rudimentary shall we say? There was one chair and about 4 T-bars or pommels on the lower slopes. The chair was an old 2 seater, not unlike the one at Mt Perisher for you Aussie skiers, of the type that doesn't slow down as it picks up or drops off, making entry and exit kinda fun, especially when at the exit you have to quickly swing sideways and then down off a raised platform to avoid being flattened by the chair - easy for a 20 year old. The chair disappeared up the mountain over cliffs and other very steep and rocky terrain, and was running intermittently for tourists wanting to go up, so we paid our money, they started it up, and off we went. This was the most rickety, clunky, rattley chair lift I've ever been on, and it became even more so as we passed over the bent, mangled remains of an old chair tower still lying on the rocks.
From the top station there was a short climb up grassy slopes to the top, which ended abruptly with a vertical drop into the next valley. The views into the higher mountains of the NP were sensational, if a little hazy from smoke, and we hung around taking it all in for a while before thinking, okay, how do you ski down from here?
The only route down was a curving glacial scree chute immediately under big cliffs, with a gentle-ish start, a very steep drop into the chute proper, and then just steep until it linked up with the gentler lower slopes. And that was it... but at 15 euros a day, and probably not too many skiers, you could probably ski the top run about 4 times before getting bored, and go home satisfied? Naah, give me Snowbasin any day.

So we left Savin Kuk thinking about our next ski adventure, set off for Kolacin, and promptly went the wrong way. After driving for half an hour in the wrong direction we quickly realised our mistake and went back to the right road, which proved to be yet another "World's Great Drive"! This road followed the Tara River Gorge, winding through the narrow gut of the gorge, frequently through unlit narrow tunnels, and all the time with towering cliffs overhead. Unfortunately, there were very few places to stop and take pics without risking a prang, so we just motored on, jaws agape, until we reached somewhat less precipitous country, the town of Kolacin and the Hotel Cile.
We dined early at a pub in town that night, and were struck by the relative absence of women. The place seemed to be full of groups of guys, sitting drinking, eating, smoking, talking, but mostly with the absence of womenfolk. Strange.

The following day we drove out to Biogradska NP, walked around it's signature lake, then up a steep mountain trail to nowhere, where we found a tall, recently built tower, not unlike bushfire lookout towers at home, sitting in a clearing. The tower entrance was open so we climbed to the top, which afforded a good view of the surrounding hills and forest, sat down and ate our lunch.
This little outing whetted our appetites for more walking so we set out next day to find a walk Ivan, our host suggested. We drove to the point on the map which we thought was the right starting point, giving a lift to some young hitchhikers from Prague along the way, parked the car, and set off. After walking about 3 kms along this dusty logging road without finding the signed track we were looking for, we turned around in frustration and retraced our steps. Maybe we had missed it? Maybe the logging trucks had knocked out the sign? Flagging down a logging truck, we had an animated and probably rather comical "discussion" with it's 4 occupants, pouring over our map, with much pointing at it, and every direction on the compass, they talking in Montenegrin and us not, before giving up with smiles and handshakes all round.
Finally back at the car, we poured over the map again and decided it HAD to be the right road, so got in the car and drove it, thinking maybe we hadn't gone far enough to find the track turn off. We gave the shock absorbers of our little Yaris a pounding, driving endlessly along this road, without finding a thing, ultimately giving up, managing a 6 point turn without falling off the mountain, and drove back to our start point. Maybe we should drive on a bit, we thought?
So off we went, and about 2 kms along we found, The Right Road. And it was bitumen, so we drove it, all the way to a little settlement with beautiful views across gently rising grassy alpine meadows towards craggy mountain tops beyond. Beautiful. We parked the car, walked along the meadows to a spot with a beautiful view of the mountains, sat down, and had lunch. After our bumbling, but enjoyable day, we thought we deserved a beer, so shouted ourselves one at a little cafe on the way back to Kolacin.

Leaving Kolacin, we headed back to the coast, passing through the Capital, Podgorica. From what we saw passing through - dead boring. Then on to Petrovac on the coast. This was beautiful, and we wished we had booked a couple of nights there, but having to return our car to Budva, and catch a bus from there to Albania, we had booked a hotel in Budva.
We weren't very impressed with Budva. Dirty, buildings going up next to others being left to decay, pavements half finished, the beachfront rather crappy and sleazy when it could have been really nice. Maybe the howling onshore gale with intermittent heavy showers tinted our outlook somewhat, but I don't think so.
There were some good things to come out of Budva, though. Susie got a manicure, pedicure, and massage for not much, and I got the best head shave of all time from a barber right next door to our hotel. Fantastic.

Next morning we were waiting at the Bus Station for our 0800 departure for Shkodra, Albania, and the next stage of our adventure.




 

Split, Hvar, and Huck Finn.

Leaving Zadar, we drove south again towards Split. Once again, the coastal drive was stunning.
Dropping our car at Split Airport, we continued on into town by bus, and after getting totally confused by the address and instructions to find our apartment, rang Dean the owner, who rescued us and showed us the way to our abode.
Dean proved to be a terrific young guy. I showed him the address of the Orthopaedic doc where I was booked to have a progress Xray and check on my leg at 0830 next morning, asking if he knew where it was. He did. Too far, he said, and immediately told us he would pick us up at our apartment at 0800 in the morning and drive us there. What a guy!

Armed with a good report on my hip we then set about enjoying Split for a few days. Actually, the enjoyment had started the night before when, after an evening walk along the Riva, the wide waterfront walkway, we found our way to a restaurant recommended by Dean's young lady assistant. The food was good, the waiter friendly, knowledgeable and happy to chat, and best of all, great people-watching entertainment. We had an outside table, close to the door to a bar next to our restaurant and run by the same people. This bar seemed to be where the local men came for an evening drink, a blokey chat, and a fag. There was a group of them at an outside table close to us, chatting and laughing away, who showed consideration for the non-smokers around them by walking across the narrow street to a table and benches against the wall. There they sat, drinks and gaspers in hand, talking across the street to their mates and being very entertaining.
We spent the next couple of days enjoying the Diocletian Palace - the Roman, walled "old city" which had many hidden delights, including bars where you could sit and watch the passing parade over a cool drink. We caught the local bus out into a peninsula NP right next to the city where we hopped off at a "beach" and swam in the crystal clear water, lay about in the rays for a bit, and then shared a Radler. We discovered these in Slovenia, I think, and have become quite partial to them. They're kinda like a shandy - combination beer and sparkly grapefruit or lemon - 2% alcohol and very refreshing on a hot day!
Other highlights were an evening walk up about a thousand steps to a cafe in the NP overlooking the old town - great view and a very nice rose, thank you - and wandering around in the recently excavated "basement" of the Palace - fascinating looking at walls and sewer systems the Romans built way back in the 6th century.

On our last day in Split we went paddling again. Our guide, Ivan, picked us up with rest of our small group, and we drove a half hour down the coast to near the old walled city of Trogir. We paddled right around the island city and back to our starting point at a gravelly beach about a km from the town. After a cool down swim we got back in our boats and paddled into a very narrow opening between high reeds, which then opened up into a completely fresh water stream, very cold at 12C, fed by a spring about 100m up the nearby mountain side. We paddled up this beautiful, quiet stream for a couple of kms to an old mill with the date 1778 on it - just a youngster compared to much in Europe!

The following day we climbed aboard our ferry for the 2 hour trip to the island of Hvar. Our host Pero met us when we arrived in the town and showed us to our apartment high on the hill overlooking the bay. Well, not too high - there were only 130 odd steps from the apartment to the waterfront path. (You're probably saying to yourselves about now, "This guy is obsessed about steps!" So I'll shut up about them, but fact is you can't avoid them around the Dalmation Coast, the land is so damn steep.)
After giving us a rundown on local restaurants and things to do, Pero presented us with a carafe of his father's red wine, a tad rough around the edges but very drinkable, and left us to it.

First on the program was a half hour walk to a beautiful sheltered little bay with great swimming and a cute little outdoor restaurant at one corner. After a cool down swim and laze around we decided lunch at the little restaurant looked good, and it was. Great food, and waddaya know, our hostess's family produced their own wine. After sampling a glass of their rose (sorry, can't do acutes on this keyboard - you'll just have to imagine them) with lunch, we bought a bottle for Ron.

 Hvar harbour is a gathering place for super yachts - toys of the super rich that would make James Packer green with envy. Giant bloody stink boats and fair dinkum yachts with sails and masts which reach up through the clouds. You can spend a lot of time just drinking coffee and gawking at them and the people on them, and a lot of people do! But not us, we went and chartered our own super yacht - a nice little 30 footer - for a day's outing on the sparkling Adriatic. Susie had been getting a bit tetchy having not sailed since January, so we needed a fix for her. First question asked was, "Are you going to actually put the sails up?" The answer was yes, so we signed up.
On climbing aboard, Susie said to the young skipper and owner, "Oh, I see you have running back stays", which meant nothing to me but impressed him no end! They had a long chat about running back stays (I know what they are now!) and sailing in general, and Susie got to have a fairly long drive during the day, which made her a happy girl.
Our destination for the day's sail was a beautiful limestone sea cave at the base of cliffs on a small island off the larger island of Vis. We parked the boat just at the entrance to the cave and all had a wonderful time swimming through the cave while the skipper cooked up a lovely meal of fresh whole Sea Bass and salad on the bbq. Pretty damn good.

Susie had known that Dave, a MYC sailing mate, and his partner Liz were going to be in Croatia at the same time as us, but imagine her surprise when she heard Dave's voice outside our apartment one afternoon. By pure chance they had booked into the same apartments, so Susie got another chance to talk sailing. We enjoyed a couple of pretty good evening meals with them before we went our separate ways, one being octopus "under the bell". This is sort of like a camp oven - they put the octopus and accompanying veggies on a hotplate over coals, cover it with a wok shaped lid, which is itself covered with hot coals. Slow cook for 2 hrs, and Voila! Super tender delicious octopus!

Moving on from Hvar, we caught a fast cat back to Split, and a slow bus to Dubrovnik. Our actual destination was Zaton Bay, about 10 km short of Dubrovnik. We saw the sign and asked the bus driver to drop us off there, but no, rules is rules, he had to take us all the way into Dubrovnik, where we then rang our hosts who then had to drive the 10 kms into D to pick us up.
Arriving at our accomodation for the night, Villa Ivana, who did we see emerging from the Adriatic but mate Eric. Handshakes and hugs all round, we then found Eric's wife Lynne, and met our other new mates for the trip, Michael and Valerie from San Francisco. Over a getting-to-know-you beer, we then met Zelko, owner of Huck Finn Adventures and Huck Finn the sailing cat which was to be our home for 5 nights, and the delightful young Monica, Zelko's assistant and our paddling guide.
That evening we motor sailed across the channel to the island of Kolocep, and Konoba Kasa, a very cosy little restaurant with tables practically in the water. Feeling very happy with life, we motored back to Zaton Bay and bed at Villa Ivana.
Next day was a day to explore Dubrovnik, which was great, the highlight being a swim around the outside walls of the old town, stopping in the crystal clear water to look up at the sweltering people walking along the top of the wall. We knew they were sweltering because we had just done it! But we were hanging out for our trip on the Huck Finn to start, and next day it did.

We paddled actually, while Zelko motored, out of Zaton Bay and across to Kolocep Isl on glassy sea to a restaurant, Konoba Skerat, for lunch. Then paddled again around to the other side of the island where we met Zelko and the Huck Finn at the entrance to a limestone sea cave. The cave had a narrow entrance with just enough headroom to swim in on the surface, opening up into a big, high, wide cavern with deep water. The diffuse light in the water made our bodies below the water almost glow. After ODing on the sensual treats of the cave we loaded the kayaks onto HF and went for a sail out around a tall cliffed island with a lighthouse whose name I can't remember, and then to the island of Lopud for the night. Another great meal ashore and it was time to hit the hay in our cabins.

Paddling in these beautiful waters, in good company, was just a treat, with lots of outlying rocks to paddle in behind and around, and potential caves to stick our investigative noses into. This next day was no exception - we first sailed along the outside of Sipan Isl, then paddled around the smaller island of Jakljan where we again met Zelko and HK.
Zelko had parked the boat at the entrance to another sea cave, and this one had an underwater entrance, just below the surface. We were told it was only an underwater swim of 2-3 metres, but I'm not sure I would have done it if Eric hadn't gone in first, then come out saying, Yeah, mate, it's easy. It was, and the cave inside was fabulous - long and narrow with a sandy bottom, and filled with that same soft diffuse light as the first cave. Eventually we were all inside, soaking up the cathedral like atmosphere.
That night we anchored in the bay off the village of Sipan, on the island of the same name, and had another great meal on the shore before retiring to Huck Finn.
Almost all of the restaurants we ate at during this week were Zelko's suggestions, and I couldn't fault him, whether they were his mates or not!

In the morning there was still a breeze and we poked our nose around the end of  Sipan Isl and into the channel between it and Mljet Isl. There was more breeze out here and Zelko just had the main up, reaching across the channel at a good clip. This was where Susie got to have a drive. Zelko gave her a course to steer and she set herself up at the wheel. I can still see her there, smile on her face, making adjustments as the small swells came under our port stern, all concentration.
The course Zelko had given Susie to steer seemed to be aiming us straight at the cliffs, but slowly the unbroken line of cliffs morphed into a couple of offshore islands with a narrow but deep channel between them, opening up into a beautiful anchorage and village, protected from almost any wind. I thought we were going to stop there, but Zelko just wanted to show it to us, and we cruised back out into the channel again for a fast downwind run along the mainland shore of Mljet until we reached another anchorage - this time the port where the car ferry docked.

While Zelko got the boat fuelled and watered, the rest of us caught a shuttle bus to the other side of the island for lunch, and then a paddle on sit-on-tops across a couple of beautiful, almost landlocked, but still salt water lakes, to an island with, you guessed it, a monastery on it.
Actually, only Eric, Susie and me paddled - the others opting for the ferry. After a wander around the island (which, apparently Prince Charles once tried to buy) and the old St Mary's Monastery, Susie then deserted me for the paddle back, and it was just Eric and me. Just after we started back, Eric turned to me and said, "Okay, some rules, this is not a race - okay?" Not understanding why he would say something like that, I just said "Yeah, sure" and we paddled back to find Zelko waiting for us about halfway. Zelko is a big powerful man, and a former Croatian white water champion, so I was thankful he also was in a cruisey frame of mind. That evening we motored across the channel again to a village on the Peljesac Peninsular where we went ashore to a family home, friends of Zelko's, where we had a bang up meal of roast veal and lamb and veggies accompanied by the family's own very good red. Valerie liked the red so much she bought a few bottles!

Next morning we had another great paddle along the shore of the Peljesac Peninsula, staying in close to the cliffs to avoid the wind in our faces, but then had a good 15 minute workout crossing a channel into a good stiff breeze. A little more fun along the coast and we pulled the kayaks up onto HK and motored into shore where we piled into a van and drove to the end of the peninsula and the ferry to Korcula. Catching the ferry across the channel, we went for a wander around the old town and visited Marco Polo's home where I found out for the first time the heroic scope of his journeys. What a guy!
From Korcula we ferried to the mainland again, then Monica drove us in the van along the spine of the Peninsula to Ston, home to the worlds second longest fortified wall, behind the GWofC. After a look at the town and dinner, Zelko found us and ferried us out to the Huck Finn which he had anchored in the nearby estuary.

In the morning, early, we went out for a last paddle through the calm shallow waters of the estuary, checking out egrets and other water birds going about their business and looking back at the town and the wall climbing up and around the mountain behind it.
Cleaned up after the morning paddle and breakfasted, we piled into the van again and headed off into Bosnia/Hercegovina for the town of Mostar. The town still has many reminders of the 90's war, with the walls of some buildings still riddled with bullet holes, and the recently rebuilt old stone arch bridge connecting the two sides of the town, one Croation Orthodox and the other mostly Muslim, has become a symbol of the reconciliation of the nations of the old Jugoslavia. We watched a video of the shelling and rocketing of the old bridge by the Croats, destroying it to stop the advance of the Serbs. Very sad.

Susie and I spent our final day with the team travelling by minibus again, south from Dubrovnik into Montenegro and the Bay of Kotor. The bay is stunningly beautiful, resembling a Norwegian fjord, with high steep mountains cuddling it's deep waters on both sides.
As the crew were returning north to Zaton Bay for the last night, and Susie and I wanted to continue south, we decided that Monica would drop us in a little village on the Adriatic coast called Sveti Stephan, where we would stay a few days before continuing with our exploration of Montenegro.

We found a place to stay, unloaded our gear, hugged Eric and Lynne and new mates Michael and Valerie, and of course Monica, and waved goodbye as they turned north again.