108.86 km distance
1,866 m elevation
6 hours and 44 seconds in da saddle!
I was riding on a combination of nerves and excitement when I slammed my hand onto my phone to snooze the alarm at 5am from my top bunk at Anchi Guesthouse (sea(wage) view room). Still dark outside means I should still be sleeping… but it was indeed time to orchestrate my body into a series movements that simulated being awake.
We prepped ourselves and gathered for our first morning of porridge, to be our camp breakfast each and every day of the ride. Turned out to be fabulous with a wide array of fixings, most importantly, a large jar of peanut butter. I reported to the team that this would be plenty, if it was just for me.
Luckily the core team restocked frequently…
After a wee bit of faff (a word you will hear a lot of in these Thighs of Steel posts, more discussion pending) I was off with a first day dream team – Zeina, Alex (Terrible Trio couldn’t be pried apart on day 1), Sarah and at the helm was Eva.
As the sun began to poke up from behind the mountains in the distance we headed out on the big bad roads out of Dubrovnik, direction Montenegro! The roads were relatively empty in the morning hours but grew busier as the morning whittled on. We had been warned about very impatient and, for lack of a better word, asshole drivers. So, with this setting my nerves a bit abuzz I was clinging to the shoulder like a moth to a flame. Luckily it really wasn’t as bad as anticipated. And we soon took a much appreciated turn off the main road to find some wonderful back roads that were clear of cars and lined with vineyards and rolling hills.
Day one was the day we learned firsthand the magic that is “second breakfast.” With the porridge sitting somewhat questionably after being force fed at 5:30am, we generally needed a coffee and pastry top up around 9am. This is when I learned another valuable lesson of Thighs: when presented with a pastry shop, always buy more than you think you need.
Shortly after our second breakfast we were back on the road and already approaching the border to Montenegro. It is still such a novelty for me to be able to cycle from one country to another – being from the massive land that is Canada. But being able to cross one border, let alone 4, in the space of 7 days is incredible. And makes me feel very grateful to have had the dumb luck to be born in a country that provides the privilege for me to do so.
I wasn’t the only one excited about the border… Alex – the European – demanded a stamp in his passport which wasn’t actually necessary because of his allegiance to the EU, however, he wanted it for his collection! Though slightly confusing because Montenegro isn’t officially an EU member yet… anyways… he got the stamp. He was pleased.
Montenegro immediately offered dramatic mountain views littered with raw vegetation. We again had to shimmy along some busy roads for some time before descending into the Bay of Kotor. Quite impressive to see the small beachside roads dotted with shops and restaurants tilt upward into lush green mountains.
We stopped for a swim in the bay where we had hoped for some beachside showers. While there were indeed showers installed, no water emitted from them… not ideal. Some of the more dedicated to hygiene went in search of showers in nearby establishments, while I just pulled my – already salty – cycling kit back over my salty body.
This strip of beach reminded me of the English seaside, in the sense that most of the beachgoers were mildly to morbidly overweight, necking either a beer, a hotdog and ice cream or a cigarette – just with better tans than the English.
After our swim break we took a ferry! The duration of the journey was approximately 7.5 minutes. We sidled up behind a chain-smoking motorcycle gang and parked our bikes. Stunning little crossing of the Bay of Kotor.
One more dip and lunch – and an espresso – before embarking on “the climb” that everyone had been murmuring about all day. There had been non-stop chat about this impending climb due for us at the end of the day and I was both curious and nervous at the same time. Luckily we had free reign when going up mountains to go at our own pace – I can’t stop and dilly dally or I go mad.
So I took off with quite a bit of first day gumption and comfortably left everyone in the dust, except Giulia. Giulia the Italian from Trieste who would definitely become known as the Queen of the Mountains – with me being a close second ;P – of the trip. She wasn’t just good at cycling up mountains, she frickin’ loved it. Sure, I don’t mind a climb too but she was a real hill masochist. (I need another word for masochist, because clearly we had our fair share of them among the group.)
“We love the hills.”
– Giulia
“It’s a vibe.”
Giulia and I fuelled up with a nutritious pack of crisps and took in the fabulous view when we reached the top. We were then told by the proprietor, after saying we would be camping in a nearby area, to look out for wolves… oh and maybe some bears. Dear god.
So with potential midnight mauling on the cards we headed on toward camp, first ones to arrive! Closely followed by another two Queens of the Mountains: Sarah and Laura.
It was so nice to roll into the large field where the van was set up, hot delicious meal waiting and even a cabin where the generous host let us use the facilities. Any day you don’t have to use a poop shovel is a good day (more on that later).
This was night one of camp, which meant setting up my tent. Selecting a little red two-man number I was hoping for the quick assembly system that I have grown accustomed to with my MSR. No such luck. It took a few considerable tries to even figure out how the thing fit together. I also had Giulia next to me trying to set up hers, where it seemed that her experience as a youth in the Italian Scouts didn’t really pay off. Finally erecting the tent, I opened my zipper and got my first whiff… oh right, this had been used for six weeks straight by various other riders…
Needless to say I nodded off quite quickly due to being completely wiped out from the day, or due to poisoning from the noxious tent odour.
COTD
Cat of the Day – not a doggy in sight that I captured on film. Plenty of dogs heard throughout the night while trying to sleep though…
Until the next intsalment, happy riding!
An Idiot Broad Abroad 