In Bosnia – Lessons to Learn!

Following my recent post on my road trip over the continental divide from Lima to the high jungle, I was reminded of another road trip from last year.

Last year in August, I was driving along the Bosnian backroads towards Sarajevo. The last time I had visited this beautiful old town was when I was seventeen. There was no car-hire for me then of course, for my quest was to hitch-hike from England to Istanbul through what was then Yugoslavia.  Now, as I was driving towards Sarajevo, I reflected on how a totally naïve teenager, accompanied by his friend, Pete, (who was even more unworldly), could have accomplished such a feat. We both took on the world with zest, and luckily came out the other side unscathed.

Setting out from home. Pete on left, me on right! 1970!

How better, I thought, to be revisiting this same route fifty years later with the maturity and good sense that comes from years of travelling. How wrong could I be, for I was soon to be rudely awakened. Yes, despite years of globe-trotting, there are still lessons to be learnt. 

On the way back from Istanbul in Brasov, Rumania. Camping with some local friends we met. One of the few photos I still have of the trip.

I would now be travelling along some of the same roads as before, from Sarajevo to Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro (in those days named Titograd). On the first trip Pete and I had arrived to the Albanian border. We looked up at the red flag with its daunting, sinister black eagle, knowing that we would not be able to enter, as in those days it was a mysterious and forbidden land closed to visitors. This time however……I would indeed, make it into Albania

Excerpt from my 1970 trip diary. With Pete and two French boys who picked us up in their old car.

Pete, lost his glasses on our first hitched ride fresh off the boat from England. For him, the trip was just one big blur as he really depended enormously on his glasses.  I would guide him along and do all the navigation and map-reading. ( No Google, not even computers in those days.) He was excellent company though and as the kilometres passed by, we did make it to Istanbul. But that is another story! 

One of my vivid memories of Sarajevo from the first trip, now re-lived. Just the same as I remembered it!

Another memory! The reflections on the river.

This time I was travelling by myself. Travelling with a partner is fun but there is always the tendency to look inwards towards each other, rather than casting ones eyes outwards towards a thousand and one unexpected opportunities. However, on this present trip, this factor was nearly my undoing. 

I set off from Sarajevo early in the morning heading south. The sun was beaming down and the scenery was spectacular. There was very little traffic on the road, and I would stop regularly to take in all the beauty around me.

About halfway between Sarajevo and the border with Montenegro, I made one such stop. To my right was a very steep slope with the river racing by about forty metres below. The drop was overgrown with trees and plants and the ground was covered with years of loose leaves and other natural debris.  Full of euphoria and natural exuberance, I decided to take some photos of the river and thus, decided to attempt a careful descent. 

I approached the drop …… took one step …… and the loose ground gave way. Like sheets in a laundry chute I whooshed down about eight metres before halting my journey by grabbing a passing tree. Shaken, I sat up to pull myself together. I turned on to my knees and tried to scramble up by reaching out for another tree which was a little higher.  It was, however, just a few inches too far away, and with no support, I found myself slipping down another seven or eight metres. Again, a branch saved me from taking an express train service down into the river below.  

This is where it happened. You can’t really appreciate the drop here. I took this photo afterwards and was too frightened to go anywhere near the edge.

Again, it took a few minutes for me to collect my thoughts on how I could climb up without falling further down. It was then that I realized that I had lost my camera in the fall. As my mind began to focus, it dawned on me that I had also lost my glasses. I felt for my car keys in my shirt pocket. They too had disappeared. My hand went to my trouser pocket. Yes, my phone was still there, but; no SIM card, and probably, in that remote area, no signal anyway. 

The missing items and a remaining Bosnian banknote.

I did a quick assessment of my predicament.  

• Camera – and all my photos? Where is it? Did I download the contents to the cloud last night? 
• Car Keys – the ones where the key part folds inwards, making it even smaller and more difficult to find, Why did I lock the car in the first place when there is absolutely nobody around in this desolate place? Without the keys, ….. I am ….. well and truly ……… stranded!
• Glasses – I am as blind as a bat. I can’t read and there is no way I can drive without them! Was I to follow the same fate as my mate, Pete??? 
• Where am I? No idea …. just a slope covered in leaves and loose earth somewhere between Sarajevo and the frontier with Montenegro. 
• The slope? A real challenge! How can I climb  out of here?  The surface is completely loose and unstable.

First, I worked out how to ascend. I found some thin branches and a stone. If I could hammer the branch into the ground with a stone, I could then use this to sustain me in order to reach the next available tree or branch. This was slow progress, but it worked. 

The camera was the easiest to find due to its size. It was near where I had started my second fall from grace. I hoped that the glasses and keys would have fallen from my pockets somewhere near to the camera.

I worked my way slowly upwards to retrieve my camera. It was still working! The “needle in a haystack” search for my glasses and keys then began. I worked out that they should, by theory, be in an area around six metres square from where I found the camera.

Taken a few kilometres further on. This shows the drop a little clearer, but I was still petrified of going any nearer to the edge.

Within an hour or so of searching and feeling the ground with my fingers I luckily fumbled apon my glasses. Now I could see! The car keys however were much more difficult to find. My thoughts were now on how I could replace the keys. I had hired the car in different country, and I was miles from civilization. This could be very complicated!  This thought gave me the encouragement and motivation to continue searching for the impossible. Indeed, after two more hours perched on the perilous slope, I miraculously found my  illusive keys.

Now, still with bloody knees but high in spirits, I hammered my little wooden branch pegs into the ground and swung up from sapling to sapling to the top of the slope.   Within half an hour we were together at last, me and my little white Fiat. 

So now the serious part! Travelling alone can reap many benefits, and I have had so many great experiences over the years. However, the moral of this story, is to always inform someone, (by WhatsApp or similar), where you are heading. For had it not been for a mixture of desperation and optimism, I could still be there amidst the beauty, branches and dead leaves.  

I got into my car and drove on. Everything seemed to be even more beautiful now.

Border, Bosnia and Montenegro.

I made it with no further problems through Montenegro and finally, was able to view, after so many years, the red flag with the black eagle flying high which announced my arrival into Albania. I was on my way again!

The flag at the Albanian border.

With sore knees, and bike lent to me by the hotel manager in Shkoder, Albania.

(This edited post was originally published last year)