Montenegro

 Bosnia Border, Piva Canyon, Ostrog Monastery, 100 miles (161 km)

Ostrog Monastery, Bay of Kotor, Albania Border ( Shkoder crossing), 100 miles (161 km)

Bosnia has been a top 10 ride of a lifetime. It was 3 days of epic scenery, world class roads and friendly people. We had high hopes for Montenegro.

Piva Canyon 

We passed the border at a really remote crossing, resembling a hillbilly outpost complete with a wooden bridge over a canyon. Chosen specifically because it drops you into the mountains at the top of Piva Canyon, which is apparently one of the must see sites in Montenegro.

Bridge at the border

On the way to the border we bumped into an Indian guy on a French motorcycle exactly the same as mine. He had been travelling Central Asia for 5 months. He works for a few years, saves up, quits, sells everything and then travels. We swapped contact details, so maybe our paths will cross one day.

Piva Canyon didn't disappoint. It's breathtaking. It looks like a giant split the world as you would a bread roll. Spectacular. Better still, the roads were mostly empty, save for a few motorbikes and some tourists.

Due to the hospitality of the Bosnians the night before, it had been a particularly difficult day to get up and get going. We hadn't made much progress and didn't plan very well.

Nothing to see here..

By evening we still had some miles to cover, hadn't eaten all day and were absolutely starving. Like travelling schoolchildren, we've been enjoying a diet of chocolate bars and salted snacks. As it was Sunday, almost everywhere was closed, but we managed to find a restaurant before the campsite and tucked into a huge two course lamb meal.

Tunnels around the Canyon

Our host at the camp

We arrived at the Camp Ilijin Vir late, just before sunset, but the hosts came out to meet us, giving us a warm welcome. They have a swimming pool, even though the camp is situated on the bank of a river. It also has nice, clean amenities. Nothing Soviet spec anywhere to be seen.

The beer tap 

However, most impressive of all, they have a free flowing beer tap on an honesty basis. I could barely believe it. If Carlsberg made campsites...

Up at 06:00 the next morning, and after saying our goodbyes to the Belgian chap who had been loudly disparaging of the camper fraternity that we were surrounded by, and who no one had heard, we were up and travelling to the 17th century Ostrog Monastery in the hills.

View as seen leaving the campsite 

Fires in the mountain. 

Upper Ostrog Entrance 

Due to the extremely hot summer, there have been wildfires and we could see them burning last night. Today we travelled through the smoke. The monastery is an architectural marvel, clinging to the hillside like an ornate limpet. 

Upper Ostrog Monestary 

Just as impressive was the dedication of the pilgrims that had travelled up here on foot. They were sleeping along the benches on the outside in the cold mountain air. I noted that some of the outbuildings of the monastery were packed to the rafters with blankets for the devout.

Some of the pilgrims on their stone beds

Lower Ostrog Monestary 

More empty roads some with sheer drops followed, then breakfast served a little later at a bakery. No one spoke English, we got nothing we asked for whilst a long queue formed behind us, but what we did get was deliciously foreign... and cheaper than Greg's.

The Bay of Kotor, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was our next stop via the Serpentine. The latter is a road that zigzags its way up the hill like a shoelace on a tall boot. The views of the bay were grand, and the ride would have been epic. However, there was a queue of buses and also car drivers manned by tourists whose skills lay elsewhere. They couldn't manoeuvre to clear the road and large queues formed. I'm not sure what the bus drivers were saying, but it didn't look polite.

The Bay of Kotor

The Serpentine 

After freeing ourselves we wandered on, and just like yesterday, after the border, the roads were empty. It's like we owned the country and had closed the garden gate to stop strangers wandering in. It was all ours.

Sveti Stefan island in Budva

The further south we travel, the hotter it gets, though judging by the stares, stripping to your undies in the petrol station forecourt is not something seen every day.

After finding the traffic at the tourist seaside town of Budva, we followed the main road to the border. There was a long queue, so we exercised  biker's privilege and skipped it, joining at the front as is befitting for those who choose to risk the world on two wheels.

The route through Montenegro 

Another border done. Next stop, Albania.