On the second or third day of our journey, back in Switzerland, Thomas said that it might never get better than here. I remember that this statement confused me at the time. Sure, the cycling path was excellent, and the forest was beautiful. There was a train track next to us, and Thomas likes trains… (at least from the outside*) but still, he can’t be serious, can he? And why are we going on this journey if this is going to be the best place we are going to find?
I sometimes thought of this moment back in the Swiss Alps while riding over the Croatian islands. Many of the streets (although by far not all) are almost empty, and one beautiful place follows another. The sea, the rocky coast, the colorful flowers, the blue sky, the hidden beaches, ferries, and even some train tracks… It feels like a blend of Italian lifestyle and the charm of the Greek islands. It is definitely stunning here.
Here in Croatia, we have started meeting other cyclists with big plans, some of them heading in the same direction: Guillaume is riding from Paris to Vietnam on a route similar to ours, Gabrielle and Barnabé are on a tandem going to Istanbul and then back to Belgium, a guy is heading towards Nepal but planning to arrive a whole year after us, another couple is going to Istanbul…
While we are busy exchanging past and future itineraries and checking out each others’ bikes, I start wondering about their motivation and what keeps them going. Seemingly, we are all united in our long-term plans and common means of transportation, but does that really mean we all seek the same? Even Thomas and I, who are heading in the same direction, cycling the same roads, and seeing the same scenery, differ in our motivation and in what we see (or don’t see), experience, and feel along the way.
Dubrovnik marks the grand conclusion of our time in Croatia. It seems timely, as we both feel ready to leave this tourist amusement park behind. It’s time to move on to different countries and new adventures.
As we cross the border from Croatia to Montenegro and cycle along Kotor’s bay, I look up at the mountains towering on the other side of the bay. Tomorrow, we will have to cycle up many serpentines to cross this mountain range, but instead of feeling daunted, I feel joy. This bay—reminding me a bit of Walensee in Switzerland—might be less stunning than the Croatian coast, but I just love the mountains. I take a deep breath and feel better.
Anecdotes
* Thomas also likes trains from the inside—usually. However, when we were cycling along a train track in Italy and it was wet and raining, I only half-jokingly suggested we could take the train. I would have happily tackled any rainy or even snowy remote mountain pass compared to this civilized road next to such an “easy way out.” However, Thomas’ disenchanted “No” put that idea out of my mind for a while.
But on the second day of still riding in the rain, passing one train station after another and being regularly surpassed by trains with big signs indicating where bicycles should enter, my mind started to churn. Should I take the train myself? Does that mean I am giving up? Already now? Is Thomas testing me? Even though I knew my mind was making this all up, I only started feeling better again after (somewhat desperately) telling Thomas that I might actually take the train and needed to figure this out for myself.
Back in charge of my own situation, I happily cycled on through the rain, listening to one of my favorite crime stories by Gil Ribeiro, and didn’t even notice the train passing me—again.
The next morning in Austria, the man at the hotel reception pitied us for having to go out into the rain and said, “But at least you could take the train anytime.” Thomas and I just stood there, not saying a word, nodding knowingly—yes, but we are not going to.
Croatia: One should be a car here. And I don’t mean a car instead of a bicycle. I mean a car instead of a human. Cars can always drive smoothly down or up any side street or curb because people have thought of them and prepared for any eventuality. Not so for humans—or even worse, wheelchairs or strollers—better watch your steps. Also, imagine looking for some shade in the summer heat. Yes, there are many benches along the seashore, but none of them have any shade. If you were a car, no problem—any good grocery store has shaded parking. Just choose your spot.
Split: I did not want to go to Split—not at all. But there was no way around it, and the ferry schedules required us to spend a night there. It turns out Split is pretty okay. We had a delicious dinner on a charming street. While walking around the city to find ice cream for dessert, we randomly stopped in front of an ice cream shop which happened to have a five-star Google rating. After a further stroll and fireworks behind Diocletian‘s palace, we ended up back at the same ice cream shop for a second round.
Korčula: We had dinner at a restaurant near our campsite, on a terrace overlooking the sea. We talked about many things, including why cyclists do what they/we do. Suddenly, I said with great emphasis how incredible it is to be able to take a journey like this. Thomas looked at me as if I had just realized something obvious to him for a long time. Of course, I knew it before, but sometimes the preciousness of what we are doing becomes normal and fades into the background. However, in that moment, it hit me again, and the feeling of gratitude was very present.
Pictures: Most people probably know this, but in case you don’t: While I’ve been writing these posts (so far), Thomas has been taking all these awesome pictures and writing detailed descriptions of our days on instagram. Thank you, Thomas!
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