Pero and his bike

nedjelja, 05.05.2019.

Alone in summer 2015 - Part Three

You can come back on the second part of this travelogue here.

I was hoping more than expected, that my journey along the straight road along the Neretva would take a little longer. But only a kilometer, a kilometer and a half after I crossed the river, the road said goodbye to the river, separated from it and started up on an uphill. I realized that in this heat and this steep uphill I have nothing to look for on the bicycle. So I came down and continued on foot.
From somewhere a thick shade appeared, the truth was not from trees but from the big house, and there was a store with cold beer cans. In a moment I decided that it was just the right time and the right place for lunch. After the accommodation in the shade and the supply with the cans, this time it was Sarajevo beer, I turned to my bicycle, and on the bicycle- there is no meal! Somewhere I lost it on the road (probably now some cat or dog enjoy in my lunch unexpectedly). It remained to me only to reach in my material reserves where I always have a meal-two, for extraordinary cases. Like this one was.
In the Bijela village (or the Polje Bijela village), by pushing a bicycle, I walked past the newly built, concrete Catholic church. According to the internet, the church is devoted to the Queen of Peace.

It is a modernist sacral architecture, so, therefore, it was a little strange to me. Besides that, it seems to me unfinished. And maybe I'm mistaken, maybe I've just missed it because of the sun "that hit me in the head."
Beside the church, I zoomed slightly on the Konjic town, surprised that I was already well high above him.


For a full hour, I've been walking from the Konjic town. I admit, I stopped often, very often, in searching for any kind of shade and coolness, but the retention was short, just to calm my breath and heartbeat, while I drank a one to two sips of fluids. Around me along the road were houses all the time, so traffic was lively as well as activities around the house.
Beside one of the houses, the two guys were unloading something off the truck. At my question how far is the summit of the pass, with a long "Auuuuuu!" they told me there was a lot, "Seven, eight kilometers!"
Their answer was so shocking for me that I found the shelter of dignity in ignoring their response, as well as in classifying my interlocutors into traffic ignoramus ("What do they know about kilometers?"). In fact, it was hard for me to accept the fact that I have to push my bike for at least two hours more on this uphill, and by this heat, so I was looking for any way out, even if it was in ignoring of the reality.
Later it turned out that the two did not make a lot of mistake in estimating the number of kilometers to the summit of the pass.
Occasionally I used to sit on a bicycle and drove in moments when the uphill got a little overslept, so it lowered its percentages. In one such drowsiness one loud "plink!" awoke me.
The spoke of the wheel on my bicycle has broken.
Great, even this!
Angry and embittered on the lack of happiness (a man can be angry even on it), I continued riding despite it. The absence of the swinging of the last wheel of the bike seemed somehow soothes me. Yes, the wheel spoke has broken, but this breaking did not produce any bad results, because the wheel rotated as was before. Somehow I have been calmed by that, so I continued riding. Very fast I forgot about that "plink!" and on my bitterness to the lack of happiness (now when the luckiness has returned, and the wheel "luckily" was not swinging, I forgot on my anger)
Somehow at the same time, the houses disappeared and the road became narrower. A traffic sign has appeared which was, in a strange mixture of cynicism, surrealism, and black humor, told me that there was a dangerous downhill in front of me, although what I see in front of me seems to be the opposite. Not only did it seems like it was, it really was.


I do not know how, but I passed by the road sign and I did not see it (Not this first traffic sign on above image, but the other one behind, which is the barely visible behind the greenery). The traffic sign spoke about a bent road in front of me next 5.5 km. Which means there is exactly that number of kilometers till the summit of the pass. To my regret, as I have already mentioned, I did not notice it. That is why I always lived in the mix of expectation of the summit of the pass at each curve in front of me, and disappointment that instead of the pass the uphill has been continued.
If I moved aside that expectation of the summit of the pass and the heat, the environment around me, and my impression with it are becoming extremely interesting.


The narrow road bent left-right, often with serpentines. The steep slopes of the hills, on which, I suppose, only the chamois can climb, are approaching to the road so that the rocks, glades and the connection of the sky and the hills, are beautifully seen.


In addition, a little bit shade also appears. True, the shade was not very dense, but at least a little the sunshine has been reduced, at least psychologically. I felt that skinny, stunted trees along the road had sympathized with me, so when it can not do it differently, then at least with its skinny shade make lighter my effort.
And then on one of the innumerable serpentine, I got the gift of God! The wellspring with cold water!
The wellspring

Where I came from

Where I am going to

I was so surprised with that wellspring that I did not believe my eyes for a moment. As I approached him, I did not allow my soul to flare up with enthusiasm. First, I observed a cold-rationally whether the wall (of the wellspring) in front of me does not have any other function (without water) and whether the water really flows or is just a reflection of my wishes.
As I came closer to the source, I was more confident that it was that what it seemed to me. When I finally heard the sound of water purl, I parked a bicycle and I left to myself to the unexpected pleasure, whose size was multiple increasing by that unexpectedness.
And now all slowly! I parked the bike (slowly), came to the spring (slowly), it washed my face and refreshed myself(slowly), drank water (slowly), sat near the spring and rested (slowly).
I let myself think that they were wandering, so I watched the environment, the road, and the traffic on it. I must admit that there was very dense traffic at moments (sometimes even queues) considering at the extremely narrow, curvy, and ultimately, a pretty bad road. Luckily for me, these moments were not frequent, on the contrary, they were quite rare, so the road was mostly empty.
After rest, I continued the journey. And so narrow, the road becomes narrower, more bend and steeper.


The bends were largely unreviewed, so I had to keep my ears on to hear the sound of the coming vehicle warned me to get closer to the right edge of the road.
On the next of the serpentine a real cannon has appeared as a traffic watchman. It was from World War II.


Everything has its end, and so is this uphill. Finally, the summit of the pass !!!!!
The summit of the pass - Where I came from

The summit of the pass -Where I am going to

It has exhausted me this uphill, this heat, this confusion where and how to go, whether to go or come back. Because of this, I was rather resigned than euphorically excited, although this was the third pass that I have been crossed today. Still, according to habit, tradition or something third, and also for resting, I parked my bike and took a long rest. For three hours I was climbing by this uphill. Now was a little bit behind 5 pm.
The sun was still hot, but it felt that it is decreasing in that. The breeze was calming down, announcing the neutral weather between day and night, when those who live in the day slowly end their activities, and those who live by night are slowly preparing themselves.
Of course, there was still plenty of time for the night, but the announcement of the change was felt in the air. Around me, therefore, a peace, a silence, a hush. The traffic - absolute zero. However, I had the feeling that this peace in itself has grains of uncertainty and concern before then a dose of relaxation and mood.
With such a dubious feeling I continued riding. The downhill was symbolic, just enough to indicate the pass I just passed. After a couple of hundred meters, the road calmed down in some horizontality. I came to the plateau where the Borci village was located. The houses were so far apart from one to another, that it was really unbelievable how small amount of the houses were on how big a space. But there were lots of plots, bigger and smaller, between the houses and on space between them. On many of these plots were people who worked diligently on the ground, so I, as a traveler-passer, got an impression of the valuable and patient inhabitants of this remote village. This term "remote" (no offense) came to my mind, remembering the long ascent, a lot of bends and very narrow road from Konjic town to this village.
I guess somewhere in the middle of this area, where the village houses Borci were scattered, some woman worked something in front of one of these houses. Just when I saw something spinning on the skewer beside the fire(a lamb or a little pig), I realized that I was in front of some form of the village restaurant. I asked a woman where is turn to the Nevesinje town and she shows me across the road. (The Nevesinje town would be my tomorrow destination. The road map tells me that I should have over 30 km of macadam road up there.)
The road to the Nevesinje town (photographed the following day)
On the panel has been written:
The road is under construction
in length of 24 km
Drivers caution!
Work in progress

On my question in what condition is the road, she said that now is under construction, "so now is a little bit difficult," and otherwise you can somehow (?) pass. On my next question"Does it have uphills and downhills?" she answered, seriously nodding with her head left and right, commenting "Well there is a lot!".Her gesture, along with the commentary, did not make me too encouraged, just the opposite. While she was describing the road to the Nevesinje town with a mimic and thin answer, she was looking in the direction of the road and the hills around it, so I did it with her too.
The road to Nevesinje lost in the hills (photographed on the next day)

(I was embarrassed, though I do not know why, in front of her, to take the camera and photographed the road, so I postponed it for tomorrow. The next day she wasn't there, but her dog was, a true big beast, which was lying lazily about a meter from the road. I was afraid of just stopping beside that dog (because the turning to the Nevesinje town was just here), so I rode about ten meters away and stopped. That's the reason why the two images above are what they are.)
Just like I entered the village quiet and almost insensibly, in the same way, I got out of it. I just suddenly realized that my expectations about that houses will appear are no longer fulfilled. Houses were disappeared. Instead of the house, a steep downhill appeared in front of me. Real the abyss!


I stopped at the beginning of that downhill, parked the bike and moved away from the road just so much that the trees did not hide a view to me. The sight I saw in front of me so impressed me that I had forgotten both the fatigue (which was an enormous) and the uncertainty of tomorrow's journey (also was enormous).


Though it was just foreplay, an overture, an introduction for tonight and tomorrow morning, the scene impressed me so much that I remained open-mouth. I was impressed by the wildness, but a different one from that one from the Kreševo town to the Tarčin place this morning. That one was discreetly hidden in the lavish dress of a dense green forest where it was shyly hiding details that were not for ordinary travelers. But this one in front of me did not shy of anything. It abundantly left to my view (and other senses) all the splendor, every detail, all the color on the border of the raw recklessness. And yet, in that raw recklessness, there was so much dignity, some beauty, some splendor that can only the untouched mountain contain, intact by the man and by his negligent influence.
This expression of "raw recklessness" is obviously a little bit excessive from me, but with it, I try to show how strange the "modern" man, accustomed to the security of the urban environment, estranged of the real, unadulterated, true nature.
Still captivated by the scene, which I represented on the upper image hardly and approximately, with a sense of full respect, I found myself that I, in silent, almost on my fingers, returning to the bike to the intent of further driving. As the continuation of the development of this journey will show, tomorrow will be more images in the intent of showing the above described.
If I moved the camera slightly to the left, I would show the lake that is located in the valley.
First look at the Boračko lake

The postcard

On the last footage is Boračko Lake, idyllically displayed on a postcard which I bought at the shop next to the lake camp on the next day. On the right, on the hill above the lake, you can see the curve of the road with which I now have to descend. In three kilometers of the road, I have to drop over 300 meters height difference. So a steep, very steep downhill. And it's not just steep, but also with bends, with a lot of bends.
My enthusiasm for not having to walk or spin the pedals quickly dropped. It was replaced by a frenetic effort to maintain balance and constantly need for braking. To be bigger "joy", suddenly in total desolation, as far as traffic is concerned, a lot of cars started to drive to meet me. It seems that they were one-day visitors to the lake who, in this dusk of the day, were returning to their homes. Additional consideration on the vehicles that came up to me after the sharp curve, with that steep downhill and the braking on it overflowed me a glass of patience. Demonstratively (to whom, to what!) I came down from the bike and continued - on foot. I know, it sounds totally wrong, and in the first, it was absurd to me too, after so much road ride, finally, walk by the downhill! But it was not long after, just for a moment, I caught myself, found myself that I with the utter enjoy walk slowly, lightly braking my bike to avoid that it escapes from me. It seems that this pleasure was a result of relieving, relieving of great concern, how to brake, how to balance, how to look after the cars around me.
Walking in this sultry steep downhill, I could even have allowed the luxury of observing the environment. I had the good fortune that the valley with the lake was on the right, so I could, from the height, look at the scattered houses in the valley.


Finally, this downhill ended, and the road turned into a tame, lowland, slightly wide trail. It did not give me too much opportunity to enjoy that plain, because only a couple of hundred meters after coming to the valley I came across a panel that wished welcome me to the Boračko lake, toward which I turned right behind the panel


On the other side of the improvised entrance to the auto camp was the reason that caused my face to become particularly radiant and cheerful - a shop! When I found out that it is open tomorrow already at seven o'clock, my happiness was endless. Well, a little overdone, but as I descended to the Boračko Lake, I was hoping for what I hoped for, as I had the minimum required, a soup bag for tonight and a can of meat breakfast for tomorrow morning. Deep in my soul, I wanted to have the opportunity to supply my stocks, not just food but also drinks. And I got it!
That mentioned improvised entrance to the auto camp was in the form of a piece of a wooden panel, on which by a shaky hand, not very carefully and without a sense of aesthetics, has been written CAMP. No mark for Reception, nothing like it, so I came to the first house around which some people were motioned, and asked one of them for the Reception. First, he looked on me with confused, not understanding what I was looking for, and when I explained to him that I would set a tent for the night, he realized what I was asking for and said to wait. I was waiting for a while, obviously, he went to the manager. The manager was, in fact, a woman manager, a middle-aged woman who led me to the meadow and gave me three seats for a tent on choice. It was not very clear to me why in the other part of the meadow, where there were no other tents, I could not put my own tent, but I did not want to be unpleasant. And this what she offered to me was quite acceptable to me. Since I intend to go further tomorrow, I told her I would pay it right away.
"Three marks!" Said the woman (3 KM = 1,5€)
"Three Marks!", I repeated astonished.
The astonishment is a result of the ultimate surprise because of the extremely low price.
In my life for an overnight stay, it was only cheaper only when I did it for free. Under the impression of this surprise, I took out the five-mark coins and told her that she keep the change. The next moment I scared that she will be offended ("If the price is low it does not mean I need an alms!").But the woman just shrugged and went away.
Well, I solved the problem of overnight stays.
Time of the end of today's ride (and my camera has been tired too, so it focused the meadow instead of the watch)

Today's kilometers

My bicycle and my tent in the auto camp on the Boračko lake

First I placed the tent. Then I went to search for sanitary ware that I hardly found. The toilet was old and decrepit, though clean and tidy. For washing and showering, I found a pipe with a tap above the sink for dishes, which were outdoors, not far from the tent.
There was no other way than to improvise.
Luckily, around the tap, there was no one. I took off in shorts and washed first to the upper part. Then I washed my feet by sprinkling them with water from my PET bottle of liter-and-half. Extremely ascetic, but I still replaced the scent of sweat and dust with a refreshing smell of soap.
Washing and showering I did exactly behind the tree which is behind the tent

I cooked the soup, sipped it with pleasure, washed the dishes and while I was making the last preparations for sleep, it was already night. I settled in a sleeping bag. I felt that my face and body burn mildly, which was the result of exhaustion. I was really tired.
And what about tomorrow?
I was constantly spinning in a sleeping bag. I could not fall asleep. If I continue to Nevesinje, as I originally planned, according to my road map, I should have slightly fewer uphills than today, but much more kilometers. And yet they are unpaved kilometers, which are additionally suspicious for riding because of reconstruction.
I could no longer stand, and I got up, took my road map, and illuminated it with a flashlight. After studying, I realized that tomorrow I should have over 40 km of that extremely uncertain road.
All that was too much for me!
I concluded that sometimes it needs to be so brave and admit that is better to give up.
That is why with crashed dignity I will return tomorrow to the Konjic town, and then by the main road to the Mostar city.
I went back to my sleeping bag, trying to fall asleep.
God, did I really needed all of this!?!?
I could drive one-day rides at home, and in the evening I would be in the "warmth of my home". There I would have the right shower with right warm water, not something improvised as here tonight. Then I would lie down in a warm bed so I would sleep like a log. With her!
And here I am in the middle of nowhere, away, far from any of my own. Alone!
So I missed the company, a companion, I missed a relaxed conversation on any topic, I missed the foolish, superficial joke that provoked an unexpectedly great laugh, I missed...
I missed HER ...........
With that strange mixture of self-rebuke despair, I somehow fell to sleep.
(Does anyone see the connection with the joke from the introduction when Mujo falls from that highest building?)
I do not know when I was asleep and when I started to hear some voices. It took me a lot of time to realize that those voices I hear are not part of my dream. When I opened my eyes, with the voices of young people, dark red, dimmed, trembling light came into my tent. Slowly and gradually connecting all that I hear and see, I finally realized that all this has nothing to do with my dream. A group of guys and girls ignited the fire not far from my tent, gathered around it, and continue to chat pleasantly.
Just great, something that is breaking my sleep is the last what I needed.
For a time, I was bitter that they decided to make a party just this night and just here beside my tent. Then I realized that nothing another left to me than I have to accept this just as stoic, or Christian (as anyone sees it) as one more trouble in a series of disadvantages on this journey and to endure it. Accepting, therefore, this as a contribution to the collection of all temptations, I calmed down the initial bitterness, and gradually, begin to listen to what the young people are talking about.
The talking quickly turned into a song. In fact, it was in principle a little bit of talking, and a little bit of a song. The story was considerate, kindly, with the respect of the interlocutor, of any gender. There was no curse words and vulgarity in the conversation, but there were patience and some kind of respect for the conversant to complete the conversion of his thoughts into words and sentences. It was unbelievable to me to hear such a warm, harmonious, deliberate conversation here, in the middle of nowhere, in this distant place so far from civilization. No matter how far we think we are controlling it, life is full of surprise, so even the most imaginative imagination will be finally ashamed in regards to reality.
The songs that were sung were mainly older songs of pop and rock scenes from former Yugoslavia. Because of this, most of these songs were often older than the participants of this gathering. Some of these songs took me to some other time and some other place where elsewhere I was the same age as these from this time and from this place.
And so I caught myself that I enjoy in a strange way in some kind of the time machine which, by the help of the songs, has been traveled through space and time.
I do not know either when it started, nor how long did it last. If the song is not interesting to me, I wander off a step toward my dream. But if it is some "my" song, it pulls me out of arms of the half-dream, and fly me off to some other people, to some other time. With these other people, I continue the conversation which interrupted before many, many years, with a mixture of wonder and amazement as both that conversation and these people look so real in front of my closed eyes. So, with the spell of the song, there appeared in front of me a place I have not seen for a long time, and people, some that I can see today, and some those I have not seen for a long time, but all of them, appeared younger, much younger. And finally, SHE has been appeared, also a lot younger than today.
And so, here, there, here, there ... until suddenly, I did not open my eyes and I see the daylight in the silent silence of the morning.

THE THIRD DAY OF THE JOURNEY

The pictures from the third day of this trip you can see here.

First, for a while, I did not move, did not even blink! Was it all been a dream or ...
However, it was not a dream, in what later convinced me the ash about ten meters from my tent, which still had the power with the last smoke to testify about a burning, fiery last night.
I moved on, started the body, getting back to reality. I looked at the clock, at 6.30 am. Great, it is time for action.
I wished to prepare for the journey as soon as possible, something to eat, to climb by that seep uphill as early as possible in the morning.
Nevertheless, it does not burn, so I do not have to rush so much. I took a couple of minutes to tour through the camping. The first thing I saw was the outdoor shower, which I needed so much last night. I doubt that here the term "hot water" is well known, so I remain satisfied with that bathing of last night.

I came to the shore of the lake. Contrary to anything else in the area which still dreamed the last piece of a dream from last night, wild ducks on the lake worked their work hard and fast, as if they have a lot to do, and there is very little time till the sunrise.


The calmness of the lake's surface, which was not disturbed by any kind of wind, has impressed me a lot. It looked like the surface of the glass. On the other side of the lake, there was another auto camp. Obviously, there are more of them around the lake.


The camp on the other side of the lake has only a little sleeping yet, just a few meters. I paused a little longer than the moment, so I could keep track of how the last remnants of the shadowy night retreat in front of the sun. It is only left to it to hide down into the lake, and in the early evening, when the sun goes away to rest, it climbs back again from the lake to the trees and to the surrounding hills.


All this around me, where I spent last night, looked like it was the war stopped just a day before, so it was quickly improvised that people could come back to the lake again for what they did before the war - resting and the enjoyment. There were plenty of visitors, plenty of tents, across the lake and caravan houses too, but all the necessary infrastructure is at a minimum of minimums.
Instead of this infrastructure, there were war memories, like this ruined house.


The store from last night has been opened in seven and received me as the first customer. There was also fresh bread, although it was not all at a minimum of the minimums. In addition to the supply of food and drink, I got even the postcard of the Boračko lake.
The postcard, again

I arrived yesterday by the winding road on the right of the lake and now I came back up on it again. The camp, in which I was, is located on a flat meadow down-right of the lake.
According to Wikipedia, the Boračko Lake lies on the northeastern foothills of the Prenj mountain, at an altitude of 397 m. From the west, it is surrounded by the steep and forested edges of The Crna Planina mountain (the Black Mountain) (1343 m), and from the east of the Tranjina mountain (1055 m). The bottom of the lakes was created in Boračka valley, by a process of glacial erosion.
The lake has an elliptical shape. It is 786 m long and 402 m wide. Its surface is 0.26 square kilometers. The length of the lakeshore is 2.4 km. The lake is deepest in the southeastern part of the area about 17 m and contains approximately 2.5 millions of cubic meters of water. Due to the clear blue color, the water is transparent up to 8.3 m. Water is the hottest in August (about 25 degrees C), and coldest in February (0 degrees C).
The Boračko lake is provided with water from the Boračko creek and numerous surrounding wellsprings. Some of them are at the bottom of the lake.
And I started to walk up that uphill, though was easier to walk down the hill yesterday.
I did not fully recover from yesterday's effort, so there was still a trace of yesterday's weariness. Because of this, pushing the bicycle heavy as a lead went slow, with frequent stopping for a rest. The criterion of stopping was how strong, and with what frequency my heart beats.
On one of the myriads of these short breaks, I photographed a road, better to say, just a narrow path, which had not enough space under the sun so that space for it was taken from the rocks


No traffic, so I've allowed myself the luxury of walking on the left side of the road. As it was in the palm, the lake was more and more somewhere down from me.


Gradually, the lake below me has got more and more distant so in the end, it disappeared completely.
I looked up at the neighboring slopes of the Prenj mountain. They were terrifying and beautiful at the same time while that they were sunlit from the east, from the sun which was on my right





Finally, I crossed that the three kilometers of extremely steeply uphill. The time I needed for it I deliberately keep secret because it would destroy and the last piece of my dignity. But that is why I received a warm welcome at the Borci village which sent me by the first of the sleepy houses.
After the last house of the Borci village, a short, mild uphill has been followed before the summit of the pass. It was a little before 9 am when I photographed it. It had still been rubbed its eyes of the dreams from last night, lazily stretched out playing with long shadows on itself.


And finally, the summit of the pass! And behind it, a long, very long downhill, all the way to the Konjic town.
Somewhere around that cannon, the trees were suddenly sympathetic to me, so they have spread and allowed to me to see the Konjic.




I just see how down low the town is, and how far the surrounding hills are high. Though I rationally rejected it as absurdly, in my soul a question has appeared how people can live so peacefully surrounded by so many so high mountains. How they found so much trust that the mountains will not be angry and will not cover the town and hide it forever in its womb!
I continued with downhill, experiencing, once again, every yesterday's stopping on this road, every bend, each ...
"Plink!"
The broken spoke on the last wheel of my bicycle interrupted the course of thought so that it remains to me till today, while I write these lines, undisclosed what was the next in that "every" sequence.
Unlike yesterday's, this just cracked spoke left some consequence. The last wheel started to rock left-right as the backdrop of a fascinating beautiful girl in tight jeans. This has already become worrisome. If from yesterday cracked spoke to the present-day cracked spoke it was a day, then, very easily, to the next one cracked will be for an hour, until the next one just a few minutes. Maybe I am a little exaggerating, maybe not!
In any case, it is not good to joke with it, it should be repaired as soon as possible. And I continued to descend to the town of Konjic trying to do it gently and carefully in hopes that the city of Konjic will be enough to solve my bike problem.
Unfortunately, it will not!
Not to overdo it with the details, I found a repairer who would change the spokes if I got him the special key to remove the rear sprockets (because the cracked spokes, of course, cracked on that side). I thanked him on offer and went on further because if I had that key I would repair it by myself. (At the same moment I have been vowing to myself that I will never go on a longer ride without that key and spare spokes).
The repairer whom I thanked, recommended to me either Sarajevo or Mostar as the nearest repair destination. Sarajevo does not come into consideration, so I'm going to Mostar.
I did not dare to drive further, because the rear wheel could be completely collapsed, so I started in search of transportation to the Mostar town.
Now I was trying to curb my desire, but it was stronger.
It would be so nice, beautiful, fantastic if that transport would be by train. That's why I went to search for a railroad station, all the time trying to curb that desire in me. There is no rational explanation, but experience has taught me that rarely when luck comes when it is expected. Now, I had a great expectation on my mind, a great till the sky.
I went to a railway station not breathing, tense to the maximum of the expectations of my desired achievement ... and I disappointed. The morning train has long gone, and for the evening I have to wait all day.
I smiled pityingly to myself. As far as I reassured a rational part of myself that the likelihood of achieving the wish was minimal, my disgruntled soul was silently suffering.
But not long, because the problem of transport still was not solved, so I started the search for a bus station. And I found it, but I stopped confusedly while I was watching at it.
I thought that the Konjic town is a town, a real town, so I expected that the real town to has a real bus station, logically isn't it!? Maybe it is for some other "real" towns, but for the Konjic town, it is not.
The Konjic bus station is, in fact, a bit bigger road expansion, somewhat like an urban bus stop on Line 6.
If the Konjic bus station was already disappointed me, the arrival of the next bus to Mostar did not, - it will come in 20 minutes(ah, finally something good! - again proof that luck comes unexpectedly only ).
I had only enough time to prepare bicycle and luggage for bus transportation (with bicycle 8 pieces - I remember the number), and to buy burek in the bakery over the street ( burek is baked filled pastry made of thin flaky dough, filled with minced meat). And that burek, that's something fantastic! Finally, with a calm body and spirit, waiting for the bus, I enjoyed a fantastic flavor of delicacy. Watching at the environment, I counted my luggage once again (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8), just in case. A few more people gathered, just so much to make me sure that the bus will come.
Bus "station" in the Konjic town

All my laggage

And the bus came, the Zavidovići town - the Mostar town. I showed to the conductor my luggage (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8) on what he, extremely seriously and decisively, remarked, "You will pay extra for your luggage!" After I accepted payment, peacefully and without objection, he opened the trunk on the bus, and I started with the boarding (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8).
And finally, I sat on the bus. On the right side, by the window, as I just wanted to. The air conditioner works on the bus so it's comfortable in it because it's hot already out there. For the next 70 km till the Mostar town, with the luggage (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8), I paid 11KM (5,5 €). Happy and pleased with the favorable development of the situation, I paid the bill without words.
The bus drives, pleasantly fresh in it, I watch the Jablaničko Lake through the window. I am preparing for the passive enjoyment of watching the environment from a comfortable seat. I'm taking my cell phone to send the SMS message to my wife to tell her about the unexpected development of my journey, when ...
Krrr! Krrrk Krrrrrrr!
The bus slows down, and the conductor from the back part of the bus urgency goes to the driver with an extremely worried face.No one is moving from the passengers, nobody breathes. They just look with eyes wide opening, not blinking. I forgot my cell phone in my hand, struggling with an upcoming thought which I did not want to admit: "Oh no, not now?"
Still, it is, right now.
The bus stopped, the engine still works. The driver tries something, but "Krr!" Krr! " " Krrrrr! " has been heard. It causes that he shakes his head worriedly. Finally, he gave up and the conductor turns to us, passengers, and tells us what we already knew but we hoped it was not true - the bus broke down.
"Soon the second bus will come and pick you up!", said the conductor with the exaggerated forced and calm expression on his face. Luckily the engine can work, and all the time the air conditioner was run too. That it was really good and it could always be much worse I saw when I got out of the bus - outside was hot very, very hot.
It did not take twenty minutes or so and the second bus came. It was a minibus, and when its driver looked at us, the shipwrecked sailors from the broken bus, and our luggage (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8), he said in a decisive voice: "Only those till the Jablanica town!" And even the inattentive observer, having looked over our faces and the expression on them could safely conclude who are the lucky ones who continue the journey, and who are those who were left on the open sea of the hot sunshine. For us, for these others, there was left over a good hour of waiting until the arrival of a rescuer-bus. And when it came, contrary to the lethargy and full passivity, on the "Faster, Faster!" from the drivers and conductors, there was a terrible confusion, shifting and stuffing of luggage (1,2,3,4,5,6,7, 8) into another bus.
Though I was certainly not the only one who was, sarcastic to himself, so I thought: "I want to see how long this bus will endure!" , but the other bus had brought us to the Mostar city without any problems.
In the Mostar city again on that "Faster, Faster!", because they lost time for our salvage, so now they are late, once again wildly pandemonium, shifting and unloading of luggage (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8).
Only just I counted my luggage (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8), who knows by which time, the bus departed. I stayed on the hot asphalt with my luggage on the Mostar bus station. It was at least 199 degrees C.I do not know where it was heated harder, whether from above from the hot sun or from down from the hot asphalt.
As soon as I finally assembled all this luggage (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8), together with the bicycle, into one unit, I went up to the newspaper stand near the station which had a refrigerator with a cold drink. I bought one bottle of cold beer in a 2 liter in a PET packaging and asked the salesperson if she knew about the bicycle repair service in the city.
"Of course! You are going by this road straight and at the third traffic light turn right and you will come to the service! "
Ah, finally, something like the light at the end of the tunnel!
After I had saved my life with a cold beer, put the rest in my thermos bottles, I went to search the Polyclinic for cycling disease. And I found it!


Firstly, I stopped confusedly in front of a multitude of inscriptions looking for information about working time. Then I read out that the daily break is from 14 to 17 o'clock.
Pauza = Break

I looked at my watch - 14 hours and 10 minutes (2.10 pm)!
"Oh, my dear Lord, you are really putting me on the temptation !"
As so often lately, the only thing left me was to reconcile with destiny and to accept what I have. I was comforted by the fact that I nevertheless found that repair service. And I will spend the remaining three hours on the tour of the city. I didn't plan it, but this journey has gone from the planned route a long time ago.
I went south to look for the main landmark of this city for which she was named - the old bridge (Most(ar) = Bridge).
I quickly entered into some kind of pedestrian zone, so the slow, light bike ride, with the absence of the vehicles, became a real pleasure.
The pedestrian zone of the Mostar city


I was attracted to the attention of two children in front of the mosque whose appearance somehow said they were not quite out of a wealthy home.




That I'm on the right way to the main tourist attraction, I concluded according to a bigger and bigger crowd (despite the huge and really hot heat) as well as the cobble which was beautifully made from stone pebbles.




Souvenir shops on both sides of the road were full of all kinds of goods. The goods on the shelves in front of the store attracted attention with their colors in all shades.












In addition to souvenir shops, there are plenty of restaurants. Some of them are proud of the Halal certificate, and discreetly make it known that there is no alcohol or beer in there. Luckily for me, not all are like that.
On the left poster is written:
In the catering facility
we do not serve
alcoholic drinks

That I was near the bridge, I concluded up according to by the environment. Somehow I felt that the Neretva river was somewhere nearby. Besides that, the crowd on the street to the bridge was the maximum - man to man. I am sure that a lot of them, in their language, they cursed me, while I was, with my bike, passed through the crowd.


And finally, the bridge!
I leaned the bicycle on the rocky fence, asked the first passerby to photograph me with my camera, and took an ungainly pose. Obviously, some kind of stone bench on which I sat down now served for this need - to make the passers fine-tuned and have a souvenir in their the camera, evidence that they were here.
Self-portrait with the bridge of 2015 ...

So let me praise that this is not the first time I'm here, as well as being here with the bike. It happened earlier, ten years ago.
... and in the year 2005

On the website of the city of Mostar I found an old bridge photo of a lot, many years ago, so here's a comparison of the old bridge then and now.
The Old Bridge once upon the time...

...and these days

According to Wikipedia, the old bridge was built between 1557 - 1566, a work by a Turkish builder Hajrudin. It was demolished on November 9, 1993. during the last war in Bosnia and Herzegovina. After the renovation of 2004, the bridge was listed on the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites. It is known as the main symbol of Mostar and Herzegovina.
The Mostar Old Bridge is a stone bridge built of Tenelija stone. The arc is nearly 29 meters long and 20 meters high, bent near a reduced halfway point. It is characterized by its thin and elegant shape. The profile of the bridge was so slim and high above the water that it was difficult for many to imagine such a construction to be made of huge stone blocks. The bridge has a brightly, shiny color that changes throughout the day, depending on the sun.
The bridge was simply built to connect the two banks of the Neretva River without any ornamental intent or special significance. The morphology of the place and the environment had the main influence on the bridge design. The whole complex is not a consequence of design but a development through time, dependent on historical events and the need to protect the river crossings. The old bridge is not connected to any specific style or period in architecture so it is unique in the world.
Here I am on the bridge, along with the bicycle. I remember before the war, in my young days, when I was on the bridge, and now I compared that memory with this what I see now. I have to admit that they were done their best, so they made it as it was before it was crashed. The difference is only in the insufficient polish of the stone below the feet which comes from many footsteps which were walk through the centuries across the bridge. But that's hardly noticeable, so it's more my subjective impression.


To me personally, it looks ugly some form of supplement in the shape of the tower in the middle of the bridge. I suppose it's needed to jumpers for jumping into the river. The Red Bull label probably brought a substantial sum of donated money.
Look upstream from the bridge

View from the bridge on the access road I came



Downstream of the bridge is some kind of the beach where those more courageous swims in the cold Neretva river. That it's been cold I've tried long ago, long ago, and that's enough experience even for this today.






On the other side of the bridge is still a crowd.


What about a clock that showed that 2.30 pm has passed, and what about the fierce heat, what about the abundant liquids that I have drunk, I started to feel hungry. I remembered that ten years ago, here in the thick shade of centuries-old trees, I had a good meal, so I wanted to repeat it. I found that terrace. On the entrance were dolls of him and her which was dressed in old Muslim clothes.


All the tables were busy. I've tried somewhere in myself find patience for waiting for a free place. But like me, it was pretty much people around me. That's why I quickly gave up from an impossible mission and headed back across the bridge hoping to find some acceptable place for lunch along the way.
And I found it.
Well, it's not a shade of centuries-old trees, just an awning over the tables. But, later it will be shown that the position is ideal for observing the passersby, as the restaurant is only being positioned aside by a meter from the main "road".


And now, one of the best lunch ever.
First, the content was the best.


The Ćevapi was expanded with multiple supplements along with the fine Sarajevo beer (one I drank before the lunch).


The best, or rather expensive, was price, at least for opportunities in Bosnia, although I did not take them for evil. The reason for this was the quality (they were really delicious), and the multiple side dish (see the image).
When I finished with a meal, I was slowly sipping another beer and watched the passers-by. I had more than half an hour till the opening the service workshop, so I did not rush. The observation position was the next in this list that makes this lunch the best. There were a lot of motifs that were not reliably to place in memory, so I remembered the camera. I put it on the table, directed it to the main road and a take a snapshot, and another one, and another one...


I know it would be extremely inappropriately, but there was a desire in me, an irresistible urge to find out in what climate this Asian woman lives. Does at her place is hot as in hell as is here now? According to the expression of her face, it seems to me not to.


I can say the same thing about older madam which raised her blouse. Obviously, she did not do it to show her slim and narrow waist, as young girls do, but simply to free out of unbearable body heat.


But while for us, the Westerners, complaining about the heat is quite a normal thing and because of that we undress, the others, with oriental principles, are stoically and tolerant, even if they were completely covered with black clothes. Deep respect from my side, it needs to endure it, like this woman or girl who has fluttered like a bird, just like it is early spring but not this hot day in the middle of summer.


I have a dog, although it is not a big one (4 kg with the fur) when somebody leads a dog on this heat, a dog that is supposed to live in the north by the default, I think it is violence according to the animals. Although this animal has been endured it stoically. It even looked nice as it watched the cat behind me lazily slumbering in the shade.


It's about five o'clock, so I should go. This lunch, along with a longer rest after it, strengthened my body and encouraged my spirit. I feel like I'm gradually getting back to normal. With the help of patience, calmness, and acceptance of the unrecoverable I managed to overcome the troubles in past 24 and a few hours.
At the exit from the old part of the city, I said goodbye to the interesting cobble.


They say if a man wants to feel the spirit of the city, he has to go to the market. But, because it was late the afternoon hours, little was left of the spirit of the city on it.
The marketplace in the Mostar city

I've already said I have a dog, so the affection toward a man in this animal always impresses me. An adage does not say in vain that "dog is the best friend of man - the woman is in an excellent second place".


You can view the continuation of this travelogue here.

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