Pero and his bike

subota, 15.01.2022.

The Una River - The sixth day, Part One

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

The sixth day

If you don't want to read, skip the text and see the images of this day of journey here.

You can see the map of the this day of the journey here.

As I was awakened during the night by the noise of the mentioned concert, so I was awakened in the morning - by silence. I could almost say that I woke up for a moment worried even, which happened so the concert is no more. But only the next moment I realized it was day, I looked at the clock - half-past five. Fine, what I slept, I slept, and now is the time to go.
Still, I allowed myself another minute of laziness in bed, thinking "Damn, those miles that are waiting for me will not escape from me now!"
And so - getting up, washing, breakfast, tidying up the kitchen, putting things on the bike, taking the bike out, locking the front door, putting the key under the doormat and going for a walk uphill. time - 6.45 AM!
The first kilometre and a little more was through the place, and then nature. In the shape of a pine forest. With the smell of pine.

Again, I allowed myself the luxury of walking on the left side of the road, both because of the shade and because of the view of the valley with the town. Now, together with the road, I was walking on the slope of a hill, or rather a mountain, on the opposite side of the valley about the hill/mountain I descended to the Drvar town yesterday. So I had an interesting view of the valley and the town from the other side. An additional attraction was the fog, which gave the town a lyrical, sleepy note.



While the opposite, northeastern part of the valley was still in the shade and therefore with the haze almost turning into the fog, this southwestern part of the valley was already awakened by the morning sun.


And to finish this visual journey from the another to this side of the valley. The slopes of the hill adjacent to the one along which “my” road goes have already bathed abundantly in the rays of the morning sun.

So much for the Drvar town and its valley. It got lost somewhere behind me and my road continued through the wasteland, though still uphill. Luckily for my mental state there was no dense greenery around it so I was able to pass the time by observing the environment. And it was, after all, different from the one from yesterday, and the other days. It was as if the Una river and its abundant water were missing here, or maybe it was raining less, or the ground was leaking excessively, or ... mostly everything seemed drier to me than before.


It was morning, pleasantly cool, but I was still trying to catch the shade while pushing my bike uphill. As the serpentine comes, that shades was sometimes on my right and sometimes on my left. If it was on left side I crossed the road without any doubt or remorse I and continue walking in the shade on the left.

Sometimes, though rarely, the trees recede completely, and a bare meadow with stunted grass and gray stones and rocks comes to light, which already reminds me of the Lika region.

I've already traveled a lot of kilometers, I was getting a little tired of that monotonous, slow and boring walk, so I wish it was over. A glimmer of optimism that my hopes could be fulfilled gave me a scene that hinted to me that the pass was somewhere here.

It will later turn out that the scene from the image above is a pass. It will also turn out that it is more than a kilometer to this pass, and I have to go through another elbow bend (a serpentine) to it.

And finally the pass!
There are images from it, first where I came from, and behind it a footage of where I am going to.


Of course, there was a longer break than I really needed. Both for the spirit and for the body. This uphill lasted a good 9.5 km (in words: nine and a half kilometres). By far the longest in this journey. Even though it was morning, even though it was fresh, even though I was walking mostly in the shade, I was sweating well. Pushing a bike with no small load was anything but comfortable and easy. If I were to draw a conclusion from the amount of sweat, I would conclude that the hills, although I overcome them on foot, are by far the most strenuous. This effort is joined by a mental component because during these great kilometres of uphill, which are so painful and slow, it was difficult for me to find interesting thoughts that will entertain my spirit and speed up the feeling of (the slow) passage of time.
As I ponder this in my head, against my control, analysis, and permission, a thought comes to me, new, different than ever before.
So far, I was of the opinion, convinced of it, that electric bikes are something like non-alcoholic beer. They are called bicycles but they are not indeed. Actually, they are some motorcycles, mopeds at least, because they are not driven by a driver (cyclist) but by a motor, even if they had electro in front of his noun. Furthermore, that I, as a sworn cyclist, am the undisputed guardian of the traditional values of true, primordial lovers of cycling adventures.
But on this pass, exhausted body and depressed spirit, for the first time, a thought appeared with a positive review of this new vehicle. Clearly, the "old self" immediately rebelled, so I found all sorts of explanations, rationalizations, evidence, beliefs… to eventually find a compromise like "ok, I'll think about it and look on the net when I get back."
As I was reconciling those two within me, I observed the environment of the saddle. Right at the beginning of the statement that it was nothing special. Especially when I consider the huge miles travelled. There is a forest on both sides of the road so that nothing can be seen from the surroundings, so there is no sense of the hefty altitude, and it was, to me, an impressive 980 meters.
I guess as a memento of the last war there was an improvised bunker. I did not get to it, but on the basis of silence and peace I concluded that it was abandoned a long time ago.

After resting that (again) lasted longer than I had originally assumed, I got on my bike and got ready to enjoy the downhill ride. It was as if someone had heard my disappointment with the environment on the pass, so, just a few hundred meters after it, it gave me a beautiful view of the beginning of the Grahovsko field.


The Grahovsko field is at a relatively high altitude, over 800 meters, so this downhill of mine after the pass, to my regret, did not last long.
Descending to the field the road was at first straight, but later winding across it.


The road was wide a lot, and the lack of traffic somehow made it even wider for me. Where there are no trees in the field there is grass, some brownish, dry. The whole time of driving across the Grahovsko field, which lasted over two hours, I did not see any cultivated soil, only pastures.


If there were pastures, then there should be sheep. And they were!

The road was either straight or slightly uphill. Sometimes that uphill was not very mild, even once, disappointed and depressed, I got off my bike and continued on foot. This disappointment and depression were not so much due to the uphill as my fatigue, and most of all the wind in my face. It was not strong, but it was persistent and insidious. I had the feeling that heavy, thick and painful air was blowing in my face, the main goal of which was to make my ride as bitter as possible. It was not impossible to ride, but that ride was with heavy, leaden feet and with the constant suspicion that something was wrong with the bike. Either the tire is flat and makes more resistance, or the brakes do not come back to the end and gently but insidiously break when they do not need it, or the chain transmission has received some additional resistance or… By multiple stops and checking the condition of the bike I made sure that the problem is in me. That endless ascent this morning from Drvar left me with unresolved consequences, mostly in the form of fatigue.
I accepted it as a lesser evil. It was easier for me to accept the misfortunes of my, subjective nature than to repair a bicycle in this wasteland now.
And it was a wasteland. Sometimes, closer or further, a house would appear, probably lavishly presented on the map as a place, but people were rare, very rare. With that uncultivated soil, I got the impression of abandonment and supernatural anxiety. Figuratively speaking, a real wasteland "where God said the good night"!


That wind was damn persistent. It didn't increase its intensity, but it didn't decrease it either. It was as if it was sadistically enjoying my torment in malicious anticipation as if it expected I would run out of perseverance and patience, and I would finally despair and give up on everything. Now, on the last day of the journey.
Well, I won't give it that pleasure! I will endure, at least out of spite (it's amazing how much spite can sometimes be stimulating!).
Despite that wind and fatigue, despite the gloomy, desolate appearance, the environment was interesting to me, so I took an image or two almost every time I stopped. And I was pausing often, albeit briefly.


I came across a couple of houses, right next to the road. They’re probably proud to make up a village that’s even drawn on some maps, but that didn’t interest me at the moment. My attention was drawn to a stone house, right next to the road, but without doors, windows and a roof. It seems to me that this is not from the last war, but from the one that ended in 1945.

I drove (and filmed) for a long time until I saw a larger place on the right side up on the hill and automatically (correctly) concluded that it was the Bosansko Grahovo town. I was relieved (Oh, finally!) because in addition to fatigue and discouragement, I began to feel hungry. Therefore, I decided that I should go up to (let's call it that) the town and reward myself with a longer vacation and eating.
There I noticed, at least for me, one interesting thing on the Internet while I was planning this trip. It was a hill in the shape of a cone, which in its smaller part leaned on the plateau on which the town is located. Although there was an alleyway as shortcut the builders of the road I drove on wisely used this hill to make the road with a slight ascent, and with a semicircle around it, climb to the town. Here's what it looks like on Google Earth.

According to the image above, I came from above, from the north, and I took a break just before the intersection. My road leads me straight to the town itself, and those who turn left will continue further towards the Livno town.
Resting, I looked, from a height, at the field I was leaving now. There was something like a hall down there, but it seems to me that it has been abandoned for a long time.


A hundred yards behind the intersection, still before the town, was a gas station. It also had a cafe with tables and chairs, out in the shade. So salvation, and at the same time a real luxurious oasis. I settled into the shade where there was room for a bicycle, ordered a beer, opened the packaged food and slowly set off for lunch.
As I slowly and lazily enjoyed my meal, I felt my fatigue gradually subside, though not completely. I had to admit that this ride through the Grahovo field made me tired, at least my body. There was also that insidious wind that intensified that fatigue, so the curiosity and, in a way, the beauty of the environment did not manage to push away that fatigue, but only slightly reduced it. By the way, the wind was still persistently stubborn or stubbornly persistent and was still blowing, but as I change the direction of my journey, that blowing will be more or less from the left side, not in the face as before.
I had finished my lunch a long time ago, but I was comfortable relaxing in my chair, so I didn't move on. I asked the gas station man how many I have until the pass to the Knin town and his answer surprised me - 5-6 kilometres.
5-6 KILOMETERS !!!
It is amazing to me every time how a man can convince himself of what he wants, although common sense tells him that it is not possible. I knew, already preparing for this journey, that there are at least 3-4 kilometres from the Bosansko Grahovo town to the pass (that's when I reduced too it by my wishes), but now, at this moment when I was tired of dragging myself to this gas station, I was almost certain that the pass was right on the first hill behind the town.
For a while I sat staring blankly in front of me, seeing nothing, calming the storm in my head. After accepting the situation as it is, I decided to go to the town, find a park and/or a bench and in a short dream try to correct my body fatigue and discouragement.
A hundred yards behind the gas station I came across an intersection. Straight is a kind of bypass leading to the Knin town, and the left is a turn into this town.
I turned left…


At the beginning of this pink multi-storey building, in the image above, there were some cafes with a few people on their terraces. Around, away from those cafes no one anywhere. Even though there was plenty of sunshine, that desolation as far as people it seemed kind of gloomy and dark to me . And maybe I had that impression due to fatigue.
At the end of that pink multi-storey building in front of the entrance for the tenants I found - a bench!
In the shade!
I immediately gave up the search for the park. It seems to me that I will have a hard time finding the kind of park I want in this town. So I routinely made the already known preparations, lay down on the bench with one hand on the bike - and closed my eyes.
At first, because of everything I experienced today, it seemed to me that I would not be able to summon a dream.
Everything is somehow wrong for me today. It was as if, by leaving the Una river yesterday, I had left flutter, cheerfulness and enthusiasm with it. The most pessimistic part of me has already started to sound somehow discouraged like "I've had enough of everything", "just to get this over with as soon as possible ", "why did I go on this journey at all", etc., etc. Luckily, with experience I managed to silence it before that discouragement overwhelmed all of me. An experience in which an abundance of bright, fluttering and beautiful images happened with this journey. So if it looks a little different now, I'll grit my teeth and hold on.
I don't know how long I searched through my head for the thoughts described above and when I managed to calm down that storm in it, I only know that I suddenly woke up from a deep sleep and opened my eyes. Looking at my watch, I realized that I had spent twenty earthly minutes in that moment or two, keeping my eyes "wide closed".
I also know that I am already bored and prosaic by describing that transformation after that sleeping. I will only mention a line about the feeling of cheerfulness, flutter and optimism, and I eagerly, with the feeling that I was light as a feather, got on the bike and continued riding. I was so cheerful, fluttery and upbeat that I forgot to film myself resting on the bench.
That cheerful mood did not manage to change this gloomy town, which, at least to me, looked like that. The ruins left over from the last war certainly contribute to that gloom.



It doesn't need a lot of imagination or good will to conclude from the dimensions of the buildings in the above two shots that the real splendor of life used to take place there. And now it looks like a painful monument to something that no longer exists. It would be better, God forgive me, if it was demolished to the end, to the foundation, that it disappeared, so that nothing could be seen. So forgetting would make that memory of the cruelty of war fade in people's minds a little by little , so I guess they would turn to something more beautiful, better, more cheerful. But, as it is it stands as a sinister, painful reminder that kills every move forward, constantly turning back.
Observing these apocalyptic ruins, the bitterness in me was growing, reaching a worrying level. Therefore, already in some form of panic, I was desperately looking for a scene that does not carry the memory of war. Luckily I didn't look for him for long. It was only when I turned around that I saw a typical urban landscape.

Nothing special, a typical urban scene. In some other circumstances I would have passed in front of it as completely uninteresting, but now, at this moment, I needed it as a counterweight to those ruins.
I even empathetically respected the inhabitants of this "urbanization" in the image above, who have silent and painful ruins for their neighbors every day.
I was fed up with this poor town which, it seems to me now vegetate, and once lived. After all, that statement is not the only original of this town. It is universal for all post-war times. After all, there are such towns in Croatia as well. These are those towns on the periphery that are now living sadly without any brighter perspective in the foreseeable future.
So, I returned to the "main" street and coming out on the detour, I turned left in the direction of the arrow on the signpost that was next to the noun Knin. I sensed that I could somehow get across the detour from the "center" of the town, where the ruins are. But I didn’t want to take the risk, it’s safe!
To be honest, I have to say that those 5-6 km to the pass, as the gas station man told me, somehow had worring me.
At first it started with a slight uphill that could be riden. I said earlier that the wind was blowing somehow from the (left) side, so it was less annoying for me to ride (and maybe that 20 minutes of sleep contributed to that !?). An additional relief to the journey was the view of the environment in the form of a valley, a field, which was to my right.



After about 2 km the uphill increased, so it was necessary to continue on foot. At first it was still a pleasant shade.

Even that didn’t fall too hard for me, as I was more and more above the field so it was special interesting to watch it like this from a height.



I was tired of the constant anticipation of the pass after every bend in front of me. Instead of that pass again the next bend. I reconciled with the fact that it would be as the gas station man said. This reconciliation was helped by the feeling of relaxation due to the interesting environment. Without any major feeling of effort, I was "swallowing" meters, tens of meters, hundreds of meters, and ultimately kilometers.
Again the feeling that when I accept a less bad situation, I will be rewarded with a better one. This was hinted at by the following scene, which I felt more than I knew that the pass was near.

The Derala pass, 965 meters above sea level.
Situation on the pass with a view of where I came from…

… and where I will continue after the break.

The impression of the gradual invasion of dry karst and the withdrawal of abundant vegetation, which I gained when I arrived in the Drvar town yesterday, which was reinforced by this morning's "walk" from the Drva townr here flared up in its true karst form. The grayness of the rocks and stones completely overcame the scanty and thin greenery. Because of that, the pass looked like the passes should look like, and not as hidden by the forest as it was this morning before the descent into the Grahovsko field.
Turning to the right, about the picture above, I saw the above-mentioned karst in front of me.

While I was pushing my bike on the last meters before the pass, there was a square traffic sign on the left side of the road. I hoped that it would have a data of the pass with altitude, but it was the information of Bosnian auto club about its telephone number.
Nevertheless, I decided to show you this image, to see what kind of scene everyone who continues from the pass towards the Bosansko Grahovo town sees.

I stood there on the pass, slowly spinning around, watching the scenes in front of me and "letting my brain floating." I was seized by a dull passivity, I couldn't even move. It was as if I was preparing the spirit for something beautiful, I guessed, something most beautiful of today. From a cold point of view, I have a lot of kilometres downhill in front of me (it will turn out to be 13 later) and after that almost 20 kilometres, mostly easy, to the Knin town. Emotionally speaking, the torments, difficulties, efforts of today's ride have (mostly) passed, and in front of me is pure enjoyment. So, like when you give your child a favourite cake and he stops for a while enjoying the view of it and the sweetness that awaits him when he eats it, so he tries to prolong this sweet anticipation of future enjoyment as much as possible.
When I had had enough of that anticipation, I got on my bike and started "trying that cake of mine".
Immediately after the pass, the road on the right was carved in the grey of the rock. This rock is by far the largest and most impressive throughout this descent, which was again close to the road.


But what makes this descent interesting is on the left side of the road. So I had to cross to the left to capture the impressive scenery. I did this many times in the continuation of the descent. Clearly, I first checked well, both with my eye and ear, whether I was alone or some kind of traffic was coming. Luckily for me there were relatively few of them, just enough to not get the ominous feeling of an abandoned road.


The valley can be seen on the left side of the image above, which is the goal of this descent. Considering how much that valley is below me, I conclude that this will be a long, very long descent. That realization shuddered at the sweet excitement.
So, Pero slowly, just slowly!
Apart from the mentioned valley, which will be discussed later, there is a wooded green wilderness all around me.




After a while, I don't know how many left and right bends, the valley leading to the Knin town appeared in its entirety. With the help of zooming, I brought it closer to me.



From the image above, I saw that the sun was in the right place to direct its rays at a favourable angle, and when they bounce off the asphalt surface of the road, they come straight into the lens of my camera. And by that road, when I descend into the valley, I will continue south to the Knin town.
And how that valley looks on the opposite side is nicely seen in the image below.

There was no road in that valley, at least the main one, but only the railway to Martin Brod, Kulen Vakuf and Bihać. And it was of no use because trains do not run on it for the aforementioned political reasons.
The view on another side of the valley looked like this, first a little to the south and then a little to the north.


After crossing the border crossing (with the obligatory presentation of the Covid passport) and entering Croatia, I still have 1.5 - 2 km of downhill left.
The first houses in the Strmica place also began to appear.


The Strmica place was deserted when I descended to it. The house was all around, but no living souls. So desolate, the place seemed a bit sinister to me, so I have to admit it looked nicer to me as I watched it from a distance.
That long and relatively steep descent in this place turned into easy descent so it was necessary to turn the pedals. Whether that was the reason I do not know, or the sun, which warmed me well, gave the impression of heat, in any case, I wished for rest. And it took me a while to calm down all the emotions created during this unforgettable descent. So I slowly, from foot to foot, pedaled this gentle downhill in search of shade and a bench in it. Just when I thought that what I was looking for in this desolate and deserted place I would not find I came across a local bus station.


In the shade of the eaves, I was surprised by a chair. I immediately accepted a completely unexpected place to rest, stopped, parked my bike and took out a can of Union beer, which I wrapped in clothes in the hope that it would stay cold. And it was cold, not very dewy cold, but still refreshingly pleasant as I drank its contents. ( by the impression of the experience from yesterday, at the gas station in front of the Bosansko Grahovo town, in addition to thermoses, I also supplied myself with an additional amount of liquid, which I now enjoyed by consuming now and here with pleasure).

I sit in the shade sipping beer and spinning all sorts of thoughts on my head. Interestingly, I did not sort through the impressions from the long downhill, but my thoughts occupied the impressions of this place where I rest. Although it is sunny and clear, although everything is bright and illuminated, although the breeze is charming and even cooling while I sit in the shade, the lack of even one, the only man in this deserted village seems somehow dark and creepy.
It occurs to me, I don't even know how and from where, that devastation from yesterday's riding, as far as people and its buildings are concerned, from the Martin Brod place to the Drvar town, and I compared it to this devastation here. There were no people here or there, but yesterday's devastation became more and more sympathetic to me after my initial fear and discomfort passed. I even felt some strange kind of comfort because I was passing through an untouched environment, untouched as far as man is concerned, and it has been like this for years, not to say centuries.
But this desolation here is quite different. It tells me with "deafening silence" about the time when people were talking here, children's murmurs, dogs barking, cows mooing ... all other sounds that can be called life in one word.
Now that life is gone! It was as if I were in its cemetery, and these ruins of houses were mortal remains.
Although, as I have already said, the wind is refreshingly blowing, although I sit comfortably reclining in this shade, although the sun shines all around me with abundant bright rays, obsessed with these thoughts, I felt my soul gradually darken. Frightened by the development of negative thoughts at the end of this excellent and beautiful journey (despite everything), I quickly drank up the last sip of liquid from the can, and started my body. The very next moment I was on my bike and started riding.
By pedaling, I tried to banish the dark state of my soul unsuccessfully. Much more efficient in that respect was - a garbage container located only a hundred meters away.

A logical construction is following:
-If there is a garbage container, then there is garbage
-if there is garbage, then there is someone who creates it
- and who creates the most garbage?
- People!
Well, even though I didn't see anyone, I indirectly concluded that there are people here. And if there are people, then everything is not as black as it seemed to me in the beginning.
If you take a closer look at the image above, you will notice the pillars of the railway contact wire. These pillars were erected just before the war when the Una railway was electrified all the way to the Knin town. Instead of continuing the electrification of the railway to Split, the politicians concluded that better of than that was - war. Now, after the war, no trains pass here, neither with nor without electricity. The cables were clearly stolen, and the poles were not worth removing.
And yet, even without life, I was glad that my company would be this railway all the way to the Knin town. We will change sides several times during these eighteen kilometres, so it will be on my left side or on my right side, as it was now.

To make my joy even greater, here was the Butižnica creek.

It burbled happily in the direction of my ride, which means my road is going slightly downhill. It is that small amount of downhill where, if I ride in the opposite direction, I constantly question either myself that this pedalling is so difficult for me, or the bike, suspecting that it is the cause. And now, when I go in the direction of that downhill, the bike slides almost by itself, and I turn the pedals just for the sake of it, enjoying both the ease of riding and of a pleasant environment.
Suddenly I remembered today's morning ride through the Grahovsko field when I had the feeling that there was a thick, heavy, greasy (strange epithet, but it seemed so to me) air around me, which I made my way through it with great effort. And here everything has taken on the character of Paradise: the breeze is refreshingly blowing, the sun is warm, but not hot, all around me are various scents of lush vegetation, the stream sings its burble, the already mentioned gentle downhill ...
Not a hundred meters after I crossed the railway, I stopped in the shade to "change the tires". In fact, my feet wanted to feel the charm of the breeze, and they wanted to go outside, or prosaically, I was hot in my sneakers, so I changed into sandals.


After the job was done, I rested a little in the shade looking across the road. On the other side of the road, a rock with a hill blocked it, squeezing the railroad and the road along the creek.

(I feel the need, to be honest, and say that the railroad here is straight as an arrow. In the picture above, it was curved by the optics of a wide-angle lens when shooting.)
Already in the image above, a symbiosis of more or less lush green vegetation and the greyness of steep rocks can be seen. So here’s another grey-green or green-grey environment.

By the way, the traffic on this road, since the border crossing, has hardly been there, so I can compare it to the one from yesterday on the Martin Brod - Drvar road. But now, as an experienced cycling wolf, I didn't even notice it. And I didn't notice because of the extremely interesting things about the road and the area around it I pass through. The fact that I am (almost) at the end of this journey, that I have plenty of time, so I gave myself over to these last pedalling moments stretching the enjoyment as maximum as I can
Again, the desolate ruins brought me back to reality.
First, it was the Golubić railway station and a moment later a deserted street through a deaf place of the same name without life.


The size of the station building tells me about, unfortunately, the former importance of this station just before the Knin town. I guess upstairs were the apartments of some of the railway staff. Interestingly the building was not overly destroyed, and in the event of the revitalization of the Una railway, it could return to operation relatively quickly. But I guess it won’t be for my life.
The futile thinking of rebuilding the railroad was abruptly interrupted by the heavy silence while I passed through the desolate and ruined place. So I accelerated my pedals on my bike and ran out through it as fast as I could.
For a moment I was overwhelmed by the hasty hope that the end of the journey was in sight when I saw the outlines of the Knin field in front of me.

That poor hope could not fully crystallize completely, and the cold, rational part of me dispelled it by recalling from memory the image I saw watching the route of this journey on Google Earth where I noticed that in front of Knin should be some kind of railway viaduct.
This time that cold, rational part of me was right. Driving left and right and (unfortunately my already tired body) up and down I came across the expected.

Better said partly expected, because a viaduct did appear, in line with that expectation, but the devastating ruin of broken glass I was not expected. And the feeling of bitterness in me also was not expected
because of that ruin, which was certainly once a restaurant frequented by people impressed by the viaduct behind it.
Although planning this journey, I wanted to stay a little longer next to the viaduct, the ominous impression of the restaurant's devastation prompted me to keep pedalling the moment after filming.
Again, some uphill, which tests my mental state, and which is on the verge of mostly due to physical fatigue (so what kind of uphill again if I'm in the Kninsko field). This time the uphill had the specific purpose of skipping the railway because at its end there was a viaduct over the tracks. Here is a view toward the Knin town.

I already knew, and I felt too, that my journey was coming to an end, because earlier, looking at the maps, I noticed that the railway would go somewhere to my right.
And really, after a few hundred meters of the first house appeared. Then after the next few hundred meters of the second house, and finally -the town.
The Knin town!!!

Driving slowly through the suburbs and entering the town I began to feel tired, terribly tired, both in body and in spirit. I guess because I got to the end and it was no longer necessary to pull out the hidden atoms of strength and perseverance.
The sun was on my right side, as seen in the picture above, so the right side of the street was, more or less, in shade depending on the trees or buildings. Observing and passing through these smaller and larger shades, I thought: "God, how nice it would be to find some good pizzeria with a terrace in this shade!"
Not a moment after that thought, my hands pressed the brakes when I saw a young man coming to meet me on the sidewalk. As I marvelled at the willful hands that stopped the bike, my lips asked a passerby:
- Is there a good pizzeria somewhere?
- Of course, here ahead fifteen meters away!
He said and left, and I stayed to stare at the terrace of the pizzeria in front of me. Just the same I asked the One upstairs for a little while ago.
These "coincidences" are not it at all, I experienced a lot on this journey, but this was the highlight of the climax. Astonished by what I experienced, I found myself persistently, but in vain, in looking for a memory from my life so far that records such a quick and concrete realization of a wish addressed to Him as a request, but without any concrete discovery. And I quickly stopped in that futile job, so I parked my bike in front of the terrace (in the shade, it deserved it) and sat down at a table, not a meter away from the bike.
"Half a litre of draft beer and one mixed pizza!" I said to the smiling waitress, who brought me a dewy mug a moment later.
Of course, I drank that mug even before the main meal. I can try as hard as I want now, but this pleasure of drinking cold liquid, here at the end of a six-day journey full of all kinds of experiences, now that I have a lot of the rest of this day and evenings to the train ahead of me, so I can stretch this enjoyment to unimaginable value ... I just can't describe it. I felt like I was growing in self-esteem and self-recognition for what I have been achieved.
Even now, I don't know if it's because of that great excitement and happiness, or it was like that, but the pizza was extremely tasty for me, side by side with the one in the Bosanska Krupa town.

Long, long after eating pizza and drinking another mug of beer, I was left to "sip" sitting in the pleasant shade of the terrace without thinking about anything in particular as masses of scenes from the last six days randomly flew past me. Gradually, a thought crystallized that I will often repeat for the rest of my life:
It was a really good journey!
I don't even know when, I managed to move my body with the intention of the tour the town, while the change of various scenes continued in my head. Later, much later, I realized that I hadn't filmed that terrace.
Having reached the bridge over the railway, I corrected the omission from last year by not filming a scene from it.
So, first, look toward the north.

On the left side, the railway should go towards Zadar, for which I am not entirely sure that it has not already been abandoned.
With these tracks in the middle, I will return home tonight because they lead to Gračac, Gospić, to connect to the Rijeka-Zagreb railway in Oštarije.
This one on the right is unfortunate, and mentioned several times in this journey, the route of the "Una railway", with whose company I drove to the Knin town a little while ago.
Now the view toward the south at the entrance to Knin Railway Station.

And what's next !?
It’s not even 5 PM yet, and the train leaves tonight after 11 PM, so I still have plenty of time.
First I wanted to wash and change somehow. Today's ride was fierce, and I don't have a chance to take a shower tonight, so I need to improvise something.
The first thing that came to my mind was to go to the Krka River, somewhere in a hidden place, take off my clothes and wash with soap and water from the river. Out of respect for the source, I didn’t want to do it before the town, so it stays somewhere on the river when it passes the town. Remembering last year's stay in this town, I went to the exit of the town and came to the bridge over the Krka river.

Last year I continued towards the Drniš town behind it, but this year no one could do it because it was in a thorough reconstruction. I continued riding down the dirt path along the river hoping to find some meaningful access to the water.

However, my hope was in vain. The water was about 2-3 meters down, but a steep, very steep descent led to it so that it would somehow roll down to the water, but climbing back long with the soil steep riverbed I would be as dirty as I am now.
Resignedly shrugging my shoulders at the failure of the first idea, I headed for the Krka river spring, though, hoping to find somewhere between the spring and the town what I wanted. As I was returning to the town, I passed the Catholic church, which looked dignifiedly beautiful to me last year, even though it was small.

I parked in the shade across from the church, leaned my bike against a wall, and watching the church decided to pause for a moment and thank God for all this over the past six days.
I stand there repeating the words of the prayer, mechanically, like a robot, while my eyes move from left to right, and my mind creates some unrelated meaningful thoughts. I don't know how it is with others, but with me, I am always surprised, and ashamed, by the wandering of my thoughts somewhere while reciting the words of prayer. Real time-sharing, performing two different actions at the same time.
So, as I said, my eyes turned from the church to the left on the plateau where the concrete stands were. So, the marketplace, I concluded! (all with the constant, persistent recitation of prayer within myself). And where the marketplace is, there could be a water faucet!
That conclusion shook me and I interrupted the words of the prayer for a moment. Yet out of respect for Him, I have done the prayer, though it could hardly be called like that, and moved my bicycle across the street to the marketplace. It was about 2 meters higher than the street, so I finally reached the faucet by stairs, carrying a bicycle!

Feeling as if I needed to open a letter of destiny in which it should be written whether I was admitted to something and somewhere on which my life depended, or refused, holding my breath, I reached the fountain and pressed the metal button on the faucet.
Cold clear water flowed profusely.
Here is another "surprise". Yet this prayer in front of the church, whatever it was, was answered.
The washing problem has been solved. The following were details about the realization.

You can view the continuation of this travelogue here.

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