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The Tara river and its bridge
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This ride was realization of the idea which had been conceived in my head a few years ago, in the early 80's when I watched the movie "Most" (The Bridge). The film was produced by Yugoslav filmmakers and it is war action movie, typical for the former Yugoslavia where bad guys are German soldiers and good guys are Partisans. Of all the actors in the film, for me, the most impressive was - the bridge. It quietly and slowly entered my mind, so I was thinking about it more and more often. Over the years I was thinking about it even more and the desire to visit it had grown more in me. That bridge became some kind of an obsession for me. So in 1985 I decided– I will go and see it!
For your information, the Tara river, the subject of this story, is located in northern mountainous areaof Montenegro, the former Yugoslavia.
The planning of the journey was based on the reading of the auto-map, which was not very detailed.
My two year younger brother was my companion on this journey.
From my city to Sarajevo (capital city of Bosnia and Herzegovina) we took advantage of the transportation with Škoda 100, a car which my father and mother used to visit relatives in Imotski.
Before I continue with the story, let me point out that the pictures were taken with the camera Zenit EM manufactured in the Soviet Union in 1978. I used color slide film.
It was a total idiot camera.That means I had to ‘tell’ it everything: exposure, brightness, and distance from the shooting object.
THE FIRST DAY OF THE JOURNEY
You can see the map of the first day of the journey here.
And finally, a practical start, a dream come true.
At leave-taking spot with our parents we promised whatever they had asked us to: beware, be careful, call us...
And at 10 o'clock in a nice fresh summer morning we finally started riding our bikes. After passing through Sarajevo and its crowd, on the outskirts of the town there was a hill where we said ‘bye bye’ to the town and, mainly uphill, we started to cross the canyon of Miljacka creek. At the intersection where you go right to Pale, we turned left and finally started to climb on Romanija mountain.
And when I thought that the end this climb was nowhere near, we climbed to the top of the pass. After resting and having lunch we had to ride downhill to Sokolačka plateau. Through this plateau we rode a few kilometers more or less horizontaly but then downhill started.
In the begining it was gentle but it became more and more steep. The road crosses between the mountain and seeing it was a real pleasure. So many beautiful scenes revolved around us, so it was difficult to keep track of riding. Behind Rogatica we passed through two tunnels.The first one was longer (970m) and was illuminated, but the second was in total darkness. I had never experienced such a darkness before.
In Ustiprača we came to the Drina river where we saw the old railway bridge.
Trains had not been driving for many years. Bridges and tunnels were left behind. It was a narrow gauge railway (760 mm) built at the begining of 20thcentury and it was abandoned during the 70’s of the same century.
We continued the journey riding on the left side of the canyon of the Drina river. On the other side of the canyon we were followed by the overgrown track of the abandoned railroad.
By coming to Višegrad town, firstly we calmed our metabolisms again through a long silent conversation with full respect for the famous bridge over the Drina river in this town. I saw it in many pictures, I read Ivo Andrić's "On Drina Bridge", but it was nothing but a pale shadow of that when I faced that construction. Obviously it is not just a bunch of properly stocked building materials when it attracts my attention and respect that makes walk and talk quietly, as if I were in the church.
The bridge was built between 1571 and 1577.
There was a kind of gate in the middle of the bridge. We stopped and parked our bikes on the gate where the wall was marked to commemorate the water level during the biggest flood in 1896.
We found a autocamp, pitched the tent and fell asleep in a sleeping bag.
THE SECOND DAY OF JOURNEY
You can see the map of the second day of the journey here.
In the morning we continued on a steep hill road. We left the Drina river and continued along its tributary, the Rzav river.
Having left the Dobrun place, we turned right and rode along asteep uphill through interesting villages.
That exhausting uphill lasted 4-5 km, and after a short horizontal ride, a steep dowhill started.
At the end of that steep downhill we passed through the Priboj town. It is situated on the river Lim in the Republic of Serbia, also a part of the former Yugoslavia. We went through this city very quickly so today I don't even remember how it looked like. But I remember the lakes on the Lim river and the railroad parallel to our road.
This railway is a normal gauge railway (1435 mm) and it is a part of the Belgrade - Bar line. Belgrade is the capital of the Republic of Serbia and Bar is in the Republic of Montenegro, on the coast of the Adriatic Sea.
As we were riding upstream, the lake gradually disappeared, and we finally reached the river itself. After about 30 km we reached Prijepolje town on the Lim river (still in Republic of Serbia).
Arriving to Prijepolje, we should turn right to the Pljevlja town (the Republic of Montenegro). We were confused by the numerous roads, so we asked a local passerby for the instructions of the road to Pljevlja.When he showed us the road we welcomed him and we continued along the road that he showed us. The road soon began to go uphill, and uphill, and uphill... and so the next 14 km.We climbed from 557 meters above the sea level (Prijepolje town) to the top of the pass named Jabuka that was 1220 meters above the sea level.
We almost ‘dropped our souls’ from the infinite climbing. As a reward, a wonderful downhill to the Pljevlja town followed.
We entered in the city at the sunset, so we had a little time to find a place to stay for the night. There was no autocamp in the city or its surroundings, so we had to improvise. Farther from the center, where houses were close to each other, we chose a green meadow with plum trees, in front of one of the houses. I went to the woman at the entrance and, after I had introduced and explained who we were and where we were going to, I asked for the permission to pitch the tent on the meadow. While I was talking to her, she was silent, The expression on her face were just like that, except for patience to hear what I was talking about, I could not see anything else. When I finished my monologue, still silently, she kept looking at me the same way for one or two seconds, and then, probably convinced that I had said what I wanted to say, without any comment, turned and went into the house. I remained confused and distracted. By returning the movie back I tried to figure out what had I actually done and where I had made a mistake. And just when I wanted to give up of everything, not understanding either myself or my silent interlocutor, a young man came out of the house, 16 to 17 years old, and, with a smile from his ear to ear, melted of hospitality, took us to the meadow wondering if we, besides the 3 squared meters of his meadow, needed something else. He was with us for some half an hour while we pitched the tent. So we learned from him that, before we came to the bridge over Tara river, there was a good, long uphill over Kosanica pass. (During this conversation, while I pitched my tent and prepared dinner, I discreetly looked at the woman, about 20 meters from us, who, in the same position and in the same way, continued to do the job that I interrupted for the moment of my arrival and with my request.) In the end, our kindly host wished for a nice and quiet night, which really was like that. So I concluded that men are homeowners, and women just have to work and stay silent. For a moment, I felt silent creeps on my back seeing TODAY and LIVE this drastic division into the "male" and "female" roles in life and this feminine subjection, even though we made fun of that many times before. For a moment I say, so I left this day for days when I shall have more time for analysing this journey. Now we need to relax and have a good sleep to meet new beauties tomorrow.
That night I fell asleep, and I was not aware of the historical influence (in a positive sense) of the next day.
THE THIRD DAY OF JOURNEY
You can see the map of the third day of the journey here.
We woke up rested and we slept well. Pljevlja is a city placed 770 meters above the sea level and, although it was summer, the nights were quite fresh. We slept in sufficiently warm sleeping bags, so the freshness felt pleasant.
After packing the equipment we thanked the friendly host (we had not seen the woman this time). In the nearby store we bought food and drink. We bought a Coca Cola in one liter GLASS bottle (in the former Yugoslavia in 1985 !!!!). Although today (in 2018), silently and shy, we can hear the rumor about the harm of PET packaging, it is still difficult to find the mentioned drink in bigger glass bottles (say a liter).
So much for progress!
And finally we started. It was the morning of those summer days with a strong anticyclone. This means that there was warm morning somewhere on the sea level or in the plains, but here, up at a great altitude, it was pleasantly fresh, hoping it would remain so throughout the day.
After leaving the last houses, the road began with a small uphill. We were delighted with the environment watching it from left to right, and at times following the road we used to ride,so the steeper uphill, that came later, did not bother us. In the distance we saw the summits of Durmitor mountain, so we slowly realized that we were entering paradise on earth. We were almost disappointed when we climbed the pass, because the uphill on the road had forced us to move slowly and we had time to absorb the environment with all the senses.But no worse was riding through this environment downhill.
On the contrary!
And as I was descending, using the last effort of rational consciousness to take care of riding, the emotional part of consciousness slowly and unadvisedly turned to euphoria of unlimited, blissful, fantastic and divine pleasure. And then, at a time when it seemed to me that, finally, in my previous life, I had felt the emotional maximum, the one, the supreme - I saw it.
Down, below me, the sides of the deep canyon, for centuries and with patient but persistent effort, effort and the work of something or someone to move apart, to devide that sides of the canyon which, across the river with its elegant ease of spider web, but firmly and inexorably, were connected by the bridge.There was something pleasing in my arrogance, that, from this height, I was looking at the consequences of this conflict between the one who separates and the other that connects. But that pleasure was a short-lived one, and was replaced with irresistible desire to get closer to it, to feel it not only with my eyes but with all my other feelings. That downhill ride had passed in a sweet delirium so I was slightly disappointed for a moment that I already got down to the bridge. The pleasure of descending serpentines, watching the environment not only with my eyes, but with all my senses, provoked in me the feeling of bliss that a man desires that never end.That disappointment lasted, I said, for a moment, because this day and this area together with the bright warmth, but also at the same time pleasant fresh weather, touches our senses and souls, so when (for that moment) it seemed to us that this beauty is the most impressive, we would immediately feel something new and more impressive.Well, often, and a lot later (today, in2018), while tying to restore from the memory the subjective image of that time, I notice (still) something new, something for whose cognition there was simply no time at that moment.
So, silently and slowly, gently and subtly, I was prepared for something that (then and now) has the status of one of the two most beautiful, most impressive moments in my life.
So, we came on the bridge, we rode it slowly and gently, parked bicycles on the other side and (still) quiet and gently, each one for himself passing through the feelings we felt that moment.While my companion stayed at the beginning of the bridge with his sweet headache, I slowly walked to the place where the bridge jumps over the Tara river, by elegant gazelle jump. I looked across the water down some 170 meters below me, across the road on the bridge, across the meadow on the glade at the entrance to the bridge, and then across the peaks of Sinjanjevina mountain, then with eagle's jump across the other side of the canyon where looped road goes from the bridge to the sky, and as the map says, it takes the passengers not to heaven but to Žabljak town, then across another thin line of road that goes upstream and gradually descends towards the river along which we will continue this journey when (and if) we calm down from this, and at the end of this circle, I would finally have my glance on the other side of the bridge.
I had never drunk alcohol (so much) to feel the beauty of beeing drunk, nor did I try other opiates, so I have no experience of drug addicts (from their starting, nicer perspective), but I impudently and confidently think that this sweet emotional eruption of feelings, which shook me on the bridge, is hard to reach by any addictive aid, except, at least in my case, by bicycle.
By the way, an important warning to the reader. Do not allow yourself, while reading these lines, to wish to check the above-mentioned impressions related to the Tara river, the bridge over it and their surroundings. By coming to this place, you will be infected by the incurable virus that will, no matter where and what you do in your life, appear in your consciousness, suddenly and unexpectedly, but constantly and persistently so that there will be no peace in your soul until you come to that place again. The author of these lines is a witness of the incurability of the infection mentioned.
Finally, we sadly calmed down, looked over the bridge before departure and continued leaving the canyon and went upstream.
Along the way, we welcomed the Ljutica creek, tributary of the Tara river.
After two kilometers we came the closest to the river, a place where the road is 10 meters above the river, with access to it. We thought it wouldbe a good idea to swim in the river, just a little. And we did it.. In fact, this was what my companion did, while I got in in the water and got out 150 times faster because the water was so cold that I was surprised that there was no ice on the water. I stayed on the shore enjoying in the sun rays and in the smell of water.That smell reminded me of my childhood. My mother would, on a very cold and frozen winter day, bring the laundry that was drying, after washing.The half dried and frozen laundry looked like dried cod, but the room had a particularly mild smell that I felt here on the shore of this river after so many years. And never again on any other river.
The continuation of the road was bigger or smaller uphill. The road was periodically climbing up high above the river or it was a little bit downhill and a little bit uphill, but it mostly left the impression that we were climbing higher and higher altitudes. There was only a forest around us, a few springs, but there was not the traces of people. But that does not mean that our environment made us feel indifferent.
On the contrary!
With every new curve the road was surprising us again. Either was it a general view of the canyon, the river and the environment, or the details in the form of the coniferous trees, whose branches show that, apart from a quiet, quiet, sunny day, there were wicked winds
After we went around some tributary, the canyon slowly passed into a valley, some houses with steep roofs where wooden slats had the role of the roofing tiles appeared.Those couple of houses in my map even had the status of the village - Bistrica village.
In the course of the journey trip, the number of houses increased and we finally entered Mojkovac town.
The end of the day was close, so we continued to Kolasin town without stopping at Mojkovac town. Still riding along the river Tara, but this time parallel with Belgrade - Bar railway that goes through tunnels and bridges, played with us the game "you see me, you don't see me". The railway was probably tired of that game, we were no longer be interesting for it, so it slowly went up into the sky through the aforementioned bridges and tunnels on the other side of the river to completely hide from us at the entrance to Kolašin town.
The sun was already on the west, so we were looking for a place to sleep.After choosing a meadow next to a house, we came to the host (and not the housewife) which, on our satisfaction, quickly allowed us to pitch the tent here..The house was full of children aged 3 to 12 (from the surrounding houses, and from the larger cities that were there on vacation) for whom we were the main attraction of that day.They immediately came to us, helped us to pitch the tent, and when it was time for dinner they rather shared it with us. What was meant to be a meal for two people, in the end, we divided into about a dozen very small and small people. And so we sat with a dozen of children, we all ate the modest dinner, the two of us were hungry and fatigued, and dozen of children enjoyed the new adventure.Their moms had called them in vain to the house threshold - our dinner was more tasteful than any delicacies from their home.
The host warned us that it was cold during the night (Kolašin town is 930 meters above the sea level) so I slept well that night, after I got into in my warm sleeping bag.
THE FOURTH DAY OF JOURNEY
You can see the map of the fourth day of the journey here.
We started the journey by climbing the Crkvine Pass which is about a hundred meters taller than Kolasin, so in the morning freshness that kilometer and a half of the climb was hardly felt. And then almost one-kilometer height difference downhill followed to the capital of Montenegro, then called Titograd (Tito's town) and now called Podgorica. The first part of that descent was steep, full of serpentines, so it looked like a road to the center of the earth. When we reached the Morača canyon, the downhill was much milder, but because of the often vertical canyon cliffs, the road was passing through countless tunnels.
Being so numbed with the tremendous beauty we have been experiencing throughout this journey, often passing by scenes, beautiful and impressive, we felt indifference. And just when we thought we had already seen and experienced the main beauties of this journey, now this canyon came. The cliffs of the canyon were almost vertical, we could hear the river, but we could not see it. Behind the rocks and the trees, and above the canyon we saw the railway coming out of the tunnel once in a while. Today (2018) I'm sorry (I am very very sorry) I did not make more snapshots with a photo camera, especially of this canyon, which was recorded with only one photography.The second thing that caused the lack of more pictures of the Morača canyon, was a very strong hot wind that blew from the sea in our face.That wind is called Yugo which announces the change of the weather in the form of rain the following night. That hot wind causes that my face started to burning and I becomes felt not very well, so I did not took any photos
At about 2 PM we entered the autocamp at the entrance of Montenegro capital. That hot wind in the canyon of Morača exhausted me so much that I felt slightly worse (elevated temperature). After pitching the tent, we had lunch and shower and I barely had power to get into the sleeping bag, while my companion went to a solitary tour of the metropolis of Montenegro. I slept all afternoon and night and in the morning I woke up like a new man. Good sleep is sometimes a good medicine. Rain that fell during the night, fortunately without the strong wind, only increased the sleeping comfort in the freshness.
THE FIFTH DAY OF THE JOURNEY
You can see the map of the fifth day of the journey here.
In the fresh and pleasant next morning we headed for Cetinje town. If we had a great downhill yesterday, today we should have a great uphill. The autocamp we left was 45 meters above the sea level, and our goal was the Njegoš mausoleum on Lovcen mountain 1660 meters above the sea level. To Cetinje town led a wide, new road and I now remember the long tunnel, through which we were walking uphill. In Cetinje town, we rebuilt the supplies and continued to the mausoleum that could even be seen from the town - up high, very up high! We were in a great hurry, so we did not go to a tour around the town. We left the tour foranother journey. I still regret about it, even in these days.
From very hot Cetinje along the narrow, but still asphalted road with very little traffic, we climbed towards the peak of Lovcen mountain.Gradually, the unpleasant heat changed into the pleasant heat, then in the freshness that later became coldness as we arrived to the peak (hard rain had fallen last night).
We went to the mausoleum in shifts, because the way to the mausoleum from the parking was passing through a pedestrian tunnel with a lot of stairs. When you finally come out in the light of the day and pass by the narrow path you come to the mausoleum, you enjoy the delight of a fantastic view of the environment underneath.That view down on that day was particularly clean because of the rain from the previous night. Only view at the environment was worth climbing the peak of the mountain.
According to wikipedia,Petar Petrović Njegoš (1813 – 1851) commonly referred to simply as Njegoš, was a Prince-Bishop (vladika) of Montenegro, poet and philosopher whose works are widely considered some of the most important in Serbian and Montenegrian literature.
After the tour of the mausoleum, it was necessary to continue the journey to Boka Kotorska bay on the Adriatic Sea. Looking at the map, my companion found a thin curved dash that should be a shortcut so we would not have to go down to Cetinje town, then uphill on the main road to Kotor town which is on the Adriatic Sea. This shortcut passed through the village of Dolovi.
Initially, we expected macadam roadbut our bicycles and their inch and quarter thin tires were not very enthusiastic. Then we came across a rock that, as if it had come from under the ground, cut off the road in two parts. The rock was well rounded, so the field car might have been able to pass it, but we were sympathetic to our bikes, so we got off them and, crossing the obstacle, walked a little bit and carried them a litttle bit.
Then, as we were riding our bycicles, better to say we were shaking, we saw 4-5 houses which represented the village. The village was really in a mild valley (Dolovi = Valleys) around the peaks of the mountains. These peaks were close enough so we realized that the village was on a relatively high altitude. The village and its surroundings were in karst, and small fiedls, fenced by drywalls, were having difficulties with the unequal struggle against the dominant stone. When we passed through village, I do not know who was a bigger sensation: we to the locals or the locals to us. Those couple of houses, called the village, we left feeling gazes of the locals and listening to their neighbours calling them to quickly get out of the house to see miracle that he just passed through the village – cyclists.
We left the village and we were climbing a gentle uphill, something that would be called a road by strong optimists, but it looked more like a poorly visited and a little wider track, surrounded by rocks, ground or shrubs. But it was peace and silence, with quiet sounds of nature. We were listening to that peace, rode the bikes, when we were tired of that, we walked by pushing the bikes until we were tired of that, then again on bikes, and so on, and so on. And while we played that game, climb up the bike-off the bike, it seemed we heard the car sound.
A car!? Here!? But it is impossible!
And while we denied what we heard, suddenly the Audi 80 with Belgian registrations appeared in front of us. When they saw us, Audi immediately stopped, and behind the glass we saw the co-driver and the driver with wide open eyes and fully open mouth. And all the time, to this day, it remains unclear who was more surprised - they or us. They said if they saw wolves, bears, and other inhabitants of this remote spot, quite understandable. But cyclists !? Here!?
When the amazement was over, and after a successful attempt to communicate, the passengers from the car were visibly excited by the knowledge that this "beast" on the bicycle was familiar with English, so a pleasant conversation started. Anyway, looking at their car-map and travelling from Kotor to Lovcen, they saw a "nice" shortcut (known from somewhere, right?). But because of the already described rock, we had to disappoint them, as they, unlike us, can not bring up their vehicle over the obstacle (another advantage of a bike compared to a car). So they had to come back. But considering the narrow road or better said slightly wider trail, our interlocutors had to drive back to a big enough space to turn around. So they left, and we continued where they interrupted us. Now, apart from the sounds of environmental peace, we became more interested in the search for a place where Belgians should turn around. Finally, with the self-confidence of the trace readers, we found the turn around point for the Audi, so we concluded that the Belgian would have problems with his stretched neck, as he had to drive a good kilometer and a half backwards.
Finally, we left the forest/gorge and started to descend slowly to Boka Kotorska bay, which was about a kilometer below us.
We left the rocks, ground or shrubs and started to descend slowly to Boka Kotorska bay, which was about a kilometer below us. A view at the surroundings was fantastic. Delighted (who knows which time in this journey) by the beauty that only nature can compose, I took a camera to recorded at least one of these beauties, and after one shot I noticed there was no more free space on the film !!! I felt like crying from despair.
Well, why exactly now!?
I have to admit that Murphy found the right moment to promote his laws. Particularly considering the fact that we bought the slide film in distant Dubrovnik town two days after.
After 2-3 kilometers we finally came to the asphalt, on the road from the Cetinje town to the Kotor town. We felt the enjoyment of riding bicycles again turning our heads left-right-down-up and trying to remember of it as much as possible. The remaining part of our minds was in charge of taking care about riding safety because it was difficult, very difficult to put some of the countless images that now were, lavishly, plentifully, generously showing around us into the unreliable memory of the brain.
Descend to Kotor went through millions of serpentines. Each of them had a massive stone fence that divided the road from the huge abyss. At the bottom of that abyss there was a thin flat belt of ground, where Kotor was located - bordered by the mountain on the one side and by the sea on the other side. By passing through the serpentines, the town was closer and closer. While descending, I felt the scent of the air that changed from the sharp and fresh mountain air to the scented and warm Mediterranean air. The serpentines were there to warn us that it would be a real shame to quickly get to the city, on the contrary, a person needs to experience this special enjoyment, so slow down, and make itto last at least a year or two. Yet again, when we got down, we realized that it was too quickly, that it would be the best that the descent had never ended.
We entered the town at the same time as the day went by, so it was night time when we found the autocamp, and we quickly, pitched the tent, showered, took a supper, and fell asleep at the same time when we touched the sleeping bags. The night was warm and humid, or at least it felt like, that after spending so much time in the mountains, so we could forget about sleeping pleasantly.
If the nights were so hard to bear, what about the days.
THE SIXTH DAY OF THE JOURNEY
You can see the map of the sixth day of the journey here.
Because of the fear of the heat, not waiting for that early morning would turn into a hot day, we quickly packed and continued the journey. The journey continued to the Boka Kotorska bay, mostly without uphills. The real uphill came after Herceg-Novi town towards Konavle municipality. I will shorten the story of this day because, apart from very, very, dense traffic, I remember almost nothing. In the camp Babin Kuk near Dubrovnik town, we stayed for two nights. Firstly, we wanted to take some rest, and secondly to visit the town, because this was the first visit in our life.
THE SEVENTH DAY OF THE JOURNEY
Today we left the bikes in the camp so they can rest, and we went to visit Dubrovnik city. We walked around the medieval walls that surround the old town. (It was a hot, very hot day.)
From these old walls there is a beautiful view of the old town.
THE EIGHTH DAY OF THE JOURNEY
You can see the map of the eighth day of the journey here.
From Dubrovnik we passed Opuzen town and Ploče town via the Adriatic main road and came in the camp in Zaostrog place. A little bit of it was left in my memory except for the big heat and the heavy traffic. At the campsite near Zaostrog we were told that there was no place for us, but if we found some space, they would allow us to stay in the camp. We quickly found the required three square meters for our tent so we solved the question of existence for that night.
THE LAST DAY OF THE JOURNEY
You can see the map of thelast day of the journey here.
On the last day of this journey we cycled the island of Hvar top to bottom. I do not remember the ride on this day except that the heat was tropical, hellish. I was constantly in need of cooling, so there are just a few pictures left in my memory that it would be good to see again. But not on this heat.
We returned home from Split by train.
And that is the end of the trip where we rode 1400 kilometers. Only a few of them were horizontal.
Images from this journey can be viewed here.
Post je objavljen 30.10.2018. u 22:18 sati.