Marketing
Ochevia 201 - Part Two
You can come back on the first part of this travelogue here.
THE THIRD DAY OF THE JOURNEY
You can see the map of the first day of the journey here.
It was a royal sleeping!
Silence and peace from the evening had expanded at all night long (at least I seemed to me like that) so I slept like a little baby. Just before morning, when the dream was already weakened so it has been overpowered by the sounds of reality, I heard some cars and some people and their conversation. I woke up completely when I recognized the voice of my companion in that conversation."It's time to go!"
As I walked out of the tent I watched the surroundings, completely unknown to me. Here's another example of how the night dresses the environment in a completely different dress, so we, who arrived last night, look at the change of that dress in the morning in wonder. There has been a loss of secrecy, discretion, silence in which one can see what is in our soul at that moment - from romantic tenderness to threatening anxiety. With the arrival of bright sunshine, it replaces all this with the glitter of concrete scenes that imaginations cannot do much. Then it gives way to the thirsty soul to drink light and serenity (well, and the strong and persistent imagination here can see what it wants, but it is more difficult for it than in the dark when the eyes fall out of the strong desire to get something or somebody recognizing).
With the morning washing of my face, I removed the last remnants of the night shroud from my eyes, so the picture of today's morning finally sharpened. First I have been impressed by the pine trees that to our tent, and to us in it, kept a quiet background for watching the lake. This lake, with its reality, slightly disappointed my imaginative expectations from the last night, when only the lights across it have been seen. Obviously, my fantasies had concretized everything else I did not see (although I do not know exactly what), so the sharp, real-life image of the morning shattered and evaporated imaginary illusions, leaving only a concrete scene.
I went down to the shore of the lake to see it as it was. And again the same feeling that this coast last night was more beautiful while I was removing sweat and dirt from my skin by swimming in total darkness. In that swim, I left the battery light on the coast to shining as a signpost in a dark night where I should return. Now, in daylight, it was just the shore of the lake, nothing more. Oh, pardon, it was a little more! That more were fishermen who, with only their familiar contemplation, looked calmly at the quiet surface of the water, where it was not possible to immediately, superficially, speedily, conclude which peace keep other peace to survive. Thanks to God, the lake is large enough, the coastline is affordable enough, so the fishermen are arranged far enough away from each other to lock them away, to protect their peace which is, I am sure, every original for itself.
I somehow lightly, accidentally looked at the clock while I was enthusiastically absorbing impressions of the morning on the lake, and suddenly I became aware how time flies when it is comfortable in the soul and in the heart. It took the utmost effort of consciousness to stop the beauty of experiencing the morning at the lake and start with further riding. Now, when is in need to abort all of this and move further, only now I noticed how I was enthusiastic with this morning and this lake.
We quickly packed and started the journey. Once again, with a silent glance, I looked back at the place of our nightly sleeping, which will occupy, in spite of the objective impersonality, a place in my memory, in the corner of it which reserved for everything that was done for the first time in life. The corner that the old age of mine (if I'm reaching it) will blur the last, if it even will succeed at all do it.
The rule of this area for travelers says: "Read the map, ask peasants!"
On the map, there was a thin curved line that should be a shortcut to avoid meaningless and unnecessary climbing on the hill over which we came to the lake yesterday. But there was a lot of small roads, so I had to ask the locals which one of them was the right road. And so we curved on the road, then we asked, and we curved on the road again, so then we asked again...
Fortunately, it was mostly on the plain or just by a slight uphill. In the end, we went out on the main road Tuzla - Olovo, what was a sign that we succeeded. But traffic here was heavy, very heavy. To the Zivinica town, at our next destination, we had 10 km to this road. We have crossed the valley of the river Spreča, the river which flows to the Bosnia river in Doboj town. On its journey, it quietly rested in the Modračko lake for a moment.
In Živinice, we first rested with the morning coffee, to go on a quest for the market. Obviously, this Friday in Živinice was a day of trading, because people were all around us, surprisingly much for this little town. While I was standing near the parked bicycles, my companion wandered at the market, and after half an hour later, with the bright faces he showed new sneakers (Adidas Universal 25KM=12,5€) and homemade full-fat cheese.
After the city market, we found some shop work for getting food and drink supplies, and then we went to the city park for breakfast. As we were having breakfast, the clouds gathered above us in the hesitations whether it would get be denser and darker and eventually get raining, or it would go away and leave the summer to show up in a bright edition. As the clouds were thinking about what to do, it began to blow the cold wind. I looked at the heavens with anxiety as a worried farmer for his own crop. The weather forecast gave me a hint of hope, the weak light at the end of the tunnel. We've heard it on a small portable radio earlier (I'm equipped with it necessarily on such journeys). That weather report assured us that the weather would gradually stabilize and until the end of the day will be bright.
It was past 11 AM when we finally got ready and actually started with riding. I was overwhelmed by the anxiety about the lack of time, besides all the other things. The road we go today is known to me only by the map, and looking at that map, this morning we moved just a little bit for many hours. And in front of us is a lot of road for little hours - with the addition that we will mostly ride uphill.
First uphill is to the Banovići town. The road is luxuriously wide, it looks like a really the main road. Luckily traffic does not track the quality of the road. I want to say that that traffic is rare and bearable. There is also the Brcko - Banovići railway line, which is mostly not visible. But the uphill is visible clearly. It is not so hard that is necessary to continue on foot, but it is sufficiently perfidious to make our feet heavier and clutches our breast in the fight for breath. In that fight for breath with the perfidious uphill, each one of us had his own way of fighting, so, or I was riding behind my companion, or I rode in front of him. In one of these latter combinations (which were less on this journey - I mostly lagged behind), I took the camera to record the struggle of my companion and cruel nature, this time as an uphill. Coincidence wanted that at the moment when my companion passed me, the bus passed too.
It was past 11 AM when we finally got ready and actually started with riding. I was overwhelmed by the anxiety about the lack of time, besides all the other things. The road we go today is known to me only by the map, and looking at that map, this morning we moved just a little bit for many hours. And in front of us is a lot of road for little hours - with the addition that we will mostly ride uphill.
First uphill is to the Banovići town. The road is luxuriously wide, it looks like a really main road. Luckily traffic does not track the quality of the road. I want to say that that traffic is rare and bearable. There is also the Brcko - Banovići railway line, which is mostly not visible. But the uphill is visible clearly. It is not so hard that is necessary to continue on foot, but it is sufficiently perfidious to make our feet heavier and clutches our breast in the fight for breath. In that fight for breath with the perfidious uphill, each one of us had his own way of fighting, so, or I was riding behind my companion, or I rode in front of him. In one of these latter combinations (which were less on this journey - I mostly lagged behind), I took the camera to record the struggle of my companion and cruel nature, this time as an uphill. Coincidence wanted that at the moment when my companion passed me, the bus passed too.
Since Živinica town the road and the railway are tracked by the Oskovo creek. In the Oskova place, which contains a couple of houses, there is a huge railway station where coal, which has been transported from an 8 km distant mine, here was reloading from wagons of a narrow gauge rail to wagons of a "normal" gauge rail.
3-4 km after the Oskovo place we came (finally!) to the entrance to the Banovići town. Earlier, in the air, an intense smell of coal has been felt. That smell came back me to my childhood about 50 years ago, when we had a coal furnace for heating in our home.
Immediately at the entrance, the city showed us the typical socialistic architecture of large cubic buildings whereas more people as possible could dwell in as little space as possible.
We will see the city later on, and now we have been attracted by the railroad station of narrow gauge railroad. This is one of the rare railways of this kind in Europe that is still in operation. As we walked around the station and photographed it, the railwayman told us that they come from all over Europe in groups to drive themselves by this train, which is a tourist attraction for them. We would be satisfied just to see the train without driving on it, but we were not lucky. For consolation, here are images of the station and abandoned locomotives on it.
After the train station, we went to the city where we met a large park where there were plenty of city residents, mostly moms with small children. In the center of the park, there was a monument to a miner made in a typical socialist style according to which all the workers looked at least as Arnold Schwarzenegger in the best days.
The city was full of people, younger ones, as well as children, big and small ones. I do not know how to explain why, but because these people, the city impressed me very much. I may be mistaken, but the people in that city seemed unusually relaxed, cheerful and happy. Particularly nice to see for me were the four little girls who played together. They reminded me of my daughter who just played like this almost yesterday, and today she has already the twenty years old. And, in the intricate ways of human consciousness, my mom came to me in my memory, when I crossed to the twentieth, she said: "How it is all passed fast (my childhood)!" That sentence has been repeated by the generations of parents before it, and I am repeating it now, and I hope that my descendants repeat it too: "How it is all passed fast!"
And already it is for the fourth year since my mother crossed on the other side of eternity.
A biker, a young man of about 25 years, returned me in reality. He stopped in front of the bench on which we sat, and in a cautious tone, watching us and our heavy loaded bicycles, with respect he asked us where do we come from and where we are going to. When I answered him, it seemed to me that his eyebrows slightly raised up, showing sincere enthusiasm with someone who likes something as he does. That's why he suggested to us that we together, "Let's go to the cafe to talk about it!"We thanked him, honestly, it would be really interesting to talk to him, but the time was going quickly very fast, and we still have a long road to ride.
Ten minutes later, we were forcing ourselves to go, although, in this pleasantly and lively park, we could stay more an hour or two.
Just as we were out of the park, we met that young man, the biker, who put in my hand a paper bag with the cakes, with a comment "This is for you". I did not have time to say "Thank you!" from surprise, even amazement, and also because the young man already turned and went by his way.
While we were looking for the exit from the town, the road was leading us to the center of the town where there was a modest pedestrian zone, something like a promenade, surrounded by huge blocks of buildings. Despite this environment made of concrete, I suppose there are walkers who drown in the river of men that slowly, but steadily flows up and down and in the murmur of conversation they are doing two basic reasons why they are here: to see and to be seen.
Or is this just my desperate wish, my return to some other year and some other time where I found myself on the promenade of the Slavonski Brod town in that river of people. I suppose young people of today's age are more tired and resigned, strong on the word but weak on the act. That why they replacing infinite walk up and down with infinite sitting in cafes by the promenade. I witness how that is on today's promenade in the Slavonski Brod town, and I hope it's not like that on the promenade of the Banovići town. I hope, and at the same time, I'm afraid it is.
It seemed as if they had agreed, so the last houses of the town had retreated before the uphill. In one of these last houses, there was a shop where we supplied by cold beer needed to climb on the uphill. According to that local biker, we have some kilometer uphill to (some) lake, and then a good 3 km to the top. It was a kilometer and a half to the lake. The lake is some blurry water, by no means appealing except for the wild ducks that have been proud and dignified while they cruised the surface of the water.
When we were in that town park, the final superiority of the sun over the clouds began to appear. The more and more the sun was shining, the clouds getting more and more was withdrawing. Finally, the sun dispelled all the clouds and shone in full brightness and warmth, when it was the shift of that last houses in front that uphill (and where else than uphill!). Though it was pleasant fresh, climbing up the hill, it became more and more hot, at least in the soul and body. Because of this, the coming of the fresh cold water of the wellspring we comprehended as a gift from God. Around the wellspring was a thick shadow, so who would resist perfection! We stopped and stayed longer than just quenching the thirst.
At the memorial board is written:
Good water to the uncles
Mujkić Hajdar
and
Mujkić Adem
placed by cousins
Elmedin and Nevres (in the year 2005)
It seems to me that in Bosnia, especially in the Muslim ambiance, is the custom of building the springs along the road for passengers, with a memorial panel with thanks to one of the dear decedents. A good form of a monument, praise, and respect worthy, especially for the thirsty passerby, as we are on this occasion. Another one wellspring/monument/gratitude we met on the road to the saddle.
I remained alone, again. My companion does not have the patience to walk by bike pushing it like me, so he rides ahead of me, leaving me alone to overcome the uphill of the curving road.
By arriving at the summit of the pass I saw my companion resting in the shade. I helped him with that "job", and we started with enjoyment. It's always interesting with that summit of the passes. It seems to me that would the pleasure of lowering down the pass is essentially smaller if we didn't climb on it.
The pleasure of descending on this pass had some special additions. First, it was a road, broad, curved, but no traffic. Further, the road passed through the woods, "air baths", with particularly fresh and refreshing air. This air was additionally got on freshness because of the cold weather that was the result of the already mentioned clouds ("the cold and moist air from the west swiftly crossed our regions and brought short refreshment").
Completely enchanted by that, I remembered much later that it would be good to photograph that beauty.
Although the massif of a hill in front of the road, pictured in the last image, was indicating that the end of this downhill is close, yet it surprised me (Really already ended!?). So, we came to the Krivaja river valley, on the Zavidovići - Olovo road. Turning left, we headed upstream by the Krivaja river towards Olovo town. Somewhere here, often along this road, the locomotive with the wagons of the narrow gauge railway was rolling. This railroad was built by Austro-Hungary, primarily for the purpose of extracting forestry material with which this land is very rich.
It is now the uphill, small but still exists, because it is too small to push a bicycle on foot, yet it is too big to ride. So breathing becomes stronger and stronger and our legs are getting harder and harder. Luckily, the ambiance is fantastic, around us the forested hills, and down somewhere behind the trees the Krivaja river has been hidden.
I was already angry with the fact that there is no clear view of the river. Some trees or vegetation all the time. Something like an announcement of an opportunity I saw in a small and rusty sign that informs that there is a drinking water nearby.
I stopped, parked a bike, and entered the green jungle. I went down by the old, slippery stairs and really came to the spring. It even had a memorial plate, but all this seems very old and abandoned.
But when I turned to the other side of the wellspring, I finally had the Krivaja River in front of myself - clean and clear, which was passing between the rocks.
Watching the river and the rocks around it, I first thought of similarity with the Vrbas river. Looking further, this resemblance was losing more and more, and in the end, I had to admit to myself that such a river with such a rock color I have not seen so far. I pushed the confusion into the corner of consciousness somewhere on the side, leaving her unresolved and uncompleted.
Randomly or not, two months later, the book came in my hand about technical materials in mechanical engineering. In it has been written that in the ex-Yugoslavia magnesium ore were found only in the valley of the Krivaja river. So, that's it! That's a reason about weird, original color of rocky river banks!
In a further journey, we met a few bridges of local roads of strange construction. The pillars were concrete, but the rest of the bridge was wooden.
I was totally immersed in the interesting of the environment, and absolutely lost the notion of time. Only when the thirst came and when we stopped near the local store, when I looked at the clock I realized that was half past four. With the spark of anxiety I started counting kilometers ahead of us and the hours needed to cross them. I quickly gave up of it because I realized that maths would not make me happy this time either. On the contrary!
"Let it be what must to be", I thought and left myself to the present moment. And it consisted of not too much, but still enough cold beer and enjoyment of its drinking. By sipped fluid and talked the word by word, we watched the environment. There was a silent, blissful peace in that environment, safely separated from the frantic of the twenty-first century. Just for a moment, while this small part of rationally managed to emerge in that crowd of impressions, I wondered how worthy to keep trade in this "Neverland", where the term "crowd" probably does not exist in the local language.
In front of us with the beer bottles, across the road, there is a forest of pine trees where the family house has been hidden in it. In front of that pine forest, I saw the young heifer to which was the most important the green grass that had managed to flow out from the rocky soil to finally ended up as a lunch of this young beauty. It remains unclear to me a great degree of trust between that heifer and her boss, when it so free, without any chain or rope, can dine.
After we solved the thirst problem, the hunger has appeared, so we consumed the other beer for the remaining food that was enough to call it all together as a lunch. It was even a good lunch. And we had lunch because of the fact that it has become clear to us that today there is nothing left of ćevapi. In front of us, there are very little settlements with people, and they are drawn on the map with the smallest possible circle. We continued on the road which was still asphalted but somehow became narrower, so there was no place for the center line. It has gradually become clear that we are riding by the trajectory on which was traveling a narrow gauge railway 50 and more years ago. This has seen particularly at the bridge over the Krivaja river, which was paved with wooden boards, and whose width was sufficient for vehicles in one direction only.
The bridge construction was further reinforced with the side and top grilles. Not only did it not look beautiful, but it also did not look convincingly with its toothpick thickness construction. Okay, for cycling there is no problem, but I do not know if I'm in the role of a truck driver would I trust to this scrappy construction upgrade.
While I, hastily, did the estimate of load capacity and finally got worried about the result obtained, a truck came and with full confidence passed the bridge! I was delighted with the driver's self-confidence with which he was driving, but obviously, it did not do it for the first time.
A little further the same situation, but this time instead of trucks we met two cyclists. They were dressed in the latest cycling fashion with fancy new speed bikes rushing towards the Zavidovići town. It's easier for them, with super-light bikes, no extra saddlebags, I said to my companion, later. In addition, they had mildly downhill, due to the Krivaja river, which in the Zavidovići town it had the same goal because at that town it has flowed in the Bosna river.
Torture was comfortable and uncomfortable. What about the landscape, and what about the uphill. This uphill has become ever bigger and bigger, but it was careful to not be to much steep. So we're still riding, but it's harder and harder. At the same time, the interesting environment was even more interesting, so that torture (even sweet) were increasing even more.
I have groaned because of the tiredness and hard riding on the uphill, but, at the same time I was so excited about the scenes, and so on, I was a little bit groaned, and next, I was a little bit excited. With all this, occasionally, I have been thinking of the road in front of us (how much more!). I begin to realize that the mileage of today's driving is too big, the end is uncertain. And again, the scenery is beautiful, so it's a shame to destroy it with over-worries. Something like getting out of this mental vicious circle I found out in conclusion that this journey certainly needs to be repeated but with at least twice more days available.
And then I suddenly stopped!
The reason for stopping is not a problem, on the contrary! The sight I saw in front of myself made me forget immediately about all my senseless contemplations. At that moment the most important was to forget who I am and where am I, and then to convert into the ear, the eye, and the other senses, to remember as much as possible of this one in front of me.
Around me the forest, dense, in front of me a mountain with a forest, dense too, and I on the narrow road. through that density. That narrow road, silent, gentle and caring, runs through the empire of the forest, trying not to disturb the peace of anyone leaf of that forest. I felt some kind of isolation, but a considerate, warm, good-natured, isolation. The insulation that was intends to keep me from all the bad, negative, not just from the outside world, but from all the bad things in me. Paradise on Earth, Nirvana, Perfectness, whoever believes in it.
This is one of them! Definitely!
(I know, when you are reading this, it looks to you somehow prosaically, overly pathetic. But though awkwardly and unsuccessfully, I warn you, the reader, that I try to tell something that is unspeakable and something that with bellow images cannot be fully displayed. The only way is to go to that place and experience that, then everything will be clear to you)
My companion came to the same cognition, obviously, so he filmed me by the camera at the same time when I filmed him.
We continued on, but completely indifferent to the lack of time and the remaining kilometers to ride. The Krivaja river and all this around it finally caught the whole of our souls, until the last piece of it. I was tired, the speed of the riding gradually diminishing, and again I left to myself impression as if I was cheerful and rested, and as if I had all the time of the world available.
The next place where we stopped was the suspension bridge. Something that must inevitably have to be looked at more in detail and preferably walking on it, what I did, indeed. Just when I returned to the road my companion discreetly turned my attention on one of the carriers in the form of a railroad rail for by which the steel carrying rope of the bridge has been connected. The railroad rail survived a serious traffic accident and remained bent, but the carrying rope has been damaged dangerously. One day it will no longer endure, and someone who crosses the Krivaja river will eventually fall into it. Although it was a small probability now, I frightened of thinking that this day I could be myself.
It would be nice if the abandoned narrow-gauge railroads, which were a lot in Bosnia, were rebuilt in cycling tracks. Then it would look like this road. In western countries, it is quite normal and commonplace, so it is likely that such a spirit will come to these regions as well.
About tiredness, I do not want to speak anymore, but thirst had also appeared, and the liquid reserves we already drunk a long time ago. And just as I found a new cause for concern, behind the shade where the sun's rays, due to the canyons and forests, have long since disappeared, the houses have appeared which has been sunny by the last golden rays of the sun.
Unexpectedly, the valley spread in front of us, so the place was considerably larger than the announced pair of houses at the entrance. What is most important to us, there was a grocery store where a large drink cooler was and it stamped with the Coca-Cola sign. Yet in disbelief of the sudden change of reality, by the hurry that my illusion was not lost, I ran into a store and asked for two beers. Instead of going to the fridge, the dealer turned around and took me two bottles out of the beer box. When I asked him "!!??" he answered, "The fridge does not work".
I knew it was too nice to be true, but it's fine like this. The beers were as good as it was dewy. After the first bottle, we drank another one, wondering to ourselves how much we dehydrated and /or how much beer was pleasing (this time it was Sarajevsko beer).
It was the Solun village, in which, or behind which we should leave the Krivaja river and start by a huge uphill toward our present destination - theOčevija village. This should be the highlight of today's journey and all this journey.
However!
We slowly drank beer, resting both soul and body. The body, at least mine, has already been well tired and this relaxing break is like a balm on the wound.
But my bigger problem was with my soul.
It's been eight o'clock, the sun is inevitable goes to its rest, and the children are playing the last part of the game before dinner and sleep. Likewise, people are walking here-there, ending today's jobs, before relaxing at the end of the day. In myself, I felt the irresistible and enormous desire to pitch a tent somewhere here. So that we, as well as children and people around us, end this exciting day by soup cooking and raising the tent. So this day would end in the way it should be ended on such journeys.
(Again) However!
For this journey we had too little time, so far we have lost a lot of time. And now, we have the most difficult part of the journey to do at the end of this day. By days ago, I studied road maps, Google Earth, and the Internet, and I found out what I did not have the strength to admit right now to myself or to my companion - in front of us there were over 9 km of uphill in the form of a narrow macadam road with a height difference of almost 350 meters! And the night sneaked around in the expectation that the sun would fade finally and it would all be covered by dark. Everything, without grace, even for us!
A tiny sign of hope (but barren hope, as will be seen later) was given to me by a dealer who answered my question that till the Očevija village there is no more than 4 km. To my spirit has remained nothing else but to catch to the illusory straw of salvation and believe in that what is more appropriate to it now.
So, we continued the ride and at the end of the village turned right. And so far the narrow road has become even narrower, but still with the asphalt. We should have ridden past the last houses of the village and find some narrow passage in the hill in front of us, though it seemed impassable with its rocky cliffs. The asphalt disappeared together with the last houses.
The houses, and with them, the asphalt, was left behind us as if to warn us that there are wildness and wasteland in front of us. The cliff of the hill was almost vertical, so it needed to carve the rock to get a place for the road. On the left side of this very narrow road, the greenery hid the look on the creek, which was somewhere down. Though we did not see it, the creek showed its presence by the noisy flowing of the water, which runs over the rocks towards the Krivaja river.
For a while, we Ignored the large and small stones, as well as the holes on the road, small and big one, however, but later we decided to give up, and continue on foot by pushing bicycles. A hint of hope gave us the board on which has been written the Očevija village! It looks like it's not so far away!
Because of this board with tha name of the place, sometimes I kept a cheerful mood cause the end of the journey is close - the end of the journey that will be still before night. But as we went, we were more and more in the wilderness instead between the houses. My eyes "fell out" in anticipation of the final appearance of the first house which announcing the village during the passing of each curve, but instead of the house - wilderness again. It became darker and darker, just a little more and the night will cover everything completely. We still were going in the wildness. In addition to darkness, there is silence, a tough, sinister, treacherous silence - no wind, no noise. I forgot and fatigue, and hunger, and thirst, I was totally wet of sweat, but I went on further.
As the last trace of the daylight slowly and quietly was disappearing, just before the complete darkness (because it was a moonless night), we saw the first house. But the house was dark and somber without any light sign, a sign of having someone live in it. Well, another one, and another. Just when I thought that the biggest creeps this a narrow road were this dark darkness, that creeps has been made the even bigger by the presence of these lifeless houses.
And finally, total darkness! Dark, quiet, still and CREEPY night. No one anywhere alive, no sound anywhere. Total deaf night!
As it were in the stories, just when I thought this would be "a long dark night", I saw in front of us the house with a light on the window. Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel!!!
I immediately stop by the house, parked a bicycle, went to the door, and started knocking.
So I was knocking, knocking, and knocking ...Finally, as the salvation of a thirsty man in the desert, or a salvation land for drowning man, I heard the steps. The older woman opened the door, and as soon as she looked at me, she got step back in fear and astonishment. It was not her fault, the village a small, it is late, her house was out of the main road, she apparently did not expect an alien, especially if he this looks like this - wet, dirty, sweaty, sloppy.
First, I tried to calm her astonishment with the help of the smoothest phrases. Then I explained to her who we were. Then I asked her for a certain Mario, with whom I arranged for an overnight stay a few days ago. All my respect to that woman, she calmed down quickly, returned to normal, even listened with sympathy from where we were, how we all passed and how we came. In the end, I was given from her a verbal sign: "Up the road, on the bridge to the left, behind the bridge again to the left and uphill!" (My God, again that "uphill"!?).I returned to the companion and gladly told him where the end of our present-day suffering was.
But the words are one, and the dark, dusky reality of the night is something completely different! We managed to find that bridge in the darkness, although we were a little bit confused if this small crossing over the creek called a bridge, we did cross it anyway.
Finally, we entered the village! There were no street lights, but there were plenty of houses where the windows were illuminated. Civilization, after that wildness, but somewhat shy, withdrawn. No one were outside there, everyone retired to the houses. Looks like I'm gonna have to knock on somebody's door again, and explain who I am, how I came here and who I am looking for.
But wait, here's the chance!
The opportunity was given to me by the two who finished construction work on the terrace of the house under the light of the light bulbs. The terrace was somehow at the road level, just two meters away from it. We stopped on the road, presented ourselves and told who we were looking for. We were particularly interesting to our hosts, so they stopped their work to talk to us ("Where are we from, where are we going to, how can we do it, etc, etc."). Finally, they told us where this Mario is, he was up in uphill (of course, where else would he be!). They even reminded us that if we do not find him, we can come back to them for sleeping. The ten-year-old son of our interlocutor will take us to Mario's house.
The dark summer night has covered the environment for a long time, but in my soul were serenity and happiness. There, we have a safe plan B for this night, if plan A (Mario) does not work. All that follows is fine details.
One of those details was that uphill. It was a hundred meters long, maybe 150, but the rise was 99.99999%. My poor suffering soul wanted to give up of all and go out of my tired body, so I hardly convinced it to withstand a little more. With my dignity which fell on the minus infinite, and within the desperate desire for a little rest, I had to pray for the mercy of our guide who was graciously walked like a gazelle on this steep uphill like it was just a horizontal path. And all this in a dark night, with a little but only a little illuminated road with poor, very poor light from the window of the houses which we were passing
And finally, Mario's house (all somehow "and finally"!).
Instead of Mario, his wife and two young children came out, keeping her curiously watching us. I repeat my story again, and she replies that she has no idea of my agreement with her husband because he did not say anything to her. He's not at home, but now she's gonna call him by the cell phone. She entered the house and she is not coming out, and we are waiting and waiting, and waiting... (in me the first sign of black hunch has appeared). While we are waiting for good news, my companion said the current air temperature was only 12 degrees C. I'm surprised that I, so wet and so sweaty, does not feel that freshness (but I should take a little care about myself, because of freshness + wet body = problems).
Thinking about my health was interrupted by our possible housekeeper who, shrugging his shoulders, said her husband was inaccessible, at least as far as mobile phones were concerned. Now I was that one who shrugged with shoulders, I thanked the woman, and said to the companion, "Let's go back!"We went back to plan B, angry on myself for unnecessary climbing this steep uphill - we should immediately accept the call.
And then, totally unexpected, plan C has appeared.
Just as we went downhill when - "Professor, how are you came here?"
That said to me one of the two at the terrace of the house down the road, poorly lit, who with a beer commented on the situation of the day that had just passed. I replied that we were looking for the sleeping place that perished and now we go to the backup version (plan B)."You come to me, "he said, greet with his host, and come to us. We were shaking hands, and only then, more from the conversation and the less what I saw (in this total dark night is hard to see anything) I recognize the father of the pupil from the Secondary Technical School where I teach. That pupil I met a few days before the start of this trip and, knowing that he was originally from this village, I told him that I intended to travel to his homeland. Now, by accident, by destiny, or by God's will, whoever believes it, that news came to his father who recognized me ( he recognized before bicycles with equipment than me). We stepped down by that steep uphill, came to his house, left bicycles and entered the house. He apologized for being alone, his wife remained in their home in Slavonia in the Požega town (which is also the town I live in) but that is not a reason for something to be prepared for eating, at least cold, and there is beer, and we are probably hungry and thirsty. To repay for hospitality, though symbolic, from the saddlebag on my bicycle, I took a bottle of the wine - from my town, originally intended for the unseen Mario. And now that bottle comes into the hands of a man who actually lives in Požega, and here's only his birthplace where he comes on a holiday. The weird and unforeseeable are the ways of the Lord!
The dinner is followed. Even one of his cousins joined us in the evenings, so in a pleasant story about this and that, we consumed beer and sliced meals. In that conversation, he asked us for further plans. I told him that we will ride to the Vareš town tomorrow, and then spend the night in this village again, and tomorrow after tomorrow we will ride back to home."I'm going to the Požega town with my van tomorrow, but tomorrow we'll find a solution for your sleeping next night!"
Midnight was passed when we got ready to sleep. The host apologized for the lack of hot water in the bathroom, so we had to wash in cold water.
My body was not fully followed the spirit of joy caused by the happy end of the present. So wet with sweat when I came, I changed to a dry shirt and gradually cooled. The room we dined and talked was fresh and chilled. The host told us that it is colder than normal. The summer is hot here, but the evenings are fresh and even cold (the village is on 850 meters above sea level). During dinner, I felt cold, in moments very cold, but I ignored it (though I longed for a hot soup from last night at Modračko Lake).
At the edge of fever, which I ignored it, I went to the bathroom to wash my body with cold water before sleeping. When I washed my face with ice-water, completely unexpectedly, astonishingly, suddenly I was caught in a fever that which was shaking me from my head to my heels. I was amazed at the intensity of the fever, and it was clear to me that it would not stop without abundant warming.
And where to get warm in this cool house !?
Some kind of relief, at least in psychological terms, was what I was alone in that my suffering. The hosts, as well as my companion, placed each one in their bed, so I struggled alone with my torment.
Still had shaken with the maximum intensity, holding on to the handle, I walked down by the stairs to the bicycle. Somehow I managed to open the saddlebag and draw out a tracksuit. That was particularly interesting because my hands were shaking, so was so difficult for me to catch anything. - from the zipper, by the nylon bag to the clothes, to the tracksuit dressing. It is a pity that I did not record this my dressing with the camera - it would be interesting to observe later this comedy of dressing that at that moment was not the least funny to me.
After dressing, I hold by that handle, still were shaking, I pulled myself up the stairs and entered the room. I laid in bed complete with the tracksuit, I covered myself with a blanket over my head, still shaking myself, I was heating the space under the blanket with the only available heater - my breath.
A healthy man has a million wishes, but a sick man has the only one.
Although I was understanding the unenviable and delicate situation in which I found myself, it was most important for me that this fever stops, and then we will solve the other problems.
And now while writing these lines I do not quite understand what came to me before - or the end of a fever or I fell asleep. I woke up, I suppose, a few hours later in the deaf night, I was quiet and warm, finally without fever. Deaf silence, total darkness. I managed to locate the position of the window with a special concentration because it was a little bit less dark than it was the room. The only light was the unnatural, garish bright green light from LED diode on my battery charger for a photo camera, which, with its monotonous off-on lighting, warned the charging process was not over yet. Later, after the second awakening when it was constantly lighting (a sign that the batteries charged), I got up and turned off the charger - I preferred more natural darkness of the night then the unnatural light of that LED diode.
And what now?
I stared up to where it supposed to be the ceiling of the room, which I had not seen from the total darkness, and tried to make a peace in the nightmare that is shooking my head.
So the situation is like this: for returning home by any roads, we have at least 250 km, which means three days of traveling again. And look what these past three days have done to me. We do not have more time because my companion on the fourth day must appear in his workplace.
And we're in the middle of nothing. The closest something that the city could be called was the Olovo town. So, from the Olovo town, by bus to the Tuzla town, then to the Doboj town, then to the to Brod town, and finally by a car to my Požega town. With the hope that all those bus drivers will be bike-sympathy-drivers about this kind of bikes, like ours are (with heavy saddlebags). When I remember my previous experiences about that, this hope is not very realistic.
As I combined, summed up and subtracted these mentioned thoughts, one of them, somewhere on the backside of my mind, steadily and persistently, but quietly and shyly, by pulling my sleeve, it wants to say something to me. When I no longer had the strength or the will to suppress it constantly, I let her tell me what it has to say. What I heard from it, for a moment, was completely astonishingly for me. I catch myself as I listened to the dead silence of the night in a confused shock. How I did not recall it before !?
And it reminded me of only one thing, that our host last night said that tomorrow (so it means today) he will return to the Požega town by his van!
I could not believe it!
I am really one of God's favorite!
First I find a man from the Požega town (in fact, he found me) and now he returns home at the same time when I am desperately trying to find a way out of the blind corner where I found myself.
With the hope that he would agree that we may come back with him, I finally fell asleep with a calm soul.
He agreed!
THE FOURTH DAY OF THE JOURNEY
It was a bright and sunny morning, but a bit chilly, so I waited all the time for the sun rays to be strengthened, and beside the lights begin to radiate and heat. I got up first, before my companion, and out in front of the house, I've already found the host loading some packages in his van. I admitted him contritely that I was too exhausted yesterday so we gave up on further riding. That's why I asked him could we, my companion and me, be one of the packages in his van on his present trip to Požega. He agreed to drive just us because there will not be space for the bicycles.
Happy because I found a solution to my problem, I helped him load his cargo in the van. (I still have to tell my awakened companion that the journey is over and that we are returning home today - he agreed too)).
Our host was a real Host (with big H). First, he took us to a coffee in the neighborhood. He said to me that these four neighboring houses (one of them is his), each morning, organize morning coffee in the other house, where everyone is gathered. That was the way this time too. Although I am not a fan of this institution called "Morning Coffee", I admit that I was impressed by the openness, friendliness, and warmth of the people I was sitting with.
We searched Mario (whom we did not find) among the upper houses
A special interesting thing in this morning coffee was a young pet at hosts where we were drinking that black liquid this morning. It was a puppy, I guess it was some kind of shepherd dog, whose only wish was a game, and he showed to everyone undoubtedly sympathies by abundantly waving his tail - to anyone who wanted to spend time with him in the game.
After morning coffee, breakfast followed, and then a visit to the village. Last night, during the dinner, we agreed that our host would show us his village and blacksmith workshop in it, by which the village is widely known. The Blacksmith workshop, called here as "Majdani", has been the tradition of this village for hundreds of years. They are powered by water from a creek that runs through the village. The creek's spring is above the village and it is double. Beside the spring with "ordinary" water, there is a spring with hot water. Therefore this creek, while running through the village, never become frozen despite harsh winter. And here, 850 meters above sea level the winter can be very harsh. Because the water in the creek never freezes and is available all year round, the tradition of blacksmith workshop could be kept through centuries. Those blacksmith workshops were much more, but because of the last war and the post-war destruction of industry, there only three remained. And all three are under the protection of the European Union. They are under protection, not only by words but owners once a year from the EU receives a sum of money that is not insignificant, just to keep the blacksmith workshop in life.
Above the blacksmith workshop was made a little accumulation lake with water from the creek. The amount of water is more than big enough to work the blacksmith workshop so that there is always an excess of water that in the form of a waterfall travels downward as it does from the beginning of the world.
From the reservoir, two tubes are lowered through which (when released) the water flows to two wheels. Through the narrower pipe (3 on the lower image) flows the water that drives the wheel of the blower fan (5) which keeps the blacksmith hearth. Water which flows through the wider tube (4) move a wheel (6) of a large hammer for heavy to forging.
The inside of the blacksmith workshop has two, in some ways, main jobs. The first one is a workplace with the blacksmith hearth near which is done "lightly", manual forging.
"Heavy" forging is done at another workplace, with a hammer powered by water. While a first worker seated adjusts the workpiece that is under the large hammer, the other worker standing and supervising forging. This other worker, by moving the lever, which holds, closes the weir and thus excludes the large hammer drive.
The large hammer drive system is based on the fact that the power of the water, through the shaft where the wheel is, raise the hammer, and when it falls down by gravity, it doing forging.
At the third part of the blacksmith workshop, there are a lot of the other necessary tools.
In some past time, not so long ago, the power of this creek was not taken for blacksmith workshop only. There was also a water mill for grain milling.
There was even a small hydropower plant that supplied with electricity this village and the surrounding villages. Only the stone walls left of the powerhouse to testify of an age that was not absolutely worse than today. In some things maybe even the opposite !?
These blacksmith workshops, still working, have to have the basis for hygiene for workers in it, and the toilet one part of it.
When we finished the blacksmith workshops tour, our host with his van drove us to the hamlet on the other hill. From this place, we had wonderful views of the sunny village and the steep slopes of the Zvijezda mountain.
When we returned to the village, our driver met his neighbor and stopped the van and he went outside to talk to him. And he stood right in front of the house that was the first house we saw when we arrived in this village last night.
It's time to go home. And we set off and stopped after a couple of hundred meters, and the driver/out host turned the van back with the conclusion "that you might put a bike in the van on these packages!" After removing the saddlebags and rotating steering, we also placed bicycles in the van. And finally, we went home.
After we passed half of Bosnia and something of Slavonia before the evening we appeared in front of my stunned wife. I quickly told her of so many favorable circumstances, where she watched me confused-suspiciously, not understanding the end of the story and at the same time not believing in so much of favorable circumstances that we simply call happiness or God's will.
The next day we made a good cake (a specialty of our house), divided it into two parts, and I carried it to our carrier from the Očevija village to his house in my town. I gave the first part to his wife, and the other one to him. Already on the next day, he travels back to the Očevija village, so with that common morning coffee, he will offer this cake as a specialty of Slavonia. That's a little, almost nothing from me, considering what kind of service a man did to me, but again it is something. That cake I gave to him calms in me the burden of unreserved gratitude for the service that he has done to me and my companion (even the money I gave to him, he did not want to accept it).
What else to say in the end !?
It was hard, it was painful, and it was terrible at the end!
But it was great, it was fantastic, it was unforgettable!
Even after all, and despite all that, that I knew about all the problems and the fiasco at the end, I would still dare to go for this journey. Because that's life! Without trouble and hardship, there is no satisfaction, happiness, and enthusiasm that are bigger when they are one beside the other.
Images from this journey can be viewed here.
Post je objavljen 20.04.2019. u 17:41 sati.