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Alone in summer 2015 - Part Two
You can come back on the first part of this travelogue here.
I was surprised at how many people there were in the church, given that it was an ordinary day, not a holiday. But that surprise is nothing compared to the other. Dressed like the priests, Mass was led by my interlocutor who told me to wait for fifteen minutes. That fifteen minutes, in fact, it was necessary for this Mass to be performed (he really shortened it).
After Mass, I had to wait for a little for my interlocutor to change his clothes and return to this, my own, ordinary world. Then he restrained kindly, but utterly silent led me to the religious Sunday school classroom. There he silently, barely audible said to me to left the bike here, and to take the important things for the night and go after it.
We walked through the corridors for a long time, we climbed to the second floor (I tried hard to remember the way), and finally, he opened the door of the room, and with no words, with his hand, he showed me that it is my room. Impressed by the fact that I have a royal solution for this night, I said something in gratitude, on what he only nodded mutely and went away.
I stayed in the room alone.
For a long time, I was stood silently under the impression of luxurious purity and the tidiness of the room, still confused with my more than a silent host. I neede some time to accept that people are what they are (though I would like to find out why he is so silent) and to leave myself, easily and slowly, in the enjoyment of the ending of today's journey. It is not yet 7 pm, so the day is still long, so I have the time to do everything that I need as easy as possible, enjoying every step and moment.
First followed the shower, light and long, then drying hair, and sending SMS to my wife.
Then came the problem of the cooking soup for a good night.
Where to cook it?
Here in the room - no sense. Also neither in the corridor.
So slowly, in my thoughts, I went through the monastery, trying to remember a pretty place, and finally, I found that place - out of the monastery.
Through the intricate labyrinth, for which seems that I succeeded to remember, I came down to my bicycle in the classroom. I took a gas stove, a dish, and a soup bag, and on the curb in front of one of the monastery entrance, near this classroom - made my own kitchen.
And so the bluish gas fire burn silently, the soup cooks silently, I mix it silently, and simultaneously I observe environment which sunk into the silence of the dusk. My thoughts wander chaotically, from the scene I see now in front of me, to the scenes from this day which, with a strange logic, have come up in front of me. That chaos does not bother me, on the contrary! That jumping from scene to scene relaxes me, that mix of this what is in front of me and that one what is in my mind.
"Well, where are you?", a woman yelled at me. She did it a moment after she came out from the monastery together with some man. I felt just like I was suddenly doused with cold water, or like I was roughly awakened by somebody after a deep sleep.
"Here, I am cooking a soup!",I said, pointing by hand to the stove as if in it is all the responsibility for my thoughtless act of disappearance.
"We prepared you dinner, as the Reverend said, and you nowhere," said the woman, obviously a cook.
"Here I drive her to home, so when I will come back, you may go with me," replied the man who has appeared with her. I would call him some kind of janitor because it seems to me that he feels like that.
"I'll just about cook the soup until then!", I said peacefully, as they entered their car and leave.
Well, it is not good to make judgments about people so quickly, especially to do it radically. My silent and the restrained host is, apparently, like that only in words, while in the act he is completely opposite. I conclude this on the basis of this unexpected invitation to dinner.
When I came to the kitchen with the "janitor" I got rid of my soup first, and although I was satiated, I ate one filled paprika, so much so that the host, this time "janitor", don't be offended.
The host, "the janitor" was pleasantly talkative, so I accepted the conversation. While I was slowly eating my dinner, I did it with at least one sentence between two mouthfuls, so we talked about everything and everyone. I told him that I was more than pleasantly surprised by the town. Although small, it works clean, orderly and well-standing, complete opposition from the Vareš town. He said to me that there was a pure privatization robbery " and that privatization we have done a lot better here".Because of this, the job at Kreševo has everyone who wants to work, and how things look, they will have it in the future as well. Besides, most people here also have some of their private business. For example, he, among everything else, deals with bee-keeping.
On my remark about the Kiseljak town and the wellspring of mineral water in its the park, my interlocutor replies that this region is rich in water. For example, in his fields, he has a wellspring of hot water, a wellspring of mineral water as well as a wellspring of "ordinary" water. Which wealth, I think!
After washing my teeth and other activities before bed, I was lying in a gorgeous bed trying to make order and peace of mind in my head which I needed for peaceful sleeping.
Oh Lord, what a day!
SECOND DAY OF THE JOURNEY
The map of the second day of the journey you can see here.
The pictures from the second day of this trip you can see here.
Perhaps a more attentive reader will notice the lack of connection between joke from the introduction and the rest of the story so far. Just a little patience, please, until the middle of this day, when it will not be as idyllic as it has been until now.
I woke up as early as possible. First I opened the window and breathed the fresh air which was conserved for me by a blue sky with no clouds. After waking, I prepared for a trip, so I quickly, surprising myself at that speed, prepared my bike too for the continuation of the journey. Going through the monastery from the room to the classroom, where my bike was placed, I did not find anyone. Only silence and peace. When I finished a bike and myself for the continuation of the journey, I stopped and started to think about what to do. It was unpleasant to me that I am going to creep out from the monastery almost like a thief. I had a need to say to someone, to anyone from the monastery, at least one humble "Thanks!" from some gratitude for the hospitality which was given to me. This "Thanks!" I wrapped it in a small paper on which I wrote the web address of my blog, and with it carefully holding my hand, I went down the halls of the monastery in search of someone who disturbed this silence. When I had already thought that my search is in vain, behind a closed door I heard a throbbing of dishware (kitchen, therefore!).
I knocked and went in. I found a cooking woman from last night.
-" Where are you all the time, I'm waiting for you for breakfast!"
-" No, thank you, and I'd like to get started earlier!"
-"You're not going on a trip without breakfast, I guess! Come on, take a sit and eat at least a bit!"
What else I could do than to sit down and accept it "at least a bit" by handing over that paper with gratitude which was wrapped in it. On my "Thanks!" she only barely noticeably shook her hand, as if it was not worth mentioning.
And again like last night, just this time with another interlocutor, a bite, and a sentence-two, again a bite, and again sentence-two. Mostly, unfortunately, she has no children, so there is time for voluntarily assisting others, as well as this cooking in the monastery. With my remark that I was impressed by the town, she told me that people here are good, "even holy"!If I did not come to the monastery, she is convinced that I would find the accommodation in any home in town easily.
Something after 7:30 am I finally, with a calm soul and a full stomach, got out in front of the monastery, pleased with what my watch said. I started today's journey early enough, especially that I had breakfast.
Before I continuing, I would say something about the monastery
According to the Internet, the monastery is most probably founded at the end of XIV. century. About 60 years after the fall of Bosnia under the Turks in 1521 or 1524, the monastery and the church were demolished. The monastery and the church were again destroyed in the fire on Easter in 1765, only two years after being restored. The new monastery building was built two years after the fire, but after several decades the monastery again became friable and unconditional for the permanent residence of a large number of monks. That is why a new monastery building was built between 1889 and 1895. This building is still in use, with minor alterations on the roof and facade. After the Second World War, the monastery building was exempted by the then communist authorities and served as a military barracks. After that, it became home to accommodating mentally retarded children. The monks had to leave the monastery overnight, who returned to them only in 1954. It was thoroughly renovated between 1976 and 1981. Because of the monastery is, among other things, the Kreševo town far known. In the monastery library, only one incunabulum and that is Strabo's Geographia from 1480, and a series of works about metal crafts.
On the holy foundation of the old monastery
Which like a hefty rock was noted in the past
In better times for clear days
The harmonious brothers' s was uplifted a new home
And in the new court, they gave us all a holy vow
To live and to die for God and the people
The Kreševo town 1895, The Franciscans
I could not have been able to photograph the whole monastery, so I downloaded the lower image from http://www.samostan-kresevo.com/
The morning was calm, sunny and fresh, all in all, nice and comfortable. This freshness was further enhanced by the surrounding forests.
The town has a main street, a couple of side streets and that's it. In that main street, in some symbiosis, the old Bosnian houses and modern buildings are exchanged, but somehow in harmony. I guess if because traditional, old houses would not be being shamed, these modern houses are not significantly bigger. It seems to me that this harmony transmitted on the people too, so there is enough space for both, the old and the young, as well as for vehicles of different shapes and sizes. In that harmony, it looks like that there is no need for lines on the street that delineate yours and ours because all are all one.
Although I am trying to reconsider why this remote spot, without any particular interest, was very thrilled me, I give up of searching because some things you just can not explain. Or we feel them or not, there is no third one.
Anyway, the Kreševo town will always have a special place in my memory!
After I filled the stock of my the food and drinks in a store with a cheerful and smiling woman which was a shopkeeper ("Where do you come from?" - a smile, "Where are you going from?" - a smile, "Bravo," a smile, "God bless you! " - a smile, "Good luck! ", - a smile) I found a road sign to the Tarčin place, my next destination.
I am going to connect in the place Tarčin with the main road Sarajevo - Mostar, and with it over the Ivan Sedlo pass to the Konjic town.
The road sign tries to pamper me with exaggerated optimism in the form of 16 km only. However, I already had bad experiences with euphoric, and thus debilitating, and ultimately dangerous optimism, resulting from the wrong interpretation of the collected information.
Of these 16 kilometers, at least the first 5 is a steep uphill. In doing so I need to overcome the altitude difference of over 360 meters. Perhaps it is for someone else just a little bit more than a little but for me, this is a challenge for which is worth attention and respect.
What remains to the end is unclear, and what will be solved only by this ride, is the question of how many of that kilometers have been no asphalted. How much is it, so much, with the hope that it is as less as possible, I go bravely on the ride. And that will not be easy I saw by the steep uphill that emerged immediately after leaving town.
Interesting for me were the benches placed in the lush shade of greenery.
That this road is of less importance is shown by a warning that there is no snow plow or salt in the wintertime. It is simply left to solve the problem of snow by solar-heating with the sun's rays.
CAUTION!
On the length of 9 km in the winter period
no cleaning (snow) or strewing (salt)
This warning made this road to me even more interesting.
After a couple of curves in an elbow form, on a still steep uphill, by pushing a bicycle I came to some kind of viewpoint. The info about the altitude of the viewpoint was very confusing to me, even it brought some worry in my soul. The table says that the viewpoint is on 693 meters above sea level. As Kreševo finds at 640 meters, I climbed up to just over 50 meters above sea level within 2 km on this steep uphill!!! And how many more to the summit of the pass !?
With the help of morning freshness, a beautiful green landscape, I managed to take the worry off the side and indulging to the pleasing impressions. After all, it was only 11 am. The sun is the sole master of the blue sky because the clouds have hidden somewhere. So, I have time for both riding and resting. Somehow I will overcome this hill and this day.
The look down on the Kreševo's town and its surroundings somehow strengthened me, put some optimism in me, so I vigorously continued further.
After leaving the Kreševo town, tip truck was the only what I met on the road. And was all of it. In both directions.
About that truck, I concluded that there was a nearby quarry. And really, after a while, I came to the intersection where was turning from the road to the quarry. I did not see him from that intersection. But, during for the further walking uphill, in one place where the trees moved apart in front of me, I saw the sight of the luxuriant greenery which man was hurt by his mechanization, so it looked like a great, open wound.
I forgot to mention that the narrow road, at the exit from the Kreševo town, after about a kilometer and a half was expanded like the true main road. It even got a middle line. Contrary to the gorgeous road, after that quarry, traffic on it was almost nothing. So much almost nothing, that I occasionally had the desire to see anyone vehicle, to get away the feeling that "I am alone in the world".
There is nobody on the summit of the pass. That someone once was, but long ago, shows an abandoned loader, crippled, with no front wheels.
I made a break, still, I'm on the summit of the pass. For a while, I listened to peace and serenity. It seemed to me that everyone alive and non-alive was with due respect for peace and serenity. The breeze was blowing, he seemed extremely silent as if he was touching me with a cobweb on my face. To hear the quiet song of a bird that comes from the woods, I almost had to stop my breathing.
I winced suddenly because I felt that I am falling silently in the bliss of that peace and silence while I am losing consciousness or the notion of where I was, where I came from, where I am going. Some kind of fear started to catch me, though it was some weird form of care and pleasant fear. I wished to stay here for a long, long time. I wondered to myself how one banality, one almost nothing, could hold me with itself with so much strength and firmness (only someone who was malicious could compare peace and silence with nothingness).
Hastily I came back to reality, jumped to my feet, sat on the bike and set off.
In front of me, the road disappeared somewhere down and at the distance, there appeared a huge mountain. With that peace and quiet, the scene had some sort of superior dignity which made me, the man, the most perfect creature on the planet (as we know to talk to yourself), small as one insignificant grain dust. That grain of dust, if it will, the wind can blow it out where ever and however it will. Under the impression of that superior dignity, I really tried to ride so quietly, to listen so quietly, to watch so quietly, and at the end, to breathe so quietly.
It seems to me that I did it all really silent because, descending without turning the pedal on an infinitely long downhill, behind of one of the curves, in the middle of the road, right on the white line, I saw the fox which was lazy laying down. What the fox !? Even three of them! Ten meters behind the first was the second, and ten yards behind the second third (as if they were argued, so they decided not to talk to each other).
What to do now !?
Completely surprised, caught, my mindset stopped working in creating emotion. I guess the fear should be the first one what I felt, but my right arm, bypassing my the conscious, rational decision on the question from the previous sentence, activated the cycling bell (probably from the habit created yesterday morning when I was pulling out from the Očevija village through dense forests). At the ding-dong of my cycling bell, all three of the foxes looked at me surprisingly (Surprisingness was, therefore, on both sides). Immediately after that they obediently and slowly stood up and lost themselves in the greenery along the road. Some kind of move from me was to help to my bicycle by pedals to leave as soon as possible the place of relaxation of local bosses. I did not want to stay, not even for a moment, to check if the foxes in this case still remained in the greenery, or they changed their minds, and they came back to the road and the full line on it.
Maybe someone would think I made an elephant from ants, but these foxes seemed for me much bigger than these "homemade" ones, in Slavonia, where I live. I really do not know what would be left of me and my dignity that only one of that foxes began to growl on me, let alone something more. So I'm glad that all this was, in the end, an "ant", not an "elephant".
The dense green forest, which followed me from Kreševo, finally began to split up, leaving for my eyes unexpected but pleasant view. A village appeared on the slope of the neighboring hill surrounded by the glades.
These are the scenes of small inhabited places, often seen on a journey through the mountainous Bosnia, which in this summer of quiet sunshine weather seem extremely fairy tale. It remains to the imagination to try to imagine how that village looks like (and especially how looks like living in it) in the winter when the snow is covering all around (purely rational, because it does not change the impression about what was seen, the village is called Gunjani).
It is obvious that my road should be lowered to the valley over which the Gunjani village is on the other side. To do this it should turn sharply to one elbow curve. I guess that road was bitter about this sharp bending, and to make me hurt, it made an unpleasant surprise for me in the form of asphalt disappearance.
Suddenly, only in a meter-two, from a wide gorgeous asphalted main road, the road returned to a state that once had been, apparently, all the time from the Kreševo town. It returned in the macadam. Dusty, bumpy, uneven, with countless rocks and stones.
It seems to me that the aforementioned road had compassion on me, an ordinary, modest, miserable cyclist who, by the power of his body and spirit, travels to these parts, so this unpleasant surprise for me it shorted on only five hundred meters.
And the riding was shortened additionally due to the downhill.
It passed only a little longer moment when the road stretched out under me the new asphalt as if it was set this morning. Maybe I'm not right, but it seems to me that this malice in the form of the absence of asphalt the road did not make for me, an ordinary mortal which one is neither guilty or responsible. Like it has been intended to target this malice to people who consider themselves local powers, so powerful that they cannot agree where is the boundary on which the power of the first one ends and the power of the other one starts. Because of their powerful incompetence (or incompetent power), these half a kilometer was found itself on a nobody's land as an orphan which two mothers refusing to accept as theirs.
Hundreds of meters behind the turn for the above-mentioned the Gunjani village, whose visit I left for some other time and for some other journey, I stopped to see the scene that impressed me particularly.
The wellspring built by the bricks with a pipe from which the abundance of clear, cold water has flowed. It seems so much water that the wellspring had in itself was too much, and another tube from the side was needed to have a water pressure relief. The real abundance of gold that indifferent flows to the creek, without regard to the everyday life of us, ordinary mortals.
I have already mentioned a new asphalt on which my bike drove silently. It had no line in the middle yet, and it was a bit narrower than the one I was driving on the downhill, but I did not mind for it. On the contrary, it has such a flat and so new base. And besides that here I have not seen anything of the traffic, so I felt like was alone in this green, mountainous paradise. A real gift of God!
I have passed about 10 km from Kreševo, half of them were uphill and half downhill, therefore, and remains only 5-6, almost horizontally. Along the road was the creek that is cheerfully run in the opposite direction of mine. That there was no that creek, I would almost think that the road was really horizontal, how much the ride was light and comfortable.
But if it was flat concerning uphill and downhill, it was not concerning the bends. It meandered like a snake left-to-right, together with the creek skilfully traversing between the slopes of green hills.
If I was near the Tarčin village, I have been shown by the culmination of civilization with regard to traffic -a real motorway.
The motorway jumped out from a tunnel from one hill, crossed above "my" road, and lost in the tunnel of the other hill. The frenetic travelers on it, eternally in a hurry, are not even aware of the fact that there is a member of their genus at this moment, which, what a miracle, is not in hurried right now. By the principle of "live and let the others to live" I let these to get in their life and I will slowly into my own.
The motorway "said" me that the Tarčin village was really near, which makes me so impatient as a little kid that nervously taps her feet while somebody for him taking out the candy from the bag. Well, what is so this interesting in Tarčin village? There are Tarčin's viaducts on the main railway line, which is always interesting to me to see. But this time this interest has expanded by adding the fact that I will pass under one of them, and I have not that experience it so far.
As soon as I got on the main road Sarajevo Mostar immediately turned right, so the viaduct, below which I passed, has been left behind me. Therefore I borrowed from the forum www.vozovi.com a photo of the whole viaduct.
The sharp eye will see that the road from the Kreševo town, along with me, passed under the far left arc, beside the pillar between that extreme left and middle arc.
I suppose most of those who, reading this blog, have come to these lines, this detailed description location of the road under the bridge seems to be unnecessary and excessive, but to me, as a railroad fan, it's important. And now as I write these lines, remembering the scene when I was under the viaduct, the revival of that scenes in front of me was so strong and impressive that I had to stop writing for a moment to calm down myself.
As I passed under that viaduct as if I had gone through a time-space gate. From the areas clenched in the green, lush, forested hills between which the road passes,from the area where there are no people or their houses (with the exception of the Gunjani village), from areas where traffic is so rare that the beasts (foxes) sunbathe on the road, from the area with so much peace and silence that I was shamed about the noise I was making while I breathed,I came to the area of the wide valley where the hillsides were far removed, in the area where the forests left the main role to a meadows and fields, in the area where houses are scattered everywhere, to the area where the traffic is, more or less, constantly present,and finally, in the area where always something is buzzing, is whistling, is shrieking, is playing, is moving...
The road was magistrally gorgeous, so I always had enough space along the edge line to get away from trucks and other vehicles. I was paying attention to the road as minimum as it was possible, only enough to keep my traffic safety. Sumptuous rest of my attention I was focusing on searching to the others Tarčin's viaducts.
What I was looking at with bitterness was the complex of newly constructed roads that represented the exit or the entrance to the motorway. The composition of the image has been distorted badly, just as His Majesty The Man (with the great M) knows how to disperse and spoil everything around himself in an effort to satisfy his selfish egoistic aspirations.
In my color slide film archive, I found the images of these viaducts from 1980 when I traveled to the south with my parents, my brother and sister in the car named Škoda 100.
In the course of the ride, I paused for a moment, in the intent of filming leather, fur, honey, and everything else offered to anyone who would be interesting for it. As soon as I stopped, I became particularly interested in the owner of all of the above, who scanned me gloomily. As politely as possible, holding the camera in hand, more by gesture than by words, I asked him if I could photograph. Not changing the darkness of his eyes view, he nodded barely noticed, so now in front of you, apart from the range of his open-air shops, you can see the abundance of his belly.
It is time to introduce this main road. So far the road meanders in mild curves, traffic, neither rare nor heavy, but constant, mostly pay attention to me, so goes around me in a wide arc. The road goes slightly uphill, the percentage of ascents is small and I can still ride without much effort. I know from experience that this percentage of ascents soon will increase to a considerable uphill lasting at least three kilometers. This experience, though 29 years old, came to my eyes as if it were yesterday. Then, in 1986, with my girlfriend, for the first time, I went to the coast by bike and it was right on this road.
When the percentage of ascents became slightly bigger I got an extra track for slow-moving vehicles. These slow-moving vehicles were rare, very rare. Most of the vehicles drove on the middle track, so I had the impression that this slow-moving vehicle track was only intended for me.
The sun was ruthlessly radiated. Somewhere in some part of my consciousness appeared a foggy form of wonderment that the sun radiates so hard like it was by the sea, but in fact, it was here at a great altitude. But that was in such a remote part of my consciousness, so that wonderment did not connect with the other one, which was in the opposite part. And that other wonderment was wondering why I got tired so fast all the time, and why I was so thirsty, so I drank and drank and drank. Rather than merging those two foggy half-thoughts into one clear complete thought, my mind was more pay attention to a pleasant impression of what I'm watching, what I'm hearing, and what I'm feeling.
And the scenery which I saw, I heard and felt, are so tame, fluttering, beautiful that it is quite understandable that there was no logical thinking in me. Everything in me has turned into a huge receiver of impressions, without thinking of any of them. Simply put, I turned into a sponge that just absorbs, absorbs, absorbs ...
Unlike that rough, untouched wilderness from the Kreševo town to the Tarčin village, where are those foxes were the nucleus, the essence of the environment I passed, here is quite another case. Here are the hills too, but these hills are covered a little bit with forests, and a little bit with meadows. And all this is away from the road, so the view can freely fly away, far away, far, far away and finally, that view comes back and bring a lot of enthusiasm. The view leaves the enthusiasm to the soul like a bee which brings pollen. Leave it to the hive and flies away for the new one, just like my view which wanders off again, and it flies, and flies. I am waiting for it to come back, but it is gone and gone. And just when I'm afraid I'll stay without it, here it comes back with a new handful of enthusiasms which are even larger, prettier, and more impressive ...And so constantly, until I remember that this can not last forever. I would need to get back that view to myself, control it and steer to the road, and move on further.
At the place of this road a century and a half ago, there was nothing like a trace of man or just a little bit. Then came the Austro-Hungarians and estimated that the railroad would have to cross this place from Sarajevo to the Adriatic sea. They built a narrow gauge railroad, which was on this uphill, just where the road was now, and had a third rail in the middle (rack railway track). The locomotive has a gear between the drive wheels, so it was possible to travel by train at these steep uphill.
At the summit of the pass, they dug a hill called Ivan and made a tunnel, so after the tunnel was followed by an equally steep downhill with the same a third rail in the middle (rack railway track). With the increase in the volume of goods being transported, driving by this uphill and downhill on the other side of the tunnel was slowing down to increase the volume of transport. Therefore, down much lower a new tunnel was dug up and this old tunnel was left for road traffic. The rail tracks were raised, the tunnel has been spread, and so the road was born on the pass over the Ivan Mountain.
And now again about the tunnel.
This was quite different from the one in front of the Vareš town.
This one was just like an arrow, and immediately at the entrance, I saw an exit in the distance, while that one was bent.
This one was abundantly illuminated while in the other one was total darkness.
This one was with heavy traffic, in both directions, while through the other one rarely when someone passed.
And finally, this one had a sidewalk, reserved for pedestrians, the other one had not.
It remains unclear to me whether, due to the endless fear at the entrance to the past tunnel, whether due to the illumination and the sidewalk in this one, I surprised myself by the idea to stop on half the tunnel, to step on the sidewalk and take a picture.
The traffic was medium intensity in both directions, but it was creating such a noise as if the plane is landing.
The sidewalk, abundantly wide, over one meter, is physically separated from the traffic. When I add abundant illumination to that, I get the impression of the protection from the traffic and thus some strange sense of security.
If I exclude the traffic noise, it was almost comforting for me. Quiet draft, cool air, chilling temperature, a complete contradiction of hot air outside at daylight. Almost I would stay a little longer, but I wonder if the traffic police might not like that. Although the chance is little to they come right now, I did not want to provoke a fate, so I sat on the bike and got out of the tunnel.
About 10 meters after the tunnel exit, to the right, is an extension in the form of a parking lot that also has a role and as a viewpoint.
Looking from this viewpoint, I saw the Bjelašnica mountain and some valley which is somewhere down below. Sharp around an attentive observer behind the greenery in the foreground, will notice the thin gray line of the road, by which I will continue the riding. When I became enough satisfied with the scene which I looked from the viewpoint, I left myself to a well-known enjoyment of descending off the pass. And this was not an ordinary descending off the pass. I was trembling about expecting pleasure because this was the downhill 17 km long, either steeper or milder.
I knew it already advance that in that 17 km I will not know who I was, nor why I was, nor where I am. In fact, I will not even know anything, nor I will no thinking, not I will assume...I will only watch, listen, smell, feel...and that impression put it in the safest parts of my soul. Long, very long after this downhill, where this length will be measured not only by years but for decades, any sound, any sight, any scent that reminds me of this downhill, will emerge in front of me as a new, and this tunnel, and this view from the viewpoint and this downhill to Konjic.
There are places that we can proclaim Paradise on Earth. There are, of course, but they request, they demand, and little effort from our side. And it is not unrelated, on the contrary! In fact, this climbing effort by the uphill to the pass is a rare, precious spice that makes the descending by the downhill so many pleasurable, so much pleasure, much, much bigger than, let's say, when somebody drives you to the summit of the pass, and then you continue to descend with the bikes.
The first 2 km downhill was steeper and then 2 km was less steep, in which I entered to the Bradina place (part of these 4 kilometers are shown on the upper image). The place would remain what it was, and was completely unknown, in the middle of nothing, that there was no way out of that lower railway tunnel through the Ivan Mountain. In the sixties of the last century, when the Sarajevo-Ploce normal gauge railway was built, (for which were those the Tarcčin's viaducts) the builders took of the tunnel advantage of the narrow gauge railway, and then slightly expanded it for normal trains. So the Bradina place has been synonymous with the goal, salvation, and relief of all trains from Konjic on their way to Sarajevo since the 1930s. Immediately behind the Bradina railway station straight, without uphill, the train enters a long tunnel and further downhill to the Sarajevo city.
I'm getting bored with that railroad, am I not? But, passing now through the Bradina place, I remember long ago, as a kid, that I, from my father, who worked on the railway, though not here, heard the story of Bradina. Bradina is a term of terrible and horrible at the time of the winter when the snow falls and the winds blow. Then instead of this paradise through which, as it seems to me, now I pass, will be a real ice hell. The boundary between that paradise and that hell is very thin, just about half a year.
Preoccupied with observing the environment and remembering that my father's story, I passed the place without photographing it. Just at the exit from the place I stopped and photographed the entrance from the south side, and the lower image shows the entrance to the Bradina place from the Konjic town direction.
The next at least four kilometers was an unusually steep downhill for the main road. The road sign says the slope is 9%, though I would say it is bigger, much bigger.
Drivers, caution!
Dangerous slope
9% 4 km
Required to drive:
for tugs and trailer trucks in the 1st speed of the gearbox
for trucks and buses in the 2nd speed of the gearbox
That this advice is to be taken seriously, I have persuaded myself with my own experience. Ten years ago I drove by this road with my car, confident, full of self, ignored their advice. But after the second curve, when the car started to accelerate seriously, I moved to the second shift of gearbox and I continued driving slowly and carefully. The problem was not only in the steep downhill, but there were also sharp bends.
How I drove by my car in those days, all the vehicles approximately drive today. As those who go downhill, as well as those who go uphill, the speed of them, in my estimation, was 40-50 km / h. That's why I had the impression they are careful to me when they overtaking me. I finally got the impression of a good symbiosis between me, an ordinary cyclist, and other vehicles, either smaller or larger.
On that steep straight part of the downhill, there was a place for a tunnel. As it is today, it was interesting to me in 1986, so here are the images, for comparison.
Not far behind this tunnel, sharp bend followed with an undiminished steep of the downhill. The bends were the reason for reducing the speed of my travel companions around me.
And now again about railroads (I apologize if you think I'm exaggerating, but I am, beside the bike-fan, also railway-fan).Whatever it was the railroad from this time or from some other time. Therefore, if a watcher, a little more patient, takes a second or two for observing the lower image, in the left part of it he will see the track's remains by which the narrow gauge railway came down to the Konjic town.
To photograph the remains of the old railroad, I had to cross the road. But these remains were not the only reason for road crossing. An additional reason was something else.
If I have been read the map well, the village on the image above should be the Brđani village (Brđani = those who lives at hill). I found out this now while I write these lines. As I stood at the edge of the road and watched it, the idea of taking a map in search of its name was so far away from my mind. I had something else on my mind. How his first resident came to mind that he was just about to build his home here as a germ, the seed of this present-day village. Was he also enthusiastic about the environment, the smell of the mild wind, the pleasant warmth of the sun, as well as I now? Or maybe some torment, doom, necessity determined the place of his home !?
Because, it is nice to me, to one passerby, in this the wonderful summertime day to admire to the place where the village placed and to its environment. And what in the autumn, when the rain softens the roads, what about in the winter when is snowing, and snows with a hard wind cut off the last link with civilization. After all, the village Bradina is not far away, and I have already mentioned how hard is in the winter in it.
Who knows how many times on this journey I can see the reverse correlation between the exoticness of a place, the scene, the environment, and the easiness of living in it.
Again some viaduct!
This was one of the normal gauge railways, still in operation, those railways that I mention from the Tarčin village all the time. I noted it in the corner of my sight by passing through the Bradina village. The question remains about how it overcame this difference in altitude, which I, along with the road, was overcoming along this 4 km of steep downhill. The answer is by serpentines, but the truth is that it is by a lot of milder bends and a lot of smaller inclines. For that, so much space is needed on the ground and the builder's ingenuity too, so it is no wonder that mountain railways have found many of their fans who sometimes travel from pure pleasure. One of these is the author of these lines and your reporter from this journey.
A piece of these serpentine can be seen on the adjacent hill in the form of two railroad viaducts, one above the other, by which the trains travel along the zigzag trajectory.
Some kind of industrial zone announced the entry into the Konjic town. At first, I was confused, as if I suddenly woke up in some unknown room. I needed some time to realize that the downhill to Konjic will soon to come to an end.
I was a little bit sad because it was an interesting downhill. It was shown again that everything that is nice lasting briefly no matter how long it lasted. It only remains to go ahead to the next nice one.
The first I visited the old bridge across the Neretva river into the Konjic town
According to the Internet, the old stone bridge in the Konjic town was built in 1682. With the Višegrad Bridge on the Drina river and the Old Bridge in Mostar, it is one of the most significant buildings in Bosnia and Herzegovina through its history and presents a unique medieval building.
During its withdrawn, the bridge has been destroyed by the Pioniric Unit of the 3rd battalion of 370 Grenadier Wermacht (German army in world war II) on March 3, 1945. The only remaining stone pillars were left.
As it was the only crossing over the Neretva, in 1946, a new concrete bridge was built that was downstream than the old bridge, which still functions as a part of the M-17 main road. Over the remains of the old bridge in 1962, the existing wooden structure was replaced by reinforced concrete.
In 2006, Konjic municipality started work on the reconstruction of the Old Stone Bridge, with the support of the Government of the Republic of Turkey and the Government of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, as well as the revitalization of the old town with the reconstruction of a old stores that were directly on the left by the bridge.
About reconstruction of the old bridge in the Konjic town, I found out by accident, by surfing on the Internet. That is why it is quite logical that I visited it first, during the arrival to the Konjic town. The bridge looks impressive to me. They've really made the effort, so it looks like I've come back in the seventeenth century with a time machine.
Just as for the old bridge, reconstruction of the old town is worthy of attention and respect.
After I photographed myself at the middle of the old bridge in the shade of the central elevation, I needed a place to think about impressions, thoughts, and intentions. That place, as ideal for it, I found in the thick shade of the terrace of the local hotel. When they told me they would bring me half a liter of draft beer, I was sure that I have chosen the best place for the calming of impressions.
Ever since I rode on the uphill for the Ivan Sedlo pass, I noticed that it was somehow difficult for me, I sweat a lot and drink a lot. From the pass, it was all downhill, so I did not feel the excessive heat, though in some moments somehow I blurry felt the heat in the deep part of my consciousness. I say blurry because I was preoccupied with the impressions of the environment remember a short-lived hitch in consciousness as if something had flown through my mind for a moment. It was a question or confusion, why did so much hot on this high altitude !? I would expect a pleasant freshness before than hotness.
Before Konjic, when the long downhill ended and I had to rotate the pedals, suddenly I felt what I was misgiving all the time - it was hot, hellish hot!
While I was chilling with the beer and the shade, still confused in my head, I observed dully around and my view stopped at my bike. Remembering that I have a temperature measurement option on my bicycle computer, I took a camera and photographed ...
If it is in the wrong of a few degrees, it is still hot. Very hot! (This device has never measured this great amount of Celsius. Never before, and never after!)
So what do I have!?
So far I rode 40 km, and to Boračko Lake, my goal for today, I have more 20 km. But very heavy 20 km! They are heavy because of long and steep uphill to the pass. Today I have crossed two passes so far. The first is from this morning from Kreševo with a height difference of 320m. The other one is about 350 meters (Ivan Sedlo pass). The third one, which I need to cross, is the largest, over 530 meters in height.
Therefore, the hill is high and the road is short, the result is a steep, very steep uphill.
The next problem I have is the heat. Hot heat. Very hot heat.
The result of fierce heat is - severe exhaustion.
And in the end, I have a dilemma: should I keep up by the plan or not !?
After long thinking, multiple analysis of arguments pro and cons, I decided to move on. That decision was also greatly influenced by the position of the needle on the o'clock. It was only 1.30 pm, so I'll probably go through this 20 km till the night, even if I should walk all the time!
The place for my inner analysis, apparently, I could not find it better than this. It was right in the center of town, on the State Square.
There was a fountain in that square on which the cold water has flowed abundantly. Right on time when my camera was shooting, another one was doing that too. That was in the hand of one woman who photographed kids who were standing patiently strictly in line (right in the lower image).
According to the Internet, Konjic is the town and center of the municipality of the same name in the northernmost part of mountainous Herzegovina, in the central part of Bosnia and Herzegovina. In 1991, the city numbered about 14,500 inhabitants, and the municipality was close to 45,000. The richness of the municipality is agricultural and forest land, enormous water potential, large quantities of ore pyrophyllite, tourist capacities, etc. Konjic is attractive because of the rich nature that completely surrounds the city. The northernmost town of Herzegovina has never been a "true Bosnia" or "a true Herzegovina", but something really unique and singularly. Konjic is first mentioned in the writings in 1382.
This time Konjic will stay in memory for the most part because of the final cognition of the fierce heat. The lunchtime approached, so I wanted to go out of the town by the road to Boračko Lake before the main meal. I found some kind of grill restaurant, without a terrace, where there were plenty of people. Out of some ten tables, only two or three were free. A good sign, even trustworthy, so it seems to me to be the food that is good quality.
I left the bike in front of the entrance, to keep it in the eye, sat down at one of the free tables and ordered a big one portion of the ćevapi ( as I have already said, it is a grilled dish of minced meat in rolling form served in a flatbread). Because of the outside heat, because of the absence of ventilation, and because of the scent of frying out of the kitchen, the air was stifling, so hard to breathe. Or it seemed to me like that because of the lengthy waiting. On the faces of people around the other tables, the typical oriental hard, infinite, contemplative peace was evident. It seemed as for everyone around me was quite understandable to wait for a meal for two or three days.
I finally got that meal I ordered, paid it with 4 KM (2€), and I got outside where was still hot air, but at least with no scent of culinary skills. I lightly put the bag with the meal behind the bike seat and secured it with an elastic shoelace.
As in the Kiseljak town, and also in the Visoko town and in this town was spring water that was flowing, not considering whether someone would be at least a little bit thirsty or not.
That's how I supplied by the reserves of that precious liquid.
Well, if I go, it's time to go.
In the beginning, the road went by the right side of the Neretva River, which also to me was on the right side, because I rode in the opposite direction from the river. After several hundred meters I came across the most beautiful tunnel on this journey.
First, it was short.
Second, it was illuminated, although there was no need for it because it was sunshine, so the lighting was turned off.
Thirdly, pedestrians have been served luxuriously with a mini tunnel specially made for them.
Fourth, on the wall of this pedestrian tunnel were the info posters, to make walking through the tunnel for the pedestrians were passage more interesting. Understandably, not all enthusiastic about such an edifice on the road like myself, so I delight only just because I pass through it, so the enthusiasm is needed to be reinforced with something, like with these posters.
Someone of the lords of a "man's best friend" came up with the idea of cooling a little his pet. It did not seem to me that the dog enjoys in it, though it was unclear whether it was because of it or because of the cold water of the Neretva river.
It has followed a jump across the Neretva river where I was helped by the lavish, newly built bridge. In addition to the function of allowing the vehicles a quick and easy crossing over the river, this bridge also had an extra function. It was in creating cool shade for swimmers to protect them against hot sunshine.
Post je objavljen 04.05.2019. u 15:59 sati.