Biking the Balkans pt. 1 - Northern Slovenia
As I sit on a slow train chugging south towards Split, on the Dalmatian coast of Croatia, I gaze out the window at the rolling hills and farmland passing by, savouring a celebratory breakfast Crni Lemon Radler, reflecting on the Stoics. After 30 hours and numerous logistical challenges, Mary and I have managed to navigate the final leg of our unplanned re-route following the cancellation of our ferry from Pula to Zadar. Word was that it was unlikely to sail again that week due to stormy weather. The culprit behind the disruption was storm "Boris," which has brought heavy rains and snow across Europe, causing widespread flooding across the continent. We're in the midst of a bike tour that spans from Ljubljana, Slovenia to Montenegro, exploring the stunning Julian Alps, the history seeped Istrian Peninsula, the Dalmatian Coast, and the breathtaking Kotor and Lake Skadar region of Montenegro. As mine and Mary’s first proper bike tour, our journey so far has more than adequately confirmed that this mode of transport is indeed an incredibly enjoyable way to travel; a pace conducive to immersing oneself in the sights and sounds of an exciting new region.
However, over the past day and a half, we've learned that cycle touring can introduce its own challenges to travel.
Croatia's transportation network has a mixed policy on bike travel, leaving it up to the discretion of drivers and ticketing staff to decide whether to allow bicycles on board, even when it seems there is plenty of available space. This unpredictability has introduced our first significant logistical challenge to our adventure.
We took a major backtrack north from Pula via train back near the Slovenian border and then east on a bus to the city of Rijeka, where our confidence was reasonably high after watching a pair of Germans and their bikes get on the southbound bus to Split that we were aiming for. The driver capped it at their 2 bikes, and we were told to wait for the next one. 2 buses, and 2 aggressive denials later, our confidence was weakened, and we had to make a tricky choice between continuing to try this discretionary bus option, or head over to the last southbound train option, where we had heard mixed reports of success with two wheels.
We have some pressure to get south reasonably quickly, as Hollywood “Honk” Holden (otherwise known by his Christian name, Zac) has just arrived and expecting us south on the Dalmatian Coast. We are also connecting with my parents, and have a place booked in a few days time on Hvar to explore the southern islands together.
In the end, we gambled on the train, where we had success loading the first leg, delivering us to a very remote rural station even further from our destination for the transfer south. The moment of truth arrives with our last connecting train rolling into the station, and just as we’re loading our bikes in, an impressively towering, and equally stern female ticket collector storms over and yells in a heavy Eastern European accent, “no room! no bicycle!”. We protest and begged as she hopped back aboard, but within seconds the 1/2 empty train was accelerating off into the setting Croatian sun.
Well, fuck…
We assessed our surroundings. Surprisingly, for a major transfer point connecting the Istrian west and south Croatia, the train station was completely isolated in rural farmland. A look at the map showed that we were a 15 minute pedal to the nearest town. The train station attendant spoke precisely zero English, though liberal use of Google Translate allowed us to glean that he has seen this before, and previously, people have disassembled their bikes, placing them in large garbage bags to make them into “luggage”, and bring them on board. Not a guarantee, but worth trying.
The next train was the following morning, and it was getting dark, so it was time to try to find some large garbage bags and a place to stay, and hope we make it on tomorrow, as our options were rather limited here in, as Mary eloquently put it, “the middle of Croatian buttfuck nowhere”.
That’s when the negative thoughts creep in: “Why the fuck did I plan a route that was so dependent on this damn ferry?” “Why didn’t we just stay in the city and wait for the eventual bus ride?” “Why didn’t we pack the bikes up better in the first place for the train?”
Time for a deep breath, a reminder to focus on the present, and embrace this new challenge, instead of sliding into frustration and self-criticism of past actions that cannot be altered. A key component of numerous philosophical teachings, including the Stoics, that I’ve been working on adhering to more in daily life, to combat instinctive tendencies. In hindsight, it seems insane how we can treat ourselves sometimes in the face of ‘not-at-all-adversity”.
An hour later, we were checked into a quaint country home (60 euros for an entire house), heading off through pleasant countryside passing cute farmstands to a quirky grocery store and restaurant for supplies and an enormous local “mixed meat platter for 2” (that could have fed 4) for 15 euros with tall brews to wash it down, reflecting on how incredible the previous week had been.
For me, these elements are inevitable and essential to the joys of travel: the creation of lasting memories, testing patience, navigating logistical challenges, and imbibing just the right amount of high-value domestic beer and wine to soothe the nerves.
To celebrate a significant-yet-meaningless milestone in aging, I wanted to plan a Europe cycling trip around my 40th birthday, which is a pretty classic activity for aging adventurous folk. Mary and I being foodies, the idea of biking up and down pleasant hills all day, providing the caloric motivation to stuff ourselves with local grub at every chance is a recipe for a great time.
If your idea is to “go biking in Europe where they have good food and drink”, you’re going to be presented with a lot of options. The bike culture in Europe is incredible, and there are countless classic routes well beyond the main Eurovelo list that I had first discovered many years ago. I was keen to build a trip that included some more remote mountains and big pedals, as well as warm coastal Mediterranean time where I could extend the invite out to friends and family. Through enough online research, I landed on this loose route which seemed to tick all the boxes.
Our trip began in the capital of Slovenia, Ljubjlana, which is a wonderful city, small for a European capital at only ~500,000 people, with a beautiful downtown river promenade complete with cute restaurant patios, cobbled pedestrian streets, and a hilltop castle resting like a crown above the historical city centre.
After a lovely day in Ljubljana, due to some significant weather approaching with Boris rolling across the continent, we had to push through some jetlag to kick off the pedalling with a big 100km day. The riding was so good that it was easy to find the energy, and we had an awesome intro day riding out of the city exploring the Slovenian countryside.
Hilltop castle outside Ljubljana
Gotta put those 41mm gravel tires to good use!
After getting some bad beta for a gravel "trail" on our mapping app, Komoot, leading to an adventurous forest hike-a-bike, we were overdue for a refreshments stop by the time we rolled through the small town of Radovljica, just outside Bled.
Mary's first of a near-daily strudel habit for the trip
Chocolate shop in Radovljica
Rolling along Lake Bled and its iconic island monastery in the mid afternoon, Mary contemplated a swim but we decided to keep rolling and enjoyed a beautiful cycle up along the edge of the towering peaks of Travnig National Park.
Incredible section of road riding after Lake Bled, dipping into Triglav National Park
Celebrating at the top of our last steep climb of the day!
Descending back down into the lower valley, in time for dinner, followed by a mad dash to get to our destination before dark.
First Day Riding Highlights
Following a damp rest day in the ski town of Kranjska Gora waiting for the meat of the storm to roll through, we stuffed ourselves with the extensive buffet breakfast at the Kranjska Hotel, packed our bags, and adorned all of our cloths and raingear, as it was still drizzling outside. Observing the snowline only a few hundred meters in elevation above us, we felt good about the decision to reroute through a lower pass at 1200m in Italy, instead of the straight up and over 1650m Vrsic Pass that would be in full winter mode.
Achieving peak dork
Fortunately, as soon as we hit the road the rain stopped and the skies began to slowly clear. We enjoyed beautiful pathway riding alongside the Julian alps and Triglav, and our first jump over to Italy.
Our first of 5 times we crossed the Slovenian/Italian border. The Euro zone is pretty cool!
Incredible views heading south from Tarvisio, Italy
This region was absolutely stunning, with quaint farms dotting deep mountain valleys, ancient aquifers connecting mountain streams to mills. Heading south from the town of Tarvisio climbing up into the mountains, we passed an old mining town before ascending an old dirt road with beautiful views of the lake below, back up to an old WW1 post at the top of the pass and the Slovenian border.
Ascending back up to the Slovenian border
Getting closer to the top!
Austro-Hungarian WW1 Bunker at the pass
From there we were treated to an incredible 1000m descent through the mountains with snowy peaks towering above us.
We stopped for a pastry and microbrew in Bovec, where Mary didn’t pay attention to the ABV in her order, and, instead of 2 “tasters”, somehow ordered a regular sized and strength pale ale AND a large full pint 9.2% malty face smash “pancake breakfast”….
Following the inevitability of me taking it on myself to correct Mary’s mistake, we rolled out to explore some gravel on the river Soca feeling a bit wobbly. Just in time to leave pavement and bounce down varying degrees of gravel rowdiness, including a wet walk across a flooded river.
River Soca
Beautiful gravel section along the River Soca
More beautiful road riding through pleasant countryside took us to Most Na Soci, a quaint little town on a wider part of the Soca, more like a lake. We stuffed ourselves with an epic pizza dinner (1: burata, ham, with pistachio sauce and 2: truffle porcini and procuitto. Sploosh) and then Mary got her custard fix at the great bakery attached to our hotel (Happy Rooms). The matron, Mimosa, was adorable, and extremely proud of herself reverse engineering this custard treat recipe they were importing from out of town, finally gaining her husband’s approval after numerous attempts.
The perfect post ride dinner: local wine, pizza, accompanied by a giant bottle of olive oil and various vinegars
I learned about Mary's love of custard treats tonight. In her happy place!
Lovely Mimosa (sp?) in her bakery and guest house
It felt as though we could easily spend the entire trip in the Slovenian mountains, but the next day we continue down the Soca out of the Slovenian mountains to the Mediterranean.