I got up early again – to take down camp and get to the ferry in time for 7am.  I got there on time – which turned out to be FAR too early as the ferry doesn’t leave until 08.45hrs!    But the coast is clear to put Rowenna on board while I go and have coffee.  I then have loads of time to watch pandemonium ensue.    One has to drive through a dark tunnel to get to the top of the dam where the ferries (and there are four that take vehicles up river now, with smaller pedestrian only ones too) are moored.  Lots of minivan taxis pick up tourists from the hotels in Shkroder and all around and drop them off – so they just drive in willy nilly along with all the other vehicles trying to get on the ferries or drop off cargo.  With so much chaos, I never thought it would clear and there were some close calls as vehicles tried to reverse or turn around in such a confined space.  Miraculously – it all did eventually sort itself out.  The first car ferry was chocka – all seats filled. Our ferry had one campervan (Ulli and Andy’s); 4 motorbikes from Czeski, and half a dozen pedestrians – loads of room to roll around on the deck, sit with my feet swinging off the edge, practically dragging hands through water   – couldn’t do that on a ferry at home, for sure!  If you looked closely at the rickety planks that made up the deck (and showed the water through the cracks) and the wiring put together and wrapped with tape, and the seating upstairs that was held to the railings with plastic zip ties and where the seating was falling through – but it probably didn’t pay to examine such things too closely.   The RORO ferry Herald of Free Enterprise disaster did momentarily cross my mind – but then I dismissed it as the ferry departed and the stunning views of the mountains opened out – it looked like we would head straight for a cliff then we’d bend around to the right and or left and the steep sides would close in…  Ully and Andy even served me breakfast of Bosnian salami sausage on bread and butter with tomato and cheese on the side (and one more plum!) – which I ate while sat cross legged at the very front of the boat (prow?) watching the river unfold.  Imagine a River Dart trip lasting three times as long with steeper banks and mountains layering in the distance – then halve the price of the ticket!  I can see why a Guardian travel writer would call it one of the most awesome boat trips in the world.   
 
I said goodbye to Ulli and Andy when we reached our destination 3 hours after we set off, and I went on to Bajram Curri and they went south – (to conserve funds – the ferry was far more expensive for the van than for my bicycle - €45 more!  Which they hadn’t expected – so they needed to go find an ATM).  We got on so well, so quickly – I know we’ll meet again – In fact I invited them to Devon (as they plan to drive around the South West and Wales some time next year) – or I’ll visit them in Cologne.  I also chatted briefly to a couple of cycle tourists who were returning on the ferry I just arrived on – continuing North.  They passed me on some Macedonian Monopoly money which was really kind of them. I’m meeting more and more cycle tourers now – which is great.  Except I’m usually so tired when I do meet them, that when they ask obvious questions like “Where have you been?” my mind goes blank and I can’t remember – where HAVE I just come from?   That’s a little bit scary, isn’t it?  But I think it’s just a result of sensory overload.  I take a step backwards and focus and, oh yes, I was in Koman this morning – by which time the cycle tourists have moved onto another topic anyway. 
 
Everyone either returns to the ferry for the backward journey, or drives off.  I am left all alone with a stray dog looking hopefully at me.   I set off for Bajram Curri (pronounced Bai-ram Tsuri) on the bicycle – past the town of Fierze.  I go slowly but no idea how slowly as my bicycle computer is not working.  I had no idea how much I relied on this for entertainment until it died– letting me know how far I’ve come, how far I’ve got to go, how fast I’m going etc.
About two miles from destination, it starts working again – just as I’m passing a statue which has to date from communist times – a soldier looking valiant and hefting a rifle (which I don’t think is related).  I have no idea why it started working again.  Maybe I need to try a new battery anyway.  I stop off at the first hotel I come to – no shopping around!  - and pay 2,500lek for a room with no air conditioning and no insect screens.  Good shower – so I wash my small amount of dirty clothing while I wash myself.   Walk up into town to get some cash from the ATM there – I don’t know how safe this would feel as there are many men out and about, and hardly any women – but the presence of two policemen on the street is reassuring. 

​(The cycle computer now seems to be officially kapoot so I’m estimating mileage via Komoot.  Wonder if it needs a new battery?)
 
Well – not the best cycling day, but fun nonetheless. I woke extra early, at around 4.15am, to get the rest of the gear packed up and back on Rowenna and get outside cycling whilst it was still cool.  I decided that, despite the sordid rubbish and the stray dogs and the beggars and poverty, I love Albania.  The stray dogs wag their tails and play with each other, the beggars look reasonably well fed and feisty, and everyone seems to respond to a greeting with a wave or a smile.  I love the country’s rough edges and raw beauty.  As I cycled out from Shkoder the mountains drew in and I was agog at their splendour as the cliffs soar up and retreat to the horizon in violet and blue-grey layers.  I went up a dead end farm track, but otherwise made it to the lake/river with few mishaps.  It was getting on for 11.30am and getting increasingly sticky and humid hot when I spotted a café and decided to try and hide out – especially as there was a grandmother on the verandah playing with her three grandchildren.  I went across to say hello- I like to show the children the spindling – they’re interested in the whirling motion and then the parents get interested too.  The daughter of the older couple who owned the restaurant turned up with her 9month old son – Angelina could speak reasonable English and so I was quizzed and I could quiz in return.  They were interested in how old I was – I am 6 years older than Roza the grandmother (with her dyed black hair!).  Roza and Antonjo have a smallholding out back, with pigs, veg garden, hens.  They were amazed at my adventure as I think it’s really far outside their experience and probably quite an alien concept too.  I had a lovely cuddle with the 9 month old but the toddlers were very suspicious of me, preferring to roll a toy lorry along the floor.    
 
I ate at the restaurant (bits – a plate of salad, a plate of meat, some bread and cheese) and then dozed away the hottest part of the day – I find the Balkan people very indulgent of this sort of crass behaviour!  Maybe it’s just one more stupid thing they expect foreigners to do, I don’t know.  The Albanian people also – I think Roza, Antonjo, Angelina all thought it very amusing that my head nodded onto my chest and I was fast asleep sitting upright with my book open.  Did I mention?  I have a replacement book: an Australian guy at the Hostel gave me Herman Hesse’s “Siddhartha” which I remember hearing of in my hippy teens but never got around to reading.  It was first published in 1922 and translated from the German by Hilda Rosner.  This edition of the book was published in 2007 and is not for sale outsde the Indian Subcontinent.   
 
When I woke up properly and decided it was time to really get going thunder started rumbling with the occasional flash of lightening.  A storm had been forecast so I was slightly concerned about being caught out in the sort of torrent Kathryn and I experienced in Dubrovnik.  Antonjo insisted I get a lift and persuaded two of his customers to give me one for €20.  I was still half heartedly considering cycling so I said no, that’s far too much.  €15 then (Antonjo haggled for me).  Oh OK – says I, once again being the wimp, thinking of rain and another 20miles of undulating road to the campsite.  Ndue was driving and Alexsandri was my fellow passenger.  They both smoked but tried not to while I was in the car, as I don’t, though both tried to persuade me to have one, when I told them I’d given up years before. 
They folded Rowenna up and squashed her in the back of the Ford Focus Estate.   I insisted on folding myself up and squashing in the small seat beside her – much to Alexsandri’s disgust (he wanted to squash in the back – leaving me the passenger seat in front).  Initially we went for petrol – and then I discovered that Ndue was still expecting €20 – Alexsandri had agreed to less – but he wasn’t the driver!  I gave them an extra 100lek.   €15 isn’t very much, if you consider he’d have to drive back to Shkoder again afterwards. 
 
The road to Koman was indeed beautiful – but in shambolic state – half the time, Ndue was on the wrong side of the road to avoid potholes in potholes – or maybe that’s just the way he drives!  I would have enjoyed the ride enormously, I suspect – as there were plenty of down hill sections to make up for the uphill bits and the views back over Lake Komani were stunning, despite the many rusting electricity pylons draping wires everywhere.  We stopped for photographs – and then we stopped for coffee – which became a beer for the driver and I (I paid – thus bringing up the amount I was giving them for the taxi ride!) – I noticed Alexsandri didn’t drink – he stuck to coffee – while the DRIVER was happy to drink – and indeed had Raki (local brandy) when we got to the campsite.  I said hello to the woman at the side of café  - curious to see what she was doing.  I think she was chopping up rosemary shrubs with an axe – then filling sacks with the result – but the shrub wasn’t aromatic enough to be rosemary, so I’m not sure what it was.  It did have a subtle perfume – but was quite dry and brown in places. 
 
When we left we had an additional passenger – folded up alongside the bicycle.  A policeman – in full uniform, with cap and gun and handcuffs – hopped off a scooter driven by a one armed man – and then (after negotiation) hopped in our car.  I was now in front, despite my protests, and the other two guys squashed in back.  Hilarious.  I couldn’t understand a word of what was said, but the conversation was animated. 
 
We dropped the policeman off at the top of the hill before going down to the bottom of the hydro-electric power dam, where there was a small campsite/hotel/restaurant.  It was only €3 to camp – and I could buy the ticket from them for the ferry too - €5 for me, €5 for the bicycle.  I was reluctant to do this at first, as I’d read Gail and John’s account on their blog of there being two ferries – one for locals (cheap) and one for tourists (expensive).  But I’m glad I did in the end – as our ferry was just about empty with plenty space to sit and dangle legs over side or roll about the deck or whatever – whereas the other several ferries had all been packed to the gunnels.   But that was for later. 
 
Alexsandri and Ndue both (but separately) gave me their phone numbers to call if I encounter ANY problems whatsoever.   
 
In the meantime – I made friends with Ulli (short for Ulrike) and Andy (short for Andreas) from Germany – on holiday travelling around in their VW campervan.   We bonded over our travel stories and I appreciated their sense of humour - they were lovely and I got rid of another painting by giving Ulli one.  In return I got a beer!   I would happily travel around with these two.   I also had spaghetti and sauce with a plain tomato salad and bread for supper (note to self – must start carrying just a few supplies as I could have made a better job of tomato sauce on my trangia stove). 
 
There was a plum tree full of ripe plums where I camped – so that made a tasty dessert.   As well as guests, the campsite was full of guinea fowl, hens, cats and one dog (several other dogs barked from kennels the other side of the hedge).  The hotel owner also had three children who ran around playing with the aforementioned animals.  The cats would occasionally wowl at each other and the dog would chase the cats – it was quite busy! 
 
Andy went off to watch football with the other guys in the lounge while I did a daily drawing in the semidarkness (as a result, not so good) and Ulli kept me company.
For some reason (probably language breakdown) I thought the ferry went at 7am – in fact it was supposed to go at 08.45hrs and didn’t actually leave until gone 9.15hrs.  This had the effect of me waking up several times in the night to check the time so I wouldn’t be late.  

​(or even Shkodra – both are right!) so much, I decide to hang out here for a couple days – getting rid of the cold that still hangs around, and going to see the castle, museum, getting some clothes washed etc.  I also paint and get up to date with this blog.  I give away a couple paintings to the hostel staff (because they’re so lovely) and teach Hansa to paint watercolour washes – she really gets into it!   I love Shkoder for it’s hospitality – most everyone is helpful, curious, genuinely interested, friendly.  Also – where else would a Smart car be parked sideaways on to the rest of the cars?  Where else would there be a sign saying ”Slow Food” next to all the others in the road saying “Fast food”?
 
I also went into an interesting little shop selling paintings and embroidered cloths – two women – one my age, the other younger and speaking good English – are making cut cloth lace.  I show them my knitting/spinning/art work and they are really interested and show me their work too.  They say it’s the very first time ANYONE has ever come and shown them craft work and they were really pleased I’d done so.
 
There is a lovely place selling freshly squeezed juices across the road which I haunt – redpepper, apple and ginger to boost my immunity.  The American woman working there, Alayna, gets a painting or three too.  She tells me of an Albanian custom where they will say “Bless your hands” if you show generosity or do something for someone else, or show your prowess at making something by hand – or if you can sing beautifully, they might say “Bless your mouth” – she says it sounds better in Albanian:”Te lumshin duart”    We also discussed the habit the locals have of ‘promenading’ down the marble paved boulevard in their finery – to be seen as much as to see who’s there..  Alayna told me that she quite likes her wellies (autocorrect just changed that to willies – whoops!) – and wore them all day once – when it was raining and then just because – and the locals were truly horrified – the women anyway – and couldn’t help but laugh (in horror sometimes) at the mortification, at the shame of having to wear them.  They’re just green wellies, nothing more or less.  I haven’t seen anyone with grey hair since Austria I don’t think – apart from the one in the mirror.  Every woman over a ‘certain age’ seems to dye her hair.  What a pain that must be – all that constant covering up of roots.
 
I visit the museum – a replica of an old residence – I think it’s just closing by the time I find it (It’s hidden in amongst blocks of flats) but the volunteer who shows folk around stays a little longer.  It’s a new house, built using old techniques and in the old style – Italian, Austrian and Ottoman influences.  It’s a beautiful green oak building though I don’t get to see inside – only on the spacious verandah where there’s a wardrobe that ought to go straight to Narnia by the look of it, and a glass chandelier.  There are also two kittens playing who just seem to be accepted as part of the museum (mother came along later – and there are a couple more kittens, apparently).  There was a carving of St George in the garden  - a little bit of England.  I tipped the guy telling me the history and showing me around – and he accepted the money with alacrity. 
 
I’d been told that the best time to visit Rozafa castle (on a hill on the outskirts of the city – I’d ridden right past it on my way in yesterday) – was sunset.  So I cycled over there.  The castle was huge with crumbling walls and interesting nooks and crannies.  Where the gardens would be cultivated and the grass would have been trimmed and neat in an English National Trust property, here, the castle was wild and untamed – with brambles waiting to snare if you trod the less trodden path.  I loved it.  The sunset was indeed spectacular seen from the castle walls and one could see 360˚ all around, with Shkrodēr laid out like a map below and the river meandering along the flat valley, with mountains layering into the distance.
 
The day after my sightseeing tour I stayed around the hostel and did very little except the laundry, the blog and the daily drawing. 
I went out for supper and decided to ask the waiter what he’d recommend – he was confident I should try one of the house specials: a ‘terra cotta’ – with beef (as I didn’t like the sound of the ‘internals’ mentioned on the menu, which you could also get it made with – ‘offal’ I presume?).  It turned out to be a one pot dish like a tagine – brought still bubbling to the table.  Lean bits of beef in a sharp and tasty onion, red pepper and curd cheese sauce – absolutely delicious and I wish I’d asked the waiter’s opinion before!  It was served with toasted rounds of white, crusty bread to mop up the juices.  At the equivalent of £2.40 in lek, it was a bargain methinks.
 
Tomorrow, after three nights in a bed, I really must move on. 
 

​I woke really early at 4.30amish – just as the streetlights went off (and to notice that my right eye had definitely got the same gunky problem as the left had had).
I always wake early when I’m wild camping and there’s a remote chance of being caught asleep…  All quiet except for the birds.   33years ago this day Steve and I got wed in Wandsworth Registry Office, him in his brand new Levis bought specially, and had a pint in the Young’s Brewery Pub round the corner afterwards to celebrate.  Happy Anniversary my remote love! 
(Steve sent me a FB message later this same day saying  “Happy Anniversary my crazy pedalling partner!”).
 
Riding along this back road (Yay!  I’m off that main road at last!) is blissful for several reasons:  

1. It’s coolish at 6am.
2. It’s relatively traffic free
3. The views are grand and the road is now fairly level (having climbed up, and up last night)
4. The moon is riding high and is a just over-ripe, waning cheese
5. The verges are full of the sights and smells of chicory (so I’ve learned from Kathryn), wild sage, euphorbias, bramble, punicae, figs, olive and…

 
Dare I say it?  .,. rubbish.  The one drawback this morning.  People have been dumping their trash anywhere and everywhere.   
 
I’m seeing more wildlife away from the main roads too  (not just cats and dogs) – birds of prey again, and small birds catching their breakfast.  Sadly I saw two dead hedgehogs within 50metres of each other. 
 
I rode past weird rocks on the hill - they look scored through from top to bottom and were odd shapes – like a pile of onions or similar. 
Stopped at Knythe for coffee – first place I come to.  I sit and watch a dog having huge fun chasing cars and lorries and a pollce man stopping some cars on the roundabout – tax check? 
 
Shkodar is only 17miles further on so I will make it to Albania – country no. 8 today.   In fact, sooner than I thought I was across the border – waved past the queues of cars (lots of SWISS cars – what’s going on?  A convention?)  and notice a difference in attitude immediately.  The policeman on the border is positively chatty whilst I’m waiting for my passport.  “Downhill to Shkoder from here”, he says, “and you can go see the castle, the lake…” With a final warning to watch out for the terrible Albanian drivers who drive like … well, drive like the Italians!” I’m waved off. 
 
You know I was worried about my diminishing store of watercolour paper – well, I love how things work out.  As I was exploring the centre of town (and it’s a big place), admiring the huge white mosque (I’m seeing more mosques and hearing more calls to prayer from the minarets) I turn up a small alleyway and there – is the art supply shop I’ve been seeking!  I buy two pads of watercolour paper.  Thank you, once again, Universe.
 
When I get to the hostel, I see it’s full of youngsters, drinking, playing games and having a good time.  I feel a little out of it – not the least because of my early start that morning – but also because it’s our wedding anniversary and I’m on my own.  Slightly odd and cut off feeling.   A young Kosovan called speaks to me – he is studying political science and has actually been to Plymouth.  He wants to know what I think of Brexit and also whether I’ve heard of Kosovo.  I have (though I don’t know that much about it).  He was only 5yrs old when the country was born – a small country with Albanian people, carved from the bottom of Serbia. 
 

​Pleased to report that the conjunctivitis in the left eye is much better already so it was a good idea to get medication – though I seem to have spread it to the right eye, despite trying to be careful. 
 
During the night, two fellow cyclists have arrived and their small tent has been tucked in on the other side of the tree.  For most of the morning I can just see two sets of feet protruding from the tiny tent door.  As I leave, I offer them my Croatia map but they are heading South also.
 
I didn’t get too far – and hid from the sun again, in a bakers (Pekarna!) just up the road where two young women work behind the counter – with the most beautiful smiles that light up my world.  I sit and paint the shrubbery – watched with the utmost concentration by a serious 4 yr old.  I can see she is itching to have a go, and she draws a teeny tiny mark when I give her the pen.  Then makes a small daub when I hand her the paintbrush – but she loves it!  She is from Serbia, according to her brothers, and they “don’t understand” said in English, which I think is impressive.  Sue Truesdale gave me a dragonfly when I left England, which has been sitting on my zipper tag until recently – when it fell apart.  I present the little girl with the wings – much to her delight!
 
I finally get it together to move – and then find I cannot find Welly!  After dismantling the bicycle and looking all over I finally spot her on top of a gatepost.  She must have jumped up there when I wasn’t looking.  Much pushing uphill follows with sweat dripping off brow into eyes and trickling, tickling down my back.  My vest is sodden around the midriff.  The traffic is constant and some vehicles beep their horns, which always makes me jump.  Ofttimes it’s a greeting, with the passengers waving gaily, other times it’s a ‘get out of my way’ declaration.    The coast road offers some excellent views, with bridges crossing ravines, but the sun is harsh, and I hate the billboards and hoardings. 
 
I had to google to check what the critters were that ran across the road in front of me – two ran nose to tail with a third crossing shortly afterwards. They had white mask like faces and dark coats, and were the size of ferrets.   They could only have been Martens – very handsome and exciting to spot.     Sorry, no pictures as I didn’t have time to to get the camera out  - like the time I saw a skinny snake slither across the road in front of me, you’ll just have to take my word for it. 
 
I stopped at a restaurant on the sea front to eat – I see several stray dogs – one that has recently had pups by the look of her, and another young dog making play bows to another dog who responds and off they bounce. Most of the boy dogs I see are ‘entire’ too.  From now on I’ll see more and more strays  - and cats who look pregnant or need a good worming. 
 
I’d forgotten how difficult it can be to extricate oneself from larger towns – especially after sundown.  I went off into some residential back streets and ended up having to retrace my steps as I encountered several dead ends.   Found  the right road eventually and ended up camping out in a teeny place called Zaljevska Voda on the outskirts of Bar, in a brand new apartment block – on the upstairs marble balcony where I hoped no one would spot me.   Fabulous views over the coastline and a quiet back road with very little traffic.
 

​One can see I’m not clocking up the huge mileages at the moment – coughing my night’s away and heat during the day are not helping my motivation.  But even slow, few miles after dark move me across this country. 
This morning I sit in a beach café and finish the Tracy Chevalier book.  AGH!  Now I don’t have a book to read at all.  The waitress is very pleased (in fact, downright chuffed!) to take the book away, so that’s lessened the load slightly.  Interesting how “The Impressionist” took me weeks to read, but “The Last Runaway” was frittered away in a few hours.  
 
Jaz beach was the venue of some HUGE music concerts – including Rolling Stones in 2007 – it’s probably one of the last places along the Montenegro coast line that hasn’t seen huge development of hotels and buildings – though it still looks completely full – with campervans, sunbathers – to me. 
 
It’s still too hot to do much cycling – so it’s late again as I pack up my tent.  As I’m doing so, there’s a HUGE crack and a dead branch from the tree to which I tethered Rowenna falls, to land but 6ft away from where I was sleeping.   A little too close for comfort I think.  I walk over and heft it – yes, it would have hurt!   A reminder that I need to look up as well as down when looking for potential hazards on pitching my tent. 
 
I woke up this morning with my left eye stuck together.  An insect flew into it last night and I wonder if this is the cause?  But it continued to feel sore and produce greenish gunk all day long, so I decided to go to the Apoteke in Budva.   The woman behind the counter asked very few questions, just looked, produced some eye drops – “Clean with this three times a day”.  “Is it saline?”, I asked.  “No”, she replied, “and have some antibiotics, twice day”.  I got a tube of chloramphenicol too.  “How long for?”.  “Two or three days” came the reply – vague enough, I suppose.    All came to £3.50 – which is cheaper by half, than an NHS prescription.  As I’m leaving, comes the rejoinder, “If not better, go to doctor”.   
 
There seems to be no peaceful section of this coastline.  I plod on in the heat.
I’ve been considering which route to take to Greece and have decided to head for Thessaloniki – I want to get away from the coast and have been to Athens before so feel no need to revisit.  From there, I can take ferries to the islands with the ultimate aim of reaching Marmaris in Turkey. 
 
The stores of watercolour paper are falling – and I see nothing like an art supplies place advertised despite looking about in town, or on the internet.  I find the daily draws get smaller and as I feel the need to scrimp.  I wonder if there’s no room for ‘self-actualisation’ if you’re having to ‘work, work, work’ to provide for your family. 
 
Charged my macbook with the new lead to connect it to the solar panel storage battery that Kathryn brought from Nina’s for me.  In the words of a famous beaver: “She works Swell!” and brought the power up from 9% to 49% in the time it took me to drink a beer.  The storage battery is being a bit slower to come back to full power, however.  It needs to be in full sun for a full day to come up one bar (5 bars is fully charged).  Plugging in the computer wipes out a couple bars almost immediately.
    
Today I camp at what appears to be a small shanty town of caravans and sheds under trees for Balkan people who wish to spend their days on beaches cheek to jowl with their neighbours (looking at their smart phones – though I can talk!  - having spent the day looking at a laptop screen blogging!).  I am squashed in between two such establishments, on a rocky and dusty bit of ground covered in bits of broken glass.  I spend a good half an hour shining my head torch on the surface picking up the shards that shine in the light – removing as many as I can, fearful for the exped mat (not to mention my footprint and tent floor). 
 
As I am pitching my tent, the woman from next door comes over – not to be friendly, but to pick up the bag of plums that is resting on the old picnic table under the tree.  “Pardon” she says in the same way that the French use the word for ‘excuse me’.  For some reason, I am vaguely hurt by this that she didn’t come around to say ‘hello’ or ‘Dober Dan’ or even ‘have a plum’ but I let it go.  After all, I hadn’t taken the time to say hello to them either!

​I read a book all day long: Tracy Chevalier’s “The Last Runaway” which was is proving to be a very quick read after “The Impressionist”.  After another swim, I move on to Kotor – which is large town.    It’s dark by the time I leave this town and move further along the busy coast road.
 I am not enjoying the coast roads at all – they are busy, dusty fume filled – and the beaches are full of sunbeds, and rows of parasols – so the bathers must be elbow to elbow and pay for the privilege too.   Skyscrapers, billboards, casinos, tourist shops and kiosks and hot sun.  I camp near a beach around the corner from Budva and pay €7 for not much more than my bit of grass. 

​I suddenly realised I wouldn’t be needing any Kuna any more, as another border approached.   I needed my fringe cutting, so I stopped at an empty hairdresser’s who did an admirable job in double quick time.  She didn’t want any money at all, so I threw all my odd change at her.   Slow cycling.  Still coughing.
I got a stamp in my pristine passport, crossing into Montenegro.   Some German and Polish motorcyclists took my obligatory picture by the noticeboard.   It was a lovely downhill ride from there – and then the spectacular views of the steep cliffs of most southerly fjord in Europe – towards Kotor.  I crossed by short ferry hop to the other side instead of working my way all around the base of the inlet  and quickly found another small and cheap campsite right beside the sea in Stoliv– perfect for another look at the aquarium.   

​I’m still full of cold and enjoy spending ages painting and catching up with ‘daily draws’ at the campsite, after taking down my tent.  When I finally leave I snatch views of the coastline whilst avoiding cars on the busy road.  I met 5 other cycle tourists (I’m seeing more and more the further south I go).  These young lads are from France, travelling light and on fast road bikes and are heading for Albania too.  I wave goodbye to them at a supermarket – and then find my campspot not a few miles further on – at Milko’s Pension.  I meet his young son Ivan, initially, who said I could indeed camp there and got me a beer.  He’s studying architecture – in his first year – in Dubrovnik.  Lydia and Milko turn up as I’m supping my beer and invite me to share their evening meal – a picnic of salad, cold, roast pepper in oil, bread, cheese, ham etc.  It’s lovely to eat as part of the family – along with Milko’s 92yr old mother (who looks amazingly fit and well). 
They tell me that they have four children and one grandson.  Their house was gutted during the war that marked the dissolution of Yugoslavia – just four walls left standing.  They have had to ‘work, work, work’ to recoup their losses and get to where they are now – a successful guest house which still manages to make ends meet in winter as it’s only 10km from the airport and not far from the Montenegro border.  Lydia and Milko are both local – they used to go to school in Montenegro, when it was all still Yugoslavia.  There are few people around here, they say, and no need to emigrate.  
I feel enveloped with yet more kindness – and Milko would only take €10 for everything – camping on the lawn (which was green from regular watering and had just been mown by young Ivan) – meal, beer, morning coffee, charging of laptop. 

​Kathryn arrives on Wednesday, so I leave my luggage at the ‘Travel Corner’ – a good landmark to meet at, and go off to walk the City Walls of Old Town (or ‘King’s Landing’ as it’s become known as, through the ‘Game of Thrones’ TV series.  I’ve read all the books, but not seen ANY of the films.  Apparently I have 60hours of obsessive viewing to look forward to when I get home:  Thanks for the tip, Ceri Baker!).    Walking the walls is well worth it – it’s one way, and not much shade late morning, but one gets an unparalleled view across the rooftops of Old Town and the emerald sea.  There are numerous churchbells and they all ring at midday, it seems.  This was a reminder that I said I’d be waiting for Kathryn from about then – in the café by Travel Corner.  Whoops!  I cycle back as fast as I can, but still an hour late.  Kathryn has been waiting about half an hour – but she had half shut, lizard eyes where she was so tired from having had no sleep for the previous 24hours from getting to Bristol Airport the night before and waiting for the early flight to Dubrovnik.  I knew that jet lagged feeling well, from nights up midwifing.  I blathered on, while she sat trying to keep eyes open, and we drank a little and ate a little for the next 3 hours, feeling the heat until it was time to go get the ferry to Mljet. 
 
Kathryn said there hadn’t yet been any summer in the UK.  Now, tiz strange – but the clouds started to gather almost as soon as Kathryn arrived – to finally explode in the most humungous thunderstorm they’d seen in Dubrovnik this year. On Friday, the day we’d picked to go to Lokram island, there were almost continuous claps of thunder and flashes of lightening overhead, as well as rivers of water running down the marble slabs in Old Town, and we had to take shelter in an Orthodox church – which had probably it’s largest congregation since Christmas!   This, according to one shopkeeper, was the first thunderstorm Dubrovnik has seen this year.  Then, when Kathryn returned to the UK on Sunday, the weather immediately became sunny – balmy 30˚C, just like it’s been in Croatia.  So my theory is that Kathryn brought some of the UK weather over here – and took some of Croatia’s sunniness back with her – in her rucksack. 
 
WE had booked a shared room with twin beds, ensuite bathroom and the use of a little kitchen in the village of Okuklje on the island without realising quite how cut off we’d be, without a car.  There is a bus – but it runs twice a day, from Maranoviči – a village 2km walk away up a steep, steep hill.  First bus goes 5.30am.   Next bus is in the evening.  We were trapped.  Fortunately our prison was a very pleasant harbour with steep, forested rocky hills all round – reminding me of the harbour where Katie-Morag from those delightful children’s books by Mairi Hedderwick, lived in the Scottish islands.  Then again, it could also have been The Village (aka Portmeirion)– scene of the Prisoner (with Patrick McGoohan) – I am not a number!   
 
Our first task, as the ferry dropped us off at Pomena up one end of the island – (I’d bought the wrong ferry tickets – should have gone to Sobra which was only 6km from our destination) and we needed to get 24miles or so to the other end, was to work out how to do this.  We nearly rented a car until we both realised neither of us had our driving license with us.  It would have cost us the same as the taxi we ended up taking, but the taxi DID take Rowenna so that was one tick box checked.   The harbour at the North end was beautiful and a lovely place to hang around for a while.  We sat and watched crabs scuttle around the seashore and ate ice cream until the taxi bloke was ready to take us.
 
Our landlady is waiting for us (in the dark) and helps us up with the luggage – She shows us a room with a double bed – but we decline and choose the room with twin beds instead.  No insect screens at the window – so we rig up my mosquito net.  No fans or air conditioning either – but comfortable beds.  Cheap and cheerful.  The kitchen is adequate and there are sun loungers, large parasols, table and chairs outside and on two balconies.  You can see the sea if you sit on the balconies or peer around the corner of the house from the Patio. 
 
We spent the first day mooching – as much so Kathryn could claw back some sleep but also (as I realised next day) because I was succumbing to the classic cold, (which I’ve given Kathryn subsequently).  What did Terri give you in Croatia?  A cold.  L   Sore throat, runny nose, tickly cough, blocked sinuses – all of it happened over the next few days.   I did manage to finish the book I’ve been reading since I came away (and left it for someone else to find).
 
Second day we went on an adventure (with me nursing my snivelling cold, which was well underway – think I even dosed myself with paracetamol!).  We had to get up early to walk to Maranovici to catch the bus at 05.30hrs.  It was only 2km but steep uphill, so we got up at the crack of dawn to allow plenty of time for the stroll.  We watched the sky lighten and the bay below gradually emerge from the shadows as we climbed – smelling the wild sage and thyme and resiny smells of the Mediterranean as it warmed up.  We got to the village in plenty of time but it wasn’t clear where the bus would stop, so we asked a woman getting out of a car.  She was equally vague but (after checking our credentials: “you walked from Okuklje?”; “You’re staying with who?”) she offered us a lift – Only drawback, we had to hold on to an enormous cheesecake, sitting in the back seat – and we weren’t allowed to eat it.  The woman’s husband (I presume) was driving and it wasn’t so clear what he thought of the two strange women deposited under the cheesecake in the back – as he didn’t speak any English.  We were dropped off at the ferry before the ticket office opened.  The bus turned up shortly afterwards. 
 
The ferry took about an hour and then we got a bus ticket to Old Town and strolled about the marble streets.  Kathryn thought she’d hate to live there as she found the narrow back alleys and high walls claustrophobic.  The place was also heaving with tourists so we got the ferry (which goes every half an hour, all day) to Lokram island as soon as we could – to see the Botanical Gardens, which was our main aim for the day.  The island is still crowded with tourists (and we are included amongst their number) but also peacocks and hens– and lots of baby peacocks – and rabbits – of all colours.  We strolled through the gardens – which are reputed to have the greatest number of Eucalyptus tree varieties outside of Australia.  The grass was sparse and spiky, but we had fun amongst the cacti and succulents and palms.   We managed to walk around just half of the island, failing completely to navigate our way to the North of it!  Kathryn’s sense of direction is better than mine – as she pointed out we’d come round in full circle before I noticed (probably why I have such difficulty escaping large towns on the bicycle!). 
 
I went swimming to try out the new snorkel and mask I’ve decided is worth the hassle of hauling around with me.  Peeking into the aquarium around the island is fascinating: schools of yellow striped pot bellied fish slipping over the rocks, and there are usually one or two truly ugly fish disguised as rocks lurking on the sea bed to look out for.  Kathryn sits on the rocks avoiding the sun as much as she can.  While I’m in the water, thunder begins to rumble.  By the time I’m out and dressed, the first large drops of rain begin to fall and we scurry for shelter along with all the others on the island.  We end up in a shed full of agricultural machinery and odd bits of equipment while it chucks it down outside – turning the dust into a river of mud on the paths.  When the downpour lessens slightly, we make a run for the exhibition near the old Monastery.  The Benedictine monks were thrown off the islands after having sole use of it for hundreds of years – so, of course, they cursed it before they left – holding candles upside down so the melting wax fell on the ground – the curse holds good until every last bit of wax is gone (I didn’t see any).  There was also a little display on the flora and fauna on the island – and (of course) another display about the Game of Thrones connection.  I sat on the Throne of swords and blades without cutting myself (which was fairly easy, since it was made of plastic).   We had lunch underground in the crypts – since it was STILL raining. 
 
In fact, it continued to rain (and really heavily on occasions) off and on all afternoon – so we decided to make our way back to Old Town.  Kathryn’s new leather sandals got a thorough testing in the wet, as the rain caused rivers to form on the main footways of Old Town.  We took shelter in an Orthodox church when the sky became a power shower – they had the biggest congregation they’ve had since Christmas I suspect.  A few people even lit candles, whilst others checked their smart phones – the glow lighting up their faces as they sat in their pew.    Eventually we were able to escape to find ice cream. 
 
We were early away – and late getting back – the bus dropping us off in Maranovici at gone 9pm in the dark.  We were knackered on the starlit walk back down the hill – but at least it was downhill! 
I normally snore – but that night I was snoring more loudly and annoyingly because of my cold I suspect.  Poor Kathryn, having tried several approaches to get me to desist finally just gave me a shove.  Being sound asleep I misheard her “You’re snoring” and thought she’d said “I’m freezing” (well – I AM deaf!).  In response (and bear in mind I was just newly woken up) I SHOT out of bed, turned the lights on blazing, flung open the wardrobe and grabbed a blanket.  I threw it at Kathryn, turned the light off again and climbed back into bed.  The bewildered Kathryn said “I just said you were snoring?!”  but decided she WAS a bit chilly and spread the blanket over herself gratefully.  Half an hour later, the incident sank in and I had a complete fit of the giggles.  So there we are, Kathryn and I, at 3am approximately, laughing uproariously (really tickled my funny bone) and I’ve continued to get the giggles whenever I think about it ever since.
 
Day 3 – we mooched again – exploring our confines – there isn’t that far to go in the bay, owing to its steep and rocky sides – but it’s very pretty.  I did some daily draws and Kathryn got our her knitting.  She showed me a praying mantis in the lavender bush, eating a one legged cricket.  I gasped as I thought it was the one legged cricket that had been sharing the accommodation with us – but no, Kathryn showed me that one was still above the bedroom door – phew.   There are obviously many one legged Crickets around here.  There are also lots and lots of butterflies so that became the focus of my daily drawing: Scarce Swallowtails, Southern White Admirals, Cleopatras and Frittilaries.  There was also another one of those caterpillars that use leaf litter to make their own dress – this one looking more haphazard and thrown together than the one I’d seen before – but still an excellent disguise.   
 
I was going to cycle Rowenna to Sobra – which, despite the steep hill out of Okuklje, was only 6km – then I thought I’d catch the bus back and we’d all get the taxi to the ferry in the morning with the baggage (most of which was mine!).  I was quite looking forward to this trip and preparing to go, when Maria (the landlady who speaks no English) arrived bearing wee glasses of liqueur.  Kathryn doesn’t drink but I don’t mind the odd snifter (as one might have noticed) – and Maria seemed to be saying don’t go, the taxi can take the bicycle.  Well – we already knew that ONE taxi could take the bicycle (the van) but weren’t convinced that any others might also be able to.  Book it at the Maestral hotel – she said (or – I think she said).  The Hotel had got rave reviews on TripAdviser (that internet website) for its food, so I fancied checking it out for our last night anyway.  So I didn’t bicycle to Sobra (any excuse to avoid exercise).   When we went to the Hotel for our supper, the proprieter, Tihomir (Tim being easier to say) there spoke to the taxi driver who agreed that, no – he couldn’t take Rowenna.  I KNEW I should have stuck to the original plan and was kicking myself– but then the Tim said HE could give the bicycle a lift to the port after the restaurant closed.  And reader, he did!  And wouldn’t take any money for his trouble either.   I had a good time with 4 if his 6 children too whilst waiting for T to cash up – being quizzed about the journey so far.  The alternative of getting up at some unearthly hour to cycle in while Kathryn took the luggage separately doesn’t bear thinking about.  What an excellent and generous bloke.
 
It was still horribly early and still dark when the taxi arrived – but the journey back to Dubrovnik goes fairly smoothly.  The guy in Travel Corner gets shirty with me for leaving my luggage inside while I lock up Rowenna outside, but other than that Kathryn and I manage to get back to Old Town in plenty of time to get up above the city by taking the Cable Car.   We strolled around the rocky terrain behind the Cable Car examining native flora – the spiky blue sea thistle was nominated ‘star plant of the day’ award.  We also witnessed drama in the form of a large and lucozade coloured ichneumon type wasp and a large, hunting spider.  I’d spotted the wasp trailing along under the lip of the concrete steps we were climbing and called Kathryn over to have a look, at which point, the wasp flushed out the large spider.  They looked equally matched and there was a bit of a standoff before they both went their ways unscathed.  Clash of the Titans!   
 
Despite me stopping to eat more icecream, Kathryn made it to the bus station in plenty of time to catch her shuttle bus to the airport.  I really appreciated her visit and it was great to catch up with all things Devonian and news from the Peter Tavy Guild of Spinners, Weavers, Dyers.  I hope she enjoyed it too.  I felt the umbilical cord stretch and break once more as she left (it re-attaches very quickly).  She passed me as I was pushing my bicycle up the hill outside Dubrovnik as I took the same road southwards. 
 
I am still feeling the effects of my cold – remains of sore throat and tickly, irritating cough which was keeping me awake at night.   I was just looking to escape the environs of the city and wanted somewhere to camp without on site entertainment and cheap and cheerful.  I found the ideal site at Srebreno – shady trees and all the basics for less than €5 the night.  It was only about 5km from Dubrovnik but I was on the move again after 12 days.