Greece – A Crisis of Motivation

In the weeks before entering Greece, our motivation began to wane pretty badly.  This post focuses on the things that grated on us over several months, so it reads pretty negative.  Most of days, however, we keep pretty positive, laugh at the weather and enjoy the riding!

After our race out of Albania, narrowly outrunning the ‘Beast from the East’ winter storm that paralyzed the country, we rode across the border into country 13, Greece.  The crisp morning air was warmed by the morning sun over a cloudless sky.  The waters that had flooded roads all along the coast had already receded and by all appearances hadn’t been as severe here as it had been in Albania.  At the border, the guard did a quick cursory check of our passport, lingering a moment on our previous stamps, and admitted us into the country.  At this point, we had nine days left on our Schengen Visa.  We’d been racing against the clock from Iceland to Croatia, trying to keep as much time available for Greece as we could.  The Balkan countries were meant to be a space of time where we could relax a bit without having any challenging deadlines.  This was sort of the case.

Winter burned us out.  And we were lucky.  

As much as we’d like to say cycle touring is a relaxing activity where you can just toddle along at your own pace, for the first 81 days of our trip, we were under pressure.  From Iceland the clock started.   As Canadians we have a paltry 90 days in every 180 day period to visit a 26 country region known as the Schengen Area.  This zone allows for border free travel between countries and is super convenient for your average tourist on a short holiday and EU residents.  For those looking for a longer stay, such as the former right-of-passage 6 month tour of Europe young Canadians used to do, or for slow travellers like cyclists, it’s a royal pain in the ass.   In Iceland we had to race across the country in a little over two weeks to Seydisfjordur to catch a ferry to Denmark.  We rode every day, breaking in our touring legs in crazy headwinds.  At times we were cycling downhill in first gear at 3.5km/hr.  We were blown off our bikes by wind gusts, we pushed our bikes against the wind and we were drenched by heavy rains.  Luckily, we were let off easy most days, by Iceland’s standards anyhow.  We had unseasonable warmth, with daytime highs ranging from +4 to +10 and most of the time we had manageable winds.  We made our ferry and travelled to Denmark.   Our time in international waters counted against our visa. 

In Denmark we ran into another problem.  The push across Iceland had left Elaine with a sore knee that crippled our days down to 40 or 50km a day.   We dealt with this easily during the first few days when the weather was good, but our moods turned when the weather turned sour, soaking us daily.  The pedaling was slow, the tent soaked, our sleeping bags wet and finally, her wet foot rubbing inside of her boot developed an infection on her toe.  We rode into Germany, hopped a train and went to Hamburg for medical attention.  We rested, dried out and tried again.  Her knee hadn’t healed and the rain was relentless in Northern Germany.  We ended up back on a train, this time to Wroclaw, Poland.  We needed to make up miles and time. 

In Wroclaw a physiotherapist worked his magic and fixed the knee problem.  We trained to Krakow, allowing the knee a couple more days on his recommendation.  Back on the pedals with the knee issue solved, we rode to Slovakia and our first snowy passes.  We decided we actually preferred snow to rain.  It’s easier to stay warm when dry than warm when wet.  Slovakia challenged this when, on our last couple days in the country, a frigid ice fog descended on the land and produced the coldest -2C we’ve ever experienced.  It cut through to your bones, and no amount of clothing seemed to bring warmth.  We pedaled on to Hungary, frozen.  

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In Hungary we met another bout of good fortune.  After a really nice Christmas spent in Budapest, we rode out under sunny skies and soaring temperatures.  On December 27^th it was 14C.  Glorious sunshine prevailed every day.  The nights continued to be very cool.  This cold air, meeting the top of our tent and the warmth coming from our bodies inside, produced an ongoing problem on this trip: condensation.  Every morning, no matter the weather, the underside of our tent was soaked, which meant every night we were setting up and sleeping in a wet tent.  It really added to the difficulties because we always felt damp and all our stuff would eventually be slightly damp.  The long winter nights found us cooped up in this damp space for up to 14 hours.  In any case, we kept going and finally exited the Schengen Area on January 1^st.  This left us with 9 days to pedal Greece.

 The Balkan’s were unseasonably warm, a refreshing experience, at least in Croatia and Serbia.  We avoided riding in rain until the last days and the landmine situation in Croatia put us in Guesthouses a few nights in a row.  When we rode into Serbia on January 4^th, it was +18C, 42 degrees warmer than the same day on the previous year.  We took a day off in Bogatic, a small town of no significant appeal, over the Orthodox Christmas.  We had Christmas dinner with the guesthouse owners and got further insight in to the lives of Serbians.  From there we rode straight south to a southeastern crossing into Bosnia.  The good weather began turning cold and wet again, soaking us before rolling into Visegrad.  Winter arrived.  We took a 4 day break here to allow for a forecasted snow storm to blow through and dump 15cm on the town.  We took a high mountain road out, slipping and sliding through the snow on our way to Sarajevo.  A surprise blizzard slammed us on the second day out, plastering us with snow and making for some hazardous riding conditions as we made our way to the next town and a B&B.  Once in Sarajevo, we parked ourselves for 6 days.  It’s amazing how comforting it can be to just sit in one place for even a short amount of time.  The cold snap passed for the most part while we were there.  We pedaled out on roads wet from melting snow, heading for Mostar and on to the Mediterranean. 

Back in Croatia, this time on the coast in Dubrovnik, we rested a couple days before pedaling south towards Montenegro, Albania and Greece.  We got smoked by a severe storm between the Croatian border and Kotor, two days in a row.  In Montenegro we got nailed twice more in two days, the first we spent an hour huddled under a small canopy as sideways rain battered the mountains.  Once in Albania, we saw a nightmare of a storm known as ‘The Beast from the East’ heading our way.  The forecast was bad, heavy snow in the north and east of Albania, torrential rain in the south and west.  Looking at the severity, we opted to not wait it out but instead pedal it out to Sarande, on Albania’s southern coast.  We took main highways; skipping past all the quiet inland roads we’d planned to ride. We got lashed by wind and rain that preceded the storm and we pedaled 100km and did 2,300m of elevation on our final day. We arrived in Sarande just a few hours before the cataclysm hit.  That night the skies lit up with lightning which continued for 15 hours while the roads of Sarande filled with water.  The forecast was correct and the country was paralyzed north and east of us by snow up to 50cm deep.  We allowed a couple days for the flooding to recede south of us, and left for Greece.

Crossing into Greece returned us to the Schengen Area.  The border guard was unconcerned and allowed us to enter without mentioning the days left on our visa.  We rode through sunny orchards and along beautiful, seemingly forgotten, stretches of Mediterranean coast.  Even as the weather improved, I couldn’t shake a nagging voice in my head telling me to go home.  I was tired.  We were both tired.  Our bikes were having problems. They were rusting from regular coatings of road salt and our bottom brackets (the part that spins inside the bike frame as you pedal) were loose and the seals had failed.  Our tent was still getting soaked every night with condensation, so things were still damp.  Every day felt like a routine, and a routine I seemed no longer interested in fulfilling.  Cycle touring had become work, and it was hard to enjoy any aspect of it.  I missed our friends and family, I missed our property and I was beginning to stress about finances.  I’d first broached the subject of going home back in Serbia.  The distances ahead seemed insurmountable, and the weather and routines had begun to take their toll physically and psychologically.  We agreed to wait until Greece and talk about it again there.  Now in Greece we decided that, after flip flopping several times a day, we would head home from Istanbul.   The toughest aspects of the decision were that Turkey was basically where this ride would really begin to get interesting and that in all truth, if we fly the bikes home, it’s unlikely they’d come back anytime soon.  

After making this decision, we ran into a French couple who were cycling from France to Thailand on a Tandem.  We chatted briefly about plans.  We said we’d probably go home from Istanbul and they asked a tough question:  “Why from there?  Why not keep going?  Do you have somewhere to be?” They were simple and valid questions which led to further flip flopping.  Their enthusiasm for the road ahead was infectious and just talking about continuing made us want to press on.  Later on their blog, they would mention the two Canadian’s they ran into who seemed worn out by the weather and noted how unfortunate it would be for them to quit just as the weather is improving.  A few days later, we finally caught up to Elaine’s sister Karen and her boyfriend Jamie who are on a similar path to us.  Just being around friends, family and other like-minded people is such an enthusiasm boost. 

Cycle touring can be lonely business.

I can’t actually imagine riding for this long alone.  Even as a pair, it’s lonely.  Elaine and I spend an insane amount of time in each other’s company.  After six months, we’re basically one person.  We think similar thoughts, all things we talk about are things we both saw or experienced and it becomes harder and harder to find different things to talk about.  It probably sounds worse than it is, we definitely enjoy each other’s company, but it is hard to keep conversation fresh.  Add in six months of language barriers and the same ‘where are you from, where are you going’ conversations and you can see how it begins to feel pretty lonely.  Finding others to chat with becomes a necessity and is a prime source of motivation at this point.  Our time in Athens and on Chios with Karen and Jamie re-ignited our desire to keep riding, at least as far as Cappadocia, Turkey.  We decided we’d reassess there and keep options open for as long as we possibly can.

As we departed Greece, we were slapped with a 4 year ban from the EU Schengen visa zone.  The guard mistakenly included Croatia against our time and refused to hear our protests.  Croatia is not a Schengen country and as Canadians we receive a 60 day travel visa on arrival, indicated by the passport stamp.  He refused to rationalize being stamped out of Hungary and into Croatia.  This left us appearing to be overdue by 14 days.  In reality, we were overdue by just 4 days.  We tried our best to work the ferries in our favour to make it out in time, but a reduced winter schedule prevented this from working out.  The only options that remained to us were to depart 4 days late, or fly from Athens to Turkey.  Flying had its own complications.  We’d need to track down a bike boxes and duffel bags for our gear.  Our bikes also needed parts and service which we weren’t sure would be available in Turkey.  We decided to roll the dice and leave late with properly functioning bicycles.  This bit us in the ass.  I understand it’s our fault for overstaying, however our options were limited.  Due to the winter storm, we couldn’t leave Albania via any other way than through Greece and the reduced winter ferry schedule wasn’t apparent to us until we were already in Greece trying to get out.  Also, had the border guard known his job properly, he might have given us a lighter punishment.  He gave us the maximum he could with no explanation.  Worse, even if he were right, we would have been admitted into the country illegally at the Albanian border, as we only had 9 days remaining on the visa.  We weren’t deported, we left on our own.  We weren’t rude, we tried to explain the Croatia situation and he wouldn’t hear it.  As a comparison to punishments in other countries, a 2 week overstay in the UK would result in a 90 day ban.   It was 7am, the guard didn’t give a shit, and so with our ban in place, we boarded our ferry and left for Turkey.  This also extends beyond the EU since the EU shares it's information in real-time with Canada, USA and the UK.  So if we travel to USA or the UK, our ban from the Schengen Area will probably cause us a lot of of grief.

As I write we’re in Batumi, Georgia.  We cleared Turkey in 35 days, we’ll write about that sooner or later, and plan to continue to Azerbaijan.  We’ve broken the trip down into smaller goals which we’ll pick away at bit by bit.  Motivation continues to waver, but we are determined to overcome the difficulties.  We miss our friends and family, we miss our beautiful piece of land we’re slowly developing and we miss the financial security going to work provides.  That last one is hard to admit to, but we don’t hate our jobs and the longer we’re away from them, the harder it will be to go back.  There’s a certain fear of becoming destitute for an ambitious goal of uncertain reward.  For now though, we just keep it in the back of our minds as we look forward down the road into Asia.  Overall, our attitude is much better now than it was in Greece.  The good weather has made a huge difference for us.

Top of a 2190m pass in Turkey

We don’t know exactly where we’ll call it quits.  We sometimes find ourselves wavering or feeling like we’re pressing on when we don’t really want to.  What we do know is that each time we press through the tough times; we’re rewarded with wonderful experiences further down the road.  The more times we press on through the tough parts, the more sure we’ll be when the time is right to pack up and head home.  In the meantime, we’ll keep pedaling.

Greece Round-Up:

ODO Start: 4167km

ODO Finish: 4860km

Total: 693km
Actual country name: Hellenic   Republic (Ελληνική Δημοκρατία)

Days in country: 14

Nights camped:  8

Nights aboard a ferry: 1

Ferries taken: 5

Km by ferry: 305
Other cycle tourers met on the road:
        - Charlene and Damien, a French couple riding a tandem, France to Thailand
        - Molly and Hayden, a British couple, England to... east?
        - Karen and Jamie! London to... undecided
        - A Swiss couple, Athens to Switzerland, combo cycling/climbing trip

# of times we quit: 1000

#of times we changed our minds about quitting: 1001

Croatia, Montenegro and Albania

Coming out of the mountains of B&H, the road into Dubrovnik was a bit of a shocker. Narrow and busy, we were sandwiched between a rock wall and speeding traffic with no shoulder to speak of. It was stressful but thankfully short, and just reaffirmed that we’d made the right decision to spend more time inland and less on the Croatian coast.  We got settled into our guesthouse with a wicked view of the Old City and the Mediterranean beyond.

We spent two days exploring Dubrovnik, wandering in and out of narrow streets and climbing thousands of steep crooked stairs. The entire city is built on a hill and is probably the least bike friendly city I’ve ever been to, on account of all the steps. It’s quite impressive however, with towering walls and imposing turrets and ramparts. We managed to find some Game of Thrones filming locations which was pretty fun, and we eavesdropped on a film crew discussing future scenes and where they would set up the banners and cannons! We also spent a few hours sitting outside the castle walls by the water, drinking pocket beers while we listened to the waves and watched the sun sink over the sea.

 

Riding out of Dubrovnik was a bit of a challenge; the same busy road we’d come in on, as well as a mega headwind which gusted up to Iceland levels at points, blowing us off the bikes and making any forward movement nearly impossible. It was the start of a big storm, which fully opened up on us the next day after we’d crossed into Montenegro. As we rode into the Bay of Kotor we got absolutely drenched. The wind swirled around from all directions and the rain flew across the sky in sheets, the drops hammering the ground so hard that they were bouncing back up into the air. We bought ferry tickets to get to the other side of the bay, and the ticket attendant asked “What the hell are you doing on bikes in this weather?” Our answer was laughter tinged with a bit of insanity, “We’re not very smart”. He laughed and said “Good Answer.”  as he handed us our tickets.  At least we had a good reply.

 

The Bay of Kotor is a pretty stunning place, a huge body of water with a narrow opening out to the sea, protected from the ocean and tucked back among huge mountains on all sides.  The ride in was extra exciting because of the weather whipping us around and spraying us with sea water as waves smashed against the shore. The city of Kotor itself is much like Dubrovnik, with old stone corridors, and steep steps, but with a more rugged feel. It has more of an old maritime vibe and feels less like the polished up tourist destination that Dubrovnik has become. It also has tall walls protecting the old city, but these are a bit rougher around the edges and nestle right up against the cliffs behind, all overlooked by an old fortress looming high above on the rocks.  From these rocks, on either side of the city walls, karstic springs surge thousands of gallons of fresh water out and around the walls for a short trip to the sea.  These springs form a natural and beautiful moat around the city.

 

The sun came out for our departure from Kotor, which meant we could climb up into the mountains! We’d been eyeing up the Kotor Serpentine road, which climbs the cliffs directly behind the city, weaving back and forth up 25 switchbacks and over 1000m of elevation gain. Most of the road is only a 5% grade though, so it’s totally doable without exploding your legs. Each turn presented more wicked views over the Bay and, as we got higher, the ocean beyond.  At the top of the Serpentine we opted to continue climbing into Lovcen National Park, taking us along more quiet forest roads and up to our new trip high point at 1429m! 

 

We had one more wonderful day of riding in Montenegro, following quiet and scenic roads with great views of lakes and mountains. This country has amazing potential for riding and it would have been great to spend more time here. We didn’t have the chance though, because then another nasty storm moved in, hammering sideways rain into the cuffs and collars of our rain gear until we were literally soaked to the bone.  We rode through this misery most of one day, hunkered into the tent for a wet stormy night, and woke up to more rain the next morning.  Throughout the night, lightning lit up our tent and thunder rumbled so close you could feel it inside you. This storm was the last straw after a hard winter; we were sick of being cold, sick of being wet, and just rode as fast as we could for the Albanian border, hoping that somewhere south of us the weather would be better. 

Unfortunately, we really didn’t give Albania much of a chance to win us over. We spent quite a bit of the time on busy highways, running from more bad weather and hammering out miles, trying to get to Greece. Motivation was pretty low by this point, which we’ll get into more in the next post.  We had a few totally uninspiring days in muddy farmland and suffered through more days of soul-destroying rain.  It wasn’t all bad though! There were peaceful stretches riding through ancient olive groves, some thrilling climbs and descents through a national park, and some downright gorgeous coastline. The stretch between Vlore and Sarande was especially pretty, though we were a bit too tired and rushed to really enjoy it. Everyone we met was friendly and helpful, especially when we’d roll into town looking for a place to stay, drenched and muddy. In Fier, we rolled in just before dark and stopped at the first place we saw with “hotel” on the sign. The young guy in charge didn’t bat an eye quoting us a great price for the night and bringing our filthy bikes inside his lobby because they would be safer there. It was only after we’d checked into the room that we noticed the hourly rates posted on the back of the door, and the 6 foot mirror mounted right beside the bed! Suddenly the dark, discrete entrance with a single red light over the door made sense. It was actually one of the nicer places we stayed, and extremely clean!

As with Montenegro, it would have been nice to have spent more time in Albania. I’ve read many other trip reports that rave about what a great country it is for riding, but we missed out on much of it, mainly due to the weather. After a short rest in Sarande to recover from our last push (and to let the flooding subside), we struck out for the Greek border, hopeful that the worst of our storms were over.

The Roundups!

Croatia (Dubrovnik)

ODO start: 3488

ODO finish: 3541

Total kms: 53
Actual country name: Republika Hrvatska

Days in country: 4

Birthdays celebrated: 1

Montenegro

ODO start: 3541

ODO finish: 3738

Total kms: 247
Actual country name: Crna Gora

Days in country: 6

Highest pass: 1429m

Most kms in one day: 58

Ferries taken: 1

Number of stray dogs who tried to adopt us: 3

Albania

ODO start: 3738

ODO finish: 4167

Total kms: 429
Actual country name: Republika e Shqipërisë

Days in country: 7

Highest pass: 1035m

Most kms in a day: 114

Flat tires: 1 (Steve)

The Ciro Trail

We were both really excited about this trail. It had been in the back of our minds since leaving home, but with so many variables ahead of us, we had no idea if we’d end up being able to ride it.  The biggest variable was, like always, the weather. Had it been a cold winter we wouldn’t have ended up venturing very far inland and might not have made it to Mostar, where the trail begins.   As it turned out, late January found us in Sarajevo, heading towards Mostar, with sunny skies overhead and a good forecast for the week ahead. There was no snow on the ground and the Ciro Trail was good to go!

The Ciro Trail is a tourism project that has turned an old railway line into a 143km long bike route connecting Mostar to Dubrovnik. It winds its way up and down valleys and across hills, most of the time actually following the old rail bed at a nice and easy 2% grade. The route passes through the old hand-dug tunnels and over the original rail bridges.  It is described online as “a big, open-air museum”, and many of the old train stations are still next to the route. Some of them are in ruins and some of them are being used as homes or businesses.  All along the route there are signs to keep you on track and provide some insight into the history and importance of this old railway.

We actually started out with a little detour to see the village of Blagaj. There’s a 600 year old Dervish monastery perched over the Buna River, next to a cave in a huge limestone cliff. Inside that cave is the source of the river; a huge karstic spring that bubbles out of the earth, out of the cave, and becomes a fast-flowing river about 10m wide. It was pretty impressive to see that volume of water appearing out of nowhere. We snapped some pictures and made our way back to the Ciro.

The first part of the route passed through some villages, and followed quiet roads with very few cars outside of the towns.  It was nice riding, but not overly interesting. That afternoon we reached the first fork in the trail: paved, which skirts around some hills, or gravel, which rides along the old rail bed up and over.  We chose the gravel, and it was definitely the right decision. It led us up a long, low-grade switchback up one side of a valley and continued even higher up the other side, with views back to where we’d come from.  It was pretty fun following what is so obviously an old rail bed.  We passed through 2 old tunnels, pitch black and deathly quiet except for the crunching of the tires and the uneven waver of the bike lights.  We found a nice little pullout with views down to the valley below and decided to camp for the night.

First thing the next morning, we got to ride across an old rail bridge. The engineering for the bridge was done by a soon-to-be famous man named Gustave Eiffel.  It was a pretty exciting crossing; even with a railing, it was very narrow and through the gaps in the slats you could see that it was a long way down!  The trail took us through a few more tunnels, past some old train stations, and to a gorgeous viewpoint overlooking a river valley below.  There were three gravel sections in total, each one with a paved detour, but we chose the gravel every time.  They were bumpy, but completely worth it. The gravel bits were definitely some of the best parts of the trail.  Towards the end of our second day on the Ciro, the route stayed high on a steep bank over a flat valley, filled with abandoned towns and old farmland slowly being reclaimed by the wild.  We wondered if these places had been abandoned after the railway closed down, or as part of the fighting in the 90’s.  It wasn’t too far past here that we started seeing signage warning of landmines in the area. We even saw some sticks poking out of the ground that looked as if they could be marking individual mines! We were a bit nervous about camping that night, but got lucky. Before it got dark we came across another rail bridge that had no pass-around for cars, so we just pitched the tent right after the bridge, on the path, figuring the chances of anyone else coming this way were pretty slim. That night we ate our dinner while sitting on the bridge, dangling our legs over the abyss, looking out to mountains on the horizon and watching headlights zoom back and forth on the distant highway. The moon was nearly full and the world was glowing; not a bad way to spend our last night in the country.

The morning dawned cooler and cloudier than the previous few days, but no rain fell.  We passed through the village of Hum, which used to be an important station on the railway but now houses only a handful of people.  The final part of the Ciro runs through a quiet valley strewn with limestone boulders, and has a few steeper sections as the trail deviates a bit from the rail bed.  This section was the most heavily mined, with warning signs on both side of the path at regular intervals.  We actually ran into a crew of guys who were working on de-mining the area. They didn’t want their picture taken, but they did stop to chat for a bit.  They use a metal detector to locate the mines and then mark mined areas and safe areas with sticks and flagging tape.  Active mines are detonated in place, and dead mines are shipped to Serbia to be destroyed.  They said it is dangerous work and doesn’t pay well, but they did seem glad that we had come to visit their country despite the perceived danger.  They sent us on our way with one last warning to stay on the pavement, and before long we found ourselves cresting a hill and rolling towards the Croatian border.

The first views of the ocean were stunning. We hadn’t seen the ocean since Denmark, and the contrast between land and sea was especially breathtaking. A short stretch of busy and narrow highway took us to Dubrovnik and more amazing views of the Old City overlooking the water.  We were looking forward to a few days of rest, and couldn’t have been more thrilled with our time in Bosnia and Herzegovina.  The Ciro Trail was the icing on the cake, and a great way to finish off such an interesting country.

B&H Round-Up

ODO Start: 3057

ODO Finish: 3488

Total kms: 431

Most kms in a day: 72

Highest pass: 1285m

Days in Country: 19

Nights camped: 2

Number of crashes: 3 (2 Elaine, 1 Steve. We survived.)

Distance ridden in a full-on blizzard: 10km

Other cycle tourists met on the road: 1 (An Australian riding from Athens to Russia)

Biggest money suck: Bakery treats, 2 litre beers, and Rakia.

Landmines stepped on: 0