It's Not Flat!
⬅ previous ⬆intro next ➡Day 3 ~ 8 September ~ Virpazar to Biogradska Gora National Park
Our itinerary from WF had said that we'd take a train ride today, timetable permitting. Sadly, the timetable does not permit so we'll be on the road again after breakfast.
Is it significant that the word "Coffee" is so much bigger than the word "you"?
The hotel provides us some supplies for a packed lunch, and we also pop across to the supermarket for a few apples and things.
Farewell Hotel Pelikan.
We pass through the unexciting modern town of Podgorica, but soon we are in the spectacular Moraca Gorge. In places, we can see across to the railway line that we would have taken according to Plan A, but don't see much in the way of trains.
Just before this tunnel, there's space to pull in for the views.
Back the way we've just come.
The river below.
Now on through the tunnel, one of many on this road which has only recently been built with Chinese money. As with many recipients of China's largesse, some fear that their motives are not entirely altruistic, but then there aren't a lot of alternative options.
We are dropped at the edge of the Biogradska Gora National Park, and will walk to our next accommodation.
Ooh, we're quite taken by the good knight "Sir Cheese"! Unfortunately, "domaći sir" just means "homemade cheese" in Serbian.
Anyway, off we go. Interestingly, if you look this location up on Google Maps (as I write this), it's entirely blanketed in snow. It's quite a lot cooler here at this altitude, over 1500m, and skiing is very much a local thing.
First off is a little stop for blueberry juice (and for Marko to flirt with the proprietress. He seems to be worse than me, we've noticed!)
Not obvious in the picture are the roof support beams that come down very low at the sides. I manage to bang my head quite hard on one, but fortunately my hat protects me. Kangaroo leather, tough stuff! I have a slight scrape with a little blood, but nothing serious.
These cows look better endowed with pasture than yesterday's.
The landscape can be sparse, but it's beautiful.
Once again, we're off the main tourist track and have the place very much to ourselves.
These are wild blueberries, and I hope that they are the source of what we've just been drinking, not some industrial conglomerate.
We pick a few to eat.
If I had any idea whether this fungus is edible, I would know whether it is safe to make a mushroom and blueberry pie.
Though even if it is safe, I'm not sure it would be wise.
Funnily enough, it's the day after Erin Patterson -- the Australian beef Wellington mushroom murderer -- was sentenced to life with a minimum term of 33 years.
A little break for lunch.
Google image search tells me that this is Gentiana asclepiadea, the Willow Gentian. As always, I have just taken the photo 'cos I like it.
As we approach our destination, there's a slight obstruction! We aren't doing any horse riding on this trip (and if Amanda has her way we won't be doing it on any future ones either), but it's a popular local activity.
This is where we're staying tonight, Katun Goleš. 'Katun' is the Balkan word for a small clan community or village of semi-nomadic herders. There are a few families here now offering tourist lodges, and we'll be staying with one of them.
Ours is the second cabin from the right. The toilet and sink block is visible behind and to the right.
Come in!
It's very basic, with the toilets a short walk away and the shower (singular!) a rather longer one. Mind, the shower must be a recent addition because the WF briefing said we'd have none at all.
Ah, when I banged my head earlier, I fell back a bit against something and have acquired a couple of scrapes that Amanda sees when I get undressed for the shower. Again not serious: I have obviously lived to tell the tale.
This is the dining area. There's some space inside but we all sit out. Slightly surprisingly, neither of us took any pictures at dinner, but Amanda's diary entry says we had vegetable noodle soup followed by courgette fritters, pork schitzel, salad, cheese and bred, all washed down with local Vranac red wine.
Vranac (the 'c' is pronounced as 'ts' in English) is probably not a grape you are familiar with: we certainly weren't, and it scarcely exists outside Montenegro, North Macedonia and Croatia. It actually originates from Montenegro, where it is by far the most planted variety in the country. A scholarly article about selecting the best clones for production starts off "‘Vranac’ is an autochthonous grape cultivar of Montenegro" -- and we have another marvellous and too-rarely used word to enjoy.
"Wherever I lay my hat and my orang-utan, that's my home."
Goodnight.
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