Foca, Bih to Montenegro - June 7

After the horrible night in the smoke and urine stenched hotel room we had some sort of breakfast at the hotel and were out of Foca, hopefully never to return.

After gassing up we headed down what James and I thought was the correct road to Montenegro. We were trying to interpret Cyrillic and we ended up taking the wrong road. James and I were driving down this beautiful canyon and he mentioned that it looked like there was a road across the canyon. Looking at the map I noticed we should be on that road across the canyon. Because the signs were in Cyrillic we had missed our turnoff. So after driving back 20 km were were on the correct narrow semi-paved, cliff-hanging road to Montenegro.

Having never been to Montenegro, or knowing anyone that had ever been to Montenegro, I was a bit nervous about our crossing. I had no idea what type of country we would be getting into. (Supposedly it is now a part of the EU. They had no war criminals to turn in.) And we weren't exactly entering at the most popular border crossing... We were fairly scrutinized on passing out of the Bosnian border. As we crossed over the Tara river James slowed the car so I could take a picture. I distinctly remember the Bosnian border agent flicking his hand and finger at me saying, "no, no, no." Okay, I guess pictures of the border between Bosnia and Montenegro are not encouraged.

Right after we passed through to Montenegro we stopped at a cafe/river rafting community. Already these were a much more civilized people. They did not speak English, but they let James use their cell phones to call the river rafting companies. There was a fellow that was really pressuring us to buy into his river rafting trip, but we did not have enough Euros to cover the cost.

Onto trying to get more Euros... Despite what all the tour books say about how ubiquitous cash machines are in Europe, I can testify that James and I had to drive over 115 km to Nicklas, the nearest cash machine. Fortunately is was one of the most beautiful drives of our life. On our first 26 km we passed through 57, yes 57 tunnels (the following day when we retraced our first drive I counted the tunnels). Montenegro is beautiful country full of canyons and fjords. Amazing. James and I spent three days there and we would love to go back and spend two full weeks in Montenegro. In Nicklas I grabbed my mace and got some more Euros. It was so civilized and safe though, I feel silly for being so intimidated by stories of the Montenegrin car-thieving mafia.

Back to the river rafting camp on the border along the Tara River.... On our drive back to the border we took another scenic route. So beautiful, it looked like what we imagined Scotland or Ireland to look like. Amazing meadows above the tree (and maybe snow)-level. Let's just say that if either James or I really need to "disappear" because of our "conservative" political stances and need a place to "lay low" for a while, we have a rendezvous point at the tavern at the beginning of the Durmitor National Park where the beer is served in troughs of snow.

I think that on these gravel roads is where our rental car started "making noises." Later, when I was driving the car through the windy roads of the Durmitor Naitional Park I swear I hit the breaks and they did not work at all. In fact, the car was making awful noises at this point even when I hit the accelerator (James thinks there was a rock in between the break pads). We ended up taking the long way to the river rafting camp along the border and even though we hadn't gone into Bosnia again, somehow we needed to go through the Montenegro border again. The gate was down for us on the gravel road, but I think some camera saw us and opened the gate for us to get to the Montenegrin border (2nd time that day).

I was mentally exhausted. James booked a hut/cabin to stay in plus river rafting the next day and I went to bed (with my mace, unnecessarily, poised in my sleeping hands along the Tara River.