(Un)lucky

October 21, 2024

As I cycle down the pass toward Virpazar at Lake Skadar, I unknowingly approach a stray dog. It runs after me briefly, then stops and waits, disappointed, for the next vehicle. Stray dogs are a sad reality across the Balkans, but this one is different. As I get closer, I notice something horrifying: its entire left flank, down to the ankle, is torn open—a massive patch of fur and skin is missing. What a terrible fate. Without help, it’s clear the dog won’t survive long. But I can’t help it. I keep riding, tears welling up and nausea setting in. It takes me time to recover from the sight—it felt like looking death in the eye.

The breathtaking scenery around Lake Skadar helps me push away the grim memory of that encounter.

As I cycle north along the lake, I meet other bike travelers. First, there’s a Dutch couple on a tandem. “Smart idea,” I think. “No arguments over differing fitness levels. But if they argue, it must be brutal to sit so close and pedal in sync all day.” They’re planning to cycle all the way to Asia.

Next, I encounter a 68-year-old Austrian couple who have biked all the way from home to Montenegro, following a route similar to mine. Comparing notes—me with an app, them with a traditional map—I notice how experienced they are at bikepacking. I think to myself, I hope to be as fit and adventurous at their age!

They tell me about spotting a flower earlier that day. It wasn’t in the right light for a photo, so they planned an evening trip to capture it.

Tired? These two seem immune.

They show me the flower and the picture they took. Neither the flower nor the photo particularly impresses me, but beauty is subjective.

For them, the journey to the flower was as important as the flower itself - a small moment of happiness that added meaning to their day.

The couple mentions they passed through the village I’m planning to descend into. However, they didn’t see the path I’m looking for. I consider cycling down to check but realize I might face a climb back up 150 meters if the route doesn’t work. "Only 150 meters?" I think, acknowledging it feels like much more for me than for these spry pensioners.

I begin the descent, pausing to fly my drone. Soon, a car approaches. The local driver tells me the path I’m searching for only exists in summer - it’s now submerged. Relieved to avoid the full climb back, I only need to ascend 50 meters. A small bit of luck amid misfortune.

The main road, however, is anything but lucky. It’s a busy route leading to Podgorica, with constant traffic. Cars rush past with little room for a cyclist. Staying steady on the edge of the lane demands my full concentration. By the time I turn off, I’m exhausted but relieved. It’s getting dark, and I urgently need a camping spot.

The stray dog from yesterday returns to my thoughts. Is it still alive? Sadness engulfs me again, but memories of the day resurface: the stunning scenery along Lake Skadar. The joy and flow I experienced earlier return for a moment, briefly lifting my spirits.

Luck and misfortune. A chaotic swirl of emotions - elation and sadness, gratitude and despair - leaves me emotionally drained.

I’m grateful my journey has gone so smoothly overall. I’ve been extraordinarily lucky - almost too lucky.

And then it happens. Cycling through the outskirts of Podgorica, I’m suddenly jolted back to reality. A car reverses out of a parking lot, noticing me too late. I swerve just in time but lose my balance, wobbling violently. My right pedal scrapes the ground, keeping me upright by sheer luck. My mountain biking skills save me from a crash. A close call. Luck in the midst of misfortune.

I stop, shaken. Something feels wrong with my front wheel.

Sure enough, my first flat tire - after over 2,000 kilometers.

Not bad in the grand scheme of things. But fixing it now, in the dark, and finding a campsite is unrealistic.

I locate two nearby accommodations online and walk to the first. I’m turned away - the staff are absent. After 40 minutes, I finally find a place. And what a place! Sometimes, luck and misfortune are inseparably intertwined.

I have almost an entire apartment to myself, hosted by the kindest family I’ve ever met. Despite the late hour, they cook dinner for me - even though I have a kitchen in my apartment, and they’ve already eaten. They don’t know I’m a cyclist who devours twice the usual portions. They don’t need to know I quietly cook myself pasta afterward.

The family’s incredible hospitality continues the next day. They bring me breakfast, drive me to a supermarket, help me fix my bike, and even take me to a mechanic to replace a missing valve adapter. They gift me fruit from their garden, a cap for the road, and insist I pay no more than the modest price we initially agreed upon. The host father treats me like one of his own children.

I’m overwhelmed by their generosity.

Finally, I’m ready to continue toward Albania. We part with a heartfelt hug.

If you’re ever in Podgorica, I wholeheartedly recommend “Cute Lodge in Zeta”!

Mafia

Charming