Will Scammell

Uzbekistan

Upon arriving in Uzbekistan, Joris and I initially planned to take trains across the Uzbek desert to speed up our journey to Tajikistan. However, when we reached the train station in the first town, it appeared deserted with no one around to assist us. Our next step was to visit a nearby bank to withdraw some Uzbek som from the ATM. To our dismay, the ATM was empty and incapable of dispensing cash.

Uncertain about our next move, we were graciously invited into the home of a local gentleman who offered us tea and food. During our conversation, he informed us that there would be no access to money for the next 140 kilometers, and there were no available trains.

Faced with this challenge, we decided to cycle back to the main road and try hitchhiking with passing trucks. After several attempts, we managed to catch a ride, although we had to take separate trucks driving in convoy as they each only had one spare seat. Our journey entailed a grueling 7-hour drive across a poor desert road, and we stopped for the night around 2 am. Fortunately, we were offered the truck’s bunks to sleep in, a treat to have a proper bed.

The following morning, after enjoying an Uzbek breakfast consisting of beef, bread, and eggs, we continued our journey in the trucks for another 5 hours before being dropped off at an unknown location along the road 500km away from where we got picked up.

After consulting a map, we headed to the city of Urdench, hoping to catch a train to Samarkand. This was a strange city, feeling very empty with few people around but huge 3 lane roads everywhere and almost plastic fake looking building.

At the train station we were informed the next train wasn’t until the following morning. Our efforts to find affordable lodging proved fruitless, as the hotels charged tourist rates double that of Uzbek locals. Faced with this challenge, we decided to cycle out of the city in search of a suitable camping spot. Eventually, we came across a hut near some fields and asked the residents if we could camp there.

To our surprise, the hut was attached to a restaurant, and the kind hosts not only allowed us to camp but insisted we join them for a meal. The food was exceptional, with fresh bread, kebabs and potatoes stew.

The next day, we embarked on a 10-hour train journey. It was quite a challenge getting the bikes on the train and squeezing them into the corner whilst a rather unimpressed train guard watched on. During the journey, we met a friendly family accompanying their son to university who generously shared their food with us. All the passengers on the train were not only friendly but also well-educated, many of them holding positions as lawyers, nurses, teachers, or students heading back to university for the start of the term. Conversations revealed that while they praised their president and government, most students aspired to leave Uzbekistan for opportunities in Japan or Europe, with many attending international universities.

The following day, we explored the city of Samarkand before making our way to the Tajikistan border.

I had concerns about crossing the border because we lacked the necessary registration to exit the country. Officially, within three days of entering Uzbekistan, visitors are required to register at a hotel and present this documentation at the border. However, we had not completed this process, and it seemed like a 50/50 chance whether we would be asked for the document.

Additionally, British citizens needed a $30 visa to enter Tajikistan, whereas citizens of most other countries, including Europeans and Australians, did not require one. My plan was to swap to my Australian passport when entering Tajikistan to save on visa fees.

Exiting Uzbekistan proved straightforward, with a border official stamping our passports without questions. However, entering Tajikistan presented challenges. The Tajik border official was concerned that my Australian passport lacked an Uzbekistan exit stamp. When I showed him my British passport, he remained unimpressed and instructed me to wait while he made a phone call. After 20 minutes, he informed me that I must enter using the same passport I used to exit Uzbekistan and that I needed to obtain a visa.

Next, his boss arrived and escorted me to a back room, where he scrutinized my passport details for approximately 5 minutes. Recognizing that my possession of two different passports had caused confusion, I clarified that my father was Australian, and my mother was British. This explanation seemed to put them at ease, and they became very friendly telling me how great Tajikistan is and issuing the required stamp.

After one final passport check, I was granted entry to Tajikistan with the words, “Welcome to paradise.”

My short time in Uzbekistan has been great. The people were exceptionally hospitable, often expressing surprise at encountering tourists in their country. While we missed some planned destinations, such as Khorg, the journey was enriched by the delicious cuisine, characterized by simple yet great meat, bread, and savory pastries.

West Kazakhstan

At Tbilisi airport before flying to Kazakhstan, I had about four hours before my flight, so I was just sitting there using some wifi when I met Joris, a French man cycling around the world. He was the first bike tourist I had met since my first day in Turkey and it was great to have someone to navigate the airport with.

Once check-in opened, we were both worried our bikes would be too heavy, not knowing what they weighed or what the maximum weight would be. Fortunately, neither did the check-in staff, and they were fine with mine weighing in at 38.8kg.

There was a lot of turbulence on the flight, with it being lightning in Georgia when we left. Fortunately, I slept the whole way, and we landed at 2am in Aktau.

Our first task upon arrival was to reassemble our bikes, much to the amusement of the local Kazakh taxi drivers who watched with curiosity. My initial plan was to find a quiet corner in the airport and sleep until sunrise, but Joris shared that the airport was situated in the middle of nowhere. So, we pedaled a kilometer away from the terminal, finding a spot to camp amid the desert’s solitude.

With the morning sun, we cycled into the city of Aktau, greeted by the Caspian Sea and an opportunity to swim. The city itself felt very empty but this could be due to it being the Constitution Day of Kazakhstan a national holiday.

For the first time on my journey, I had to purchase water, as it seemed that bottled water was the only option in this desert landscape. Furthermore, with the towns approximately 100km apart we had to stock up on the essentials.

The next three days were all spent very similarly, cycling through the desert and stopping anytime we could find any shade to rest and eat. Finding places to camp was incredibly easy; just cycling a few hundred meters from the road, but every night we’d get a beautiful sunset across the flat baron landscape.

One day, a friendly truck driver offered us a lift. Having cycled nearly 90km in a straight line, we welcomed the respite. Our bikes nestled in the truck bed, with us squeezing into the front cabin, sharing the limited space with our generous driver. To avoid unwanted attention from the police, I had to lie on the bed keeping my head down as there were only two seats in the front. After a 140km ride, we disembarked in the final Kazakh town before the Uzbekistan border, where we once again found ourselves camping beneath the desert stars.

The following day marked our entry into Uzbekistan. The Kazakh border was formidable, with long queues and strict procedures. However, our status as tourists afforded us preferential treatment, to the clear displeasure of fellow travelers. On the Uzbek side, we underwent thorough checks, including X-rays of every item packed on our bikes – a minor inconvenience compared to the motorists forces to remove every bag from their cars before passing them all through the scanner.

In the 4 days spent in Kazakhstan I feel like I didn’t really learn anything about this country. The people were friendly but we didn’t communicate with them any more than “where are you from?” and “where are you going?”. I found the desert to be amazing and was in ore anytime I’d look out to see nothing on the landscape and also amused anytime I’d see a camel. The food has been different and I’ve mostly been eating tinned fish, loads of biscuits and even some horse milk. I’ll hopefully be returning to Eastern Kazakhstan in October if it hasn’t got too cold in the northen hemisphere by then!

Georgia

Upon entering Georgia, I followed the Black Sea coast north to reach the city of Batumi. Serge’s words from the bus journey resonated with me – he had predicted that I might not enjoy Batumi. According to him, it was a place where affluent Turks would showcase their wealth. As I arrived, the city’s architecture stood out, I felt it was attempting to emulate the ultra-modern Middle Eastern city vibe. However, due to these new builds being constructed around the existing soviet structures, the blend didn’t quite work. My stay in Batumi was brief, just enough to grab some food and money before heading east into the mountains.

For the remainder of the day, I headed east, ascending through a gorge on a breathtaking road. Rain finally greeted me, the first since Istanbul, and it appeared that the night would be wet.

Luck led me to a great picnic area where I set up camp. This sheltered spot allowed me to avoid using the tent, sleeping on a table while keeping both myself and my belongings dry. A friendly cat joined me, providing company by resting directly on top of me throughout the rainy night.

The subsequent day, I climbed to an elevation of 2000 meters. While I expected a challenging ascent, I hadn’t anticipated such poor road conditions. The slow pace kept the climb engaging, requiring me to constantly survey the road for holes to avoid.

In one village, a man offered me a drink outside his home, presenting a bottle of fizzy water. Accepting his kindness, I realised as shot glasses emerged that water wasn’t what was being poured. It turned out to be some sort of raki, which at 11am did little to help me up the mountain.

Eventually, I reached the summit, only to face road works on the descent. The road was constantly transitioning from fresh tarmac to deep gravel. In one of these sections, I came off my bike right in front of the workers. They kindly assisted me in cleaning up, but I think found the whole thing quite funny.

As the road conditions improved, I made steady progress and camped by a river that night, accompanied by a friendly dog who slept outside my tent the whole night.

The following day demanded a long climb to a plateau, accompanied by a persistent headwind. The higher altitude brought cold temperatures, with me finding myself amidst the clouds once at the summit.

Descending through a village, a group of men beckoned me over while enjoying a meal by the church. They extended their hospitality, offering me a plate of lamb stew cooked over an open fire, along with bread. The meal was a welcome reward after a strenuous day. With each empty plate, they refilled it promptly. There was also plenty of vodka to go round, with toasts followed by shots about every 15 minutes. I never knew what I was drinking to as these men spoke no English but I still had a great time joining in.

As the night fell, one of the men gestured for me to follow him, offering me a room in his home. I took him up on his offer and it was fascinating observing his way of life. The house was very simple with no running water and an outside toilet.

After spending a day descending, reaping the rewards of the climbs I had conquered. I established camp 20km outside Tbilisi and headed into the city the following morning.

Within an hour, I realised that I had already explored much of what the city had to offer. It wasn’t particularly touristy, so I decided to head to a nearby lake for a refreshing swim and a much-needed wash.

My next task was to aquire a box for my bike. Finding one was relatively straightforward, and I managed to get one at the fourth bike shop I visited. However, I was charged around £10 for it, which I later learned was the norm in Tbilisi. Due to the Georgia-Azerbaijan border closure, to reach Kazakhstan, one must either pass through Russia, Iran, or take a flight. Most people opt for the latter, resulting in high demand for bike boxes in the city.

I decided to attempt cycling the 20 km to the airport with the cumbersome box. This proved to be quite a challenge, carrying it under my arm, and it became a bit nerve-wracking when the wind picked up. Nonetheless, I managed to make it to the airport.

Upon my arrival at the airport, I encountered five cyclists who had just arrived from Japan and were embarking on a journey around Georgia. They were busy assembling their bikes and trying to get rid of 5 bike boxes!

I packed my bike into the box, along with most of my bags, sealed it up with plenty of tape, and headed into the airport.

Georgia had emerged as my favourite country to travel through so far. The cycling had been exceptional, featuring remarkable mountain passes, and the locals had consistently displayed genuine friendliness. My culinary experiences had also been a highlight, with a variety of sweets and fantastic bakeries offering delicious savoury pastries which are always a surprise as to what they are stuffed full of.

Eastern Turkey

Once my bike was repaired, I set my course for Cappadocia. Even though it meant cycling back west, I was determined to explore this UNESCO World Heritage site renowned for its unique rock formations. Covering the 80km distance in good time, I had the opportunity to explore the area before needing to find a camping spot. The distinctiveness of this small region within Turkey stood out remarkably with such a different geography.

In the evening, I headed to one of the viewpoints overlooking the town of Göreme, where I intended to camp. Engaging in conversation with a man who ran a pony riding business, he advised me on a suitable camping spot and informed me I’d need to wake up at 5am to see the mesmerizing spectacle of the balloons. With this knowledge, I got an early night in anticipation.

The following morning, as the sky started to exhibit hues of color during sunrise, the first balloons gradually ascended, initially appearing as silhouettes against the sky. With the ignition of the hot flames within the balloons, they illuminated, creating a spectacular display against the backdrop of the rising sun. As the balloons approached, their vibrant colours became more pronounced, and I witnessed their graceful descent, some landing impressively onto trailers by the road. It was truly a breathtaking sight to behold.

Later that morning, I explored more of Cappadocia, visiting the town of Ürgüp before returning to Kayseri.

My next plan involved taking an overnight bus covering a distance of around 800 km towards Georgia. Procuring the bus ticket was relatively straightforward, but loading my bike onto the bus posed a challenge. The staff member responsible for loading the bus insisted there was no space underneath the coach for my bike, despite evidence to the contrary. Eventually I just placed my bike on the bus, and he reluctantly helped me pack items around it, clearly unimpressed.

At the bus stop, I encountered Serge, a Russian traveler heading to Sochi. He was on the same bus, undertaking a three-day bus journey due to the unavailability of flights to Russia. He had been working in Turkey as an engineer and spoke English and Turkish fluently. We shared travel experiences and he was incredibly helpful guiding me through the Turkish bus experience.

The 15-hour bus ride was made more bearable with onboard Wi-Fi. I spent the journey planning, doing admin, and managing to catch some sleep.

As the sun rose, the bus traveled alongside the Black Sea amidst a storm, providing a stark contrast to the dry climate I’d experienced for the last week.

It was nice to get the legs moving again after the bus journey. I set off from the town of Hopa on the Black Sea coast and short 20km ride remained before reaching Georgia. Despite online reports about the challenges of cycling through the Black Sea tunnels in Turkey, I found them manageable. The echoing sounds of approaching lorries within the tunnels could be intimidating, but I quickly became accustomed to it.

Crossing the border proved time-consuming. A 45-minute wait in a queue of cars marked my exit from Turkey. On the Georgian side, the process resembled navigating through an airport terminal, wheeling my bike along. Georgian border officials meticulously inspected my passport, using magnifying glasses and testing my knowledge of its contents but let me through with no problem.

I found Turkey’s heat and cycling along busy roads very draining at times and unfortunately didn’t have time to take a longer route on the smaller roads. However, I very much enjoyed the people and the food of this country. With my favourite foods from Turkey included Turkish sausage, various kebabs, and my newfound addiction to Fuze tea, a very sweet iced tea drink. I now look forward to the change in scenery and culture that Georgia promises.

Central Turkey

On my first evening, I ventured into a small village to find water and a suitable camping spot. That’s when I crossed paths with Muhammad and Ismail. Through the aid of Google Translate, we engaged in conversation, shared food, and then I was escorted by them on their motorbikes to the village’s football pitch, where they indicated I could camp for the night. As I finished setting up my tent, they returned, accompanied by what seemed like most of the village’s children on motorbikes, emitting a sense of curiosity. My original plan of having dinner and retiring for the night was derailed, as the children were intrigued by the presence of an Englishman camping in their village. The evening evolved into an impromptu football match and answering alot of questions.

The following day brought scorching heat, reportedly reaching 46 degrees according to my GPS, although I remained somewhat skeptical of that. Cycling through the intense heat posed a challenge. I’m still not sure the best course of action as sometimes I feel the breeze while riding is more refreshing than being stationary.

Passing through the ancient city of Eskisehir, I located a mosque where I was able to have a wash and refill my water supplies. Finding water in Turkey has been incredibly easy with every village having a mosque and almost every mosque having drinking water.

That evening, I slept in a park, awakening to the sight of a friendly shepherd leading a flock of goats through the area. Although language barriers impeded our conversation, I tried my best to explain to this curious man why I was camped there and where I was going.

The day’s objective was to reach Lake Tuz, a salt flat. Throughout the day however, I cycled through some fantastic landscape and it was clear by now I’d left Europe.

Once at Lake Tuz, the sight of an expansive horizon with nothing but emptiness was impressive. That evening, I stopped at one of the numerous melon stalls that have become commonplace since my time in Croatia. While I was in Turkey, the prevalence of these stalls seemed unparalleled. I’ve never seen any melons being grown anywhere, so I’m still not too sure where they all come from. The vendor running the stand was happy for me to camp there, allowing me to witness a picturesque sunset over the lake.

The subsequent day proved difficult due to significant issues with my bike. Sensing that something was amiss, I located a bike shop in Aksaray. They were helpful but indicated that fixing the bike there was unfeasible due to the required parts’ unavailability, requiring a wait of four days. I opted to take a bus to Kayseri, where I could find a shop capable of addressing the issues. After a two-hour bus ride, I located a shop that could fix it – a new rear hub and bottom bracket were required. They promised to have the bike fixed by the following afternoon. Feeling a bit down, I treated myself to a night in a hotel although my spirits were quickly lifted by the

friendly hotel staff offering me drinks. That evening was then spent chatting and drinking with these three men before I headed up to my room for some rest.

By 1 pm the next day, my bike was repaired and I set off westward towards Cappadocia.

The recent days have been both mentally and physically demanding for several reasons.

Firstly, a significant aspiration of my trip is to cycle through the Pamir mountains in Tajikistan. To accomplish this, I must reach the area by mid-September to avoid extreme cold temperatures. This target required me to cover approximately 130 km per day, which initially seemed feasible. However, the experience of spending eight hours on the bike daily and feeling obligated to press on took a toll on my enjoyment of the trip. My solution to this is taking a bus across most of Turkey to reduce the distance I need to cycle.

Transitioning into Asia marked a distinct culture shock. Access to Wi-Fi became more challenging, English speakers became scarce, and I often sensed that I was being overcharged for food and beverages. The toilets were also a stark contrast at first!

Nonetheless, most people I’ve encountered have been remarkably friendly and intrigued by my journey, with the younger people often wanting to connect on Instagram and take photos together. I have also shared tea and food with some interesting people whilst amongst some great scenery.

European Turkey and Istanbul

The Turkish border crossing carried a significant air of seriousness. The demarcation line was the Maritsa River, where Greek and Turkish armed guards stood watch on either side of the bridge. As I entered Turkey, my passport underwent thorough scrutiny. Three separate individuals examined it, with the final officer meticulously inspecting each stamp to trace my journey. This look quite a while but eventually my passport was returned, and I was officially in Turkey.

Though another day plagued by a persistent headwind, I managed to reach Kesan, where I sought refuge in a local park for the night. Interestingly, in Turkey, it seemed acceptable to camp in city parks and the café owner in the vicinity was very encouraging I camp there. This was a fantastic place to camp with toilets, drinking water and even WiFi for the night!

Continuing my journey, the subsequent day saw me cycling along a dual carriageway for the most part. Stopping in Tekirdag, I withdrew cash and visited the supermarket, where I was pleasantly surprised by the affordability of everything. A shop that would have set me back £15 in Greece now cost only £10.

That evening, I made my way to the beach in Silivri, with hopes of camping there for the night. However, my plans took an unexpected turn when I spoke to a worker at one of the beach huts. He cautioned against camping due to police patrols in the area. Nonetheless, I seized the opportunity for a refreshing swim before eventually ending up camping between some trees in a junction off the main road.

My goal for the following day was to reach Istanbul. I’d been warned by numerous sources that cycling into the city was a daunting prospect due to heavy traffic and drivers lacking consideration for cyclists. While some recommended taking a longer route through the hills to the north, following the Bosphorus Strait into the city, this would have added around 100 km to my journey. I opted to stick to the main roads, ready to divert if conditions became unbearable.

The roads were indeed congested, but the slow-moving traffic, primarily due to city centre congestion, made it manageable to cycle through. A driver even handed me a can of coke at one point out of his window! Eventually, I veered off the main roads and navigated my way into the old city, often tracing the tram lines.

I then hopped on the ferry to cross the Bosphorus Strait. Once across, I reached the home of William, an American now residing in Istanbul. He warmly welcomed me, cooking me to a fantastic lunch. To my surprise, he entrusted me with the keys to his apartment, extending an open invitation to stay for as long as needed.

Venturing back to the European side of the city that evening, I explored the old town. Its charm was enhanced after dark, with bars and restaurants illuminating the surroundings.

The following day, I embarked on an early exploration of the old city before the heat and crowds set in. It proved to be an enjoyable day, walking around unburdened by my bicycle. I also indulged in a boat ride up the Bosphorus Strait.

Despite the temptation to linger in Istanbul, I knew my journey must continue. Departing was smoother than my arrival, as I joined a 20 km coastal cycle path before taking a ferry to Yalova, avoiding some of the busier eastern roads. The hour long ferry only cost £4 and was very easy even if they didn’t quite get the name on my ticket right!

Istanbul left an indelible impression. Its ambiance was distinct from Western European cities, striking a balance between tranquility and chaos. After 37 days and 15 countries, I have now completed Europe. My route now directs me eastward into Asia, roughly tracing the path of the ancient Silk Road.

Greece

When I looked at the map, I realized that finding a suitable camping spot for my first night in Greece would be a challenge. The landscape seemed to be primarily farmland, and my attempt to camp by an abandoned building was thwarted by a group of barking sheepdogs. I hurriedly left the scene to avoid the shepherd’s intervention.

About an hour later, I encountered Lazarus, who recognised my predicament and suggested I camp in the churchyard. Although initially hesitant, he assured me it was safe and that the walled garden would shield me from wild dogs, though perhaps not from the bears which had been spotted in the village that week!

The following day, I embarked on an extensive cycle toward Thessaloniki. Covering 140km, my goal was simply to reach the coast, as the monotony of cycling through farmland had started to take its toll.

Thessaloniki proved to be a busy touristy city with a large harbour but nowhere really to swim. That evening, I peddled into the nearby hills to set up camp and enjoyed a view overlooking the city.

On the third day, I joined a road that would essentially lead me to Turkey. The towns along the way boasted bustling beaches with rows of umbrellas and vendors selling shade, which made the cycling somewhat mundane. Nonetheless, the main road facilitated efficient progress. That night, I ventured to a beach for dinner and a swim, hoping to camp there if it was quiet enough. There were a few tents set up already on the beach and when enquiring with one of the campers if I could sleep there for free he said it should be fine.

The following day’s cycling proved strenuous. Battling a headwind from the start, I knew it would only intensify as the day progressed. Since my route headed east all day, the relentless wind gave me no respite, and certain stretches became particularly grueling, especially when the road became exposed running alongside a lake.

That evening posed another camping challenge with little wilderness on route. I ended up finding refuge in some bushes behind a local park, enduring the persistent barking of dogs – a sound I had grown accustomed to. Throughout Greece I’ve had many dogs chasing me and barking relentlessly at me as I’ve cycled past them.

Forming an opinion about Greece has proven tricky. While I’ve cherished moments on picturesque sandy beaches, there have also been instances where the monotonous stretches of road, lasting up to 50 km, have tempted me to try and hitchhike. I’ve noticed that Greece tends to be pricier than the preceding countries, including Croatia. I’m eagerly anticipating the change as I transition into Turkey, and I’ve also made the decision to extend my journey by an additional 2,000 km. I’ll be continuing through Istanbul and heading towards Tbilisi, Georgia, before finally flying to Aktau, Kazakhstan.

Albania and North Macedonia

Crossing into Albania marked another straightforward border encounter. The Montenegrin police scanned my passport on one side, then threw it over the desk to their Albanian counterparts, who glanced at it for a mere second before returning it to me.

Positive remarks about Albania had been a common theme, with many individuals mentioning the kindness and hospitality of its people, though warning of challenging road conditions and assertive drivers.

Initially, I intended to acquire an Albanian SIM card, anticipating a four-day stay in the country. However, after spending an hour in an Albanian Vodafone store, we couldn’t get it to work with my phone. This was not a major setback, as in Albania it was possible to get some Wi-Fi and electricity while enjoying a 50p coffee.

The north of the country was mostly rural farms and small villages. A local assured me that I could pretty much camp anywhere without issue. Thus, on my first night, I set up camp in a lay-by beside a tranquil road.

My second day in Albania lead me to the capital city, Tirana. Cycling into the city was a whirlwind of chaotic traffic and assertive drivers. Yet, despite the frenetic atmosphere, cycling through was good fun and I always felt safe, even when I inadvertently ended up on the motorway.

In Tirana, I rendezvoused with Adriatik and his two brothers. Adriatik, an avid cyclist and friend of a friend of my mother’s cousin Phil, had generously agreed to host me during my stay. After a traditional Albanian lunch of chicken and rice with soup outside his brother’s jewellery shop, I headed to his brother’s apartment for a refreshing shower. That evening, Adriatik’s brother treated me to a delightful meal, followed by a visit to Adriatik’s mother-in-law’s dessert shop where we gathered around a table chatting late into the night.

It was tough leaving Tirana and the friends I’d made there the following morning. I felt very lucky to have spent my time in the city with some wonderful people. As I left I headed eastward. This meant I would not get to explore the scenic south of the country, however this was the more direct route towards Istanbul and would allow me to visit North Macedonia.

The route towards North Macedonia proved demanding, with significant climbs dotting the landscape. Alongside the road, an abandoned railway line intrigued me, tunneling through mountains and spanning valleys with impressive viaducts. As I gazed at its level path, I couldn’t help but wish it was suitable for cycling. That night, I found a great camping spot next to it.

The following morning, I was awakened by the sound of a cowbell and a man leading his cow past my tent. He seemed unperturbed by my presence. I set off for Pogradec, spending my remaining Albanian Lek before crossing into North Macedonia.

Albania proved to be a delightful country to traverse. The friendliness of its people led to numerous conversations, and while the roads were no worse than those in the UK, some drainage holes posed a challenge.

In North Macedonia, tourists were required to register with the police within 24 hours of arrival, often done through accommodation or at the police station. Preferring to avoid complications due to my wild camping, I opted to spend only a day in the country.

The journey into North Macedonia involved a long climb of 690 meters, taking over an hour. Unfortunately, the clouded sky offered no panoramic view at the summit, though the subsequent descent was thoroughly enjoyable.

I directed myself towards Bitola, the country’s second-largest city. A man approached me in the city center, attempting to convince me to stay at his hostel. However, upon learning of my intention to head for Greece that night, he advised me to “enjoy it while it’s cheap” before cycling away. I heeded his counsel, stocking up on supplies before proceeding to the Greek border.

Bosnia and Herzegovina, Southern Croatia and Montenegro

I had always intended to briefly cross through Bosnia and Herzegovina, covering just 10 km, to reach the southern part of Croatia. However, after conversing with fellow cycle tourists, I was convinced to embark on a more extensive detour, exploring the countryside and even the city of Mostar. This decision offered the added benefits of potentially cooler weather away from the coast and the avoidance of the busy main road south of Split.

Crossing into the country marked my first passport check since my arrival in France, and the border crossing went exceptionally smoothly. I was greeted by a vast lake that enticed me to take a refreshing swim.

My route led me through the captivating Blidinje Nature Park. Following a climb to 1247 meters, I found myself on an expansive, sparsely populated plateau. The cycling experience through this wilderness, aided by a favorable tailwind, was very enjoyable.

The subsequent descent from this altitude was exhilarating, as I followed an impeccably maintained road that meandered through the valley. I located a suitable camping spot along this route for the night.

The following morning marked the onset of rain. The rain had begun during the night and I decided to bravely pedal through it during the morning hours.

I joined the valley road that traced the course of the Neretva River. This road would eventually lead me back to Croatia. However, my first stop was Mostar, a city renowned for its touristy old town and iconic bridge.

Due to the relentless rain, my time in Mostar was brief and I didn’t spend long wondering around the old stone buildings.

Pressing on, I continued to follow the Neretva River back into Croatia, reaching the town of Metkovic. I had been to this town previously in 2018 for a kayak race, but never had the chance to explore this region having spent most of the time by the river or in the hotel. Unlike my previous memory of the bustling town where athletes from all over Europe had come to compete, it now felt surprisingly tranquil, with a lack of activity.

Heading south, I crossed into Bosnia and Herzegovina for 10km before reentering Croatia. I had hoped to cross the huge Pelješac Bridge which was only finished last year however, I discovered it was a motorway so unfortunately couldn’t and had to follow the old road which was now deserted. That night I found a picturesque spot to setup camp on a quiet mountain road.

The following day was devoted to reaching Dubrovnik, a place that had long captured my curiosity. However, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat out of place as I wheeled my bike through the historic old town, clad in my dirtied cycling attire, attempting to navigate through the masses of tourists.

As I departed Dubrovnik, the rain begin again. After enduring about an hour of rain while waiting outside Lidl with lots of shoppers also sheltering from the downpour, I became bored and resolved to forge ahead and aimed for the Montenegro border. Arriving at the border, there was a long line of cars which I just cycled around before showing my passport and entering the country.

That evening once the rain finally ended I witnessed Montenegro’s beauty. After ascending a road that doubled as a hill climb track, I settled for the night at the local fly tipping spot!

Given that I was now beyond the realms of the EU, I opted not to utilize my phone contract, which would have incurred a daily cost of £6.85. This decision introduced a degree of complexity in finding water sources compared to my previous routine. Now, my strategy involved aiming for churches or petrol stations and relying on the presence of taps or approaching locals for assistance. These methods occasionally led me to questionable water sources, such as an incident in Bosnia where a man drew a bucket of water from a well after lifting up what appeared to be a manhole cover, or relying on this pipe in Montenegro which a local assured me was “very good”.

The subsequent morning heralded even more rain. Determined, I charted a course for Albania along the coastline where I could see some blue sky in the distance.

The last few days had proven arduous due to the incessant rainfall. Unfortunately, this hampered my exploration of Montenegro, as my primary focus had shifted to covering miles amidst the wet weather. The forecast, however, appears to be promising, hinting at a more favourable stretch ahead as I cross into my 12th country Albania.

Slovenia and Northern Croatia

Opting to skip Slovenia, I headed straight for Croatia. This led me to cycle 14 km through a deserted forest road, stopping only once for water. I decided to save Slovenia for another trip; fellow travelers who’ve cycled through there extol its beauty. However, I wanted to continue along the coast and didn’t fancy the Slovenian mountains!

The border crossing from Slovenia to Croatia was deserted. Where once there was clearly a barbed wire fence and multiple checkpoints, now just empty buildings since Croatia joined the Schengen Zone in 2023.

Croatia is a very popular country for cycle tourists, evidenced within my first 10 km in the country. There, I encountered Burak, a Turkish cyclist pedaling from Germany to Istanbul. His electric bike towed a self-designed “caravan” , a sight to behold. He was an intriguing character who might have convinced me to continue past Istanbul and further into Turkey. In just two weeks, he’d garnered 20,000 Instagram followers through documenting his trip. As we parted ways, he let me sign his caravan and promised to give me a shout out on Instagram.

Wild camping is prohibited in Croatia, and I’ve been told the police patrol the costal areas to search for people. Therefore, I camped away from the coast in the mountainous regions each night, where vast forests blanketed most of the land.

The geography of Croatia makes it a challenge to cycle through, with little flat land by the coast. This means that wherever you want to go, you either have to take the busy main road with aggressive drivers who give you no space and attempt risky overtakes, or head up into the mountains.

On my second day in the country, I decided to head over the mountains and inland to cover some distance. It was amazing how quiet the country became once I left the very touristy areas. I found a beautiful spot by a lake to have dinner that evening before heading into some woods to camp for the night.

On day 3, I cycled on some beautiful roads with brilliant descents in the direction of Zadar. I spent a long time that day trying to find fuel for my stove searching many hardwear shops, and eventually found 70% alcohol in a pharmacy to use.

The following day, as I headed to Zadar, I met up with Leila, who was cycling to Istanbul from her home in Austria. We had first met a few days ago at a supermarket, and after she had finished cycling the Croatian islands, we agreed to meet up and travel together. It was really nice to share this amazing country with someone else.

That evening, we decided to camp up a hill in a forest but stopped at a beach to have dinner and a swim. As I was getting my cooker out, a man asked us, “Are you camping here tonight?” After explaining that we were just eating then going to leave, he began to question us about why we weren’t camping in this beautiful spot, telling us we’d be fine. This man was Jimmy, a 60-year-old man from Manchester who retired at 49 and spends every summer living in an RV in Croatia. That evening, he generously kept coming over to us with beers and we had a trouble free night not even bothering with our tents.

The next day was scorching hot. Leila and I cycled along the coast together, with Leila handling the navigation, which was a nice break from thinking about it myself. That afternoon, after having ice cream and beer, Leila and I parted ways. I decided to head inland towards Bosnia and Herzegovina, while she continued along the coast.

Heading for the border, I stoped at a cafe to do some admin and charge up my electronics. This is where I met Ivan, who kindly paid for my coffee because he felt sorry for me due to all the times Croatia had beaten England at football!

Croatia has felt more like a holiday than an adventure. It’s been a beautiful country and very easy to travel through, with most people speaking at least a bit of English. I’m looking forward to retuning in a few days but wanted to experience Bosnia and Herzegovina first.