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Day 36 Makarska to Dubrovnik, August 6th.

Today I accidentally became an international criminal. Whoops.


The morning started with a 60km cycle to Ploće to catch the 10:20 pm ferry I’d seen online. The time estimate given by beeline put me there at 11:30, so I got a shift on, which was hard as beeline kept taking me away from the main road down into small towns full of unnavigable paths and staircases. Eventually I simply ignored it and powered on along the main road arriving in Ploče at 9:45. I picked up some snacks and went into the ticket office at 10. The next ferry wasn’t until 12:30. Shit.


This news would cost me dearly. I decided to throw caution to the winds and just follow my beeline to Dubrovnik, whichever way it would take me. It took me through Bosnia, but I didn’t mind waiting at the border. I cycled out into the countryside, being slowed by closed tunnels and bad routes, eventually finding myself among vast fields and endlessly climbing into huge hills (but not before being spooked by yet another thunderstorm). I climbed up and up over a spectacular vista, passing a small church with a confused looking Croatian atop the hill. Then it was down into the quiet roads, which culminated in… an unmanned, barely signposted border crossing to Bosnia. Huh?





I dithered for a while. My data was not working so I couldn’t look up alternatives, laws, penalties. It was many gruelling kms back and around or… I could just risk it and see what happened. I risked it.



Country 9: Bosnia and Herzegovina


I crossed the border around a flimsy barrier and was off along quiet roads and farmers paths. The mountains continued for the whole time I was in Bosnia. I passed through many small villages, but only saw one person, one dog and one guy in a car. Within an hour I was through and found myself at another unmanned border. Sick. I had made it. Got away wi’et. Pure got away wi’et.



Back into Croatia


Off I was into Croatia, feeling gleeful and smart. I re-joined paved roads as rain began to fall. That’s where I encountered the first car in a while. A police van. They pulled me over. “Passport”. Shit.


They took my passport and asked if I’d crossed the border. I told them I thought I might’ve. “This is illegal, you follow us”. They drove off. I followed. Shit. They drove out of sight then stopped at a crossroads. I pulled up. They said nothing for a while, just looked at me, then… “You must pay ticket for illegal crossing”. Shit. 173 euros 33 cents. Shit. Fine. “You must pay on card. Wait.” 


I waited for an hour in the road in the gathering rain as they searched all my bags for drugs, luckily not finding my knife, and took all my details [including my father’s name?]. They sat smoking in the van as I opened my umbrella. I was lucky to have it at that point. They watched me for a while, flicking cigarette butts out by my feet. Eventually they shut the door against the rain and I was left to myself. Eventually a man with a card machine arrived. I paid. They had me sign my ticket then… “goodbye”. I was left in the rain. Shit.


I moved on. As the rain increased in intensity I sheltered in a bus stop and saw the van drive past. Beeline kept insisting on taking me up huge hills, rather than along flat, coastal roads and the last, damp, 44km dragged by. At one point I was taken up and along a gravel track past an angry, barking dog for 6km, and at the end I was confronted by a huge landslide cutting me off from the road. I returned past the dog, walking this time, which did seem to help.





At last I reached the main road and stuck to it. When I got into Dubrovnik proper it turned out to be another city of endless staircases. I had to wheel my bike down several, wincing all the way, until I locked it in a carpark and made my way to the old town and the hostel. I instantly took a shower. 


A guy in the room, Yannic, kindly gave me a working wall charger which solved one of my problems (he had 2 and gave it to me to keep!). I got chatting to him and a girl called Daisy, both german. We went for food. The city is V expensive. I got a burger and a beer for 22 euros, that’s with 10% off courtesy of Yannic [he’d got a voucher the day before]. We then bought beers from a shop (or me and Daisy did) and wondered the late night streets. We lingered by a group of singing men, walked the tourist streets, and did a circuit of the inner side of the walls, visited a couple of waterside bars beyond them, and saw many cats. After all this I was V tired. Back to the hostel, and to sleep.


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