Our first day in Croatia is short, because we want to see the pretty town of Samobor, and then clear Zagreb in the morning before it gets too hot and busy. But it doesn’t matter how early we get there, it is raging hot anyway. We stop and find shade as much as we can, but by early afternoon the heat is inhumane.

Right at the end of the day, Richard makes it across a railway crossing just before the train alert sounds, but I’m too slow. I wait in the sun for nearly ten minutes for anything to appear, and I think my skin is going to blister. It’s not even a train, it’s a small engine moving as slowly as I do.

We’ve found a nice hotel for a nice price, because it’s on a highway out of any town. They are having a BBQ night, but a BBQ night at a nice hotel is too much, so we go to a fast food place across the road for our dinner. I don’t think anyone else went to BBQ night either, because in the morning the breakfast buffet is half taken over by leftover BBQ food. Richard shakes his head as I feast on cold burgers and kebabs, while I shake my head at his measly cornflakes.

The following day is the hottest one yet. We set off across country and through a nature reserve. I have visions of seeing some lovely birds, being by the cooling river and finding lots of shade. The reality is a massive exposed stretch under the blazing sun, and a miserable rock and gravel path. One of my water bottles keeps falling off because it’s so rocky and bumpy, and after a couple of hours of being jolted around in the blazing sun, I am fairly sure I’m going to puke. Mercifully there’s a park with some shady benches at the end of it. We’ve done less than 10 miles and finished all of the water we can carry. Richard informs me he’s sweated through his pants and outer shorts. 

We get onto a proper paved road, and though it’s more undulating there are bus stops and benches where we can get out of the sun, and there are shops with fridges. Even a few minutes in the shade and a cold drink every now and then helps a lot.

We meet a German going the other way, who’s just got the train and ridden from Zagreb. He’s heading to the town we came from and he’s planning to go hiking. It’s 40 degrees today, and I am planning on lying down in an air conditioned room and pouring ice cream on my face.

We then have a really nice day to the border. These things nearly always ebb and flow. A bad day almost puking on some gravel, followed by a great ride through rural, forgotten Croatia, and a way of life that is lost to us. Every house seems to keep chickens and have a small holding attached where they grow their own food. The farms are small – there’s the odd little field of corn, small barns with a few cows, and healthy free-range chickens everywhere. There are lots of Communist memorials, with parks and benches for us to rest at. As we get further south, there are more and more abandoned homes, churches, village halls. And the ones lived in often have broken window panes, and shoddy brickwork or rotting wooden frames. We see lots of farming being done the old-fashioned way; hay being cut with scythes and fields hoed manually. Many of the homes have wells, and there are lots of water taps along the road. Not many houses here have potable running water. Some of this desertion and dilapidation is still a by-product of the war in the 90’s, some of it young people migrating to the cities and tourist hubs on the coast, some we find out is due to the complicated property laws here, and how hard it is to sell a farm or a home.

There is a nature reserve today as well, but it has seated areas in the shade, and a shop with a drinks fridge nearby. We are lucky enough to see a few European beavers, which we learn from the helpful signs were hunted nearly to extinction in Croatia, but have since been reintroduced.

We had wanted to continue along the Sava river here, which we’d followed through Slovenia, but the border crossing it leads to is closed because of a collapsed bridge, so we have to go another way.

We’re worried that with the other border crossing shut, the one we head to will be busy so we rush a bit to get there. But we’re the only ones there, and the border guard hurries back to his post when he sees us arrive. He asks where we’re going, and Richard replies “Serbia.” I am fairly sure that he was making conversation and asking where we’d be visiting in Bosnia.

It’s a really pretty place, which is odd for a border town. Often they are run-down and full of casinos. In hindsight, it’s probably the nicest town we visit in Bosnia. I am confused by the flags. There are Serbian flags, Serbian-looking flags, and even Russian flags all around the town. The middle one I look up, along with the reason for the others. We are in the Republika Srpska (Serb Republic) part of Bosnia. As part of the peace agreement in the mid 90’s, the country of Bosnia and Herzegovina was divided into two administrative entities, with this one being inhabited by the ethnic Serb population. It is all the nation of Bosnia and Herzegovenia, but is not far off having the powers of a sovereign state.

We get ourselves back to hugging the Sava river, along the northern border. Objectively, the most naturally beautiful part of the country is the Herzegovina region in the south, but we need to keep things tame in the heat, and so we avoid the mountains. It means we will be in Republic Srpska for almost all our time here. Not that it’s a bad thing, but we are going to Serbia next and would have liked to experience other Bosnian parts. Maybe some other time.

The difference between the quality of buildings and the general wealth of the region and the Slavonia part of Croatia is very noticeable. Conversely, now we’re out of Croatia, prices drop quite sharply, which is great news. We’re able to find fairly cheap rooms above restaurants, or apartments where we can cook for ourselves.

On our second morning, I wake up to feeling very ill. We’re staying above a cafe, and they offer breakfast before we leave. I can’t face eating, which is about as common as pigs taking flight.

It’s quite a short day, but after a few hours I can barely move. For the second time in a few days, I’m convinced I’m going to puke. We stop all the time so I can rest, which makes the day drag on and on. At one bus stop I want to lay down on the floor for a bit, and the fact that there’s no shade and it’s so hot are the only things that stop me.

In the evening, I stagger to the nearest place to eat. Miraculously, in a country of grilled meat and heavy food, they have a clear soup on the menu, so I have that with a bit of plain bread. I’ve only eaten half a banana all day, and need something.

I’ve bounced back by the next day, in time for the only real hills we have in Bosnia and in the evening a great little cevapi stall.

We have only taken one day off since Germany, so we aim for the city of Doboj for a break. It’s hard to find somewhere bike friendly in cities, but we score a ground floor apartment with a washing machine, so we stay for three nights to catch up on chores and to rest a bit.

We arrive in the city a bit early, so go to a cafe. Service in the mid Balkans tends to be surly at best, and a young women tries to take our order, but walks off in disgust when I can’t make myself understood. We’re taken on by a young man who tells us we’re the first travellers he’s ever met, and that our accents sound exactly like he thought they would. The coffee in Bosnia (and later in Serbia) is really, really great, so that and the odd person like this make enduring all the other occasions worth it.

The apartment instantly feels like home, and it’s such a relief to spread out and hang out knowing we don’t have to do anything for a couple of days. There’s a huge supermarket nearby with a large section of self service cooked food to put in boxes and take away. I am starving after a long day, which always spells danger. I cannot wait to eat, so as soon as we get back home, Richard has to watch me eat cold mashed potatoes and pork chops in a cream sauce while his dinner heats up.

We visit the 13^th century fortress which sits above the city, and it’s nice to take the time to do some sightseeing and not cycling. It’s endured several battles across Ottoman, Austro-Hungarian and World War periods, as well as shelling in the 1990s Yugoslav wars.

On our final full day in Bosnia, we see Bosnia & Herzegovina flags for the first time, as we cross a section of the country outside of the Serb Republic. There are also Croatian memorials from the 1990s war, and a plethora of Croatian national flags. The lines and divisions here are not straightforward, and they don’t follow national boundaries.

We have rented another apartment in a small town, and our host greets us warmly. She gives us some plums, though she insists that we must surely speak German.

Almost everywhere is shut in the evening, but we find the only place open to eat. We’re brought some savoury fried doughnuts with a kind of cream cheese. They are divine, but nothing has quite prepared me for what’s next. I’ve ordered cevapi. The little grilled mince kebabs are always served with a fluffy flatbread, sliced raw onions and usually a pepper or cream dip. I take a mouthful of the bread and I think I saw god. I have never tasted bread so amazing, and everything else in incredible too.

The day to the border is a lovely ride, and we have lots to look forward to. Richard loved Serbia when we were here last. I remind him of the welcome we got when we first arrived. He thinks we’ll meet another Mr Illich, welcoming us to his country, giving us water. I think that the world is a less friendly place than it was four years ago. We’re both kind of right, in the end.

A playlist for the ride: