This was way too small so there'll be another long delay. This is a road for two way traffic displaying a rare section of armco which must be far too expensive to use all over the place. Linzi.

Just post the link to the pic. Think will be fine.

Well it's getting a bit bigger now, that feels good! A lot of hard work though. Eh Hm. I'm a beginner at this and it shows. Linzi.

Self explanatory, note uneven surface, and the distractions!

It's hard to stop when you're having fun. The bike just has space off the road here.

These signs inform me. Look Out!, Rocks!, Skid Risk!, Bend! Nice. Slow in, then what?

Sorry about the delay. My fault. I forgot the kill switch! All that mucking around. I knew it must be something simple. Now it's a bit late, all the photo stops, time spent finding a view through the trees. I cross the bridge and am irritated that I've been so unlucky with the weather. Just when I set my mind on getting photos in the canyon, the sky is overcast and it's damp. This bridge over the Tara Canyon is very famous in the Balkans I read on a plaque. It is very high to cross the gorge but also in 1942 the designer blew up the span nearest me as I take the photo. This delayed the Nazi invasion considerably but the designer was killed in his heroic action. I can only ponder at the incredible problems facing any army trying to invade here!
I check my map and plan out the rest of the day. Organized and focussed now I decide to carry on from the bridge to camp and return to photograph the canyon tomorrow, continue to get shot of the high Durmitor peaks, the highest in Montenegro and centre of the Durmitor National Park. There's a ski centre up there and Tony indicated a scenic road over the shoulder of the high land. I'll decide tomorrow whether to bivi up there or go to the town further on. It is yet to be seen how damp my sleeping bag will be. It gets body moistture in the down at night of course and takes a long time or warmth to dry. These conditions look like I'll not be able to dry it at all so that'll leave only one more night's use before a real dry off is necessary. Linzi.

Sorry about the delay. My fault. I forgot the kill switch! All that mucking around. I knew it must be something simple. Now it's a bit late, all the photo stops, time spent finding a view through the trees and then that kill switch! I cross the bridge and am irritated that I've been so unlucky with the weather. Just when I set my mind on getting photos in the canyon, the sky is overcast and it's damp. This bridge over the Tara Canyon is very famous in the Balkans I read on a plaque. It is very high to cross the gorge but also, in 1942 the designer blew up the span nearest me. This delayed the Nazi invasion considerably but the designer was killed in his heroic action. I can only ponder at the incredible problems facing any army trying to invade here!
I check my map and plan out the rest of the day. Organized and focussed now I decide to carry on from the bridge to camp and return to photograph the canyon tomorrow, continue to get shots of the high Durmitor peaks, the highest in Montenegro and centre of the Durmitor National Park. There's a ski centre up there and Tony indicated a scenic road over the shoulder of the high land. I'll decide tomorrow whether to bivi up there or go to the town further on. It is yet to be seen how damp my sleeping bag will be. It gets body moisture in the down at night of course and takes a long time or warmth to dry. These conditions look like I'll not be able to dry it at all so that'll leave only one more night's use before a real dry off is neccessary. Linzi.

Immediately after crossing the bridge the road snakes up the open, grass slopes with tight hairpins and long straight between. I up the pace up here where it's safe to play. The road's snaking opens slowly as it covers the less steep ground emerging from the canyon to small trees and a slightly tundra-like scenery. It's bleak here as I've not yet seen in Montenegro. It's as if I am much higher up or nearer the pole. It's cold too, much colder and the hour's so late that darkness is coming. I revell in the superb quality of tarmac and the view between corners, stringing them together with pleasure. Able to up 5th gear for the first time today I note how far the next town must be as the higher land undulates gently, sometimes open, small forests and gentle, predictable bends. I approach an old communist time car. These are often without lighting I've noticed. I slow a little and keep well back to let him know I don't intend to pass. The road becomes straighter and I close in to pass in the centre of the forest on a flat straight. I ponder why he hasn't accelerated. He is infact going a bit more slowly. There's a car parked off the road on the left. He's slowing more but something tells me not to pass, I wait. The little car suddenly turns left across where I'd have been had I passed. Phew. Nice one Linzi. Well anticipated. I pat myself on the back, smug that I've already noted the higher altitude and colder air plus darkness. Watch out for ice. I have speeded up after the delay of the little car but back off a bit. Respect needed now. I am getting confident now in Montenegro. I feel I have the measure of the place. ( What were those words? Smug? Confident? ) Linzi.

This is what the edge of the road looks like. Just bull dozed out and left. If you look carefully it looks like you can see where someone has gone off here. Every corner in Montenegro's had someone off I bet. This is the outside of a corner I approached in the dark, having slowed down.

The day after I returned to view the scene and see why. This is the approach view though in daylight. Set up wide, ready to turn in late for the apex right? This takes a bit of imagination. Let me assure you this is a very deceptive bend. Imagine a circular mirror on the wall infront of you. It's a circle of course! Now pull the bottom of the mirror forward. It now looks, in two dimensions, like an oval. The bend above looks like it follows the drop away of the ground to right and left and the background. It looks like a circle or constant radius curve. It isn't! It follows horizontally and tightens! This hit me hard just where I take this photo for my records. I brake with the rear brake to slow. I had already set my entry speed but that is now too high. The rear tyre swerves out to the right, the loaded panniers lending a hand. My brain works in lightning time. Abort the corner! Don't try to take it! Run on! I am on slippery road, too fast, can't brake and turn and stay up. I am aware of the open run off. In a split second I release the brake, set the bike upright and ride off the road applying rear brake as it leaves the slippery tarmac. Linzi.

The bike bounces like a pogo stick and the speed's not coming down. The forest is rushing at me. Fast. It rushes. The bike bounces. We're going in! There's a plank seat across the path. I fly off the bike high to the right and tumble. I feel my helmet hit the deck and roll. Fu++, Damn, bastar...I swear with an angry vengeance. I have never crashed a bike before. The Beemer. It's not mine! I'm alone in a far off country with not a lot of money.
Swearing again, I remove my helmet and place it on the grounnd. The bright tail light is shining at me accusingly. Bloody idiot it shouts. The rear wheel turns slowly, the engine thumps away on tickover, waiting for the next instruction.
I walk past the misplaced plank that the bike sent flying. I walk the 25 metres to where only the back half of the rear wheel is sticking out. The bikes buried down the rocky slope, in the trees. One Metal Mule has been torn off the bike. Fu++ Another round of vicious self criticism-fully justified.
I stumble as I lean over the carcass. I hit the kill switch and pocket the keys. The forks must me bent, wheel, fairing. Fu++ the bike's a right-off. Bugger, Fu++ jump up and stamp. I pick up the Metal Mule and place it beside my helmet. You twenty four carat plonker! ( Smug, confident). Linzi.

Only as I turn to the voices do I realize that two hatchbacks have pulled up and I have what looks like a rugby team approaching me. One, a woman, speaks in English. After explanations the guys crowd round the bike and simply right it and lift it out! The back wheel is locked but these are big guys. I am amazed and grateful. I kick out the side stand and put in the keys. The headlight blazes furiously, the dash lights up. I knock it down to neutral noticing that it had been in fourth gear. Immediate thought is too much speed then. It fires up as normal. I peruse it more closely by the light of the headlight. It is not damaged! Fack! As Valantino Rossi would say.
I check it more carefully and see only the left front indicator hanging off but works, left mirror gone, the front tyre's flat. I push it and can here hissing- a large hole then. I'm still stranded.
A van has stopped and these ever helpful Montenegrans use the plank to load the sad Beemer into the back, put in the pannier and plank and an explanation is made. The woman tells me I can go in the car and the van will follow. We will go to a bus company where the tyre can be fixed in the morning. They've got a motel there too. I am stunned at the turnaround but still in shock at what I've done. The rugby team recommence their journey towards the bridge, we commence our journey the 20 km to the bus company. Linzi.

The bike is locked up in the workshops for the night. I'm taken across to the very nice canteen that looks more like a pub. Yes to chicken, salad and chips. One of the workers, management maybe, chats to me and we have a or two as I go through in my mind all the crazy thoughts that fill it. The food was great, I feel a bit knocked around but just like after a rugby game. My leathers show no damage. My helmet is only scratched. The knock was only a graze. My left thumb feels a bit bruised. I can't wait to get to the bike but that's got to wait. So watered and fed, I shower and sleep in a bed, my sleeping bag drying. I just don't deserve it. Linzi.