50 days
Erling Kagge became the first person to reach the South Pole solo and unsupported in just 50 days.
The Soviet siege of Budapest during WWII lasted 50 days.
The average head of lettuce will be ready to harvest after 50 days.
So, as we were walking our heavily laden bikes up the side of the Balkan Highway somewhere in Montenegro on Day 50, we weren’t feeling particularly significant or monumentous.
But it did get me thinking about some of my favourite moments of the last few weeks, the ones that made me feel like we’re actually on a real adventure.
I’ve been pretty conflicted about spending too much time indoors or accepting a bit of luxury when the opportunity arises. Even when it’s free!
After speaking to a good friend, Luke Nibbs, who’s currently cycling from Alaska to Argentina, he reminded me:
“Any idiot can be cold, wet and hungry.”
There are no prizes for slumming it.
It reminded me that this is our adventure, and the only pressure to sleep behind abandoned buildings or in drainage ditches is coming from us.
Don’t get me wrong- there’ll be time for that, I’m sure. And they make for great stories.
But when generous people offer you a warm bed, a hot meal and the chance to share stories, only a fool would say no.
Like when we found out that the weekend we were passing through Milan happened to be the weekend of the Monza Grand Prix.
We dug deep into our “treat pot” of the budget and traded the tarmac for the paddock, getting to watch Kimi Antonelli win at his home circuit at our first ever Formula 1 race.
Then after visiting La Fontane de la Tette with my old rugby coach from Connacht in Benetton, we were invited by a stranger on the internet to stay in a 17th-century Italian villa.
Although it seemed too good to be true, we did indeed rock up to a three-course meal with Count Luigi, before camping in the grounds while listening to an Austrian wedding.
We also heard Lukas’ story of cycling a 20,000km lap around Europe on a diet of 25kg of honey and white bread.
Then after powering up the Alpe Adria, the iconic disused railway track that traverses the Julian Alps into Slovenia, we enjoyed the World Masters rowing regatta and a famous Bled cream cake at Lake Bled.
After filling up on venison goulash in Ljubljana, we met a Slovakian bikepacker cycling all the way to Thailand from Leeds, where he had lived.
But what was particularly interesting was how he was funding the trip.
Every time he ran out of money, he would leave his bike in a shop or garage somewhere on mainland Europe and fly back to the UK to take part in medical trials paying upwards of £5,000.
After a few weeks of drug trials, he’d fly back to his bike and pedal onwards. Serious commitment to the cause.
We’d also heard that the local Croatian bear sanctuary, which cares for abandoned bear cubs, sometimes takes in bikepackers and lets them stay the night.
On the right side of the fence, of course.
But after two back-to-back 140km days and 3,000m of climbing, we were simply too far away to make it there.
And that’s another thing you learn on a trip like this: you can’t say yes to every opportunity that comes your way.
Naturally, you could spend a night in every cool village you pass every 10km, but it would probably take rather a long time to circumnavigate the planet.
It got me thinking about how this world can feel simultaneously small and enormous.
Small, because we look back at how far we’ve pedalled our little push bikes in just over a month.
But enormous because there are still so many places to see, people to meet and things to experience that you simply can’t do them all.
At least, not at once.
This trip has already left us with ridiculously long lists of places we want to visit, places we want to return to, and places we’ll probably never go back to…
And that’s okay.
It was finally time to see the sea again after six weeks, and we spent the next two weeks pedalling parallel to the Adriatic.
Beautiful? For sure. Some of the best views of the trip.
Undulating? Definitely. 1,500m of climbing whilst never getting more than 100m above sea level means a lot of up, down, up, down.
Busy? My God.
Although the drivers were fairly forgiving, the Balkan Highway along the coast is essentially one way in and out for everyone.
Cars. Lorries. Buses. Bikepackers.
It left us in a bit of a state by the time we reached Dubrovnik.
Luckily, a wonderful British couple, Chris and Sarah, bought us a flat white and donated €20 to raise our spirits.
We were also hosted in a beautiful little apartment in the centre of the 1,000-year-old city of Kotor in Montenegro- and managed to make it out before two cruise ships arrived.
And finally, we hit Albania.
Which probably needs a whole blog of its own.
But for a place that had caused us the most apprehension in Europe (because everyone kept telling us we should be super careful) we have been met with nothing but extreme kindness, amazing food and beautiful hospitality.
It has been a whirlwind few weeks, full of stories of adventure from fascinating people.
And we’re so grateful to be able to share it all with you.
