We arrived in Mostar on Saturday afternoon, intending to spend a day seeing the town, before catching the train to Sarajevo early Monday morning. We had read on numerous cycling blogs that the road from Mostar to Sarajevo was not suitable for cycling, with no shoulder and heavy traffic. Aside from one or two solo male cyclists, the type that average 110km a day, everyone had recommended taking advantage of the rather scenic train ride and avoid the grey hair-inducing cycle along the E73.

We turned up at Majda’s Hostel in Mostar, and were handed a hot cup of mint tea to drink while Majda took us through a map of Mostar and all the things to see and do. During the chat we found out that the train wasn’t running (something to do with repairs or track maintenance). Apparently the busses were still running, and Majda thought that they would take bicycles, but that we might have to box/wrap them.

Neither of us were particularly thrilled at the idea of taking the bus (Matt least of all) so we spent a couple of hours that afternoon trying to find out information on just how bad the E73 was to cycle, and whether there might be another route we could take. We came up empty, finding no information on alternative routes in any blogs we could find, and google maps showing huge mountain ranges in between the two cities. At this point we started resigning ourselves to the idea that we just might have to take the bus.

Next morning we sat down to breakfast (which Majda prepares each morning) and got chatting to an American writer/photographer who was staying at the hostel. Babs had spent months exploring Bosnia for her work, and so we set about picking her brain – first about things we should be eating (as she has been documenting practices of local food producers) and then about a possible route we might be able to take. She ended up telling us about a regional road that cuts up through what she calls the Moraine – and what is labelled as the R433 on Google maps. She showed us a couple of photos she had taken of the road and in that instant we made up our minds – come hell or high water we were going to cycle to Sarajevo, mountains be dammed.

We set off early Monday morning, and almost straight away started climbing. The first thing we noticed was the rubbish on the side of the road. It’s a problem we had seen from the moment we entered Bosnia, but on the road up and out of Mostar was the worst we had seen.

It wasn’t all bad though – Matt actually managed to find a new set of wheels that someone had left by the side of the road.

Thankfully, the higher we climbed, the less rubbish we saw, and we were soon able to appreciate the great views that the climb was opening up.

By lunchtime we had climbed 600 meters, and still had a long way to go.

We reached a pass (after a neat 1000m cimb) at about 2pm and were rewarded with a quick 300 meter decent down into Nevesinje. After stocking up on as much water as we could carry (as we weren’t sure where the next water point would be), we headed across the short valley towards the mountains on the other side. And again we started to climb. We climbed another 300 meters before the sun started to disappear and our legs lost their power, and found a little spot up on a hill above the road for the night.

The next morning, we set off down what turned out to be the most astonishing road we’ve seen in Europe. After climbing through yet another gorge, we came out into a vast alpine landscape, oddly reminiscent of the south island in New Zealand.

We cycled along a plateau for a bit over an hour, and it really is difficult to explain just how truly fantastic it was. We saw a total of two cars the whole time, both of which slowed down so the occupants could check out these strange creatures on two wheels. One older man had the hugest grin on his face and once he got over the shock of seeing us gave us the most enthusiastic thumbs up that we’ve seen yet.

Coming off the plateau, we descended along a dirt road into forests that looked like they were on fire. I’ve never seen so many different shades of red, orange and gold. Between the top of the mountain and the colours of the trees we were both starting to seriously regret not having a better camera and knowing how to use it, as our photos just don’t do any justice to what we saw.

With the sun blocked by the trees and the hillside, we donned our jackets yet again, and soon realised why we felt so cool when we passed some frozen leaves on the side of the road.

After this, the road weaved its way through some tiny villages, before bottoming out in a valley next to the Neretva river.

Here we actually found a ‘tourist’ sign pointing towards a ‘beach’. We figured it could be a nice spot for lunch, so headed down the bumpy track to check it out. It ended up being quite a nice swimming hole, and with the warm sunlight hitting the valley as encouragement we somehow found the courage to take a dip. It was a pretty quick swim – my guess is the water couldn’t have been much more than about 4 degrees.

After lunch the road climbed (again) and we were soon back amongst draw dropping views.

A little further along we came across two older men walking down the middle of the road (cars were still few and far between). The first one walked in front of Matt, and with a huge grin on his face, put up his hand and said ‘Stop, Policija’. We ended up talking to them for about 5 minutes (lots of miming). When we said that we had cycled from Iceland, one of the men started pointing at Matt’s knees and saying something that seemed to mean ‘What? On those skinny legs? No way!’. In the end they said goodbye, gave us the warmest handshakes we’ve ever had, and let us continue on our way. It was such a lovely, heartfelt encounter that left us both smiling long after it was over.

An hour or so on we started to think about finding a camp for the night, and came across the perfect spot, about 5 kilometres before Kalinovik. We put up camp and sat down on the grass to cook dinner, watching the mountains change colour as the sun set.

Once the last ray of sun disappeared, the temperature dropped instantly, and we were soon huddled in the tent with our sleeping bags wrapped around us, musing at how soft we had become from our time in apartments in Croatia. Just to test how cold it was, Matt put a small bit of water in my cup outside the tent, with the intention of seeing whether it had any ice in it in the morning. We didn’t have to wait that long. Within 10 minutes it was frozen solid. We felt a little better then… at least it really WAS cold.

We managed to stay warm enough that night to get a reasonable amount of sleep (think LOTS of layers and as little rolling around as possible!). In the morning, we woke to find that the inside of the tent was covered in a thin sheet of ice, and that the water bladder I had left on the back of my bike, filled with 2L of water, had turned into a frozen chunk of ice (that didn’t melt until about 11am!).

Back on the bikes, we soldiered up the hill to Kalinovik, where we managed to track down a warm cup of coffee and some unfortunately not so warm burek. The rest of the morning we spent cruising through yet more stunning mountain landscapes, before having a cold 6km downhill run to join onto the highway towards Sarajevo.

From here, it was another 300m climb back up, and then another long downhill run to just outside of Sarajevo. We’d made great time, and had covered nearly 60km by 2pm.

We both agreed that coming into Sarajevo was the best entrance into a city that we’ve had yet. We came out of the mountains, and were able to take a side road for a couple of kilometres that popped us out into the outskirts of Sarajevo (so no horrible highway entrance that is normally unavoidable). The first thing we noticed was how many people were out and about. Large apartment blocks were broken up by small shops and green spaces, and there were people everywhere chatting and enjoying the sunlight. We hit one of the main roads leading into the centre of the city and were astonished to find a marked cycle path beside the road. This took us to a wide tree lined canal that made for easy and beautiful cycling, all the way to within a kilometre of our hostel.

That being said, it was the last kilometre to the hostel that nearly killed us. It was straight up the steepest hill we’ve seen in a while, and had us standing on the peddles to keep the bikes moving. Our legs were seriously protesting, but they held up and we arrived at the hostel tired but very happy. The three days from Mostar have been without a doubt the hardest riding we’ve done yet, but also arguably the most rewarding. There is something particularly special about discovering an stunningly beautiful area that is relatively unvisited, and experiencing the raw landscape before it is shaped and moulded to make it suitable for tourists. It was certainly helped by the fact that luck has finally been on our side with the weather, with the whole region experiencing an unusually dry, sunny Autumn.

We’re going to take a couple of days off the bikes to rest and explore Sarajevo before heading into the mountains in Montenegro. Hopefully the uncharacteristic weather holds up!