Cycling in Montenegro

by Bashir, one of our club members

To buy a house in Montenegro was an Easy Ride – a green route, flat all the way. However, to buy a car is a different matter, it is a black route and even our black route riders would find it challenging, if not impossible.

So, after trying and failing to buy a car in Montenegro I decided to take my bike there and cycle from a place to place. Obviously, not paying for fuel and I will get fitter. The day after my arrival, I put the bike and myself to the test and that was after some weeks of cycling with John and Martin, two guys you all know. They ask you to join them in a tour they plan, look after you all the way to a pub or a café and pay for your food and drink too. That was another reason I joined Saddle Drunk.

Initially I was please with my cycling, avoiding looking at the sea, watching the mountains but concentrating on my cycling, as the place is new to me. When I reached Forest Café, virtually on to the beach, I told myself, “Well done old man, you made it, climbing some steep hills.”  So, I decided to have a coffee and breakfast there in Forest Café. I had my coffee, which was not as good as Moon and Maybe, and was about to order my breakfast when I realised, I had forgotten my wallet at home. Now how to explain this embarrassing situation to the waiter who I got to know was called Mario?  In my wildest imagination I thought of being asked to wash dishes, clean toilets or floors. In the worst scenario, to be handed to police because they might have had similar experience with others and they were fid up. But no, Mario was John and Martin type, saying, “Nema problem!”

It was a problem for me, I did not want the poor waiter to pay from his pocket. He was not as generous as John, so I cycled back to fitch my wallet. I paid the waiter, including a good tip for his generosity after returning.

By now, puffed out, I thought to make my return trip a bit more useful. The pump I have at home here is small and I was not sure if I pumped my tyres enough so I went to the local cycle shop and asked him to pump it, he demanded a Euro for pumping the tyres. I said fine but asked him to pump them as hard as John recommends. He did but I insisted in pumping more. Finally, he said, “Ne mozhe,” can’t do more.

My brothers and sisters in cycling, now the tyres were just as hard as rock and in my brain I imagined that I was going faster on my way home, until I felt the back wheel had become wobbly. Had I not fixed the wheel properly after landing at Podgorica Airport?  I got down and there it was, the wheel was good but I had a puncture, thanks to hard pumping. But there was no panic, I had everything. The extra inner tube, the pump, the levers to get the tube out and even the hot weather to my advantage so I did not need the levers. The tyres were easy to get out and put in after I changed the tube.

Pleased with my achievement I started cycling again but less than a kilometre the back tyre misbehaved, I check and the nightmare became a reality. I had a second puncture and I did not have any spare inner tube. The reason for the second puncture?  You guessed it right, simple stupidity of an Afghan cyclist. I did not check first time if there was anything stuck in the tyre when I changed the tube. Now I was in big trouble.

Staying on the side of the road I watched cars pass. The sweat run from my forehead, followed its path parallel to my spine, reached private parts and finally my socks. My brain started melting and there was no taxi on the road. A miracle happened and finally, a taxi arrived after more than an hour waiting. I told the driver that I have to go home with my bike but the driver said, “Nema shans,” no chance. I said, “Brother please, I can break this bike into many pieces.” but the driver was not convinced. To make me not insist in him taking me and bike, he demanded 80 euro for a ride normally I paid 15 euro. I accepted and started breaking the bike to pieces and believe me I almost wanted to do that.

Sitting next to the taxi driver who smoked, drank Coca Cola, listened to the music, checked his mobile from time to time when a message came, changed the gears, I noticed he was also observing my cycling jersey rather seriously. I kept quiet worrying that he was going to complain about the smell of sweat but after a while he said, “Te Tour de France?” I said, “Da sigorno,” yes definitely, lying to the man that hopefully by impressing him he would reduce the travelling cost. I was wearing a shirt now covered by black grease because of changing the rear tyre tube and touching the chain. This shirt was donated to me by, God bless her, a lady who decided cooking for husband was more important than cycling and introduced me to SaddleDrunk many years ago. But then I started worrying that the man was probably well informed and would ask me more questions and immediately it came to my mind that if the man asks specific details, I would say I actually accompanied the English team in as a bike mechanic, which sounded hilarious, a mechanic who could not change an inner tube. But fortunately, he was continuously distracted by phone messages and forgot about Tour de France all together. 

I reached home, the taxi driver did not reduce his price and after reconstructing it I fell in love with my bike again.

The other objective of cycling in Montenegro for me is to lose weight because I’ve put on weight but believe me I lost some weight after this first experience not because of cycling but paying the taxi driver much more than what he deserved. I had no choice.

So, don’t get excited when you’ve managed to change your inner tube after a puncture. Have you run your delicate fingers inside the tyre? If not why did you avoid free workshops provided by David Eckersley? You are just as silly as I am.