Kristen
It feels like we’ve been on the road a long time. Packing up the tent, putting on my hiking shirt that hasn’t been washed since Jablanica, and possibly won’t be again until we reach Montenegro. Gently toeing down the steep bank, back to the road where we left off yesterday. In a few minutes it feels as if we never stopped. But surprisingly, it’s not in a bad way.
Callum
Nom nom nom, eating muesli on the hotel floor. We don’t have enough cash left to buy breakfast, but this ain’t so bad. Not much muesli left though, so it’s just little bowls today.
Kristen
My clothesline, strung up awkwardly in the windowless watermill hut, has done nothing to help dry the clothes. My sleeping bag and mat are still damp from the downpour two days ago and I feel generally sticky and uncomfortable. The mushroom pasta last night, white and gluey, hasn’t helped my general feeling of glumpiness either. Today, though, should be a good combination of fairly easy and very scenic – just 12 km to the tiny village of Tušila, going via a fantastic ridge walk on Visočica mountain, connecting the peaks of Drvsta and Vito. It’s dangerous to do in bad weather, and rain is forecast for the afternoon, so we determine to leave early and get off the ridge before anything can start. The forecast may say ‘heavy showers’ but the weather round here has proved itself to be anything but predictable.
Callum
We lay in the tent like a pair of wet socks, steaming in the morning sun. It was by no means a cloudless morning, but for a few lazy minutes we savoured the beautiful knowledge that our gear was slowly drying around us: our clothes, our mats, our sleeping bags. After yesterday’s deluge, just about everything was wet.
Kristen
Okay. Yes, I admit it. We were meant to leave Boračko jezero yesterday. There’s no way around it. We got up, ate our muesli, packed all the stuff (how do we have so much stuff?!), walked off down the road and even started our GPS tracker. Yep, all guns blazing!
Callum
I’m one of those people who can sleep indefinitely in the dark, but snap irreparably awake with the slightest hint of sunshine. So when the first timid rays peek through Jezerce kuća’s lone window, my body wakes in seconds – though my brain takes a little longer. Twisting carefully so as not to fall off my narrow sleeping bench, I wriggle my sleeping bag over to check on the fire. Completely dead, but I’m gratified to see that it took most of the wood with it; my fires don’t go down without a fight.
Kristen
Back in our first week on the track, maybe day three or four, when it felt like we’d barely begun, I remember Callum saying that when we hit the forties, that’s when it’d feel real. We’re definitely doing this now. It seemed so impossibly far away, but here we are. Day forty. And it certainly feels more meaningful to say we’re on the Via Dinarica now than it did at day four.
Callum
It’s been four days – four glorious days – since last we hiked. Not that I don’t love hiking, but having single rest days all the time makes them seem a bit like Sundays; relaxing, but with the niggling knowledge that tomorrow you have to go back to work.
Kristen
(For all you Aussies back home, let me first just inform you that it’s pronounced Yab-lan-izia, not Jab-lan-eek-ah, as we have been referring to it for the past few weeks).
Callum
For Kris, sleeping in the tent is a way to really be a part of a place. The smells, the sounds, the grass poking up the sides – it’s all right there, around you.
bushnuts 