May 29: Into Croatia, 96 km

Got up later than planned due to sleepless night before and nervously ordered bread and jam for breakfast. Got what I ordered but also butter and cheese. Opened butter packet and this realeased and rancid smell and revealed green fur all over packet. The smell was nauseating and the plate was pushed as far away on table as space would allow. Happily, bread and jam went down and stayed down.

Crossed into Croatia around 10 am. The terrain was now flat. Good for the legs potentially as they could recover a little after all the climbing, but very boring. After 28 km, I heard the familiar 'crack' of a spoke break. I had broken one late in the evening the day before and had trued the wheel without replacing the spoke. Now I had two to fix. Pulled over at next petrol garage and began work. Quickly realised that I could only fix one - the second needed the cassette to be removed to thread the spoke. Fixed what I could and rode on. I had lost over an hour changing the spoke and was now facing a head wind and recalculating how I would keep to my schedule. The thought of taking the train entered my mind for the first time.

The roads were mindnumbingly flat and monotonous. NO challenge, no rest. Another storm swept over me as I neared Osijek - I had changed route on the advice of a bike mechanic who I had hoped could fix bike was unable as he did not have the cassette removal tool.


I entered Osijek cold, wet and very hungry. I had to eat. I had already decided I at least needed to check the train schedule and think about my options over 'lunch' - it was now alrady 3:30 pm. And then it happened - Pulling away from a traffic light. "Snap!", the bike lurched right as I fell forward. How I avoided the curb and stayed upright I do not know. I looked down, though I already knew what had happened: my new chain had snapped!! The Sarajevo mechanic must have put the pin in incorrectly. Mind made up - train to Budapest it would be.

Some local lads helped me get to a bike store where I had everythign possible done to the bike: relaced all spokes on the rear wheel, new bottom bracket, new chain obviously, new bottle cage, new gloves and even a pair of socks. The mechanics were great, ordering pizza and coke and working on my bike for about 3 hours.

They asked where I was staying and I said I hoped to find a cheap hotel. Once we established I would pay 20 euros for a room they called a friend with an apartment and hooked me up for said price, including breakfast. Top blokes!

Silvio, bike store owner cycled with me to train station and I purchased my ticket for the direct train to Budapest tomorrow. 6 hour to go about 250 km as the crow flies - not sure exactly where train is going (?). Then we cycled the 6 or so km to the apartment. We said our goodbyes and thank yous on my behalf and then it was time for a shower and sleep.

May 28: Sarajevo to somewhere in Bosnia, 189 km

Was out the door at 7:10 and ready to roll. However, bank cards would not work at ATM and I was delayed waiting for bureau de change to open.

Lots of climbing early in the day and my stomach did not feel good. Most of the day I felt nauseous. Had my first cola at 9 am. Sky Cola was on offer. NOt the 'Real Thing' but it did proclaim 'original American taste'!

Once again got rained on - this time the storm was accompanied by pea size hail. Though I took shelter under trees the 'ting ting' sound of hail on my bike helmet was heard repeatedly.

Gradually I came out of the mountains and was making good time. However, I ended up the wrong road despite asking three people to confirm where I was! Originally frustrated I then realised that if I just kept on riding I would meet back up with my intended route tomorrow and effectively both options were two sides of a diamond.

Camping that night was not an option as I passed multiple signs proclaiming 'danger - mines' at the roadside. Instead opted for a hotel, figuring that 10 euros was a small price to pay in order to be assured of keeping both my legs. I raced the sunset north towards the Bosnian/Croatian border at Orasje. I won. Just. My room was above a restuarant and was sparse. But after 189 km what did I care? I just needed food and sleep.

Food was easy and I went down for dinner. Steak and fries. Sleep proved more difficult as my stomach refused to digest what I had eaten and my sleep was fegularly interrupted at 90 minute or so intervals with trips to the bathroom!

May 27 - Sarajevo

Got up earlier than planned as need for food outweighed need for sleep. Spent the day exploring some of Sarejevos sights: old town, Latin bridge where WWI started with the assasination of Archduke Ferdinand and plenty of signs of the recent war - pockmarked buildings, etc.

Managed to get my bike repaired - I had been carrying spare parts since Albania that I could not get fitted there due to lack of tools. Was happy to finally have new rear cassette and chain on.

Had good conversation with man who helped me find bike shop, mainly about the recent conflict. He told me, with the sense of pride someone would show if they bought a new car, that he had blown up the butcher's shop with 100 kg TNT. He is Moslem and the shop was housing Chetnik snipers. From where we drank coffee he showed me his 'front line' position on the other side of the river Miljacka. His brother had been killed in the war. He was a journalist and had followed Richard HOlbrooke to Bajram Curri, Albania during the Kosovo conflict in 1997. Albania was a dangerous place he said, but that he had felt safe on teh front lines of Sarajevo! It was a fascinating conversation.

May 26: Piva to Sarajevo, Bosnia - 140 km

The monastery dog had kept me awake half the night - barking and chasing heaven only knows what. I awoke at 6:15 to find him asleep under a tree!

I hung me wet clothes on the bike hoping that the early morning sun would dry them a little before setting off. I was feeling very hungry but had no food other than trail mix - I did NOT want a bowl of that for breakfast. I was told I could bread from the same restuarant that I'd received water from the day before. I had a quick look around the Monastery which was now unlocked - there was Mass at 8 am and a baptism at 8:30. Even though I know what to expect inside an Orthodox church I am always stunned at the beauty and radiance of the icons and other adornments inside. Piva was no exception.

I left for the cafe only to be told upon arrival that there was no bread. But I could order a sandwich. I asked for two. They were huge - thick slices of bread loaded with salted ham and cheese. The salt was too much adn I ate the second with cheese only. A new first for me: this was all washed down with a coke for breakfast! I was craving sugar.

Tackling the 7% climb was the first order of business and I started at 8:55. Later than planned but I was grateful for the relaxed breakfast I had enjoyed. I huffed and puffed as my legs tried to warm up. Then to my great, and pleasant, surprise after only 2 km the road began to dip and I screamed in Pluzine. From Pluzine to the border with Bosnia the route can be described in one word: spectacular! Plivsko Canyon forms a natural reservoir, torquise in colour. The road follows this closely through a series of 20-30 tunnels (I lost count) and is flat much of the time with the occasional climb to keep adventure cyclists honest.


I passed out of Serbia with no problem and had a friendly chat with the border guards about my trip. A very steep, but short descent followed to the Bosnian checkpoint. I took a photo of the 'Welcome to Bosnia' sign. Mistake. A border guard came over and yelled at me for taking photos and then refused to take my passport, instead ordering me to wait in the already hot sun. Maybe Bosnian state secrets are concealed within the sign or possible he thought I was a terrrorist sent to wreak havoc on two wheels. Finally I was cleared to enter Republika Srpska (one 'half' of Bosnia). The road sign warned to drive carefully due to road conditions fro the next 15 km and the surface, was there was once pavement, did not disappoint.

Coke two came at 11:30 and lunch was taken an couple of hours later at a roadside cafe: fried meat sandwich. And lots of water. Could not face another coke. I was halfway to Sarajevo with 65 km to go. A storm threatened and I decided to get back on the bike about 3 pm. The road continued to wind through canyons which protected me somewhat from the sun. The sky darkened and the wind picked up. At Dobro Polje I passed the first cafe and then a beer joint. I needed water but neither place appealed to me. I then saw the sign announcing the end of the village and turned back for the bar. Beer was all that was inside - cases of it. NO coke, no wine, no soft drinks, just beer. The owner did have a tap outside and I filled my water bottles.

Through the use of forearms to show gradient I asked about the grade over the next 35 km to Sarajevo (I was standing at the bottom of a hill). 5 km uphill he motioned, 'then fsshhht!' with his arm poined down. He increased the angle of his arm to show a steep descent, then levelled it off slightly and said 'Sarajevo'. To his discredit I thought 'No way is there a 30 km descnet to Sarajevo'. He was correct on all counts. At 5.1 km the road levelled and then I started falling with gravity at about 65 km/h again. The only negative was that 2 km into the climb it had started raining. Lightly at first. Then harder. Now it was pouring. I could barely see on the descent. Effectively I was being 'pushed' from behind by the trailer and I was aware that one mistake could end more than the bike trip. The road levelled off but had a downward bias and I raced over the remaining 35 km in a little over an hour. Life was good.

I entered Sarajevo at 6:15 and then took an hours and 10 km to find my hostel. Noone could tell me where it was. Finally, a sunglass/umbrella salesman came to my rescue and got hold of the hostel owner who then came to meet me in the old town. Sixty seconds later and the owner appeared (need to look his name up again). Posillipo Hostel is clean, RIGHT next to the old town, and comfortable. I love the feel of Sarajevo and have added my rest day back in - I will just have to ride 170 km/day for the following three days to reach Budapest on schedule.

I took care of my two most urgent needs: shower and food - though not necessarily in that order.

May 25: Shkoder - Piva Monastery, 174 km

I have never measured a trip by my Coca-Cola consumption. There is a first time for everything.

Woke up feeling much better and was on the road by 7:15. Through the Serbian enclave in Vraka, Albania and past the new Serbian Orthodox church. School children looked on in amazement and waved as I passed through Koplik before reaching the Montenegrin border at 8:45. I was ahead of schedule.

First Coke was consumed in the 'no-man's land' between the Albanian and Montenegrin border posts at 9 o'clock. The climb into Montenegro was not as harsh as I feared and soon I reached Tuzi, stopping briefly at the Catholic Church memorializing Mother Teresa. The countryside was rollings hills set against a backdrop of mountains and I knew the road would get vertical soon. Vineyards on one side and fig orchards on the other.

I blew through Podgorica and continued on toward Niksic, stopping for a 2nd coke at 11 am. Lots of dates are commemorized in hotel, restaurant names and on busses in Montenegro: 19 Dec., 7 Jan., 5 Dec. Everything was fine until Danilovgrad and I was making good time. Things were looking up. Things literally looked up from this point on as the road climbed for the next 28 km (18 miles). It was hot, with hiding place from the sun and not once did the gradient diminish or flatten. With the extra weight of the trailer it is as near to being 'broken' on a climb as I have come. I was despearate for water and shade and found a restaurant at Ostrog: coke 3, water and a fruit salad followed.

I waved goodbye to the bus load of Hungarian tourists having done 'an interview' for their home movie special - somewhere in Budapest I am a household name!! Back on the road I entered a long tunnel. Unusally there were lights inside and I knew it would be a long, dark ride for the next several minutes. At soem poing I crested the hill in the dark and descended in to the town of Niksic.

Had lunch in the pictureque square and visited the sights. Got back on the bike at 4 pm telling myself to get to Pluzine before nightfall so that I 'only' had 130 km to Sarajevo the next day. Storm!! Out of nowhere I was suddenly in driving rain. The good news: the wind as at my back. The bad news: 4 km later I realised I was on wrong road! Having turned around the road climbed again. And it climbed. And climbed, summiting at 1200 metres.

I was running low on water again and found a roadside store. Time for a coke and dinner supplies. Pasta, ham and fruit. The road soon dipped and I descended at 65 km/h plus toward Piva. I fillled water bottles again and considered going the final 6 km to Pluzine. That was until I saw the sign announcing a 7% climb. I did not have the mental or physical strength to climb again and took the option of dowhill to the monastery.

Abbot Nikifor agreed to let me pitch my tent in the monastery grounds. The stone structure had been moved, stone by stone, from a nearby lake over a period of 12 years between 1970 - 1982. The stone numbers are still visible. I cooked my gourmet meal of plain pasta and ate it with my bananas and apple. The abbout provided bread. Not the greatest post-ride meal, but it was calories. Then I went to bed!

For those that have asked, here are the ride stats: 174 km, average speed of 19.5 km/hr, ride time of 8 hrs 52 mins, 9176 calories burned.

May 24 - The Phoney Ride

Sinus infections and long-distance bike trips really do not go together. Having felt unwell for the past two days, as of going to bed last night I was prepared to cycle into Montenegro, then Serbia today. I went to bed early and did not watch all the Champion’s League Final (yes, that is how tired I felt) and assumed that Milan won as I was woken by the sound of celebratory gunfire – one gunman, eight bullets. No car horns honking, just gunfire.

However, at approximately 4 am this morning, upon waking with a throbbing head and aching jaws, I decided that a visit to the doctor was more prudent that a 160 km bicycle ride. Arlind and Fatmir, YMCA leaders and translator, negotiated a rapid consultation with the ‘head specialist’. With a history of sinus problems, I was sure all I needed was antibiotics and possibly some pain medication. The specialist ordered me to go to the hospital for an X-ray. Off we went with our radiography orders. Fatmir’s car is being re-painted so we took the bus the hospital. Two attempts were needed to yield a good image on the X-ray and then it was back to the specialist via taxi.

The official diagnosis was ‘sinus congestion’ and I was prescribed antibiotics, pain/pressure relief medication, syrup for the throat and nose drops. Despite appearing somewhat chaotic (you basically find the relevant medical room/office by asking others waiting in the corridor and then queue outside the appropriate door until someone appears) my experience with the Albanian healthcare system was very good.

That said, it is frustrating to be sitting here, watching a perfect cycling day from the confines of my kitchen/bedroom having spent so long training and organizing this event. Logistically what it means is that the rest day in Sarajevo just disappeared, which also means changing my hostel reservation, and the first ‘rest’ I am likely to have is the short day’s riding going into Budapest. However, as always with trips like this, the plan will evolve once on the road. On a positive side, it will be good to feel human again and begin the ride with a clear head (ears and jaw included) and some energy (hopefully).

Tomorrow the ride should start in earnest.

Eve of the Ride

“A bicycle does get you there and more.... And there is always the thin edge of danger to keep you alert and comfortably apprehensive. Dogs become dogs again and snap at your raincoat; potholes become personal. And getting there is all the fun.” ~Bill Emerson

Equipment has been tightened, greased, adjusted, washed, and packed.

My test ride has been completed, clothes packed, spokes replaced, wheels trued, brakes overhauled and my list of necessary supplies/equipment checked and re-checked.

To paraphrase Freddie Mercury and Queen all that is left to do now is to get on my bike and ride. And so it will be that tomorrow at approximately 7 am local time, while most of you are sleeping, that I will climb onto my steel stallion and begin my journey across the continent of Europe.

I do not expect to sleep much tonight. For one I have had a cold since yesterday and my sleep was occasional last night to say the least. However, even at 100% a combination of nerves and excitement would undoubtedly keep my mind active and oppose sleep: How tough will the climb be on the bike once I enter Montenegro? After all the preparation and planning the time is now and how wonderful it will be to see Europe from the bike, How far will I get before I break a spoke? What exotic sights, sounds and smells will I experience? How much saddle soreness will I suffer from? Should I turn off along the ‘small’, lightly trafficked road to Bosnia or stay on the main route where the road surface should be better but traffic volume heavier? Will I get to Sarajevo in two days or will it really take me three? Will I reach my fundraising target? And so on and so on.

Thank you again to those of you who have already supported this cause and made a contribution on behalf of yourself or a YMCA. For those that have not yet had the opportunity, gifts can still be made via the link to the right.

Some of you I will meet along the route and I look forward to seeing you soon. Ride updates will be posted here every 2-3 days and I encourage you to visit as time allows and follow my ride north.

Best wishes,

Test Ride – May 12 &13

With the idea that one fully loaded test ride would be a smart idea before cycling 3300 km across Europe I ventured into Montenegro. The plan was simple: ride to Virpazar along the Montengrin side of Lake Shkoder, then on to the city of Bar, before camping along the coast close to Ulcinj on the Saturday night. Then on the Sunday morning I would cycle the 2 hours back to Shkoder and be ready for my trip to the YMCA Europe General Assembly in Kiev, Ukraine that afternoon.

I had deliberately selected roads I had not ridden on before in order to check how detailed the maps were and deal with the ‘psychology’ of not always being sure exactly where you are that I will encounter on the road.

Many lessons were learned or reinforced during this test ride:

The climbs in the Balkans are steep and hot and the ‘big rig’ (bike + trailer) climbs much more slowly than the bike alone. I obviously already knew this but I managed to find some truly brutal climbs on the Saturday morning.

1. The descents are laced with gravel and are treacherous and it is tough to make up time lost on the climb
2. The food in the Balkans is excellent
3. My spokes are getting brittle and continue to break – lately, I have been breaking a spoke every 3rd ride.
4. Carry water purification tablets and always fill your water bottles when the opportunity presents itself as stores are much more infrequent.
5. Bicycle disc brakes can overheat and fail just like truck brakes – having to walk 9 km off a mountain, to the ‘safety’ of flatter roads, due to lack of stopping power is not fun.
6. Pushing a thorn back into a puncture will seal it – yes, this worked and I was happy to save time not replacing inner tube/sealing tire due to time lost already truing wheel due to broken spoke.
7. Locals often do not camp and do not know directions to campgrounds which are not signposted.
8. Pasta is always welcomed after a hard day in the saddle

It was a good ride overall with all systems (bike, trailer, tent, sleeping pad/bag, and stove) being thoroughly tested. However, the distance I covered was significantly less than I had intended – 112 versus 160 km. Thirty of these kilometres were lost in time due to the problem with the brakes and as soon as I return from the conference I am currently attending I will be replacing the brake pads and re-adjusting everything – it really is very scary to have your brakes fully ‘on’ and still be accelerating downhill.

Overall I feel my 3 biggest issues are likely to be: the sun, broken spokes, and lack of signage indicating where I am and on which road. My plan is to start riding early each day (7 am) and put in about 100-120 km by 1pm before taking a long lunch to avoid the afternoon sun. I will then get back on the bike at 5 pm and complete my daily distance. I have scoured bike shops here in Kiev and acquired 20 new spokes – fingers crossed they ARE the right length.

However, my lost distance has raised some concern that my aggressive riding schedule may be out of reach on some days. So, ‘rest’ days may become ‘ride’ days.

Beckam's BMW lost in Albanian jungle

“Gazeta! Usqim! Gazeta!” cried the newspaper and food (Usqim) vendor as he boarded the bus that Adam Rychlik (my YMCA Europe boss from Poland) and I were sitting on as we waited to leave the city of Berat. Adam and I had journeyed to the ‘city of a thousand windows’ (so called due its rows of terraced houses with windows facing the river) and were the only 2 passengers on board as we waited for the 10 am departure to Tirana. The vendor looked at Adam and I, seated on opposite sides of the aisle, and repeated his sales pitch. “No, thank you” I replied in Albanian. “Ah, you from where country?” was the next question. “Jam Anglez” I replied, letting him know I was English. This was a mistake. “No, no. Speak English when in Albania” came the Vendor’s instruction. “Albania is jungle. Very dangerous. Is jungle”. I asked why and told him that I liked Albania (again in his mother tongue). “No speak Albanian. You speak English! Albanian bad. Is jungle” This cycle of conversation was repeated for a few minutes until, after a few polite refusals, he realised we would not buying anything and promptly departed. For the record I will say again that I have always felt very safe in Albania, been treated kindly by people wherever I have been and in many cases not been charged for basic services I would have expected, and have been prepared, to pay for.

Adam had flown into Tirana but was departing from Podgorica, Montenegro. Geographically, the capital city of the former Yugoslav territory is closer than Tirana and we had decided to test the logistics of having YMCA guests coming to/from Shkoder arrive/depart in Montenegro. En route to the border we stopped at Restaurant Dardha (The Pear) for lunch.

While eating it came to our attention that David Beckam’s BMW X5 car is being driven in Albania. It is now Becks ex-Beamer. Apparently the car was stolen (allegedly) from England and driven through Europe until it reached the border with Albania (this is why there are so many ‘foreign’ cars in Albania). The story goes that at the border the Vehicle Identification Number was checked. The car was found to be stolen and confiscated by the police. Whether they knew the original owner or not is a matter for debate, though I am inclined to think so.

However, rather than being returned, the vehicle was given to the Minister of Integration as his business car. The media certainly did know who had originally owned the car and when challenged and asked if he intended to return the car to Mr. Posh Spice the minister replied “If Beckam asks for it I will return it, but so far there has been no request”. And who says politicians do not try to do the right thing? A further twist in the tail is that elections were recently held in Albania. The new Minister of Integration is female. This is quite possibly noteworthy in its own right. Her answer when asked if she intended to keep the same car for business? “Beckam is my favourite player. I will keep it”. So Becks, if you are reading and have not already cashed in the insurance policy and upgraded to a Ferrari or similar, give us a shout and we’ll track that car down. (Disclaimer: This information was obtained per chance, through casual lunchtime conversation, and cannot be verified for accuracy. As such it is hearsay. That said, no alcohol was consumed by any party during the meal!)

The trip to Podgorica and back provided other ‘challenges’. There is no direct link from Shkoder to the capital of Montenegro. You can take a taxi, but that seems unreasonably high – about €60. We were driven to the border by Fatmir, leader of YMCA Shkoder. We had intended to walk across the border and find a taxi on the other side to take us to Tuzi where we would then catch a bus to Podgorica – this was already sounding like a lot of work for a 35km/25 mile trip. However, at the border Fatmir saw someone he knew (not a surprise as he seems to know almost everyone) and negotiated our ride to Tuzi. The fee was waived as we were friends of Fatmir.

I was going to say our safe passage was negotiated in the above sentence. However, once into Montenegro the narrow road climbs, twists and turns along the shoreline of Lake Shkoder, throwing oncoming traffic, blind curves, and a surface full of cracks, potholes and undulations at you. (This is the same road that I will cycle on my ride north and the potential hazards were well noted). At one point while driving far too fast for the conditions and on the wrong side of the road, the driver locked the wheels up in order to avoid a head on collision with an oncoming 18-wheeler/articulated lorry. We skidded to the side of the road and the truck blew by us. Obviously we made it, but if I’d had some rosary beads I would have been clutching them tightly.

Podgorica is a small, somewhat overpriced city. The main attractions are the central park with an old Orthodox church, and monument to fallen partisans during WWII, mount Gorica, and the downtown pedestrian area. One night was certainly sufficient to see what the city had to offer.

Adam departed and my journey back was more interesting than my arrival. My instructions before leaving Albania were simple: reverse what you did to get there – bus to Tuzi, taxi to border (€5), walk through the border and you will see a minibus (which I had seen as we approached the border the day before). The plan started unravelling quickly. Firstly, my Serbian does not extend much past ‘hello’, ‘thank you’, and ‘good day/night’. The lady at the bus station did not speak English but understood I needed to go to Tuzi. “No” she said and pointed around the corner - “information”. I am not sure where she was pointing but my search yielded now information office. The few people I spoke to, including at the hotel, had no idea of where the bus to Tuzi left from. Plan B was needed and a taxi was summoned. Price - €25. The taxi driver had an even heavier foot than the driver when we entered the country, and soon the G-forces were pulling me to and fro, back and forth (no seat belt) as we whipped around curves, accelerating and decelerating. He offered to take me all the way to Shkoder, but for €60 this was too expensive.

Crossing the border was simple and I paid the obligatory €10 tax as at that time I had not secured my resident permit. Though, on a brief side note, I am happy to report that I am now the proud owner of said permit and can come and go as I please with no fee.

Finding the minibus proved more of a challenge though. I walked the 500m past the border crossing to where the bus had been the day before. Nothing. I had checked at the border crossing and other than large trucks parked at the café there were no waiting vehicles. I walked some more. It was a hot day: crystal clear blue sky, sun beating down at 3 in the afternoon. I was dressed in a long sleeve shirt (sleeves rolled up) jeans and quite possibly the worst pair of shoes I own for walking a long distance in. No sign of a minibus. I kept walking. I had one small bottle of water and no food. It was hot. It was 15 miles to Shkoder. I was now getting a taste of what many Albanians have to endure on a daily basis. Hitchhiking in Albania was now my one realistic way out of this situation. The first few cars flew by and I made no effort to stop them as I could see all the seats were full. Then for several minutes nothing passed me and I began to ponder the wisdom of my lack of effort.

However, as I approached a petrol/gas station there was a Mercedes (what else?) pulled over with three generations of one family sitting inside. Windows were open as they talked to members of another family standing alongside. I walked past to assess the situation and then turned back and asked the driver through the window if he was going to Shkoder. “No, Bajze” was his reply. I had no idea where Bajze was but he told me it was between where I was standing and Shkoder. While I was stumbling through our conversation the Grandmother gave me the command “hajde” (apologies to Albanians for spelling) - which means ‘let’s go’ – and I jumped in, unsure of where I was actually going. The young child in the back stared at me most of the time, and did not respond to my inquiries of ‘how are you?’ and ‘what is your name?’ The grandmother told me, in English, she had lived in England for 3 years – in Essex (my home county) – but could say no more than that. Conversation was stunted due to lack of language, and the sound of air rushing through four open windows at 90+ km/hr.

Bajze is about 1/3 of the way to Shkoder and we were soon there. From there I caught a bus, along with the grandmother (who got off in Koplik) to Shkoder. During the ride there was much conversation from the other members of the bus about me – “Where is the Englishman going?”, “Shkoder? What does he do there?” is what I believed the discussion to be. I understood some of the talk and listened for a few moments wondering if someone would speak to me directly or just talk about me. There was nothing harmful in their conversation, but it was an interesting situation. When there was a pause in conversation I told them I was going to Shkoder and that I lived and worked there. Compliments, very generously, were given as to the proficiency of my Albanian. Though it was then quickly established that I do not possess the ability to have a conversation as I greeted their words with ‘I am sorry, I do not understand’.

With our adventures to/from Podgorica completed, we decided that although farther away, it is still much more convenient, friendly and cheaper to fly in/out of Tirana. This is combination of lack of reliable transport links between Shkoder and Podgorica, overbearing and impolite airport staff and the high exit fee to leave Montenegro.

The bike ride is approaching fast: in two weeks I will be calling Sarajevo, Bosnia home for two nights. My excitement level is beginning to rise despite the thousand-and-one things I still feel I need to do. However, now that mid-May is here a sense of immanency has arrived with it. Many hours have been put in the saddle over the last few weeks and I have successfully managed a 4 hour test ride with the trailer. Over the last few days I hosted Simon Herzog, a YMCA employee from Switzerland. He is cycling around Kosovo, Macedonia, and Albania visiting YMCAs and seeing first hand the work they are doing. His intent is to take these stories back to Switzerland to support the fundraising event for Balkan YMCAs that his YMCA will run in September. Having arrived by ferry from Italy on Tuesday, he left this morning en route to Pukë and Kukës and will cross into Kosovo tomorrow, finally arriving in Prizren. This is quite possibly the toughest route he could have started with. Steep climbs and descents, ‘iffy’ roads, a significant gain in altitude, and unstable climate caused by the mountains. Still, as the Swiss say: there is no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing!

Besides having the opportunity to talk to a fellow Y employee/bicycle fundraise, Simon’s visit has buoyed me: he brought me two things I needed but could not get in Albania – camping gas for my stove and a new rear cassette (set of cogs for the gears on the back wheel for the non-cyclists among you). The first of these items is ready to use. However, the slight issue with the cassette is that none of the ‘biçiklist’ repair stands here have the correct tool to replace it :-(. So, this will make up part of my luggage, along with new chain, until I get to Sarajevo or Budapest and can get this repair made.

This weekend will see me cross into Montenegro ‘fully loaded’ to test the setup one more time and spend the night in the tent somewhere. Then it will be back to Shkoder on Sunday before catching the bus to Tirana that afternoon ahead of my 5 am Monday morning flight to Kiev, Ukraine for the YMCA Europe General Assembly from May 14-20. Four days back here and then it is ‘Finland here I come’. The full ride schedule is available by clicking the link to the right.

Near my apartment is a music ‘store’. As a way of advertising his presence, the store owner has loudspeakers set up outside and blasts those within earshot with an eclectic musical repertoire – from Arabic, to Albanian, to classic 80’s like the Bangles and Bonnie Tyler, to the occasional jazz or classical piece. Currently the Albanian version of The Police’s ‘Every Breath You Take’ is playing. The local version is sung by a female and includes Albanian rap. The melody is the only thing I recognize. Albania is indeed a country of energy, enterprise and contrasts.

Come visit sometime.

YMCA Activities and Challenges

The major work recently has been on securing legal registration in the court system for the YMCA in Shkoder. This will move the organization here from one of an informal group to a legally registered entity. As in most countries around the world, this local YMCA will be affiliated with the national office of YMCA Albania, but will be independent and able to form its own board, constitution and make decisions locally about its governance, structure, programs an how to best serve the local community. Formal status will also allow YMCA Shkoder to apply for funds/grants in their own right without having to pass everything through the National office in Tirana. Even though we are creating an organization in Shkoder, the paperwork must be filed at the court in Tirana. Fatmir and Artan (volunteer director and board member respectively) have been working hard and travelling to the capital frequently to keep the process on track. Yesterday we heard that we have been ‘provisionally approved’ for registration though there were a couple of questions raised. These questions have been answered and we are awaiting the final verdict. Fingers crossed.


Recently I visited the school for Roma children and the Roma community to see the 'encampment' and to visit a family that benefited from one of the sewing machines. The YMCA is at work in both the school and the Roma camp and through donations from St. Albans Baptist Church in England has been able to provide four women with sewing machines in order to mend/make clothes for the community.


There is a challenge facing the operation of the school - many parents are not sending their children due to the need for money/food, via begging, outweighing the need to sit in a classroom. Fatmir and I have discussed a possible solution being for the YMCA to provide school lunches for the children - when the Y has provided a 'day out' and provided lunch attendance has been very high (130 versus the fifty usual attendees) and this has led to increased attendance in school for the next few days until the children/parents realise there is not more food and go back to begging. In a perfect world the 'food' component would be part of a much larger program tackling the issue of child abuse/behavioural issues and would include a school counselor, social workers (for children and to educate the parents on the need/importance for their child to attend school) and recreational activities. However, this of course takes money and donors that have the ability to fund such a program are not so easy to find. However, we will continue to make contacts and see what doors may open for the YMCA to address this important need.


The lady with the sewing machine was very happy to have received it - she lives in a two room house with 15 other people, one of whom has sold her blood every two months for the last 35 years to make money - and has put it to good use making dresses for family/community. I suggested to Fatmir that it could be worth looking into developing this idea further and having the women make clothes for sale - to the Shkoder community and for distribution/sale at international Y events - with revenues being returned to the Roma community. Hopefully this can be explored further.

Visiting the 'encampment' was a sobering experience. There is a one-room cinder block building on the right as you go into the camp. The 'director' of the camp lives in this one room. His room was being used for youth/community activities (chess, dominoes, etc.) until recently. The Y had helped him put a door and windows in his 'home' in exchange for the use of his room for X number of months. That timeframe has now passed and he wants €75 per month for use of the space. The other major issue facing the community there is the lack of potable water. There is a hand pump, but this water cannot be drunk. €300/$500 will pay for the drilling of a well and an electric pump which will supply this area and greater Roma community with potable water. Hopefully funds can be secured for this project in the near future.

Additionally, there is interest on the part of both the YMCA and a local school to operate a day camp this summer. The school is the oldest in Shkoder and is the only 'mainstream' school in the city that accepts Roma children - they have 6 enrolled. The concept is for the YMCA to operate the camp at the school and serve 40-50 children for an 8-10 week period. The idea is in its infancy, but it is hoped they will be able to offer a program containing both recreational. Without the camp a bleak picture is painted: children home alone, or playing football in the street next to speeding vehicles as there is virtually no recreational space for activities to take place in the city. Once again, lack of financial resources - on the part of the parents, the YMCA and the school (teachers often use their own money to buy supplies) - is the main hurdle to overcome.

Tune in regularly for updates on these on other YMCA issues/events.