The train trundles back and forth most of the night but it doesn't keep me awake much. I do my usual trick in the morning and try to discover a new route back to the main road. This ends up in me pushing the bike up a steep track, only to be told by someone at the top that Belgrade is back the other way. Laughing to myself at my own stupidity I go back the way I came the night before and onto the main road. I hit a hill instantly and although not that steep it's 5% for the next 6km. It doesn't help with getting some kms done. At the top I'm rewarded with fantastic views across hilly vineyards and farms and three small stalls are selling produce from the farm and garden. I stop at the first one and sit in the shade with the owner who gives me some water. I buy some fruit; a pounds worth of damsons and figs that weigh a tonne. I decide to try some honey, I've never sucked honey from a comb so decide to give it a try. After a few minutes I decide to spit the wax out :)
I descend down the hill but my route to Indija is scuppered because the road is closed. I'm in no mood for dead ends in this heat and follow the euro velo 6 sign to Belgrade. At a fork there is no sign and I of course take the wrong way, ending up on yet another track in the middle of nowhere. It does not look very different to a scene from Borat. I plod on through the tumble-down farms and piles of hay and sweetcorn. I pedal back and ask a small boy for the way to Baska. I decide a six year old's advice is as good advice as any and head off. At the crossroads a fat man pushing a wheelbarrow full of sweetcorn nearly drops it all to say hello. I pick up the signs again and carry on. I peel off for a water stop and two guys go cycling past. They look like locals because they dont have enough luggage for tourists. I bump into them further up the road where they have stop to mend a puncture. They are two young guys from Belgrade and they speak English. When they say they are only weekend warriors I fall about laughing. They ask how I can afford to take a trip so long, and I'm yet again reminded that whatever my personal situation is, the odds are definitely stacked in my favour. They fix the puncture and head off, warning of the bad road coming up. Whilst attending to a call of nature they pass on the other side of the hedge and yet again I meet them coming the other way, this time because they have just realised they have forgotten their sunglasses at the puncture site. They are both quite tall as is the way in Serbia, but one must be 6ft 5! He says he has long legs to kick out at the wild dogs. The other one produces a can of pepper spray. He seemes to be more worried by the dog threat. I ask where I can get some in Belgrade, just in case.
Further down the road I have to stop; the sun and heat are annihilating me and apart from sweetcorn there is very little shade. I come across a bush and get in it and go to sleep in the dirt. Or try to. A noise and a rustle come from the bush and a beak and pair of eyes are staring at me. I think I've encroached on a wild chicken's home. Nap done, chicken befriended I try and do some more miles. Just when I'm ready to call it a day, I round a bend and there the Danube lays, calling me in. I cycle down to its refreshing water and find people on a beach. As I look around an old man under the shade of the awning from an old disused caravan beckons me over. We have a chat in my best German, which does not last long. Then I'm off into the water with my dirty clothes. Various people have said the Danube is a bit dirty for a swim but I'll take what I find. I dry my clothes on the remains of an old pub umbrella and chat some more with the man. I sit here for about an hour drying off and wasting valuable sunlight. Is this going to be another night putting the tent up in the dark? Back on the main road I hunt for possible farms to camp in. I ask a couple outside a house but they are from Belrade and suggest heading into the centre. Further into Novi Bahovci I see a lane to the river and head down it, but it's not a pretty sight at this part of the river and I carry on down the track and into a back street. Just as I'm thinking of going back to the beach and camping there I see a bench looking out on a fantastic view over a huge stretch of the river, taking in three bends. Next to the bench is a garden with a big man standing in it. I go through the tent mime and he says just a minute I'll phone my bruder. He tries a couple of times but can't get through, he makes me wait though and tries again. Yes is the answer. Phew! That's a relief and in I go to set up camp. What a view! It's amazing even in the semi dark, perched up high looking out along the Danube as far as Belgrade which is 20km away at least. The brother of the owner is a big man and has a bit of a menacing look about him. Whilst I'm setting up the tent a few people come and go. I notice binoculars on the table. Bruder says he doesn't live here, no one does. Alarm bells start to ring. Why doesn't anybody live here in such an amazing position? Is it a holiday home? Why is his brother here? Why do people come and go round the back? Why do they have binoculars? The bruder looks like someone from “Ross Kemp on Gangs”, perhaps its a drug house. I notice three boats moored at the bottom of a rude staircase constructed out of tyres full of mud. Perhaps they smuggle drugs??? When the bruder goes home he tells me to lock up my bike. The fence has two lots of barbed wire going round the top. I feel bizarrely safe, but am very curious of the setup. Left alone, I cook up dinner with the remains of the gas and still it doesn't run out. A good helping of figs and damsons for pudding and I go to bed with the tent flaps open, looking out acrosss the moonlit Danube, wondering what might happen to me in the night.
I descend down the hill but my route to Indija is scuppered because the road is closed. I'm in no mood for dead ends in this heat and follow the euro velo 6 sign to Belgrade. At a fork there is no sign and I of course take the wrong way, ending up on yet another track in the middle of nowhere. It does not look very different to a scene from Borat. I plod on through the tumble-down farms and piles of hay and sweetcorn. I pedal back and ask a small boy for the way to Baska. I decide a six year old's advice is as good advice as any and head off. At the crossroads a fat man pushing a wheelbarrow full of sweetcorn nearly drops it all to say hello. I pick up the signs again and carry on. I peel off for a water stop and two guys go cycling past. They look like locals because they dont have enough luggage for tourists. I bump into them further up the road where they have stop to mend a puncture. They are two young guys from Belgrade and they speak English. When they say they are only weekend warriors I fall about laughing. They ask how I can afford to take a trip so long, and I'm yet again reminded that whatever my personal situation is, the odds are definitely stacked in my favour. They fix the puncture and head off, warning of the bad road coming up. Whilst attending to a call of nature they pass on the other side of the hedge and yet again I meet them coming the other way, this time because they have just realised they have forgotten their sunglasses at the puncture site. They are both quite tall as is the way in Serbia, but one must be 6ft 5! He says he has long legs to kick out at the wild dogs. The other one produces a can of pepper spray. He seemes to be more worried by the dog threat. I ask where I can get some in Belgrade, just in case.
Further down the road I have to stop; the sun and heat are annihilating me and apart from sweetcorn there is very little shade. I come across a bush and get in it and go to sleep in the dirt. Or try to. A noise and a rustle come from the bush and a beak and pair of eyes are staring at me. I think I've encroached on a wild chicken's home. Nap done, chicken befriended I try and do some more miles. Just when I'm ready to call it a day, I round a bend and there the Danube lays, calling me in. I cycle down to its refreshing water and find people on a beach. As I look around an old man under the shade of the awning from an old disused caravan beckons me over. We have a chat in my best German, which does not last long. Then I'm off into the water with my dirty clothes. Various people have said the Danube is a bit dirty for a swim but I'll take what I find. I dry my clothes on the remains of an old pub umbrella and chat some more with the man. I sit here for about an hour drying off and wasting valuable sunlight. Is this going to be another night putting the tent up in the dark? Back on the main road I hunt for possible farms to camp in. I ask a couple outside a house but they are from Belrade and suggest heading into the centre. Further into Novi Bahovci I see a lane to the river and head down it, but it's not a pretty sight at this part of the river and I carry on down the track and into a back street. Just as I'm thinking of going back to the beach and camping there I see a bench looking out on a fantastic view over a huge stretch of the river, taking in three bends. Next to the bench is a garden with a big man standing in it. I go through the tent mime and he says just a minute I'll phone my bruder. He tries a couple of times but can't get through, he makes me wait though and tries again. Yes is the answer. Phew! That's a relief and in I go to set up camp. What a view! It's amazing even in the semi dark, perched up high looking out along the Danube as far as Belgrade which is 20km away at least. The brother of the owner is a big man and has a bit of a menacing look about him. Whilst I'm setting up the tent a few people come and go. I notice binoculars on the table. Bruder says he doesn't live here, no one does. Alarm bells start to ring. Why doesn't anybody live here in such an amazing position? Is it a holiday home? Why is his brother here? Why do people come and go round the back? Why do they have binoculars? The bruder looks like someone from “Ross Kemp on Gangs”, perhaps its a drug house. I notice three boats moored at the bottom of a rude staircase constructed out of tyres full of mud. Perhaps they smuggle drugs??? When the bruder goes home he tells me to lock up my bike. The fence has two lots of barbed wire going round the top. I feel bizarrely safe, but am very curious of the setup. Left alone, I cook up dinner with the remains of the gas and still it doesn't run out. A good helping of figs and damsons for pudding and I go to bed with the tent flaps open, looking out acrosss the moonlit Danube, wondering what might happen to me in the night.
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