Off road in Montenegro

"One afternoon we rafted down the Tara River at the bottom of a canyon almost as deep as the Grand Canyon"

By Don Mankin

“Lookie, lookie, lookie,” Miro exclaims as we approach another breathtaking view. “Montenegro, Montenegro, ai, ai, ai” he continues with the timing of a borscht belt comic and the accent of Boris Badenov from the classic Saturday morning cartoon show, Rocky the Flying Squirrel. He draws out the words like the lyrics of a love song. Sometimes I’m not sure what I enjoy more, the scenery or Miro’s Slavic version of standup comedy. That’s saying a lot about Miro. Crammed into this small country are as many stunning views per acre as any place I have ever visited. In our five short days in Montenegro, we saw scenery that ranged from pretty to spectacular – meadows flecked with flowers; jagged, snow-capped mountain ridges; sparkling lakes wreathed in green; virgin forests of birch and pine; deep canyons of black rock; plateaus of arctic tundra; rugged coastline cut by fjords; and isolated villages nestled in lush green valleys like miniatures in the distance. Montenegro (Crna Gora – Black Mountain in Serbian), a little known gem at the southern end of the Dalmatian Coast, is one of the Balkan states that emerged from the post-Tito break up of the former Yugoslavia. The country contains some of the most rugged terrain in Europe. My wife, Katherine, and I had been invited to visit Montenegro by Medraft, a company that specializes in off road tours of Eastern Europe and other destinations around the world. “Off road” means “off macadam” in Medraft’s terminology; their guided, self drive caravans of 4WD vehicles use existing, designated 4WD trails to get to remote, hard-to-reach places for unspoiled views and authentic encounters with local people. Most of our time was spent in the Durmitor mountains, which take up much of the country’s interior. The highest peaks, the tallest in the Balkans, are just over 8,000 feet. That may not seem that high compared to the Rocky Mountains or the Sierra Nevadas, but they rise steeply from the coastal plain just a few miles away. The overall effect is surprisingly dramatic.

A lake in the Durmitor Mountains

We started out most days with a 2-3 mile hike, usually around a lake. One day it was Crno Jezero (Black Lake), a glacial lake near Zabljiak with a reflection of the rounded snow-covered mountain looming over the lake. Another day it was Biogradski Lake. No reflections of mountains, just an idyllic trail through forest and islands of lily pads. Following the hikes we would get back in our vehicles and climb up steep, switch-back trails in 4WD and low gear, skirting the edge of sheer drop-offs into the canyon below. Sometimes we had to move large rocks and branches off the trail. One afternoon we rafted down the Tara River at the bottom of a scenic canyon, almost as deep as the Grand Canyon. But it is the garrulous and charming Miro, the Slavic schmoozer, who transforms this scenic adventure into something else. He not only keeps us in stitches with his stories, usually of old girlfriends, and enigmatic words of wisdom (e.g., “love is not potatoes, my friend”), he also provides access to the local people and glimpses into their everyday lives. He seems to know everyone or acts as if he does, even if he is meeting them for the first time. Miro is our gateway to and exemplar of the warm, friendly and welcoming people of Montenegro.

This is the most beautiful stop of all - a meadow on a steep hillside carpeted with flowers overlooking a valley, a lake and a sprinkling of cottages about 1,000 feet below. The scene looks like it were straight out of the "Sound of Music," with a backdrop of the highest, most rugged mountains we had seen on the trip, the famed Komovi, on the border with Albania.

On our first day, after barely squeezing by a car on a narrow mountain road, we stopped to talk with the three men in the car who seemed to be in especially good spirits– spirits they appear to have imbibed. Miro introduced me, his “Amerikanske friend,” and soon, with Miro translating, we were bragging about who was the oldest (how often does that happen, where being older is better?). To everyone’s surprise, I won (unlike my new friends, my face has been spared the ravages of hard labor and almost perpetual war). Looking for an explanation as to how I managed to win the contest, the runner-up smiled and pointed to my rather prominent nose and exclaimed, “good machine.” After we stopped laughing, I pointed out that we all had “good machines”! It’s the rare contest where the winner gets to carry the trophy home attached to his face. Miro also arranged a couple of lunches in the homes of local farmers. These were among the most memorable meals of the trip – hearty, homemade comfort food including cheese, smoked ham, moist, fresh-baked bread stuffed with vegetables or meat, boiled potatoes with a puree of nettles, a salad of wild garlic greens (Miro called it “bear salad” because it was the bears’ food of choice after they woke up from their winter’s hibernation), and a thick but drinkable yogurt that was the best I have ever had. And always, plenty of fiery homemade brandy. It all came together – scenery and culture – on our last full day of the trip. A drive into the mountains through a moonscape of rocks, snow, and tundra took us to the most beautiful stop of all – a meadow on a steep hillside carpeted with flowers overlooking a valley, a lake and a sprinkling of cottages about 1,000 feet below. The scene was straight out of the “Sound of Music,” with a backdrop of the highest, most rugged mountains we had seen on the trip, the famed Komovi range on the border with Albania. After an hour or so taking pictures and lying on the grass, we headed back down the trail. Soon, we came upon several men stocking their “katun,” a mountain hut where local people bring their livestock and spend the summer to escape the searing Montenegrin heat. After just a few words from Miro and lots of laughter, they invited us in for a tour and a brandy. Several brandys later, I was seriously buzzed (I wasn’t driving).Two hours later, just as I was sobering up, we stopped for lunch at a modest home on a hill. More brandy. More buzz. The day ended with a sweeping view of Kotor Bay wedged against the mountains lining the coast. How best to sum up this extraordinary trip? Perhaps with a few words of wisdom from Miro, our Slavic Shelly Berman: “Love is not potatoes, my friend.” I’m not sure what that means, but as Miro advises, “it’s hard to explain, but imagine you understand it.”

About Don Mankin

Don Mankin is a travel writer, business author, psychologist and consultant who will be contributing a regular feature to Vibrant Living called “Adventures off the Beaten track”. In every issue, Don will write about a remote, exotic or unusual trip for mature travelers looking for something exciting and different. The Wall Street Journal called his latest book, Riding the Hulahula to the Arctic Ocean: A Guide to 50 Extraordinary Adventures for the Seasoned Traveler (from National Geographic Press, 2008), one of the best travel books of the year (for more information see www.adventurebook.travel).