This post is a modification of one from when I had just finished working as a guide on the beautiful island of Korcula in Croatia in October 2005.
I used to get up nice and early in the morning at 6.30 ready to start the first ride of the day at 7.30. Then I would do another longer ride at 10.30 and one at 6.30 in the evening.
On one of the longer day rides starting at 10.30 there were a couple of guests called Rob and Rach. They were pretty enthusiastic bikers so we ventured east across the island to explore some new trails. The day rides were more technical and required a higher level of skills and fitness.
I used to have a set of different rides that I would do regularly. We used some of these routes at the start of the ride. They had names and the route went like this. Initially, we took a route called "the mongoose" which consisted of off-road doubletracks into the hills away from the village of Lumbarda towards Zrnovo for about 3 or so miles. The trail descended back down towards the coast on the other side of the island then climbed gradually on rough concrete road.
At the village of Zrnovo we descended down through the twisting streets and joined the road. Then we took a left at a cross roads next to an ancient memorial, and climbed on the road. At the top, after about 10 minutes of relaxing climbing passed a tranquil row of houses we left the road, and joined a doubletrack which followed the top of the ridgeline with incrediblel views over the blue sea and towards the mountainous Pelisac peninsula. The trail undulated along, gravity encouraging pedal to be put to the metal, vibrations humming through the bike frame. About 500 m along we passed the entrance of a downhill which descended to a quaint little fishing bay zrnovska banja, saucily named "The Tunnel of Love". Believe me in got quite sweaty and sketchy in there with the right weather conditions.
I had never ventured beyond the entrance of the Tunnel of Love, so we decided it would be good to bust our cherries, and entranced by the beauty of the landscape, we continued on. At the peak point of the trail we stopped to have some lunch and admire the views. With views admired, and fuel reserves replenished, we hastily jumped aboard our iron steeds and swooped down the trail from the top down into the valley, bouncing overs sun-scorched tyre gripping boulders.
As the trail mellowed into a flat gradient we were dishearted to see that we appeared to be at a dead end, with just a few desolate farm buildings to be seen. High from adrenaline and the sense of adventure, we followed what looked like the remants of a single walking track up into the wine groves on the hillside. As we made our way along the trail, it began to get narrower and narrower and increasingly overgrown.
However, adament not to put a dampener on our adventure we hiked and hacked our way through the undergrowth, worrying about spiders and snakes hidden on the dusty floor.
Slow progress was made as the trail became less and less defined but unwilling to be beaten just yet, we headed on, slinging our bikes up the side of steep terrace farmland dry stone walls in order to make some progress accross the valley to our observed destination at the top of the hill.
After ascending many more terraced walls with the bikes, we collapsed in a heap, overheating in the hot sun, becoming closer and closer to accepting what would be our sour fate of having to retrace our steps. We were running low on water. We had a brief rest, and I left rob and rach sitting on the wall, nursing scratches, assessing bike damage and picking vegetation from gears. I headed off gingerly jumping accross the top of the maze like walls trying to assess a possible route forward and our location in relation to rideable tracks.
After around fifteen or twenty minutes of pondering, I was facing up to the embarassing situation of having to tell the other that we would be retracing our steps. However, what urged us to go on, I do not know, possibly the searing heat was getting to us, possibly my leadership skills and sense of direction were waning.
We heaved our bikes up one more wall, and then pushed on through thick undergrowth, pushing our bikes, arms outstretched. At least we had cleared all the terraces. The scent of death and / or defeat didn't smell good, options were few and far between. The vegetation dispersed slightly and we arrived at what wouldn't be descibed as a clearing but possibly a metre squared respite from thorny torture and a slightly higher vantage point to assess our progress. We were quite near the top of the ridge and could see some disused farm buildings on the other side of the valley.
We toyed with the idea of heading in that direction as it was the closest sign of civilisation. However, my instincts were telling me to keep going, and something seemed to be firing Rob and Rachels' spirits along to follow me. It could have been madness, or something else, equally as deranged and masochistic but as I lifted my head and looked towards the horizon it was as if my eyes were looking at some sort of mirage, there in front of me I could see through a gap in the hedge a doubletrack, farm road. For about the last 30 minutes we had been sitting about 10 metres from this track. What an adventure!
The moral: - No matter how much things seem the same, or direction appears lost, if you follow your goals and instincts and most of all, keep going and dont give up, you will get there, and that break is just around the corner and when you get there it changes everything.
