Kasia Nowicka heads to Montenegro to see the Tara River Canyon meeting friendly locals and spectacular scenery along her way…
The aim was to see the Tara River Canyon. To get there, the four of us packed only the necessary items into a small Ford and got on our way early in the morning. After a few days driving, we approached Montenegro from the Serbian border. As the day was slowly drawing to a close our search for accommodation began in a town called Mojkovac. Despite its population of around 4,000 people, the town seemed quite busy and even had its own three star hotel. The rooms were spacious, pleasant and clean and promised a good night sleep.
However, it was the day of my birthday. As we walked out onto the main square, both the young and old were promenading looking for some fun on a Saturday night. We couldn’t resist and took a walk to see what was going on that evening. I was very surprised to see that in this small town there was such a variety of venues. Starting with a locals’ restaurant, then moving to a hipster-like chilled out bar, we ended up at a vibrant place with live music. The atmosphere was incomparable! Three members of the ‘band’ were playing the keyboard and singing Montenegrin hits while all the crowd was singing-a-long. It soon infected us and we were dancing with the locals. And they were so pleased to learn that foreigners enjoyed their music almost more than themselves that they started offering us drinks. I supposed I shouldn’t have had as much to drink that night but it will be a well-remembered one.
Despite the night escapades, the next day started early as it was finally the Tara Canyon day. I must admit, I did not expect anything particularly spectacular. A tall and subtle bridge stretching from one side of the slopes to the other covered in a green carpet of trees and the glistening ribbon of the river Tara at the bottom of the canyon. I took a multitude of photos from every possible perspective and still found myself gazing at the magnificent view with awe. Locals were well prepared for travellers and offered some refreshments in a small cafe. From an adjacent building of unknown purpose some funky music was emitting. The temperature was right for the summer month and we felt the spirit of holiday – no place is bad for a little boogie to disco music. We did need some exercise as there was more driving ahead of us.
The descent started. The winding narrow road down the mountains at first made me aware of how dangerous the drive might be. I took out a leaflet we were given at the border by the police warning tourists of the sharp bends and steep roads. Apparently many tourist drivers die there due to inexperience or being too bold. Fortunately, the driver was a sensible one and the drive only contrived to lull me to sleep in my comfy back seat; especially when we got stuck behind a lorry going 10 km per hour. It made all the passengers sleepy. Only every now and then our sensible driver shouted to wake us up and look at the marvellous views. He was right to do so but the car swaying from side to side made us feel like we were in a cradle.
As we were driving down from the mountains the digits on the temperature display on the dashboard amazed me. The closer to Podgorica, the faster the temperature rose. 30 degrees of Celsius , 35…37…40…45… By the time we drove into the city, the temperature hit 47 degrees. We were looking forward to camping at the Skadarsko lake. To our great surprise, campsites at the lake were non-existent and the scarce roof accommodation venues were fully booked. The locals turned out to be entrepreneurial as one of them suggested that we sleep at a secluded place by a brook in the wild. Oh, and by the way, he had a boat to rent – maybe we would like a trip on the lake? That was a deal then. We were shown the secret site for our camp and got off to look for some eating establishment. At the entrance of the nearby town (yes, there was an entrance the size of a gate to the town, otherwise surrounded by water) a tall, tanned, grey Montenegrin in straw hat welcomed us with bunches of local hand-picked herbs with an addictive scent. A similar fragrance beckoned us from a rustic restaurant decorated with the same herbs.
After a refreshing meal, there was time for a cruise on the lake. At first we thought that the price for the service was rather steep, but asking here and there we realised that nobody actually wanted to rip us off. The experience was well worth the money. Setting sun plunging in the warm waters, hills and mountains rising from the lake and a local guide speaking in his own language were all a fantastic end to the day. A rinse in the brook and a sleep with accompaniment of cicadas made us refreshed and ready for the coast. But that – next time.