03/09/2010 Golabac - Jabukovac (Distance 131km)

I unzip the door of my tent to blue skies. Today will be a good day. Mihailo had mentioned on several occasions the beauty of the gorge I will be passing through. My breakfast consists of strawberry jam and bread. With this in mind I intend to make today's first stop quite early to find a more nutritious meal. I roll up my tent, still wet with the mornings dew, and hit the road.

I find a little shop in the first village I come to. Perusing the shelves I select various tinned meats, a fresh loaf and commence with breakfast part two. The spammy mush tastes like farts and I'm unable to finish the tin. Fortunately the shop did have some bananas which should keep the fire burning for a while.

The road clutches tightly to the bank of the river, and steadily I gain altitude. Higgledy piggledy fields give way to steep cliff faces and over the course of the morning the scenery becomes more and more spectacular. The road is good, the weather is good, this is fast becoming my favourite stretch of the river route. For those toying with a EuroVelo 6 trip, you could do a lot worse than to ride Serbian run of the Danube. Across the river I stare at the hills of Romania and spare some though to my route possibilities. I don't want to take a bridge only to find I must get a ferry further on down the river. I decide to head for Bulgaria. I pass through countless tunnels, the longest of which is 371m. After a few “tower buzzing” moments I turn my lights on. The tunnels are narrow and coach drivers thunder along with reckless abandon. Back in daylight I watch huge barges fight against the flow with epic inefficiency. Surely there must be better ways of moving quarried goods by now, though, I doubt cheaper....



Free wheeling into Donji Milanovac two grinning police point their speed gun at me. They check out my bike while I fill my water bottles at the petrol station. From this point I cut away from the river in the direction of Negotin. It's too late to get there tonight but I attempt to squeeze a few more kilometres out of the day. I pull off the road and put my bike behind a small bush. It's not my most concealed camp spot. But I can see I settlement up a head and don't want to ride on to the other side of it.

I wait until dark before putting up the tent. I get to sleep very quickly. At some point in the night I am disturbed by what I assume are stray dogs howling like wolves. At once I am back the Jack London novel I recently read. In my fatigued state I roll over and return to dreamland. They are welcome to my spammy mush if they can get it.