Durmitor National Park Drive

I couldn’t believe it! His Lordship actually did get up at 6.30 the next morning! Worse still, Her Ladyship dragged herself – and me – out of bed to join him down at Crno Jezero, the Black Lake. I was in a black mood, I can tell you! Once I got over the rude awakening though, I had to admit it was worth getting up for this. The atmosphere at the water’s edge was magical and we had the whole place practically to ourselves!

Back on the road, the Oldies followed the panoramic route through the Durmitor National Park. It’s a mere 80 km drive, but it took us all day. And what a day that was!

The route led us past the ski lifts and rose steadily until we were well over 2000 m. I was just wondering what the enormous hole in the landscape was when His Lordship identified it as Tara Canyon. 70 km long and 1300 m deep, it wins the title of the longest and deepest canyon in Europe. And it’s a great spot for rafting, he added. Her Ladyship, true to form, was quick to point out that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of her going rafting down there. I could well believe it, in spite of the fact that, around here, snowballs seem to have no problem surviving 25˚C.

Onward and upward we went, coming to a wee village by the name of Crna Gora. Language genius as I am, I can tell you that Crna Gora is Montenegrin for Montenegro. I thought this was fascinating. Imagine a village in Ireland called Éire or an Austrian village by the name of Österreich! In a way, this tiny gem is like a miniature version of its namesake, the country of Montenegro. It has a few wobbly and broken down bits, other bits could do with updating perhaps, but my goodness, it is absolutely stunning.

Not far beyond lovely Crna Gora, we found ourselves above Sušice Canyon. After having bravely stood on the edge (hanging on to a tree for dear life) and peered down the vertiginous drop at Lake Sušice far, far below, Her Ladyship wasn’t even remotely perturbed about the viper that slithered across the road in front of her as she got back into the car.

The drive down through the canyon was another matter entirely. That was really scary. Like the scenic route above Lake Skadar, there was the sheer drop off the edge of the road. Worse still, the road surface was strewn with fallen stones and rocks from the hillside and it was no longer a case of avoiding potholes but rather having to choose which pothole was the least likely to wreck the car. It’s little wonder that many tourists opt to be driven through this area – in 4x4s chauffeured by fearless locals – rather than drive themselves. Thank goodness our chauffeur, Himself, has nerves of steel. Her Ladyship’s were shredded by the time we’d reached the lake.

I thought the Atlantic was cold, but Lake Sušice takes the biscuit. It is absolutely freezing. What a cool spot!

We survived another wild ride up the far side of the canyon into the village of Nedajno, perched on the top. This is the last place in the world I’d have expected to find an organic restaurant, but the Oldies had been tipped off and weren’t long about rewarding themselves for their bravery by tucking into a delicious lunch. Soon afterwards, we were driving through mountain pastures, a riot of colour with acre upon acre of wildflowers. Now I know why there are so many beehives in this country. Montenegrin bees must be the happiest bees in the world!

The road rose steadily higher until, finally, we were in amongst the highest peaks in the Durmitor. Whoever parked these mountains here, parked them Montenegrin-style. They look as if they had been flung here in a hurry, bits of them left sticking out at all kinds of crazy angles.

I had to laugh at this basketball hoop at the side of the road, with the three-point line etched into the tarmac. There must be at least a 100 m sheer drop off the edge of the road. I wonder how many basketballs have been lost down there!

Trust His Lordship to find the best seat in the house. I’d have happily sat there all day too, breathing that wonderful fresh mountain air and drinking in the views.

Further along the road, we encountered more crazy mountain formations, more glacial lakes, more hair pin bends, more snowdrifts and something I hadn’t seen so far: cyclists!

They were almost as fast as the car on the uphill and they were definitely faster than us on the way down. The Oldies should have cycled up here. Oh. Scrap that last remark. Herself insists.

A tired, hot but happy trio finally settled in for the night in Nikšić. Nice town, and I just love that name. You should hear Her Ladyship trying to pronounce it. Imagine if they twinned Nikšić with Mixnitz in Austria. What a fantastic tongue twister that would make! His Lordship announced that he was in desperate need of a cold dip and a cold pint of Nikšićko. From where I was standing, it looked like he managed both at the same time.

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