Last trip with Baba

A 20,000 km bicycle tour returning my fathers ashes to China

Albanian Alps part 2

Posted on April 29, 2014 by bodhitree

Indiana Jones bridge crossing, miles from civilization

Having no idea what to expect on the journey to the village of Thethi. I stuffed my panniers full of bread, vegetables, sheep cheese and chocolate filled croissants (A local favorite), then went to the local konoba where I filled my belly with two orders of lamb fat cooked rice and an order of bean pasta. Completely stocked on carbohydrates I stopped in to the local pharmacy and without any means of communication I attempted to draw the chemical structure of vitamin C (l-Ascorbic acid), the structure has always been engrained in my mind as it was a challenge problem on one of my advance chemistry NMR exams, and the pharmacist did not seem to speak or understand any English. Minus a few -OH groups and a double bond the pharmacist quickly looked up the structure in her book and said “oh Vitamin C” Two minutes later I had over 100 pills of instant immune system booster, and was ready to hit the road.

Remind me to thank Rebecca Braslau for the ridiculous NMR problems on exams

Just before leaving I asked a few locals about the road conditions to Thethi, I got a few laughs and headshakes; some would raise their hands over their heads and shout “Boar” (snow) “No way”!! I have built quite a tolerance to people telling me that what I want to do can’t be done and as always I smile and whisper to myself “We will see..”. It is all up from here, leaving the banks of Shkoder lake, the road slowly climbed through humid green luscious valleys. It started to rain, but being so excited I neglected to take any precaution and continued to climb passing small villages and often being overtaken by the ever present Mercedes Benz off road van.

Small roadside villages en-route to Thethi

Friends along the long lonesome road

The vans were full of local women carrying supplies back to their villages, 50lb bags of flour, tools, electrical wire, blankets and clothes so much stuff that many vans had supplies strapped to the roof, and they would teeter as they bobbled side to side on the pot holed filled muddy roads. Most of the Albanians who live in this area survive on a 4 month tourist season income coupled with food from their flocks of sheep, pigs and chickens. To my knowledge every household has at least a dozen sheep (used for meat, cheese and warm skin), a few pigs (for butter and meat) and a dozen chickens (mostly for eggs). I stopped for food in a small village called “Boga”, and was shocked to be served fried bacon fat, fresh bread, homemade marmalade, sheep cheese and a hardboiled egg. There wasn’t one item of food on the table that wasn’t homemade or from the land. It began to hail, and even though there were plenty of guesthouses where I could find a warm dry bed I declined still having the urge to continue my adventures into the mountains. Not the greatest idea, the village of “Boga” was the last sign of civilization for the next 35 km.

Climbing steep mountains outside of Boga

The muddy, pot holed asphalt turned into a rocky hell, where I constantly would slip out and bang my crotch on my saddle. Fuck!! This was like riding an angry horse in a stampede or rodeo! If I stood up to pedal my back tire would slide out, if I sat on the saddle while pedaling the front end would bounce sometimes pushing me off the road or into large stones. This was the ultimate work out, forget the popular Los Angeles “Insanity” regime, my core, arms and legs burned climbing into the snow-covered mountains. Hail turned to snow, temperatures dropped and soon I realized that the farther I pedaled the colder and more snow I would have to camp in. I was also still pedaling in my shorts and sandals, and me teeth were beginning to chatter. “Shit”!! Finding a place to camp proved more difficult than expected, all the flat open ground was covered in close to a meter of snow. Finally at a hairpin in the road I found a small section of open ground, pitched the tent and jumped in. Stripping down, I got into my sleeping bag naked and opened my Tolstoy novel Anna Karenina. Dreaming of a Russian ballroom dance party I feel into a deep sleep.

Morning view from my muddy mountain camp spot

Does the climbing ever end?

Mom, Dad, John (my old ‘cello teacher)? I dreamed I was playing the Haydn cello concerto in D major at a master class in Idyllwild, I was totally rocking the thumb position and both mom and dad were proud…then I woke up. I peaked out of the tent and there was a patch of blue sky, and sun was now falling into the entrance of my tent. “Ahhhh how I miss the sun of the middle east”. I feel like I have not experienced a real sun since my departure. I turned my back to the warm rays and tried to remember more of my dream. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a vehicle coming up the mountain, a moment later a blinging Benz van packed with villagers pass my tent on route to Thethi. Tea time!! “Sub Chai” as they say in Arabic. Before sleeping I placed both my cooking pans under my tent fly to collect rain water, now they were full and it was time to return to the middle east with some Bedouin tea. While in Jordan I purchased close to a kg (2.2 lbs) of local tea, it is a bit absurd but I still carry this around and the sight of the Arabic handwriting on the outside of the bag always makes me smile. Good Bedouin tea, begins with combining all three ingredients; leaves, sugar, and water, then bringing them all to a boil. Without the sugar the tea would taste extremely strong but boiled together with Albania mountain sage (found all over the alps), I sipped and breathed in the cold morning air.

Cycling down to a warmer eco system

Up, up and up. Every blind turn in the road reveled an endless amount of climbing to escape the valley I had pedaled from Koplik. Finally I felt the summit winds and saw the cursory Christian cross, and knew that my hours of climbing had come to an end. From the top I had a view of Shkoder lake and for the first time could see the village of Thethi. Starting from the crest the road began to slowly descend. A rough, steep muddy road with little to nothing of a safety barrier, there was little room to make any mistakes, and my hands didn’t leave the brakehoods. From the cold snowy summit, the road traveled down to a warm green valley interrupted by water falls. It took me close to an hour to descend and before entering the village the road ended into a fast-moving river. “Hmm, all the locals warned me about cold fronts and endless amounts of snow but no one mentioned anything about having to cross a river”!! I looked around and found a foot bridge made by two metal pipes leaning on a large rock, but both options across the river seemed dangerous so I wanted for a Benz van to come to my rescue.

Waiting for a little help from my Albanian friends

Only way across

After close to an hour of waiting I decided to try my luck at crossing the footbridge. The metal pipes were slick from the rain and did not provide much traction. I literally had to lift Gaby to keep her from slipping into the river. The bridge ended at a large rock, so I had to balance the bike, remove all the bags and then carry them over. The situation could have turned out much worse, all in all no major problems just a few close calls on the slippery pipe. Upon entering the village of Thethi, I hummed the tune of the Black Sabbath song Sleeping Village. “Red sun rising in the sky Sleeping village, cockerels cry Soft breeze blowing in the trees Peace of mind, feel at ease”

My motherly host in Thethi

Downtown Thethi

Thethi seemed asleep, there were no children running about, or people walking on the narrow dirt streets, only the sounds of cow bells echoing in the small valley. Debating my next move, a kid of about ten years old came up to me and asked me if I had a lighter that I could give him. He told me that if I was hungry I could go eat and stay at his house. I followed him down the road and met his parents who run a small guest house. After a big meal of beans, bread, cheese and sauerkraut I took a room facing a green meadow and listened to the rain in a warm dry bed.

Albanian mountain breakfast; home baked bread, sheep cheese, marmalade, deep fried eggs and mountain tea

The next day the rain continued to fall but I explored the small village; walking to the waterfall, climbing the siege tower (last stronghold of the Albanian resistance against communism) and shadowing my hosts. The Harusha’s (my hosts) had 5 children. Two girls (who were married and lived in the city) and 3 boys who lived in the village and helped run the business. There are 15 families that permanently live in Thethi, and most of them have been their for several generations. During the winter months the snow makes the roads impassable and sometimes for close to 6 months the villagers reside mostly indoors without power. On an average winter the family will butcher 4 pigs, 6 sheep and countless chickens to keep them through the freezing months. The wife, or woman of the house, makes loaf after loaf of bread, sauerkraut, sheep cheese and fermented meats. (It is not uncommon to enter an Albanian country household and see meats hanging from the ceiling drying). There are power lines that run to the village but it is unreliable during the heavy snow storms. Most foods are cooked over an open fire or in a coal oven, and all water is irrigated from the river (which can also be a problem during freezing temperatures). Several houses in the village didn’t have any road access making them only accessible by foot!

Albanian household meat drying process

One of the many waterfalls in the Alps

With a break in the storm I departed the following day and headed out the southern road towards Skhoder. The northern road which I had pedaled on my arrival is close to 70 km long and is in far better condition that then the 90 km southern road. Leaving Thethi I was quickly reminded of the rough rocky roads that I would need to pedal in order to get back to civilization. The first 20 km never deviated from the river, and I passed several secluded villages with little more than a foot path to reach each house. Eventually the road crossed the river and began to climb, these roads were a lot steeper than the others and on many occasions I had to push through mud, slick stones and large puddles.

Pedaling the river out of Thethi valley

Rough rocky roads

Another mountain meal, this one included deep fried bacon fat

The next day the road traveled though a beautiful canyon similar in beauty to the mountains of the Nepali coast on the Hawaiian island of Kauai. The road stopped climbing and followed the river out of the canyon, I was back to civilization just a few km from the city of Shkoder. I stopped shy of the city and pitched my tent hear an abandoned stone house on the banks of the river. I woke up to a cold down pour, packed up and pedaled out of the city to another remote village, Koman. A daily ferry from Koman travels up river through the Albanian alps to the city of Fierza. The route is extremely popular as it said that the scenery marvels Norway!!

Road to Koman, the ferry travels this river north through a fjord to the city of Fierza

One hour from now I will board the ferry and hope to find a nice spot to dry my clothes and tent. Last night I arrived after dark and slept on the floor of an Albanian Polka restaurant. Albania is as fascinating as it is interesting. In these remote locations it is almost like traveling a hundred years into the past. From here I will travel the Alps into Kosovo, and on the lakes of Macedonia. Touch base again soon.

Rain in the village of Koman

Albanian Alps part 1

Posted on April 24, 2014 by bodhitree

Ciao to my good friends Adam and Molly, they treated me like family!

Departing Montenegro I climbed back into the interior and pedaled the coast of Shkoder lake. Leaving the sea, the interior was warm and humid. Spring is in full swing over here; frogs, snakes, and fireflies mate in the luke-warm, reed infested waters and tourist flock to the waterside hotels. Near the lake train tracks began to parallel the road and the scent of creosote brought back youthful memories of playing basket ball with my brother. This is Montenegro’s fertile region, I pass farm after farm and the warm moist air warns me that the mosquitos at dusk will be more than friendly. After spending my last few euros on some bread and burek I ride a dirt path to explore my camping options. Girls out here a so shy that they can’t even talk to me, when asked directions or information, they usually giggle for a few minutes followed by blushing before I give up and pedal off, almost like being in China already.

Albania is fascinating. This is the only border I have crossed in Europe where there is a distinct difference between countries. Farmers guide horse-drawn carts, donkeys plow barren fields, and farmers along with fishermen sell live fish and produce on the sidewalks. There is a huge Mercedes-Benz presence here. Word has it that Albanians are exempt from certain fees, and early census is that 7 out of ten cars here are Mercedes. The small towns have a very West Bank feel, where most of all good are sold in open stalls or on the streets. The sidewalks are packed with locals going about their business, and I am constantly whistled at.

I have been getting by on my limited Croatian vocabulary. No one speaks English or any Arabic, and when I speak Croatian, they respond in Italian! I guess neither of us have a good grasp on a diplomatic language, but it works. Food has also changed quite a bit, pilaf is the local favorite, which is rice cooked in lamb fat, spices and onions, topped with lamb sausage, super tasty!! The other popular dish is beans served on top of spaghetti noodles. I remember cooking this dish for my girlfriend in Santa Monica and she told me that no where in the world was this acceptable…Go to Albania.

My mission to the Alps begins today. There is over 2 meters of snow on the road, so my proposed plan of hiking between the villages of Thethi and Valbona is out of the question. Thethi is the most remote village in all of Europe, and although I will be making a roundtrip it is worth the effort to see the cultures of remote regions. There is also a ferry that travels on Komani lake, north to Valbona. The trip takes about 6 hours and passes through Albania fjords! This is my rough itinerary for the next few days, I am carrying 3 times my normal amount of local currency because I may need to sleep indoors if it gets too cold. All in all I am excited to pedal into the remote, today will be over 1,500 meters of climbing in the snow.

Will write again soon, I hope without the pictures you could draw a nice picture of the country. If not part 2 will be loaded, To be continued with good vibes! Insha’Allah -Julian Wong

From Sarajevo to the Coast of Montenegro

Posted on April 18, 2014 by bodhitree

Long, desolate roads of central Montenegro

I feel so alive! I have just climbed through the remote central mountains of Montenegro and have arrived in the ancient capital city of Cetinje. Wandering through the limestone paved promenade I befriend two beautiful women, and am invited to jazz and drinks at the local bar. We lounge together in the park and smoke spliffs in the afternoon sunlight.

Mountains don’t move for roads up here

Earlier while climbing out of Sarajevo I passed the historic “tunnel spasa”, a 1 km tunnel dug during the Bosnia war, connecting the UN territories in the south with those under siege (north). The current tunnel goes right underneath the international airport, and is one of Bosnia’s most nationalist sites. The southern entrance was turned into a museum, with artifacts, pictures and plaques depicting the use of the tunnel in 1993-95. The northern entrance however, is underneath an abandoned house, with nothing but short chain link fences to keep curious visitors from entering. I visited both, and found the abandoned northern entrance to really capture the image of a war-time, safe house. Humanitarian aid, weapons, family members, children and the wounded passed through this tunnel for close to 2 years and was the Bosnian lifeline in and out of the capital city.

Northern entrance to spasa tunnel was below the floors of this abandoned hardware store

The tunnel was dug directly underneath the airport and was used to transport weapons and aide to the brave Bosnians holding on to their capital city

The tunnel was dug directly underneath the airport and was used to transport weapons and aid to the brave Bosnians holding on to their capital city

The daily rain, hail and wind storms stopped briefly and gave me a small window to cross the mountains into Montenegro. I had three days to get to the coast before another storm came in and I advantageously pedaled through the mountains with new gear supplied by local Bosnians met while living in the city. I was quickly replayed for my medical services preformed on the Bedouin in the remote deserts of Jordan, and met a Muslim man who worked with the hospital who refilled my first aid kit . He taught me two important Arabic words: Sadaqah a virtuous deed, considered proof of ones faith. Nafaqa Something given as maintenance, friendship, consolation or monetary support for loved ones.

Dirt roads heading to the Montenegrin border

A few km into Montenegro, the source of the Drina river

How interesting it is to be back in Europe, pedaling through thick forests and winding rivers. After my two month tour of the middle east I have become accustomed to vast deserts, rampant dogs, chasing children often throwing rocks, and the ever so present stare while passing villages. In Bosnia there is no such attention or commotion and I can often pass un-noticed. People are beautiful here, they have many characteristics of Arabs, dark skin, brown hair, and high cheek bones, with piercing trance-like green eyes. Some women look like Pashtuns and I reflect on my mysterious route that will pass through central Asia, Western China and Pakistan.

Pashtun looking girl in eastern Bosnia

The mountains are rocky, and it is almost as if I am back on the Croatian islands where I spent Christmas and New Years. Trees sprout out of the rock, and years of rain and snow have carved valleys and streams within. Although beautiful, most of the eastern Bosnia wilderness remains untouched due to the high volume of unclaimed landmines. The mountains around Sarajevo is the most problematic and still have over 100,000 uncharted mines. Signs often warn hikers and visitors of the dangers when traveling in these areas but every year somewhere between 20-30 people die, and close to a hundred injured. Locals seem to have an interesting perspective on the mines in that to them it dampens development and construction in the rural countryside and forests. Many have told me that if it weren’t for the mines there would be little countryside. After learning the Bosnian dialog for the detailed conversation, many Bosnians would explain to me that there weren’t any mines on their land or in the forests near their homes, but that I could camp, fearing that this could lead to future development.

The rocky coast of Montenegro. In the summer you can swim in 60 degree waters and view snow capped mountains

I entered Montenegro and followed the dirt roads along the Drina river, a very popular area for river rafting. The water is supposedly potable as well, but after my experiences in Norway and Poland, I decided to stick with the tap or fountains in and around the local mosques. The Islamic procedure for washing before prayer is called Abdest (Bosnian) or Wudu (Arabic). The fountains are a great place to defrost your hands after long, cold descents as well as replenish your water supply. I am slowly learning the customary prayer etiquette and should be proficient to visit mosques throughout Turkey, Central Asia and the middle east as a practitioner soon.

The city of Kotor, trapped within a huge bay

I experienced a big difference in culture between the Montenegrins and Bosnians at the border. Rain clouds had covered the sky, and I asked the Bosnian officials if they knew the report, their response “Akobogda” also known as “Inshallah” in Arabic, meaning “God willing”. About 20 meters down the road talking now with the Montenegrin officials I was told the exact weather report for the next three days, including the high and low temperatures in the mountains and valleys. I think I like the Bosnian response better, I thought as I, after drinking close to a half bottle of Rakija, (Explained in more detail in the youtube film) pedaled up steep mountains toward the Adriatic sea.

I have had several opportunities stay on the Balkan coast, photo very similar to Krk island in Croatia

Montenegro is more like Norway than any other country I have visited (other than Norway). Mountains scarred and corroded by centuries of storms have become worn to sharp peaks defining the horizon. Roads unable to climb and descend the rough terrain tunnel through the rock and travel over streams hundreds of meters below. Tunnels however, are a bit different from Norway, with no alternate bike routes, and little if any lighting, making the journey a lot like pedaling into a black hole. I choose roads that see little traffic, and often are unpaved and un-kept. I sleep in the wilderness and listen to the sound of the wind bringing the rain and the echo of cow bells in the distance.

I have become no stranger to snow

Cetinje, the ancient capital of Montenegro, has some of the best Feng Shui in the Balkans. Snow capped mountains give way to a rich, fertile valleys covered with oak trees and pieced by ice-cold rivers. The modern capital of Podgorica is no more than 30 km to the south and the destination, summer beach city of Budva is only 25 km to the west. Cetinje also has a very small town feel, two art and music academies bring concerts and galleries to the city and the countryside offers lots of hiking, camping and outdoor activities. Put Cetinje on your list if you plan on visiting Montenegro.

More clear skies and beautiful water than I have seen I a long time

Pedaling down to the coast a storm blew in and I traveled through periods of snow, hail, rain and the infamous “Bura” cold northern winds. I literally froze making braking an extremely arduous task, but I arrived safely to meet up with my new friends. The world is a small place, I have connected with tow Californian friends, Adam and Molly, from Escondido and am now staying in an apartment overlooking the ocean. It is nice to reminisce about So-Cal culture and argue about where to get the best burrito! Moly is a fellow banana slug (UCSC college graduate) and Adam went to University of San Francisco, the Jesuit school in the hills behind Haught and Ashbury. Last night we talked for hours about the Jesuit practice and Adam shared several interesting stores about his education experience. Jesuits are fascinating, historically known as violent priests, they have more recently pushed Catholicism in a more progressive direction and devote most of their life helping humanity rather than trying to converting it.

Sveti Stejpan resort south of Przno

We are staying in the beach city Przno, 10 km south of Budva. There is little more than a small grocery store and several small apartment buildings situated in a secluded cove. The largest building is the Casino which awaits the warm tourist season to generate most its revenue. South of Przno lies a small island resort called Sveti Stejpan connected to the coast by a sandy causeway. The private island, which looks more like a facility/institution from shore, offers rooms for several thousand euros a night, and has a clientele varying from ex-presidents to porn stars.

Going strong, this was a pretty bad storm, but I sure felt alive

I am now drinking Arabic tea, with Egyptian sugar, sheltered from the rain and wind in the cove of Przno, overlooking the Mediterranean…..Sunsets soon so Ciao from Montenegro!

Life passing like a train

Posted on April 9, 2014 by bodhitree

Skakavac waterfall, just outside of Sarajevo

Skakavac Large waterfall outside of Sarajevo

Spring awaits exploration

I am strong again. The hole in my ear drum has fully healed and I no longer wake up to pus and blood stains on my pillow. This sickness was pretty bad, and I would have to rate it as one of the worst I have experienced. There was a period of about 10 days where I thought I might never hear out of my left ear again, and I quickly realized how many things in life I take for granted. I am so thankful to be able to travel the world again. While recuperating I wondered Sarajevo through and through. I would often find myself glancing up at the remote mountains or snowed peaks always dreaming of camping in the countryside. Life on the road is hard, but I thoroughly missed it. I have met lots of interesting people here in; bars, restaurants, wilderness trails, and bus stops, all of them seem excited to talk with me and offer interesting perspectives on life. There is no limit to the amount of human interaction one can experience while traveling alone, all borders are self-imposed. I at times grow weary of the recurring conversation of my trip, and at times decide to remain quiet. We are fearful of leaving the current in the stream, and it is so much easier to continue the path that pulls us.

Abandoned and destroyed by the war, Olympic hotel on Mt. Ingman

Abandoned and destroyed by the war, 5 star hotel built for the 1984 Olympics on Mt. Ingman

Common warning throughout the Bosnian countryside, “Danger Land Mines!”

As early as I can remember, I have looked at the palm of my right hand. In some way it has been a sort of recurring obsession, not unlike the portrait of Dorian Grey. Palm reading is rather popular in Asian traditions, and since I was a boy I had healers foretell the creases in my hand. My “life-line” has a large gap in it, meaning “that I will choose or change directions in my life, or will have a short life span”. This has always been a sign of some concern to my father and at one point he even told me to start closing my hand in a different way, hoping to change the lines, gradually get them to intersect. No amount of technique could change the lines, and it has taken me close to 25 years to really understand what it all means: Get over yourself and your fucking ego. Thoughts, fears, feelings, insecurities don’t make you a unique snow flake, these are things that we all share. I have too often made the excuse that ” I am special”, but the rest of the world feels the same way. We are not as important as we want to be, we are all just pieces of thread from the same clothe. I felt like the Bedouin in Egypt and Jordan were way ahead of me with these ideals, and were able to take life less seriously because of it.

I am changing gears. The last 4-6 months have been spent wandering, awaiting warmer conditions to pedal east. It is now the time…Asia awaits. Thank you all for the “Get well soon” wishes, and I now ready to pedal out of Europe.