Trans Balkan Race 2025

Had the Trans Balkan Race on my mind for a long time.

It is race 1,400 km long with 27,500 m of climbing which 82% of the route is off-road! The route begins in Sežana, Slovenia, passing through the misty hills of Čičarija, the forests of Mt. Snežnik, and crossing into Croatia via Risnjak National Park, home of the lynx.

It continues through the vast Velebit Nature Park and descends into Gospić, birthplace of Nikola Tesla. Following the Via Dinarica, it skirts Una National Park and reaches Dinara Nature Park after Knin.Crossing into Bosnia and Herzegovina, the trail winds through the wild plains of Livanjsko Polje, the Cincar highlands with Europe’s last wild horses, and enters Blidinje Nature Park.

After a stop in Mostar, the route dives back into nature with Sutjeska National Park and the ancient Perućica Rainforest, before revealing the dramatic Piva Canyon.In Montenegro, the terrain shifts again—rugged climbs take you to the high peaks of Durmitor National Park (highest point: 1800 m), then roll through remote countryside between Žabljak and Kolašin, ending with a final descent to the spectacular Bay of Kotor.

The places we’ve been... I mean, I “know” Croatia, been there many times, but this was a completely different Croatia. This was The Croatia!

Day 1

"Slept well—11 PM to 5 AM, a solid six hours, which is rare before a race. Woke up early, prepped everything, loaded up on carbs, and met Hannes, an Austrian I’ve bumped into at past races.

Race started at 9. As usual, I began at the very back—simple mindset: finish ahead of where I started. Took it easy early on, saving energy for later. The first part was narrow, loose gravel, easy to mess up. Then came relentless climbing. After 3 hours, only 30–40 km covered but already 1,000m up. Every “top” led to another hill. Heat made it worse—sticky hands, sweating, uncomfortable. I prefer cold, English weather.

Met lots of riders leapfrogging each other—nice chats, shared struggle. My plan was to reach a ski resort for food before nightfall. Made it: warm bean soup with sausage, bread, Coke, iced tea. Packed extra for later.

Left at 9 PM for a village 23 km away—shops closed, only beer and water left for slower riders who skipped the ski resort meal. After the village, it got cold. I toughed it out knowing a climb was coming to warm me up.

More yo-yo riding with others. Chat turned to sleep strategies. I had a bivvy spot marked but was flexible. Passed through villages, found a closed pub with locals having a private party—just asked for water and moved on.

Later, heard a terrifying sound—turned out to be a massive, eerie wind farm. Then wild horses on the road—spooked by my lights, darting around. Pretty unsettling at night.

Finally reached a village football stadium I’d marked as a bivvy. Love these spots—usually sheltered. This one had a covered bench. Set up my bivvy at 2 AM, put gear on charge, crawled in hoping to sleep fast. Mind buzzing, though, already thinking about Day 2.

Good night." Day 2

"I slept on a football stadium bench—roofed, so no dew—but only managed 1.5 hours of sleep. Tried to rest more but couldn’t, so I set off before 6 AM. Beautiful views right from the start, with the sea in the distance.

The sun and heat kicked in early, and more climbing awaited. Breakfast was yesterday’s sausage sandwich. No shops ahead, only a mountain hut (Zavižan) selling drinks. Luckily, I had freeze-dried porridge and they had hot water. Ordered Coke, coffee (first in 2 months), and water. Seeing photographers again lifted my spirits.

After refueling, I headed for Gospić—90 km away, mostly flat but already 1,500m climbed. I rode with an Italian from Instagram for a bit—both of us dreaming of food. He kept talking about pizza; it stuck in my head.

In Gospić, I focused on:

1. Resupply for 24 hours

2. Proper meal (landed on spaghetti Bolognese, plus a takeaway “pizza sandwich” aka calzone).

While eating, I ran into a rider I knew who had scratched—chatted over pancakes, then restocked on bars. Left town around 7:30 PM; cooler weather, perfect for riding.

As night fell, the barking dogs started—made me uneasy. Met an Aussie rider briefly, which helped. That transition into night always feels hard at first, but peaceful after an hour.

Passed another rider bivvying roadside but pushed on to Checkpoint 1—food, bed, and crucially, electricity. If I didn’t find a good spot, I’d just keep riding. And I did.

Later, a French rider caught up—boosted my spirits. We slogged through muddy forest sections, walking the worst parts. He likely used my lights; thanked me for it.

Finally reached CP1. Cold, dewy last kilometers. CP1 had everything: pasta, showers, drinks, beds. I ate, charged devices, and got into bed before 6 AM. Set my alarm for 4 hours.

Good night."

Day 3

"Arrived at CP1 around 5:30 AM, slept 3 hours on a sofa near the entrance. Hot inside from the fireplace, but my spot had fresh air. Woke up like a zombie but felt human again after a shower and tea. Quick breakfast, packed up, and set off just before 10 AM—already baking hot.

The whole day felt like riding in front of an oven. Progress was slow—lots of pushing uphill. Had a crazy encounter with a 1.5–2m snake—it got caught in my front wheel, spun around, then flew off and slithered away. I screamed like a child. Later, I ran over another snake and saw a third—started questioning if bivvying was smart.

Lunch was last night’s calzone—perfect. Rode through remote, tiny villages. About 80 km to Knin, but it dragged on in the heat. Completely wrecked when I arrived—barely functioning. Rushed through Lidl before closing: bars, yogurt, Coke, pastries, water. Quick wash in the toilets.

Refueled outside Lidl, then crossed to a petrol station for coffee (two cups), croissants, paninis, and hoarded sugar sachets for carb drinks. Felt reborn.

Planned another 40 km to near Perućko Jezero. The coffee kicked in—I smashed it, reached the lake, felt unstoppable, and pushed on into the wilderness.

Climbed into the night with barking dogs in the distance and a podcast for company. Found a bivvy spot by midnight—flat grass, big rocks, perfect view of a stunning, starry sky.

Called it a night."

Bosnia—I’d heard good things, but again, we were deep in the mountains. It was stunning.

Day 4

"Bivvied at midnight under stunning stars. Woke at 3:30 AM for more photos, couldn’t fall back asleep, so left just after 4. As the sun rose, Dinara Nature Park looked incredible—perfect start to the day.

A short climb led to 25 km of glorious downhill. Temps climbed fast. Met the German rider again near the Bosnia border—we’d been leapfrogging for days.

Faced a brutal 20 km tarmac climb in searing heat. Bosnia felt unknown but exciting. Dropped into Livno for food, power, and recovery—pizza, cold drinks, a reset. Likely sunstroke; my brain was fried.

Stocked up at a petrol station (coffee, ice cream, 40 sugar sachets), then climbed onto a plateau—wild horses distracted from the heat. Hid under a tiny bush for shade. Italian rider passed.

Later, found him at a café—great coffee, good company. Bought a kilo of local cherries, ate them on the bike.

Village kids were curious and impressed we were riding through five countries.

At night, rode deeper into the wilderness. First real shepherd dog encounter—massive beasts. Got off the bike as advised; it worked.

Climbed higher into the remote Dinaric Alps, exhausted from poor sleep. Aimed for a solid 5–6 hours this time. Found a bivy spot by 11 PM in a sheltered patch of trees.

Remembered the landmine warnings but decided to deal with it in the morning.

More star photos. Good night."

Day 5

"Slept nearly 6 hours—best night so far, despite waking cold and hearing wild horses nearby. At sunrise, I checked my location: yep, slept in a landmine zone. Oops. Still, no regrets.

Morning riding was smooth—clear trails, good daylight. Breakfast on the go: yogurt, croissant, and the last of yesterday’s cherries. Descended into Mostar for resupply.

Stopped for cherries, donuts, and a gyros lunch (originally yesterday’s plan). Ran into the Italian rider—he was surprised I’d caught him; proof sleep works. We ate together before I hit a bike shop to finally fix my squeaky brakes. Success!

Petrol station stop: coffee, ice cream, 12 croissants, 40 sugar packets. Cashier looked at me like I’d lost my mind. She smiled anyway.

Hot, dusty, nosebleed mid-call with my wife—classic. Then a brutal 20km tarmac climb at 1 p.m. Burned calves from skipped sunscreen made it worse.

Found a fountain, drenched myself—heaven. Later, passed through a village of endless Golf Mk2s. Bosnia is wild.

Stocked up on food (cheese, bread, salami, yogurt) before heading into remote areas again. As evening cooled, the loneliness crept in—not homesick exactly, just feeling far from normal life.

Reached Ulog—tiny place, barely on the map. Skipped the restaurant; Italian rider stayed behind. Filled bottles at a fountain and pushed on into the dark.

Bivvied near the track before midnight. Knew it’d be cold with dew ahead. Everything on charge—including my GPS, finally down to 6% after 6 days. Not bad.

Good night."

Day 6

"Another bivy night, about 4 hours of sleep. Woke once to deer crashing through the woods, and later hallucinated a rider complimenting my sleeping spot—asked later, no one had seen me.

Woke soaked from dew. Packed slowly, stretched, and set off into a cold but manageable morning. Breakfast: yogurt, bread, croissants at a fountain.

Climbed to 1600m—great views, changing landscapes. On the descent, stopped to wash clothes, dry them, and eat. Five riders caught up; two sat with me. Realized it’s often better to chase than be chased.

Yo-yoed all day with a Belgian, a German woman (women’s winner), and an Italian rider. We all ended up at the same restaurant for lunch—none of us could think anymore, so we just copied each other’s orders: omelette, ćevapi, coffee, cold drinks.

Stocked up on sweets and cherries at the next village. More brutal climbing in the heat—walking often, exhausted. Lack of sleep was hitting hard.

Pushed to reach Checkpoint 2. Took about 5 hours with a resupply just before: croissants, bread, cheese, meat, and spent the last of my Bosnian currency.

Arrived completely destroyed. Knees screaming. Pasta, shower, and—finally—a real bed. No alarm set. Just rest.

One pillow for my head.Three for my legs.

Good night."

And Montenegro? That was the cherry on top Felt like I was in Norway, then it turned into something out of Scotland... then Kyrgyzstan... and finally into some alpine lake town, this was Kotor Bay. Btw, I’ve already planned a road trip to Montenegro for a family holiday😎

Back to the race—this was hard. The terrain was just off-road, and more off-road.

I knew that and mentally prepared for it.

But the heat... that was something else. I was cooked most of the days.

They say we had a good weather🙈

TBH, I prefer miserable English weather.

You’re cold? Keep pedalling. Still cold? Add a layer. Hot? Take it off.

Here? I had nothing left to take off. I felt horrible. Like I was in a desert, just waiting for the sun to go down so I could live again.

Add the lack of sleep—couldn’t manage more than 2 hours a night to start with.

These two things wrecked my performance from day three, it made everything harder.

Still, I tried to enjoy it— Day 7 & 8

"Slept in a bed at Checkpoint 2 but woke after just 2 hours, fully awake by 1 a.m. Had coffee with a volunteer and set off through the night towards Montenegro.

At the Bosnian border, the guards looked at me like I was a ghost. Crossed into Montenegro officially around 2:40 a.m. and began climbing again. Passed the Italian rider sleeping roadside. As dawn broke, I felt wrecked and lay down for a cold nap in the grass.

Riding resumed through beautiful, remote Montenegrin landscapes—rolling hills, fjord-like lakes, winding roads. My nose bled again, badly. Met a German couple on a year-long bike trip—impressive. More climbs led into Durmitor National Park. A tiny shack served drinks; I met the race photographer there and got a needed morale boost.

Climbed to Sedlo Pass, then descended to Žabljak for a big resupply: food, drink, and—of course—croissants. Fatigue hit hard afterward. Passed out roadside, woken by crawling ants.

Crossed a vast, empty plateau—felt like Kyrgyzstan. A friend’s message gave me a boost: “Keep going. Soon you’ll be bored at home.” Limp Bizkit got me flying again.

Encountered stray dogs—one friendly. Headed for a campsite, planning coffee and a night ride. The owner made me coffee, offered snacks, and lifted my spirits. Left quietly as the Italian rider slept in a rooftop tent.

Climbed through the night, passed sleeping riders, but hit the wall at 2 a.m.—hallucinations started. Found myself pushing my bike, confused, talking aloud, convinced I was dreaming. Recognized the signs, kept moving. Reached a meadow at sunrise, bivvied for a short, much-needed sleep.

Back on the bike, wrong-turned, but paused to enjoy the view and rest. Descended towards civilization. Needed water but none until the next big town—100 km from the finish. Restocked there for the final push.

Faced dangerous traffic on a dual carriageway—falling asleep at bus stops. A German rider appeared; I rode his wheel to stay awake until he sprinted off.

Finally, Kotor Bay came into view. The finish was near.

Rolled into town to cheers from friends, riders, organizers. Done.Beer, pasta, rest."

The places, the remoteness, the terrain, pushing ourselves, racing each other in a way.

I enjoyed it all as a whole experience.

Resupply was tough, but you plan it right, no issues.As a whole, it was great, Hard to really explain what i went through,

But this...

THIS IS THE CLOSEST THING TO FEELING TRULY ALIVE!