After breakfast we retrieved our smelly biker boots from the balcony where they had been exiled the night before. The good news was, they were marginally less aromatic.
Marcin had some pretty urgent repairs to do but he wasn’t fazed at all. He had the quiet confidence of a man who ridden to Siberia and back and knew his steed would carry him through the day.
It was hot once again and somewhat misty by the sea but we would be in for a real treat on this day. I can only describe the Montenegrin coast road a motorcycling ribbon of pleasure. Every turn reveals a new vista to photograph, a better perspective of the landscape below and an opportunity to improve ones line in and out of the switchbacks. It is only marred sadly by the fact that Montenegrin’s do not share this delight and happily fly tip their household waste down every mountain side, lay-by and forest trail.