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the water just kept flooding down the hillside and flowed across the flat bit where I was pitched . The result was that my sleeping bag was soaked , as was my towel and any clothing that wasn ’ t protected by polythene bags . My scarf and riding gloves were wet too !
I was gone just after 8am and the rain never really stopped . The scenery changed again , as the winding road led me a mile or so inland , tall hills everywhere , then through an odd little neck of land that turned out to be a short stretch of road passing through the Bosnian corridor , and then back out into the southern enclave of Croatia . It was all green and there were small lakes and lots of trees ; this was the Balkans for sure , it looked and felt nothing like the Mediterranean .
I had stopped at a junction above a very picturesque lake , where the sign said Baćina , just outside Ploče , still in Croatia . I was reminded of the war when I saw a pillbox-style defensive post , built into the side of a small house that had its own little vineyard ; this was right opposite a new-looking bronze statue of a local militiaman holding his rifle at arm ’ s length . Territory in and around Bosnia changed hands repeatedly during the war and you don ’ t have to travel far out of your way before you are not where you thought you were .
There was a strip of coastal road to pass along , then another short climb , before descending to the blue Adriatic once more and rolling into the little village of Slano , two days earlier than I needed to be for the start of the rally .
I was the first bike to park up at the Admiral Grand Hotel , and as I pulled into the forecourt , the rain came down heavily , once again . JT
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