263 km down the Adriatic

Got to Manchester airport around 16:00 and dropped the bike at oversized baggage, then wandered around for a while looking for food. I ended up with a veggie Burger King — not the best choice, but it was slim pickings — and since I knew I'd be landing late and wouldn't have time to eat again before the morning, I got a tuna panini as well. Then just waited for take-off, which was delayed slightly to 19:00. Touched down in Dubrovnik at 22:30 local time.

The bike travelled better than I expected. No damage, nothing missing, nothing seized. I rebuilt it outside the terminal in about 15 minutes and rode 5 minutes up the road to the Airbnb in Čilipi, which is the village the airport sits in.

Frustratingly, I then struggled to get to sleep. I was in bed by 00:30 and asleep by about 01:00 — roughly 6 hours before the alarm.

The first mistake happened inside the first kilometre. A water bottle bounced out of the bag and I did not notice, which meant I set off into the hardest day of the trip with no breakfast, no food and essentially no water.

That got fixed in the next village — a chocolate croissant, an apple, a new bottle of water — and after that it was a very good morning. The lanes through the Konavle valley are genuinely perfect: smooth, quiet, empty. My own route file sent me onto a gravel track for a stretch, which was a bit annoying given what was on offer. A quick course correction was all it needed.

The border took a few minutes behind a coach of tourists. Then the road tips over the edge and the whole Bay of Kotor opens up underneath you.

Igalo at 09:30, and a 40-minute stop at a lovely place on the water for a tuna sandwich and a fresh orange juice, €17 with an iced tea. Then the ferry at Kamenari, which is free for a bicycle. I bought a Coke for the 15-minute crossing.

I lost bottles two and three to the speed bumps on the coast road. I ended up quite dehydrated after that, climbing up out of Kotor — 300 m of ascent in the hottest part of the afternoon, no shade, no villages, nothing.

And then, most of the way up, a single-room shop at the roadside with two chilled drinks coolers standing outside it. I have rarely been so pleased to see a vending machine.

After that it is a long descent to the coast and then rolling road past Budva and Sveti Stefan into Petrovac at 14:45. 7 hours door to door, 5h 48 of it actually moving.

After checking in and showering I went for a swim at the pebbly beach, then sat down for prawn tagliatelle at Šarena at 17:00, and cacio e pepe and Nutella crêpes by the harbour at 18:00. Sauna, steam room and pool until 19:40.

Then I strolled up the sea front, picking up a corn on the cob from a street vendor and an alcohol-free beer to drink on a bench looking out to sea, where there were still some semi-submersible night tours going on. Got back to the hotel shortly after and was in bed by 21:00.

Two large nectarines and a protein bar as I woke up at 05:30, away in the dark at 06:00. The plan was to eat early and often, because after Bar the road turns inland and there is a long stretch with very little on it.

There were a few nice fruit stalls dotted around that I frequently stopped at for nectarines, apples, grapes and pomegranates, which really kept me going.

The riding was easier than Saturday — 640 m of climbing against 1,150, and the quickest average of the trip at 20 km/h. Most of the climbing is done by Bar; after that the route cuts inland past the Sukobin crossing into Albania, down through Shkodër, and runs flat and straight all the way to the coast.

Shëngjin at 12:30, a quick shower, and a margherita at Da Fabio. Then a swim, some sun, and a walk around the town, which out of season is a strange place: resort developments in every direction, almost all of them shut.

Walking north along the headland I came to a military base. There were signs saying so, but there was traffic flowing through it, so I asked a dock worker whether I could pass through and they said it was fine.

Depth charges, a torpedo lying in the grass, then a line of Soviet-era bunkers with blast doors set into the rock, and finally what looked like a submarine pen with the doors shut. By then I was a long way off the road. An armed soldier found me on the way back out and escorted me off the site — I was allowed on the road, not off it. Fair enough.

Dinner at Trattoria Meloni, which was the best meal of the trip: a grilled seafood plate, a salmon and tuna nigiri starter, and a lemon sorbet. A zero-alcohol beer on the beach, a supermarket run for the morning, packed up all my stuff, and an early night ready for a very early start.

Up at 04:00, out of the hotel at 04:30, riding in complete darkness. Much colder than I had planned for — 13°C with a breeze, in summer kit. Sunrise was not until 06:40, which meant 2h 15 of riding in the dark.

The main road south was fine until it widened into a dual carriageway and started turning into a motorway, so I came off it. And then, twice, I was chased by wild dogs. It is the only part of the trip I would call genuinely frightening: there is nothing to do except sprint and hope the road stays flat. It does — the whole day is 111 m of climbing — and I got away both times.

Monday was the flattest and shortest day of the three, and it has the highest average heart rate of the trip. That will be the dogs.

The other problem was the box. The bike had to fly, and I had nothing to put it in, so the last part of the ride turned into a cardboard hunt. A supermarket about 5 km short of the airport produced a few sheets after some determined gesturing, which I flattened and bungee-corded up and cycled in hand. A second shop gave me a box. A pile of cardboard outside a building gave me the rest.

At the airport I wrapped the whole bike in tape and bungees. It looked terrible. It worked.

An Albanian cheese pie, a spinach pie and a hazelnut and raisin crêpe before the flight, which is a perfectly reasonable way to end a cycling trip through the Balkans.