The End of and Adventure — 18th of December

Shipwreck

Back on the road after 3 mindnumbing days rowing on the lake. Šabac, we're coming! The river is quite fast down the plant, allowing us to cover a hefty distance in a few hours. So fast we actually miss Loznica, while we thought we would only get there the next day. This will prove a crucial detail in a few days.

After a few more kilometers, the border road leaves the shore of the Drina, and we start seeing nothing but nature. The river winds right and left a lot, in the middle of virgin forest and rocky beaches. In the river, stumps are spread all around, probably the result of last year's floodings. The weather starts getting worse and worse, and we finally call it a day under a threatening, dark gray sky, after a full day with no trace of man whatsoever on this side of the river.

We start to run low on food, because we were planning to stop in Loznica to buy some more. Should be fine though, as if we keep this pace, we should reach another town in at most two days. We talk about it a bit and go to sleep under the tent, listening to the rain. This night shall be short: the weather keeps getting worse, to the point we are awaken by the roar of the wind in the branches. The tempest is now striking the tent, with heavy rain and big gusts pulling the pegs millimiter after millimeter. Again and again, the tent resists until, vainquished, it collapses on us.

A few hours later, the weather is much more calm and we decide to take on the trip despite the dark clouds: if we don't, we will run out of food this evening. So after drying up and packing our stuff, we load the raft and leave. We won't go far: as soon as we start moving, the wind starts again, and blows laterally, pushing us towards a secondary riverbed. We can see the water current speeding up brutally and blazing through the next 50 meters, before running under a huge stump. We row as fast as we can to dodge it, but the wind is against us, and the stump rushes towards us. 50 meters… 30 meters… 10 meters…

CRASH !

We just crashed into the stump. For a very short while, we think the worst is behing and we well be able to continue. Then the unstoppable force of water pulls the raft down. In a split second, my side is 50cm under water and I grab a branch so as not to follow it. Fortunately, it gets caught in a branch too and stops. Florian and I climb up the stump and take stock of the situation: raft is lost, and we are in the middle of the river with all our stuff. Situation is stable, but we cannot take too much time as it is really cold and we are wet up to our thighs. In addition, the water level could go up any moment. We make a quick inventory of what we can use and what we have to save. That is, in addition to ourselves. We decide to use the ropes to cross to the closest shore. The hardest part will be setting up our system, as the first of us will have to swim with no help. Florian will do it as he is the best swimmer. I tie the rope to the stump, and give him the other side. In a few seconds, he is on the shore, and I send him his clothes using the rope. We are now ready to save our stuff.

All in all, the saving takes us about 2 hours of doing knots and more knots. Eventually, everything is safe and it is my turn to swim to the shore. A few more minutes, and we are ready to go. We hope we will find a village with a shop and a coffee after this major setback.

Cast away

We walk on a shore made of gravel, in which we can clearly see and follow truck trails. After a few hundred meters, they become the only gap in a dense forest. We follow this muddy road for two hours. It is a real maze, connecting lumber sites through the plant curtain. Tired by this walk in very bad conditions — wet shoes and bad raod — we sigh in relief when we finally see an opening. In front of us appears a large area, another shore. With a raft. On a stump. In the maze of lumberjack's tracks, we went back to our starting point. It is now too late to try again, as twilight comes and with it the time to set up the bivouac. Tonight evening, drying up sleepin bags and shoes in front of the fire, and eating half a pack of pastas (not each). Our last meal.

We pack as soon as dawn comes. According to our map, we are at the end of some sort of tip, a narrow area between the Drina and another river that flows next to it for 10km before flooding in. We might have up to 20km to walk to the next village, through the dense forest. Thus we walk south slowly, ripping off brambles with our hands and stepping over logs. It is exhausting. After a few hours, we reach another river, flowing the wrong way. We do the geometry, then walk around to check. As it turns out, a small amount of water flow from the Drina into its tributary before it floods back in. Which means? We are screwed: we are on an island.

This is bad news. We spent alot of energy going through the wild forest, only to find out we are stuck on an island. Noon has come and gone, and we take stock of the situation again. We remember seing a few houses on the other shore of the Drina while rafting, and we will try to find them before we get back there to build a bridge.

Rescue

An hour later, we are in front of the village. We light a fire, and start whistling the internation help code (6 evenly spaced signals, repeat every minute). After two hours of whistling, just before we decide to call it a day and set up a bivouac, a police vehicle appears, and stop along the shore. Rescue operation starts. Relief.

This is just a small village, and the police organizes everything. They requisition an engine and, about an hour later, a small boat head in our way. It struggles a bit against the current and gets to us in a few minutes. Exhausted but relieved, we board and let them guid us to the village. There, there is a great amount of turmoil as everyone wonders why and what the heck we are doing there, and people invite us for a Rakija (local plum brandy). I feel great, there is a je-ne-sais-quoi that links you with people who come to rescue you from yet another night in the moist with no food. After a last thank you, we bord the police truck to set our papers right: the Drina is the border so we are in Bosnia and Herzegovina again!

Thus ends the story of the raft on the Drina. I am of course disappointed after all the efforts we put in it, I mean the two of us and everyone who believed in us and helped. Still, it is almost 200km on the Drina, against all odds, in the middle of December. I would so have loved getting to Šabac or even Belgrade. But I believe what really matters is having tried, having fought, having done our best to make the unthinkable possible. And coming out quite well actually: first, we did not even lose any stuff and second, we are still alive, ready to take up the next challenge.