The Trans Dinarica cycle trail is the 'off-the-beaten' track experience Kiwis have probably never heard of. Photo / Matevž Hribar; Trans Dinarica
Tristan Rutherford rides the brand-new Trans Dinarica cycle trail with founder Jan Klavora - and finds the latest way to get from Croatia to Albania along a 5000km route covering eight Balkan countries
My front wheel is in Croatia and my back wheel is in Slovenia. A giant hawk just flew past my handlebars and there’s a brown bear print on the forest track. That’s just a little of the magic of the Trans Dinarica cycle trail, which opens this July. This new bike route maps the most off-beat tracks through eight European nations, delivering a once-in-a-lifetime experience every hour.
This morning I was the first ever cyclist to try the 5000km zigzag route. From the Slovenian village of Jasen I biked alongside trail founder Jan Klavora. It’s taken him six years to devise the naturally splendid route through Slovenia south through Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Serbia, North Macedonia, Kosovo and Albania. No wonder he looks fit.
A minor asphalt road zips Klavora and me through apple orchards, wildflower meadows and greenfinch birdsong. We skirt snowy mountains, the raging River Reka and flocks of gulls from the seaside 48km south. Slovenia has the topography of a soft Switzerland — with added beach.
“We wanted to connect the lost corners of Europe,” shouts Klavora from his saddle. “Places like Lake Bled in Slovenia and Split in Croatia are beautiful but very busy.” Cyclists on the Trans Dinarica can follow side trails to those must-sees while staying off the main tourist routes. Riders can then spend on hotels, campsites, coffees and cakes where prices are low and tourist euros are needed.
After 20 minutes I pause to make notes/cough/pant. Klavora looks like he’s stepped out of a spa. And now he’s sending me off alone.
The Trans Dinarica is an app-based trail where routes, elevations and side trail suggestions are mapped on to your phone using the Ride with GPS download. Klavora’s team have added 10,000 points of interest to their logistical data including bike-friendly accommodation, cycle guides, rental operators, lakeside beaches, farm stays, repair joints and much else besides.
This final part of today’s ride, through the Dleto forest on the Croatian border, is challenging. Bike tyres skid over pine needles. Arboreal fingers tickle my shoulders. My phone pings “Welcome to Croatia” as I pass an abandoned border post in deep woodland.
At dusk, I cycle back to the Slovenian village of Koseze. I’m overtaken by just five cars. Slovenia has a population of two million and its roads are as empty as New Zealand.
For bedtime, the bike trail app has recommended Belakapa, a gorgeously renovated homestay that dates back to 1767. It’s run by beekeeper Andrej Bergoč and floral artist Sonja Prosen.
Bergoč offers Belakapa guests a honey-tasting experience. I sample spruce honey from his forest hives (chewy, caramelly, intense) and acacia honey (a subtle starburst of flavour), followed by three shots of home-made honey liqueur. “Visitors can only find these experiences by cycling off piste,” adds Prosen. “Even we plan to follow the new bike route to rural locations like ours.”
On day two I ride with municipality development projects head Boštjan Primc who has pumped up his town, Ilirska Bistrica, to be the most cyclist-friendly in Slovenia. The Trans Dinarica runs through his charming settlement, some of it along 100km of forest roads that Slovenia’s Italian occupiers built before World War II. Ilirska Bistrica has several cycle rental operators (they can even retrieve your bike down the trail in Croatia for a fee) plus eight eBikes to rent from the tourist office for €25 ($45) per day.
Primc and I ride a €3000 Scott eBike each. “Many bikers are aged 50 to 70 as they have more time to enjoy their passion,” explains Primc. “eBikes open the Trans Dinarica to all generations.” Using the app we hit several points of interest around Ilirska Bistrica. Like Sušec waterfall, tumbling into green mossy rapids. And centuries-old watermills on the Bistrica stream, where giant trout sway in shallows. Slovenia is Europe at its most pristine.
I’m told that two-times Tour de France winner Tadej Pogačar regularly cycles with locals in this bike-mad nation. Slovenia’s mountain-pasture-forest terrain has raised dozens more top riders.
It’s time for lunch. In age-old restaurant Škorpion I eat the trout I saw in the stream this morning. Knockout. I’m joined by cartographer Matic Klanjšček who mapped the 5000km bike route. To find pretty yet safe routes Klanjšček frequently quizzed local shepherds to discover ancient trails.
The hardest country to route? Albania, the least developed nation in Europe, on the Greek border. “We found roads where the only traffic all day was one guy on a mule,” explains Klanjšček, but deciding which ancient tracks delivered the most value for riders was tough.
Mapping Albania’s Theth National Park was particularly hairy. The Trans Dinarica barrels through this madcap valley dotted with waterfalls, swimming lakes and local food producers. Thanks to Klanjšček, you can find it all on the app.
I’m exhausted thinking about it so I ride the new train (in operation since April 2024; bikes are welcome onboard) direct from Ilirska Bistrica to Rijeka in Croatia to prepare for my final stage.
On day three I join Croatian cycling guide Bojan Šenkinc who helped map the entire Croatian section, the longest on the Trans Dinarica at 740km. Šenkinc and I meet at the recently-renovated Grobnik castle not far from the Slovenian border, which has 360-degree views to stave off five centuries of invaders. Šenkinc also chose this start point because it’s 446m high. Savvy. Because it’s all downhill from here.
We hairpin down an 18th-century road shaded with ancient oaks. There are 1000m-high mountains to our left and dazzling sea to our right. “This topography we call ‘one step from the sea, two from the snow’,” explains Šenkinc. Mineral water springs shoot from pipes every kilometre. Fill your bottle. Evian be damned.
Šenkinc has been guiding cycling groups across Croatia for 15 years. He and route founder Klavora added more than 1000 points of interest to the Trans Dinarica’s Croatian section. They include bell ringers at Halubje who wear scary sheepskin masks and an ancient homestay that makes traditional cheese. “A cycling trail can’t be just scenery,” states Šenkinc. “You need historic attractions, natural attractions, culinary attractions.”
We rest at Crikvenica midway through today’s 45km stage. The town’s market, listed on my app, is alive with vegetable seedlings, spring strawberries and winter cabbages. In a café we demolish regional delicacy Torta Frankopan. It’s a calorific tower of puff pastry, egg yolks, almonds, rosewater, chocolate, sugar and whipped cream. It will keep us primed until lunch.
At the beach resort of Selce, we cycle past a tunera. It’s a tuna lookout tower — imagine an impossibly high lifeguard ladder with a vertigo-inducing seat on top — that rises over the Adriatic. A century ago, if tuna were spotted a shout would ring around the shoreline. Then locals would heave their offshore nets and haul in a week’s worth of sashimi.
Šenkinc and I ride inland now. Points of interest include fishing reservoirs and mediaeval churches. Poppy stalks whip ankles as we bump along a newly-opened riverside track. Today we’re shaded by blossom. In summer and autumn you could pick figs and plums directly from your saddle.
Our lunch is coming. At 175m in altitude we reach Bribir, a historic hilltown where the clock tower dates from 1302. Šenkinc and I ease our bikes into a rural restaurant for a meal that 99.9 per cent of visitors to Croatia will never experience.
Konoba Studec is a vineyard, eatery and private rooms rolled into one tasty package. We forgo the wine-tasting experience in favour of an immediate injection of sheeps cheese, pork stuffed with dried figs, medallions of beef, a bowl of chips and bribirski makaruni, an only-eat-here peppery ricotta pasta. I need a lie down.
Riding the Trans Dinarica to its Albanian endpoint would take 100 days at my sightseeing pace. Instead, I backtrack to the cute Croatian town of Čavle where Villa Sandi has been serving local cheese and wild game to tired bikers for 50 years.
The route’s careful planning is once again apparent. From Villa Sandi there’s a bike repair shop down the street and a Croatian beer hall around the corner. The Trans Dinarica is like having a best Balkan buddy guiding you all the way.
For more information and to plan your Balkan cycle route, visit transdinarica.com