Distance: 119km
Elevation: 1.029m
I made sure that I left my private hostel as soon as possible. It simply did not have a good energy.
By 8:15am I was on the road. The only bike shop in town was still closed and I did not want to wait. Meanwhile I had gotten used to Rosinantes bumpy front wheel.
To get to my trail, I had to cross the rail tracks … but there was no crossing. So I dragged Rosinante across.
After leaving the big road, I came to a gravel trail. The heavy rain during the night had made it muddy, slippery and full of huge puddles.
Even though the sun was shining now, the mudguards were full with dirt and sand quickly so the wheels would not turn anymore.
I had to clean them each time before I could continue. That went on for 10km.
Finally, the road became better. Around midday, I made my lunch break in Knjazevac, the only town along the way.
When I entered the bar, everyone turned around like in a bad Western movie.
But despite the wild looks of the guys, all of them were very friendly and supportive.
Dragoljub (nick name „Wolf“) had worked in the US as a manager in a swimming pool company.
Today, he was an optometrist in the clinic of his older sister who was an eye-doctor (ophthalmologist).
His sister had studied in Belgrad and also in Heidelberg. He had also visited the city and showed me pictures of him on the Old Bridge.
He was very proud of the achievements of his sister.
While we were talking, I had goat cheese with honey and almonds and a huge Greek salad – what a treat!
I asked him about his memories of Yugoslavia and if life today was better or worse. The answer was clear: life in former Yugoslavia had been way better. People had work, manual labor was valued, the state took care of everything, and things were stable and predictable.
Today, the situation was way more difficult especially if you didn’t have a private business.
People had to have several jobs or a piece of land in order to make a living. Also he had a vineyard in parallel to his other job.
I also asked him about the many crosses alongside the roads. Each with pictures of young people who had died there. He replied that in former times, the cars were so bad and so slow that you could not go fast. But now with access to Western, primarily German cars, people would go way faster. Also, alcohol played a role.
Everybody in the bar laughed as he explained that. It sounded like they were a bid proud that they were such daredevils.
I also asked, if they had a bike mechanic in town. He replied they had the best there was. An old guy who had been the mechanic of the Yugoslavian Pro cycling team. However, after checking they found out that he was currently in Croatia for vacation.
After our farewell, I continued my route to Pirot. I climbed up a beautiful valley without any traffic. The climbing continued for three hours.
I came through an abandoned village. In former times, an Uranium mine had been operated here. One could still see the signs today. Over 1000 people had lived and worked here.
Now, most of the buildings were empty. The shops were closed. A couple of old men were walking the streets that were otherwise populated with wild dogs.
It was depressing, like in a dystopian science fiction movie. I had never seen anything like this before.
Supposedly, according to Dragoljub, there was also a hippie commune nearby. But I didn’t see any signs of that.
A bit later, I came by a beautiful waterfall. It was very picturesque and peaceful. 
What was really annoying though, the Serbians didn’t care for their nature very much. There was trash everywhere.
Also, I came by a lot of wild garbage dumps during the last days.
The climb continued for a while, and the nature was simply beautiful. Then I entered into a furious descent into the valley of Pirot.
I went to the local bike shop, but they were already closed. Oh boy!
I topped up my supplies for the evening and continued my route to an alleged campsite just outside of Pirot towards the Bulgarian border.
On my way there, I met another guy on a bike. He had little luggage, so he was not a traveler.
He spoke to me in Bulgarian (I thought) and I did not understand a word. I thought he wanted a beer from me. But instead, he wanted to give me a beer as it turned out. I didn’t know why. I felt a little bit ashamed and took his gift because I did not to appear unfriendly.
I arrived at the campsite around 6:30pm. It was populated with a lot of peacocks as well as 20 German and Swiss camper vans. Most of them I had seen during the day. They were part of an organized safari and followed a guide from Maribor in Slovenia over the Balkans with the destination of Albania.
That’s what I call a “low risk adventure”. 
I set up camp, had a shower and make dinner.
The host, an old lady who spoke a little German, wanted 25€ for one night. I negotiated her down to 20€ which was still steep.
Over dinner, I could hear the other campers talking about me.
Yet, nobody talked to me or invited me over to a glass of wine. That would not have happened in other countries such as Canada.
Later, I talked to an old Swiss guy who was driving the only off-road camper in the safari.
He told me that they had traveled through all of Africa over seven months and finally reached Cape Town with their camper. That must have been a proper adventure.
He did not ask me a single question though.
I finished my evening routine and went to bed when it got dark.
I was very thankful for the great nature I had seen today and the encounter with Dragoljub.