Our 58th kayak day on the Danube was on Monday, the 29th of April, 2024. Somehow, we managed to paddle from Belgrade to Grocka na Dunavu in Serbia.
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Contents
Arriving in Grocka
It was 17:31 and we had one last break at the latest Y-shaped stick we moored at. We had a six-minute break to let the pump leave our arms. I felt these weird cramps or spasms in my arms. Not the whole arm, just one string of muscle that refused to fall in line and protested today’s kayaking efforts. But we were only 3.6 kilometers away from our final destination in Grocka. Time to get cracking again—one last time.
We started paddling towards the minimal exit point at a restaurant called ‘Africa’, only to be found on the OSM map. It’s 400 meters shorter to paddle, but god knows we might not be physically able to do those 400 meters extra. Let’s hope that exit spot is any good.
Houses and simple holiday homes appeared on the right-hand side. We were entering Grocka at last. We kept pushing the water behind us… like we’d been doing all day. In silence.
And then I had a thought. If we’ve been paddling for 10 hours instead of the expected less than 7, and our covered distance is about 40 kilometers in these terrible conditions, doesn’t that mean that we’ve paddled as much as a 60-kilometer day in neutral or great conditions? The math is rough, but it checks out. I wouldn’t want to paddle a 60-kilometer day (yet), but it would mean that a 50-kilometer day in wind-neutral weather is finally within reach.
I told Jonas about my tired-kayak-brain math and… despite my unsolicited optimism, he said it was right.
On we paddled to Grocka. A motorboat with a fisherman zoomed downstream of us, stopping in various places to test for fish. The shape of the town became less of a blur as we approached. I could see a big motorboat moored at the last corner of the Danube. Behind that, two man-shaped figures in white shirts on the riverside promenade. As we got closer, I could see more and more people. My eyes were working as a bad render after being exposed to the glistening water and tree cum all day long.
We approached the jetty of the restaurant named Africa. It wasn’t at all like the satellite view said it was. Also, there was no way people would be chill if we landed there. So we had to paddle the extra 400 meters, for sure.
A guy in a motorboat came upstream and passed the other motorboat with the fisherman. When we came close, he made a beeline for us. I was afraid he’d run into us, so I asked Jonas if it was prudent to ready my whistle in case Motorboat Man SOMEHOW had not seen us.
Jonas said it…
Optimism
The mother of the Airbnb showed up a few minutes early. A knock on the door. I still had to put on my pants. She made herself a coffee while we finished packing. Then we said goodbye and walked to our old spot on the Sava River. Walking down the hills of Belgrade to the riverside was easy. Jonas asked if I was excited about paddling, and yes, I was.
Inflating Zucchini went well. Jonas suggested trying out our new vents, but I said we should do that when we arrive in Grocka. Before we could launch, I had to remove a large branch that had washed up.
At 7:46, we were paddling with the morning sun under Branko’s Bridge near Yugoslav Monitor Sava. Today was hopefully going to be a gorgeous paddling day. Almost 40 kilometers ahead of us.
We crossed the Sava to the left side where there were no cruise ships, just restaurants. Paddling downstream instead of upstream is a truly different perspective. We saw things we hadn’t seen the previous time, such as the kilometer 0 sign on the Sava River. That’s awesome. Hopefully, this is a sneak peek into what it feels like to reach kilometer 0 on the Danube in the Black Sea.
The side arm of the Danube joined us and we looked at Little War Island one last time. To my surprise, we also had a great view of Western City Gate/Genex Tower—the example of Serbian brutalism.
Parallel to Great War Island, we were enjoying a bit of a breeze from the back and the pleasant sunshine. It’s going to be 26°C today. Quite warm. Our goal was to still paddle inside the channel of Great War Island and see if we could land there.
Once we saw the channel gap into Great War Island’s interior, we turned the corner. There was a sign with something I couldn’t read fast enough and the two floating barriers I’d seen on satellite view. I think they’re meant to prevent trash and big boats from entering. We could pass between the various gaps. The current pushed us inside quite a bit as if we didn’t have a choice.
The calm backwaters of Great War Island were absolutely stunning. As we turned the corner a bit, we spotted a very big eagle atop a tree. I didn’t have time to snatch a picture before it flew off. So majestic and a little terrifying.
I thought this entire canal was artificial, but it turns out that this backwater named Veliki Galijaš used to be a lake on the island. Only since 2007, the canal part was dug to rehydrate the lake with Danube water and prevent it from drying out during the droughtful summers.
We didn’t paddle in any further to let the birds be at peace. We turned around, paddled past the barriers again, and set our sights on the Danube proper, paddling east. There were some small motor vessels with early fishermen at the confluence. We looked behind us to see the 2.8 kilometers we missed of the Danube on the left side of Great War Island. We’re back.
Doubt
As we turned due east, we set our sights on the triangular building 25 May Sportcenter/Danube Flower. Triangular is the favorite shape of Serbian brutalism, it appears. Hopefully, we will later catch a glimpse of Avala Tower once again (we didn’t). That would be great.
Past this iconic Belgrade building, we headed to the road and rail Pančevo Bridge. The wind picked up strongly and caused these massive waves. Very slowly, we battled the wind and paddled towards the steel bridge. We passed the Dorćol Marina with its former power plant. Then we paddled past the Port of Belgrade/Cargo Center. I’m not sure what’s wrong with this harbor, but there wasn’t a single ship being loaded or unloaded. Just like on satellite view, it’s a ghost port. There are ideas to move the port to the left bank of the Danube, but as far as I’m aware, it’s not happening yet.
The wind really picked up now and things were getting scary. The waves were about a meter high at times. Even though Zucchini catches a lot more wind due to being high, I’m happy to have her flex over the waves rather than being in a sturdy, pointy, plastic kayak that would have to plow through the waves. There was no current to speak of helping us. As we got closer to the bridge, we spotted two pillars beneath it that didn’t support anything.
According to Wikipedia editors, the Pančevo Bridge was the only bridge across the Danube in Belgrade not destroyed by NATO in 1999. The current bridge dates back to 1946 when it was finished. The previous bridge in this place, named the King Petar II Bridge, was blown up by Yugoslav forces in 1941 to slow down the advancing German forces.
There were two fishermen in one boat also not having a great time on the waves. But they don’t have to propel themselves with muscle power. We passed under the bridge. But there was no time to have a breather or a moment of feeling this achievement; if we stopped paddling, we’d fall still in three seconds and then get pushed back. I was happy with my sunglasses, which diminished the amount of water splashed on my face. I told Jonas to do the same, because of this unsavory detail: untreated sewage water flows in the Danube after the bridge and in the Ada Huja area. A cold wave of water spilled over our bow and hit my body. Don’t think about it.
The plan now was to land on Paradajz Island, aka Tomato Island, formed in the 1980s. One source says it got its name because of its shape, while another says it’s because wild tomatoes were growing there. We kept paddling past the floating barges that the wind had pushed perpendicular to the river. I know they’re anchored, but still, dodgy. Then we passed some more cargo ships. And then the peninsula with yet another marina in this part of the outskirts of Belgrade. In the hills, there was this neighborhood of soulless condos created with the copy+paste tool.
We finally made it to Paradajz Island at 9:46. Two hours. And we did what, 8 kilometers? So 4km/h? Pathetic.
We rested on the island, ate a protein bar, and warmed up in the sun. The trees on the island provided some wind protection for us. Hopeful that the weather would still change just like it did on the day from Mohács to Apatin, we made a short video for Jonas’ followers and then got back into Zucchini to continue paddling. Next up: The Shortcut.
Pessimism
The direction to The Shortcut was northeast, so the wind was less here. Not nothing, but less. The high waves were completely gone, though. We managed to paddle past the bit of town called Višnjica. A family embarked on a motorboat here to go to the weekend settlement Bela Stena on the river island of Forkontumac.
We paddled and paddled, looking for the shortcut. The shipping lane for the big ships goes all the way to the left of Forkontumac. Between Forkontumac and another island called Čakljanac is a very wide canal. But then between the island of Čakljanac and the mainland near the village of Veliko Selo, there’s another canal that’s a lot skinnier, named Male Vode. When doing the research, we decided to paddle here because 1) it’s 2.2 kilometers shorter than the main shipping lane and about 800 meters shorter than the middle one, and 2) a skinny canal should mean we’re less subject to the wind.
The big downside of not going through the shipping lane is that we will miss out on the two lighthouses on the Danube in Pančevo at the confluence with the Tamiš River. I like lighthouses and they’re rare on rivers. Here’s a list of some lighthouses on the Danube.
Somewhere in this canal is our halfway point to Grocka. But we’re not there yet. We entered the area between Čakljanac and the right bank at 11:19 when the waters calmed down a bit. I spotted a round thing on a log and said that might be a turtle. Jonas also saw it, and it jumped into the water. Not much later, we both saw an otter-like creature. Probably the European otter. I’m fairly sure it wasn’t a beaver. I managed to film it a little bit, but not to a level I could ID it with certainty. One of the two. Not a nutria, for sure.
In the canal, the wind returned. We kept passing back and forth between the left bank at Čakljanac Island and the right bank, attempting to hide. There were a lot of fishermen on their boats and the jetties of their holiday homes. And one fisherwoman. I must say, I’ve never seen a woman fish alone. First time.
We spotted one more turtle in this calm branch. My theory is that these are released household pets. But while writing this, I found out there is also a native species called the European pond turtle in the Danube.
We had a break on the right bank where there were empty booze bottles all around before our shortcut dropped us back into the main Danube. It was a little after 13:00 when we reentered the canal. This shortcut wasn’t the blessing we’d hoped it would be. And the wind on the other side was really fucking strong again.
Total Defeat
We were paddling due south now on the way to a village called Vinča. It is famous for its Neolithic Vinča culture that existed from 5400–4500 before that Jesus fella and today’s nuclear institute. But we know Vinča from the map because there’s a ferry crossing the Danube here. And we don’t have time for prehistoric side quests.
It was only 4 kilometers to go to the ferry in Vinča, but the experience totally defeated us. Once we landed next to the pontoon-propelled-by-boat at 13:51, I climbed out and starfished on the slipway for a bit. My back hurts. My hands hurt.
No, scratch that. My whole body hurts.
And it’s still 15 kilometers to go to Grocka. We’re barely over halfway!
I’m so fucking done and I don’t believe in arriving anymore. The wind is relentless. And Jonas’ forecast says it will stay like this and then in one hour, it will get stronger.
Our hosts in Grocka have offered to pick us up from the marina in Grocka, but perhaps they’re willing to drive to Vinča and pick us up. It was time to go to the drawing board. While eating our burek and chugging some water, we looked at the map and plotted things. We’ve paddled at about 4km/h the whole day. At this pace, we would arrive in Grocka at 18:00 most optimistically. The sunset is at 19:40, but with the lowering sun it’s not even possible to dry the boat.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Perhaps they don’t want to pick us up from here. It’s almost a 20-kilometer drive.
As we had rested, we looked at the next place: Ritopek. That’s only 5 kilometers from here. There’s another mapped ferry crossing there. I don’t think any of these ferries are currently in operation, since the one next to us didn’t have signs of life.
We climbed back into Zucchini and paddled on to Ritopek at 14:16, paddling by a cute restaurant with a small fake lighthouse. At last, we crossed the path of the power lines, which was also an anchorage for barges taken over by birds.
A Sparkle of Hope
We experienced the same misery as we had all day until 15:24 when we arrived at the next slipway in Ritopek. I starfished once again until we walked up the embankment. This ferry spot had more signs of life: an open restaurant and a bus stop that had a bus passing by. Does the ferry from Ritopek to Ivanovo work? I doubt it. Perhaps they also don’t sail in this kind of weather.
We looked on the map: less than 9 kilometers to go. Suddenly, things looked possible again. I remembered how good it felt when we pushed through to Apatin despite adversity. I am looking for that same high.
Jonas texted our hosts that we were in Ritopek now. They had messaged us asking where we were. Our original arrival guesstimate was 15:00, lol. What a dumb situation we find ourselves in.
We continued at 15:47 to Grocka na Dunavu. The kilometer signs on the Danube had been on the left bank most of the day, some 700 meters across the river. We couldn’t read that even if we tried.
To my annoyance, we passed a riverside restaurant in Ritopek flying the russian and russian naval flag alongside the Serbian flag. We later passed a riverside villa with human security flying the Serbian, russian, russian naval, and russian imperial (!) flag from their jetty. All these people can go fuck themselves.
At 16:32, we were tired again. But my idea now was to moor at a stick protruding from the water and just relax in the boat. I used the bowline on my boat leash to fix us to the stick. It was a wonderful break. The wind tried to push us back upstream, but we were just floating in the shadow of the trees from the right bank, still getting blasted by the wind. The shadows were getting longer as the sun lowered. We ate a second protein bar in the boat. We continued at 16:46.
There was some shipping activity. A cruise ship here, a cargo ship there, and a sailing boat with its mast down motoring downstream. I wish he was closer so I could ask him for a tow. I think that’s not cheating in these conditions. But he wasn’t anywhere near. Another sailing boat was coming towards us from downwind with the sails in a butterfly position. How long would it take for us to sail back to Belgrade now if we tried? It didn’t make sense anymore as we were so close to Grocka now.
After that break, we had two more. One at someone’s floating pontoon without a bridge. This wasn’t very relaxing as our boat floated around it aimlessly and we couldn’t rest our sore arms as we tried to prevent Zucchini from bonking into its sharp edges. Jonas complained that we wouldn’t even make it to Grocka at 18:00. I said that’s because we’re taking breaks. And taking breaks is reasonable in this weather.
The final mooring was at another Y-shaped stick in the water at 17:31…
[and that’s where this non-chronological story has caught up with the first paragraphs]
Jonas said it… was okay, no need for the whistle. And yet, the man veered closer and closer to us with his motorboat. He clearly wanted to talk.
As soon as he cut his engine close to us, we could hear his voice shouting stuff. We were trying to be polite, but we had no idea what this man wanted from us. After several attempts to talk to us, I understood the word pension. Thanks, but we have accommodation? I was talking to Jonas while still trying to paddle the remaining 300 meters to our landing spot in Grocka. We are so damn close right now.
But the man kept talking about needing accommodation and going to the marina with our kayak. Only €2.50 at the marina or something. We said we have accommodation and thanked him for the offer. We’ve experienced this kind of hustle before, but not in Europe. I feel like something is missing.
The guy left us alone as we paddled another 200 meters. He was on the phone calling people. I discussed with Jonas if this guy actually is our host in Grocka and he’s here to… what? Pick us up? I don’t know either.
Motorboat Man came back to us. He circled us with his motorboat and came alongside us. I was very scared of the bigger boat next to us. Our self-guided break at the pontoon felt unnecessarily risky towards our inflatable Ark. And now a man in a motorboat is so close to us? What do?
I tried holding onto his boat to keep a reasonable distance between Zucchini and his vessel. But my right arm was as tired as the left and my patience for understanding the situation was running thin. My paddle was in the way and constantly bonking against his boat. We finally understood that he was a friend or acquaintance of our hosts at Apostolovic House in Grocka. He’s sent here to pick us up on the river and guide us to the marina where we can drop our boat.
That’s not how our boat works. That’s not how our trip works.
Though I would have loved to keep the conversation, I had to push off from his boat. My bit of muscle effort seemed to almost push his boat more than ours, and he took that personally.
I spotted our exit, but fishermen were sitting on the stairs. A Serbian classic. I told Jonas we should land on the earlier stairs instead. The motorboat man was still trying to get us to paddle 500 meters further to the marina, but I wanted, nay, needed to stick to the plan. I needed the sense of control I’d missed since we paddled away from Great War Island.
We exited the stairs at 18:19 and Motorboat Man sailed off. We lifted Zucchini out of the water and began our drying and packing process when our hosts showed up. They greeted us and we stopped what we were doing to shake hands and talk.
They wanted to bring us and our stuff to the house with the car, which was a great idea, but we still had to pack and dry the boat. There was still talk about dropping our boat at the marina, for a small fee, and then free. But that’s not how our boat works and I don’t want Zucchini to be out of sight from us while we stay here.
They started loading our stuff in the car against my will. The whole system of packing was suddenly not working out. There was a lot of miscommunication, but eventually, I had to take charge and say what we were gonna do: I stay with the boat, the rest of the stuff goes in the car to the house, and Jonas will return on foot with the CabinMAX so we have a way of carrying Zucchini.
The male host kind of made fun of me for taking charge. So far, everything I’d said in English and improvised russo-Serbian had been ignored. When solo traveling in the Balkans, I remembered my opinion being treated as less valid as well. But ever since going here with Jonas, things have gone haywire when people ignore what I say while I’m the more capable speaker. This is why I often ask Jonas to simply repeat what I said but in his man-voice.
He was like “Okay okay, Iris, Iris” and then laughed in disrespect. I was so drained from this interaction that I was happy when everyone finally left. It was just me and Zucchini now, and the setting sun. I waited while people promenaded up and down. The eastern sky was turning pink. With the help of a woman, I managed to get the half-deflated Zucchini up the embankment where there were a few more rays of light. Dogs would come by and sniff Zucchini while their owners would yell at them to not do that.
I texted Jonas, who returned quite sometime later with the CabinMAX. After testing out if the spare Boston valves we bought at Decathlon Belgrade fit (they did!), we packed up Zucchini together and walked uphill to Apostolovic House, switching the backpack halfway. Jonas had already checked out the inside and said there was quite some stuff provided, such as beer, wine, and a whole fruit bowl.
We met three cats on the way to the house, of which one I managed to boop the snoot. Otherwise, Grocka na Dunavu appears to be a dog town.
We arrived at the early 19th-century heritage house Apostolovic kuća, which has its own Wikipedia page. It’s across from the Orthodox Church of the Holy Trinity with its distinctive belfry. This accommodation in Serbia is part of the larger structure since the entire building is quite large. To my happy surprise, there’s an inner courtyard where we can dry the boat tomorrow.
Informative? Consider buying me a sparkling water!