We leave from Zemun under a heavy sun. Thunderstorms are on their way, the air is sticking humid. We’ve set off late because we have waited, in vain, for some journalists who were supposed to come to the club.
I row without any trouble up to Grocka, where the gods suggest me to find a good place to hide. Through the floating vegetation, I see signs of a passage. I can’t find any better than a narrow hole, leading me in a dream canal, 4 metres wide and fully covered by plants.
Seems like “Heart of Darkness”.
I moor next to two trees while thousands of mosquitos attack me. I try to escape in the river, but a strong gust tells me that the rumble is beginning. Just the time to set up the tent and the rainstorm begins. I’m so tired that I get asleep nevertheless.
In the morning, the water steams and the sunlight gives it a golden shine.
When I set sails it’s 5,30. After a few km I see a Marina: A guy aboard a boat, nice face and long beard, invites me to stop by. We have a coffee aboard Clodia and a slibobiza in the Club. We’re guest of the glorious Brodarski Klub Metalac in Smederevo. (more…)