Sarajevo to Mostar

Tito’s nuclear bunker, facility D-0, is definitely worth two hours of your time. It’s just one of a network of bunkers built by the former Yugoslavia, but the main one in that, in the central part, 220m below ground level, it has a small apartment built for Tito himself. (And a room intended for Tito’s wife – they surmise this as it has the only mirror in the bunker. So that’s it solved after all the recent concern about the matter – what defines a woman is her need to gaze upon her own reflection. Sigh.)

We bought tickets in one of the agencies in Konjic and then drove to the meeting point for the tour.

At 10am, our guide arrived and we drove in to the complex. We walked to the ordinary looking garage which is the entrance to a tunnel leading into a vast underground complex – about 6,400 sq m of it.

The bunker was built between 1959 and 1979 and cost a stunning 4.6 billion US dollars, more than 10 billion in today’s money and 10 trillion shillings in yesterday’s. 

It was constructed with advanced technologies for the time – air pumping, cooling and heating, for example, and a set of direct communications to the leaders in each of the other bunkers across the country. Our guide pointed out that at the time there were just 350 telephones in all of Yugoslavia, and very few television sets.

I did spot flat-screen Sony TVs in a couple of the top brass’s quarters – but it turns out this is an art installation rather than a top-secret 50s Yugo-Nippon collaboration.

Water for the bunker was supplied from the nearby Neretva river – still the purest and coldest river in Europe. 

Tour done, we followed the blue Neretva in a mostly southerly direction through the most amazing craggy gorges. Bosnia really is a beautiful country, still mostly untouched.

We stopped to give Flynn a quick cool-down swim, and Rog got some drone footage.

The weather has changed, and by the time we arrived in Mostar our enemy was the sun, rather than the rain. We parked up in the expensive but probably worth it Autocamping Old Bridge (bulky.clever.flask) where we were jammed in like an orange sardine with 4 other vans in a small courtyard. The cost is 70KM but you do get a terrace with a view of the famous Stari Most. (And a loo, shower and electrons.)

It was 31 of your finest degrees Centigrade, so Flynn accompanied us on a quick explore of the old town. Note to self – flip-flops and polished marble cobbles are not the safest combo. The town was jam-packed with people – we’re hoping they’ll be exported by bus before the evening. 

We couldn’t visit any of the museums because of the dog, although we did have a good look around, and had an excellent view of the bridge. 

Flynn got a lovely paddle in the river. A friendly local asked us why we didn’t let the dog loose into the turbulent waters. Because he’s as mad as a box of frogs, and has no concept of personal safety, was the obvious answer.

Dinner was at “Urban Taste Of Orient” which was wrongly named in at least two nouns – “Rustic Taste Of Balkans With Slightly High Aspersions” is maybe less catchy but more accurate. Anyway, delicious, although as a common theme, far too much food and Flynn’s breakfast is more exciting than it ever is at home. We particularly loved this – described as cheese on butter, it was like a light fondue with small lumps of goat’s cheese in it.

Midway through the meal, a biblical thunderstorm happened, which was a bit worrying for poor Flynn back in the van. Luckily he is more offended by thunderstorms, with a need to see them off, than reduced to a quaking jelly. Anyway, with the rain coming down in cords, we weren’t going back to rescue him.

As the rain eased off, we had an excellent view of the bridge.