Letting the Water Choose the Path

Some rides start with distance in mind.
Others start with preparation.

This morning in Divjaka, I laid everything out before rolling a single meter:
two drones — DJI Neo and DJI Air 2S,
my Insta360 for FPV-style riding shots,
the Sony A7C for still moments,
and my phone — ready for vertical photos and videos for social media.

A flat ride on paper.
But I knew better.

Into the Pines, Toward Silence

I started from the heart of Divjaka National Park, pedaling gently through the pine forest. The air was still, the light soft. Soon, the trees opened toward the sea, and my first stop appeared naturally — the beach.

No crowds.
Just wet sand, shallow water, and silence.

The sea barely moved, as if holding its breath. It was one of those quiet moments that don’t ask for words — only attention.

The Tower and the Broken Stairs

Back on the bike, the route turned off-road again, deeper into the forest toward the birdwatching tower.
When I arrived, the stairs were damaged — broken, unstable, clearly not meant to be climbed.

But curiosity won.

Carefully, step by step, I made it to the top. From there, the lagoon opened wide — muted colors, long lines, a landscape shaped by patience rather than force. I took a few photos, enough to remember the feeling.

From Above: The Lagoon Breathes

This was the moment for the Air 2S.

As the DJI Air 2S hovered above the lagoon, something unexpected happened.
A small group of flamingos lifted from the water and began flying low across the lagoon — slow, elegant, almost unreal. Their reflections briefly touched the surface before disappearing into the reeds.

I followed them carefully with the drone, barely breathing. It was one of those rare moments when nature offers a gift without warning — no planning, no second chance. Just presence, timing, and awe.

Fishing boats resting on still water, small fishermen’s barracks standing quietly at the edge of the reeds. From above, everything felt balanced: water, land, human presence, all sharing the same calm rhythm.

This is why I carry drones.
Not to impress — but to understand scale.

Trusting Instincts in the Mud

The route continued inside the lagoon, along a narrow off-road path surrounded by shallow water and dry grass.
The ground was full of holes, many filled with water. Some looked harmless. Others… less so.

I didn’t always know how deep the water was.
I trusted instinct, speed, and balance.

Every section passed successfully — slow, focused, alive.

The Dogs (Of Course the Dogs)

Near another group of fishermen’s huts, just before a bridge, they appeared — three dogs, blocking the road.

We stood there for a moment.
Bike vs dogs.
Silence vs curiosity.

A short standoff.
No aggression — just a conversation about who had the right to pass.

Eventually, they decided it wasn’t worth the effort. The road opened again, and I rolled on, back into the mud, following the lagoon’s edge.

I can’t seem to do a tour without dogs becoming part of the story. And honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Wind, Tarmac, and the Way Home

Soon, the surface changed — tarmac at last.
The wind turned against me, but it was warm, gentle, almost friendly.

After a few kilometers, I launched the DJI Neo. Small, light, it followed me quietly — capturing movement, rhythm, the simplicity of riding forward.

Then came the first village.
And finally, the moment every ride reaches sooner or later: Where do I go now?

I checked the map.
Trusted it.
And followed the line back to where it all began.