Climbing up the hill out of Dubrovnik we were rewarded with fantastic views back down to the old town as we headed inland towards Bosnia. For some reason, we hadn't quite latched on to the fact that 'Balkans' is simply Turkish for mountains, and as such the last week has seen a lot of going up and down. Having climbed up to the border post, we entered Bosnia, finally collecting our first passport stamps of the trip so far. The change from the relatively developed Croatian coast was almost instant, with roadside grills and pizzarias being replaced by open hills, fields and the occasional decrepit farmhouse. It was obvious from people's reactions to us that we were well and truely off the beaten track, as people turned to stare and wave as we passed. I don't suppose Bosnia gets a huge number of tourists at the moment, and three mad cyclists with 50lbs of kit strapped to their bikes in February is perhaps even rarer. At one point we stopped to ask a man for directions at a junction; "Welcome to the Republika Srpska" he said, holding out his hand for a handshake, before guiding us on our way in excellent English. (The Republika Srpska covers the southern half of Bosnia & Herzegovina, and is mainly composed of Bosnian Serbs). Bosnia also gave us the first real signs of the recent conflicts in the Balkans, with warning signs and tapes at the roadside warning of the possibility of landmines. We didn't stray far from the road.

Moving into Montenegro our progress was slowed by having to zigzag across the country through the various canyons - there is simply no direct route across, even if we were willing to tackle the higher, snow covered passes. It did provide spectacular scenery though, particularly through the Moraca Canyon out of the capital Podgorica (though the 600m pitch black, unlit tunnel was less scenic and a touch frightening).

Having read the advice of the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office that 'it is essential to register with the local police within 24hrs of entering Serbia & Montenegro', we diligently trekked up to the police station in Niksic to declare our presence. Our appearance provided considerable interest and amusement for the group of policemen there; they didn't seem the slightest bit interested in registering us in any way, but they did provide us with a police escort as far as the main road to Podgorica which was fun!

Montenegro has seen us return above the snowline, and the novelty of camping in the snow has definetly worn off. On our last night in the country, just as we were standing at the roadside looking lost whilst darkness moved in, a car pulled up to ask us what we were doing. Finding some German as a common language, we said we were planning to camp. "No, you cannot camp here; it is too cold. You must come with us", they said. We were then led to the warehouse where they worked, where we were given a room to sleep in and fed dinner and breakfast (including some excellent Russian tea); our efforts to slip them a few euros in the morning for their trouble were swiftly rebuffed.

After a quick trip through the corner of Serbia, we arrived at the Kosovo border, slightly apprehensive. The FCO advice made some mumblings about potentially requiring 'documentary evidence' of our reason for visiting Kosovo, but it wasn't clear if this meant a formal declaration countersigned by Kofi Annan and the Pope, or perhaps just a letter from our mothers. In the end we had no difficulty, and after a short chat with the UN officials at the border, we rolled on into Kosovo. Still a UN-NATO protectorate, Kosovo was very different from anywhere we had been before. To be honest, we probably wouldn't recommend it for your summer holiday, but it was certainly an experience. It was somewhat surreal to be waving at smiling children one moment, then trying to avoid being run down by a Danish armoured personnel carrier the next. We never felt the slightest bit unsafe, with at least one in ten vehicles on the road being either UN or KFOR (NATO's Kosovo Force). The terrain in Kosovo is very different to the rest of Serbia & Montenegro, being a dead flat basin of land, surrounded by mountains. It is an area very much in transition, with masses of new development uneasily juxtaposed against the gutted shells of war damaged buildings. Refuse collection is still trying to catch up, with piles of litter lining some stretches of road (although we have found roadside littering to be something of an issue throughout the former Yugoslavia, albeit to a lesser extent than in Kosovo.)

The border official had cautioned us that it was not a good idea to travel at night though, so we were happy to arrive in the capital Prishtina before darkness fell. Unsure as to the exact location of our planned guesthouse, we were saved when a British registered Land Rover drove past us. Russ, the driver, is a Kosovan who used to work in London, and he escorted us to the guesthouse which would otherwise have been a bit of a mission to find. Thanks Russ! Prishtina is a lively city, with a large ex-pat population from the many UN, NATO and NGO personnel, and we enjoyed our time there.

We knew there had been a landslide blocking the main road from Prishtina to Skopje, but had heard differing reports as to whether it would now be passable by bicycle. Eventually deciding that potentially clambering over some rocks and mud was preferable to a 50km detour over a mountain pass, we went for the main road, and were relieved to have no problems getting through. Passing into Macedonia, we have escaped from the snow once more and are currently staying in the capital, Skopje. From our initial impressions, Skopje is an impressive and friendly city, and we look forward to exploring it tomorrow.