My wrists and hands are so sore I can barely open a bottle of water. My legs are black and blue, I have just slept for fourteen hours straight, and my bike, a Suzuki DR650 I call “Lucy,” is trashed. I’ve just completed Bosnia Rally, a four-day roadbook navigation event near a bucolic small town of Kupres in central Bosnia. I’m still processing what had just happened, but one thing’s for sure: the rally bug has bitten so hard I can’t help it anymore. And it turns out, that’s no bad thing.

My first forays into adventure riding began six years ago on a small Chinese motorcycle in South America. I’d never ridden a motorcycle before, and back then, I couldn’t have imagined ever being any good on off-road trails, let alone handling a larger, more powerful bike. Little by little, with plenty of involuntary landings, bruises, missed turns, weird bike choices, and second-hand men’s riding gear, I ended up on an indefinite round-the-world trip on my DR650. I traveled so slowly it took me almost three years just to get to Chile from Arizona; speed and racing were never my thing, as I’d always preferred noodling about places with little clue about destinations or records.

That’s still true today when it comes to traveling. Yet, somehow, I have now completed three multi-day cross-country roadbook navigation rallies in five months. I got intrigued by rally racing when I chased Rally Dakar in Peru; an unexpected invitation got me riding the Trans Alen Tejo Rally in Portugal, followed shortly by the seven-day madness that was Hellas Rally Raid in Greece. The Portugal rally taught me roadbook navigation, while Hellas Rally taught me that yes, both Lucy and I can survive seven insane days of cross-country rally.

But it was the Bosnia Rally that sealed my fate as a rally fanatic. Bosnia Rally, organized by an Austrian rider and rally maniac Stefan Rosner, is technically not a race as participants are not timed. The goal of the event is to teach riders roadbook navigation and put them through their paces under real rally conditions, minus the pressure of timing. During the four days of the rally, riders and their bikes are put to the test as they tackle technical sections, a marathon day, tricky navigation, and gnarly terrain. “Lite” tracks are available for riders on large adventure bikes as well as those who aren’t very confident at riding technical tracks just yet, whereas the main rally route is as real as it gets. Although Stefan hopes to attract riders of all levels, the main rally route and distances throw you right into the deep end, and it’s up to you to sink or swim.

Having completed the two previous rallies, I figured I’d go for the harder rally version. My DR650 is more of a pack mule than a racehorse, and my riding skills were more of a “potter around” situation than “beast mode.” During Trans Alentejo and Hellas, I always came in last, a good hour behind the last rider, and was simply happy to have survived. I couldn’t chase after the “real” rally riders, nor could I wheelie across streams or jump off hills. I could ride the Trans America Trail, the BDRs, and some Andean trails. Race… not so much.

The Bosnia Rally has changed that. Barely perceptibly, as I still got gravel sprayed in my face, dumped Lucy countless times and only barely made it up the gnarly uphill climbs. But I wasn’t the last one to limp into the bivouac when all the other riders had already changed out of their gear. I didn’t get sent back because I didn’t make time, and I didn’t bail out of the technical sections until the very last day when I incinerated Lucy’s clutch. I made it through all of the four rally days riding like my life depended on it, improving my riding by leaps and bounds as something finally clicked in my brain allowing me to open up that throttle. I was terrified most of the time—but I also had a ridiculous amount of fun.

What made all of this possible was pure chance of meeting three other riders at Bosnia Rally. Gabriella, an Australian gal on a rented Yamaha 250, Lieven, a Belgian rider on his Husky 701, and Nick, a South African-German rider on a KTM 690, all came to the rally alone—most other people were there with their friends or partners. Somehow, we ended up riding together and had so much fun in the process we decided to stick together for the whole rally, christening our newly founded motley crew “The Rally Bunnies” as we were all new to the scene and refused to take ourselves too seriously.

While they were all better and faster riders than me, they’d wait up for me here and there, and we’d get back to the bivouac together for celebratory beers. Gabriella constantly had me in stitches with her Aussie humor and forced me way out of my comfort zone as I tried to keep up with her riding faster than I have ever ridden before. Lieven helped me fix a mangled gear shift lever, waited for me, and helped me get up a particularly nasty, rock-littered hill. And Nick stuck with me for morale when Lucy wouldn’t start, helping me get the bike off the track and fix a flooded airbox.

Since I’m traveling solo and I’d always go it alone in the other rallies, I never knew how awesome it is to have the right people to share motor oil, laughs, and incredible scenery with. Deep ruts and navigation mistakes seem a lot less scary when you’re in the company of the funniest and most badass rally people on planet Earth, and your own inhibitions fly out of the window when you’re chasing after them across a vast open Bosnian grassland.

But back to those open throttles. Several things happen when you finally let go of fear and tear across the tracks like never before. You realize rally racing isn’t quite about the dude-bro mentality, nor it is about brutal competition. It’s about ditching your own old stories about yourself, daring to get out there, discovering a whole different world, and being so impossibly alive in the moment that reality seems heightened—sharper and brighter somehow. Cross-country rally racing can add a whole another layer to adventure riding, even if you’re not planning to get onto that Dakar podium or win the Silk Way Rally. You find a new appreciation for your motorcycle, even when it’s an old banged up DR650; you realize you’re capable of more, and suddenly nothing seems impossible.

Bosnia Rally is structured in a way that never lets you get comfortable in the best possible way while still allowing you to be in awe of the scenery and the people. Bosnia is an undiscovered jewel of the Balkans, and riding here feels like you’re experiencing half of the world in just one region. It felt like the four rally days took us to Mongolia, Scotland, Georgia (the country, not the state), and back to Bosnia, as the landscapes varied from boundless plains to rocky mountainsides and fjords, turquoise-blue rivers and lakes, serene farmlands, and old forests.

Bosnian people are among the most welcoming and friendliest in Europe, and we all felt right at home in Kupres sampling local cuisine and Bosnian plum sljivovitza (imagine a cross between Louisiana moonshine and Italian grappa). Stefan pre-rides all the rally tracks himself, and his roadbook design is straightforward but with plenty of additional information helping you to stay on track.

I don’t yet know where in the world I will be in 2020, as I’m considering several route options from the Balkans. But I do know that in July, I’ll be at the Bosnia Rally again.

Bosnia-Rally.com
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Eglė Gerulaitytė is a motorcycle adventurer and writer currently traveling around the world slowly and discovering new places, stories, coffee, and rallies. She’s dreaming about going from a rally chaser to racer one day, and in the meantime, she and her Suzuki DR650 are slowly making their way towards the African continent. ADVtoRally.com

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