The loose gravel crunched beneath our tyres and rocked our van to and fro as we descended this wildest of tracks, inch by inch so as not to let the brakes lock up under the strain.
We were in the far Western corner of Serbia, almost touching Bosnian land, headed for the glistening jewel of the Tara National Park: Lake Zaovine.
As with every mountain road in the Balkans it was long, it was windy and it made you question at some points whether you were really driving on a road at all. Winter was fast encroaching but the sun was warm and the air fresh with the scent of pine. These bright green trees stood out amongst the auburn shades and enshrouded the view until the very last moment, when the lake’s emerald waters came into sight.
We drove around the jagged creeks in search of somewhere to camp, eventually ending up in a village comprised of mainly newly-built wooden cabins with balconies. But something here was off; it took us a few minutes to place a finger on it, but suddenly we realised that all of the houses here were at strangely obscure angles. All of them jutted into the sky in different ways, some had cracked walls so you could see inside, and some were being held from sliding down the hillside by lengths of rope.
It was surreal to see the aftermath of a natural disaster firsthand, although there was nothing natural about it really as the entire sad scene had been caused by the nearby hydropower plant’s sudden emptying of the lake, so we would later learn.
We backtracked out of the disaster zone and round to the other side of the lake, stopping to feed a stray mama cat and her kittens on the way, and took a left turn down a bumpy track into the forest. A few sketchy turns and steep inclines later we found ourselves parked on a ledge overlooking the full beauty of Lake Zaovine on a piece of land earmarked for a fancy housing development that had never been seen through.
We sat there in the doorway of our van, enjoying the million pound view to ourselves without ever spending a penny.