In July 2020, in a brief respite from the worries of the covid pandemic, I had the good fortune to be able to escape for a little adventure, spending 3 days paddling down the Tamiš river in northern Serbia, in my packraft.
Here is a video and my diary from the trip.
Day One.
My brother in law was kind enough to give me a lift to Sakule, a village in Vojvodina, about an hour away from Belgrade, from where I had decided to start my packrafting trip down the Tamiš river.
The Tamiš actually starts its life as the Timis in Romania but it swaps vowels on emtering Serbia.
Dr Dragan Simic, the notable birdwatcher and naturalist, gave me the idea of paddling down this river. I happened across him on the Song of the Paddle forum when searching theeads for any tips on routes in Serbia. Anyway he siggested this river as a good way of getting our on the water not far from the capital ad seeing some interesting birdlife.
So here I am, a few weeks later, 4 in the afternoon, just south of Opovo, drinking a freshly brewed coffee, watching a kingfisher, clothes and packraft drying in the hot sun.
Day one complete. I would love to say how many kilometres I paddled today but unfortunately my phone was in airplane mode so my tracker only checke dmy position when I looked at it. Consequently it rather looks as if I havepaddled across land in remarkably straight lines. I did not. The Tamiš wends its way down through Vojvodina and offers a few tributaries, many of which are well on their way to beconing oxbow lakes.
This is what google's satellite imagery says anyway. The truth on the ground, at least at present, is a tale of extensive flooding. For much of today’s paddle I was worried I would not find a suitable place to stop. The land is low here, often arable, but along the banks there is a good mix of planted poplar woods and scrub. Now these symetrical avenues of trees which looked like such inviting camping terrain viewed from the air stick out of a watery mirror as far as the eye can see.
I saw a few splavovi (floating homes / shacks) along the route, mostly made for fishing and accessed by water, but also a few weekend shacks standing on stilts just about out of the water. The birdlife has been a joy; storks, herons, large birds of prey ...
As i travelled downstream the water level seemed to drop slightly but still the places I got out to take a break were waterlogged and home to clouds of mosquitoes, even in the heat of the day. I admit to more than a little concern at findinng some dry ground but, around 2pm, I came across a house which looks like it might be a makeshift bar in summer, replete with a couple of tables outside. I guess there is a sort of beach out front as there is a volleyball net but it is under water.
However, the grass in front of the bullidng is dry and I intend to make this my camping spot tonight. Incidentally the road to this place looks inacessible due to the flooding so I should be undisturbed. Given where I imagined I would sleep this is paradise. I don’t want to go on lest I fail to find anythign better.
Now add in a kingfisher who seems unconcerned by my presence, plopping in and out of the shallows, and a cacophony of bird song in the trees and this place is more than i could have wished for.
Day Two.
Had a good rest last night, if not a good nights sleep. The sound of the fauna here rivals the jungle. The frogs were at it all night long, so to speak - they never shut up with their loud bubbling squawks.
I set off between 7:30 and 8 with the intention of stopping in the heat. Not long after leaving my camp spot a white tailed eagle burst out of the trees to my left amd flew downstream. I was to see it again a few times throughout the morning (assuming it was the same one). This area seems very rich in birdlife, helped no doubt by the wild state in which the floods have left it.
I was really holpeful that the water levels might continue to lower below Opovo but in fact it was perhaps the opposite. I paddled for 5 hours without finding a place to land. My only break was in a largely and entirely submerged picnic area. I clipped the packraft to the bench with a carabiner and sat at a table that stuck out of the water.
I was getting desperate around 1 o'clock as I paddled through another sunken picnic area, down what I guessed in dryer days must be the track leading to it. But, its hard to say, because under a few feet of water everything starts to became indistiguishable and I wasn’t willing to waste to much energy lookig for higher ground so I rejoined the Tamiš and continued, shoulders and arms aching.
I was rewarded 5 minutes later as I approached the outskirts of a village callrd Jabuka. Not only was I able to get out of the river but a few metres in front of me was a restaurant.
An old guy bought me my first beer. Things were looking up. After another bottle of Jelen and a bowl of catfiish paprikas I was ready for a snooze. Nevertheless I took a wander, with the idea of maybe staying put in this village. A hundre dmetres or so from the bar I found some potential camping spots so I paddled all the gear a bit further downstream and resolved to call it a day. It was 3pm and 34 degrees. Enough was enough.
Now I'm about to make some food, having sat around reading for a while and having enjoyed a lengthy shower courtesy of a thunderstorm.
I pitched the tent on the river bank by a picnic table and I have just eaten my Firepot chickpea and spinach daal. Groups of people have started turning up to enjoy their summer houses overlooking the water. I am pretty sure this bank is for their use and not intended for random wild campers, but hey… we are not in England, so I am sure everyone is more chilled out about these things.
Day Three.
Had fun last night. I could tell the people I saw last night were finding spurious reasons to wander by my tent and peer at this strange creature who had rocked up in their village to camp. Never had they swept their porches so thoroughly... just to keep spying at me. Eventually I was approached and offered dinner, which I declined, having just eaten. They retreated but only for a moment, returning to suggest I join them for a beer. They found my achiles heel.
I accepted and was introduced to a disparate group of family and friends. To my right a toothless dude named Darko and to my left a shirtless man - large patriotic eagle tattoo on his right arm - who was presented to me simply as Presednik. "He is the president of the village" said the youngest of the group, he whom the others had chosen as interpreter. "Oh Mr President!" I feigned adulation moving my arms up and down, much to his cohort's amusement. The ice was broken.
"Think of some questions to ask him?" ordered the “president” - I assume he was really the mayor - so they scratched around for some things to ask and enquired as to where I came from, where I was going and how I could understand some of what they said without necessarily giving very coherent answers.
We sat together, social distancing entirely forgotten, cigarettes and alcohol uniting us in a moment of generosity and friendship that made insignificant of our many differences and the global pandemic.
It kind if made sense to them I was in Serbia becasue my wife is a local, but the idea that I wanted to stay in a tent on a river bank baffled them all. "Take my keys, barked the president, stay in my summer house". I refused politely, making an excuse of my intended early morning start. He insisted. We reached a compromise, if it rained in the night I would go and sleep on the little verranda. Truth be told it would have had to be biblical rain to get me out of the tent that night, by sundown the mosquitos were out in hungry clouds and a midnight trip for a pee resulted in many, many bites (surely we shoud call them stings?).
The party was over by 10 as they all returned home but I slept fitfully. A boat passed 3 times up and down, patrolling with a torch; its crew talking loudly. Then around 1am, some revellers came close to the waters edge in their car, "turbo folk" music blaring from the stereo. At 2:30 a pair of lovers sat a few metres from my tent and discussed their relationship, at length. They probably needed to, but I struggled to find sympathy. Where's the Presednik when you need him?! I thought to myself. Surely they wouldn't dare disturb me if they knew how well-connected I was.
At 8 am i was back on the water and treated to my friends the eagles, abandoning their high perches as I approached only to settle again further downstream, preventing me from getting a really good look, but spurring me on the next 100 metres down river.
By late-morning I was in Pančevo - my end point - and this last part had been interesting in part, especially where the banks were massivley overgrown and home to many grey herons, black crowned night herons, storks and ibis. However the closer I got to the city the more dead fish I saw floating in the river. I don;t know the reason for this but it was disconcerting.
Talking of fish, early this morning a huge catfish latched its teeth into my paddle on the downstroke and seemingly trying to wrestle it from me, causing a huge splash which soaked me and, I’m not ashamed to say, scared the living daylights out of me!!
It’s been a good trip; occasionally hard under the hot sun, but a new experience in many ways. I hope to come back and explore more once we are over the worst of this pandemic and it has given me more confidence to get out for longer trips in the packraft.