ACT Greece Motorcycle Adventure: The Trip That Refused to Follow the Plan
Some trips go exactly according to plan.
This was not one of them.
Actually, before we even left Poland, the plan had already changed several times.
First, we wanted to ride ACT France. Then we looked at the distance to the starting point, calculated the time and cost of simply getting there and decided that perhaps France wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all.
Then there were the Baltic States.
And finally: ACT Greece. That was the plan.
For a while.
Poland to Serbia: A Late Start to an Uncertain Adventure
We left Poland on Corpus Christi, although considerably later than intended.
There was a good reason for that. The night before, Joris had been helping a couple of Finnish bikers with a problematic Husqvarna Norden 901. The rescue operation continued until around 2 a.m., which isn’t exactly ideal preparation for a long first day on the road.
Still, eventually we packed the bikes and headed south.
After a full day of kilometres and capricious weather, we reached Novi Sad in Serbia, where we were welcomed by Bilja, Agata’s colleague from a previous company, and her family.
It wasn’t the first time they had hosted us, and their hospitality created another problem the following morning.
We didn’t really want to leave.
Breakfast became a long breakfast. Long breakfast became long conversations. And consequently, another late start.
Our goal for the day was Leskovik in Albania, and more specifically Melesin Distillery, which we had discovered during our previous trip.
We didn’t make it. Not even close. 
The Three-Night Overnight Stop
Instead, we finished the day at Camp Popoland near Niš in Serbia.
It was supposed to be an overnight stop. It became our home for three nights.
Agata got hit by a nasty stomach bug and there was absolutely no question of continuing the journey. For two days, the motorcycles stayed exactly where they were.
Fortunately, if you have to be sick somewhere on a motorcycle trip, Camp Popoland isn’t a bad place to do it.
The campsite was clean, pleasant and affordable, the owners were fantastic and every morning fresh bread was delivered straight to our tent.
There was even some unexpected entertainment: one afternoon a wedding was taking place at the campsite restaurant.
Not exactly the Serbian cultural experience we had planned, but certainly one we wouldn’t have experienced had everything gone according to schedule.
Eventually Agata recovered enough to ride. So, Leskovik? Let’s try again.
North Macedonia and the Discovery That Changed the Plan
We continued south through North Macedonia and reached Bitola just before a massive downpour.
Excellent timing.
We found shelter in a local casino which, perhaps surprisingly, also offered very decent hotel rooms.
And it was there that we discovered one small problem with our ACT Greece plan: ACT Greece runs from south to north.
The Albanian-Greek border we were heading towards was not the beginning of the route. Oops.
On top of that, Agata was still not back to 100%. So we did something radical.
We abandoned the plan. No ACT. No schedule. No targets. Let’s just have a holiday.
Albania, the Sea and Plan B
The new plan was to head towards the Albanian coast, find somewhere nice and simply stay there for a while.
Following the spectacular SH71, we eventually reached Divjakë-Karavasta National Park.
The campsite we had aimed for turned out to be closed, but a nearby restaurant allowed us to pitch our tent in its backyard.
Sometimes Plan B works rather well.
There was fresh fish, vegetables, fruit and, most importantly, time to rest. Agata finally felt 100% again.
Which naturally brought back a dangerous thought… What if we tried reaching Leskovik one more time?
The Missing Bolt
Before we could get too enthusiastic, the motorcycles decided to contribute another plot twist.
“You’ve lost something,” Joris said, pointing at Agata’s KTM. Not the words you want to hear in the middle of a motorcycle trip.
Where there should have been a bolt, there was a hole straight through to the other side.
Had it vibrated loose? When?
Or had somebody removed it? And why?
Joris’s Norden had the same bolt in the same place, so we tried to remove his to check the dimensions. Impossible.
It seemed to have been installed with the intention of remaining there until the end of civilisation.
Thoughts of off-road riding suddenly became slightly less appealing.
We needed a temporary fix for the trip, a proper fix once home and, apparently, a few more temporary screws and bolts for good measure.
Adventure motorcycles. They said it would be fun.
We managed to come up with a temporary fix after rummaging through a big basket of random bolts at a local tyre shop. Not exactly factory spec, but good enough to get us back on the road.
Third Time Lucky: Leskovik
Eventually we did make it to Leskovik and returned to Melesin Distillery.
After a fantastic dinner followed by an equally impressive breakfast the next morning – which we barely needed after the previous night’s feast – it was time to make another decision.
We were feeling good. The bikes were functioning. ACT Greece was still there. Why not?
We were back in the game.
Crossing Into Greece
Dark skies followed us as we left Leskovik, but the threatening weather had one major advantage: perfect riding temperatures.
We crossed a sleepy border into Greece and quickly made another unexpected observation.
We never thought we’d say this, but Albanian roads seemed to be in better condition than Greek ones.
And some of the junctions and roundabouts introduced us to a new concept.
We already knew “Belgian engineering”. This was next-level Greek engineering.
For much of the day we rode along the edge of a storm that looked capable of washing us straight off the road. Considering how incredibly slippery some Greek asphalt becomes when wet, we were very happy to escape with only a few drops.
Eventually we reached Nafpaktos and found what was probably one of the cheapest hotel rooms in town.
It came with a view over the Venetian harbour.
When we arrived, everything seemed almost deserted.
Then the sun went down. Suddenly the town came alive. Restaurants filled up, people appeared everywhere and we discovered that our room was located more or less directly above a busy terrace. Seafood followed.
Then a complimentary carafe of wine appeared.Apparently, we’re quite likeable.
The following morning, ACT Greece finally began.
ACT Greece: Finding Our Rhythm Again
Because of our somewhat unconventional schedule, we skipped Day 1 and joined the second half of the Day 2 track.
Perfect twisty asphalt gradually transformed into adventure asphalt. Then adventure concrete. At one point Agata announced that she would rather ride off-road than continue on this particular “road”.
Be careful what you wish for.
The off-road appeared soon afterwards and gave us a quick reality check. We needed to find our rhythm again. But once we did, the riding was fantastic.
The views were spectacular and the villages surprised us. We had expected remote mountain settlements to be partly abandoned and dilapidated. Instead, many were charming, alive and filled with beautifully restored buildings.
We finished the Day 2 track and continued straight into Day 3.
Forest Tracks, Rocks and Waterproof Boots
The forest section was wonderful.
Shade from the trees. Soft, pleasant tracks. Flowing riding.
Then ACT reminded us what adventure riding in Greece is about. Stones. Rocks. Gravel. More stones.
And we loved it.
One river crossing was slightly more memorable than planned and resulted in very wet boots. This allowed us to confirm something important about Gore-Tex: It is excellent at keeping water in.
Eventually we decided we had ridden enough for the day.
Unfortunately, deciding to stop and actually finding somewhere to eat and sleep are two different things. We rode backwards and forwards along local roads, chasing cafés which according to the maps existed but according to reality had apparently been closed for years.
Finally, we reached a small village where someone fed us. And by “fed us”, we mean another feast.
We were preparing to pitch the tent beside a small local chapel when a Greek biker stopped and convinced us to ride another 25 kilometres to a hotel. We listened. Good decision.
We got a room with a view. Or perhaps more accurately, a view with a room attached to it.
The hotel owner was apparently so delighted by our arrival that he gave us a litre of local moonshine as a souvenir and two beers. The chef contributed some local specialities.
Apparently, still quite likeable.
Into the Agrafa Mountains
Morning coffee also came with a view.
Then we rejoined Day 3.
The twisties were excellent and the off-road increasingly challenging. Our navigation app added its usual little dose of chaos by occasionally failing to refresh the map quickly enough. That resulted in a few missed turns and some interesting manoeuvres, including having to back the motorcycles out of a very steep climb after discovering that it wasn’t actually our track. Eventually we completed Day 3.
Then came the petrol drama.
Station number one: closed. Number two: closed. Number three: also closed. Sunday?
Thankfully, petrol station number four was open. It also had a café next door. Obviously, we had another coffee.
Then we started Day 4.
The beginning was glorious: smooth asphalt, beautiful turns and spectacular views. Soon the off-road returned.
Gravel, stones, puddles, stream crossings – all the good stuff. Even the asphalt sections demanded attention because occasionally the asphalt simply… disappeared.
Throughout the ACT route we had seen plenty of evidence of landslides and flood damage. Sections of road had been washed away and nature clearly wasn’t overly concerned with what the map claimed should be there.
Then we entered the Agrafa Mountains. Gravel highways alternated with proper off-road tracks and carried us up to around 1,700 metres above sea level. We even encountered a few other off-road riders. Until then, we had started wondering whether we had the entire ACT Greece track to ourselves.
Eventually we descended towards Lake Plastira. And found another view with a room attached. Life could definitely be worse.
The Final Day of ACT Greece
The last day started, appropriately, with another breakfast and coffee with a view.
We had around 250 kilometres ahead of us, so there was no time to waste.
The final off-road section came early in the day, and once again we realised how lucky we had been with the weather.
In wet conditions, the deep muddy ruts would have been a serious challenge on loaded adventure bikes. For us, they ranged from damp to bone dry – sometimes both at once – creating some interesting technical riding as the bikes searched for a sensible line through them. Then we came across a bridge. Technically. There was a “bridge”, but no motorcycle was going to fit on it. A landslide had washed away part of the road and repairs didn’t appear to be particularly imminent.
Detour time.
After that, the day became an apparently endless succession of bends. Twist. Turn. Twist. Turn. Repeat.
There is such a thing as too many perfect motorcycle corners. Eventually it started reminding us of the final day of ACT Italy, when even beautiful twisty roads became tiring.
And then, in the afternoon, we reached the finish.
Vikos Gorge: A Grand Finale
The endpoint of our ACT Greece adventure was Vikos Gorge in the Pindus Mountains. And what a finish it was.
Vikos is famous for its extraordinary depth-to-width ratio, with cliffs plunging hundreds of metres into the gorge. Standing above that enormous cut through the mountains was a suitably dramatic finale after days of rocks, gravel, rivers, landslides, missed turns and mountain roads.
We had almost abandoned ACT Greece altogether. Now we were standing at the end of it.
Well, our version of it, considering we had skipped the beginning. Close enough.
We spent our final Greek night in nearby Monodendri, enjoying one last Greek dinner.
Then came the part of every trip we like least… Going home.
The Long Way Back to Poland
We divided the return journey into four legs. At least that was the plan. And by now we should have known what happens to our plans.
First we crossed back into Albania and pushed north to one of our regular stops: Lake Shkodra Resort.
The roads were busy, although thankfully it was less brutally hot than during our previous visit. The campsite delivered exactly what we hoped for, including a refreshing swim in the lake after the ride.
The next morning we rode the iconic SH20 – for the first time in the northern direction. The usually sleepy border crossing into Montenegro was surprisingly busy, but eventually we got through and enjoyed another fantastic ride across Montenegro. Not that we expected anything less. From there we entered Serbia and followed the Drina River until it was time to stop at a cosy little autocamp on the riverbank.
Hungary? Serbia? Bosnia and Herzegovina? Croatia? Why Not All of Them?
The next day’s target was supposed to be Eger, Hungary’s famous wine town. Then we changed our minds. Lake Balaton sounded better.
Our navigation decided that the best way there involved Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia. Neither country had been part of the day’s plan. Naturally, we crossed both.
By evening we were camping beside Lake Balaton, the largest lake in Central Europe and one of those classic holiday destinations with a slightly nostalgic charm. It wasn’t peak season yet, but there were enough people around to create a proper holiday atmosphere. It was the perfect final night.
The next morning there was only one thing left to do: Ride home.
Home Again
The final day was a long stretch through Hungary and Slovakia before the familiar roads finally brought us back to Kraków.
When we left Poland, we thought we were going to ride ACT Greece.
Then we thought we weren’t.
Then we thought we’d just spend our holiday somewhere by the Albanian seaside.
Then a bolt disappeared.
Then we reached Leskovik.
Then somehow ACT Greece happened after all.
Perhaps that’s why motorcycle travel never gets boring. Plans are useful. They give you a direction. But some of the best parts happen when the plan completely falls apart.
We came home with tired bodies, dirty motorcycles, worn-out equipment, another collection of stories and a rapidly growing list of things that need fixing or replacing before the next adventure.
But both bikes made it home. So did we.
And, once again… Not a single flat tyre.
We’ll call that a successful trip.
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