Europe’s most epic railway journey – with tickets from £20

“Why would you want to travel on that useless old thing?” The taxi driver chuckled as he dropped me off at Belgrade’s “central” train station. Prokop, as it is known colloquially, is actually a couple of miles south of the city centre, but as I was discovering, Serbia is full of strange anomalies.

Take the Montenegro Express, the “useless old thing” I was about to board. For rail enthusiasts like me, it is one of the world’s most epic train journeys, an engineering marvel that winds for 296 miles from the Serbian capital to the Montenegrin port of Bar, on the Adriatic. For locals such as my cabbie, the line is an outdated aberration.

As for the “express” moniker, it’s actually a 12-hour schlep, making the average speed a stately 25mph.

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Although I’d heard reports of long delays, breakdowns and last-minute cancellations, I found the train itself to be surprisingly modern, with spotless carriages, wide, comfortable seats and free Wi-Fi that actually worked. I’d imagined a creaking train with bottom-numbing wooden benches and the odd mangy goat perched on a lap. Admittedly there was a bit of a scrum to find a seat – and standing room only for an unlucky few – but first impressions were not suggestive of the Eastern Bloc.

We even departed as scheduled, at 9.30am on the dot. “I hope you’ve brought something to eat,” warned an old lady sitting next to me. “You won’t find anything on board.” Thankfully, I had come prepared with fresh gibanica (traditional cheese pastries) and a couple of bureks (tasty meat-filled pies). I had originally planned to take the sleeper service[1], but at 6’4″ I wasn’t sure I’d squeeze into the cosy couchettes; besides, I planned to spend most of my time looking out of the window, not trying to catch 40 winks.

Passengers have plenty of time to take in the landscape – the Montenegro Express travels at an average speed of 25mph Credit: Railway Infrastructure of Montenegro

As someone who has spent a good deal of time riding the rails, nothing compares to that tingly feeling you get as you set out on a new adventure, especially one that promises a multitude of marvels.

Over the next 12 hours I would be travelling through three countries and over three mountain ranges, via 254 tunnels and 435 bridges – and all for a paltry GBP20, less than I’d paid for my ticket from Paddington to Heathrow. Once we were through Belgrade’s smoggy, brutalist suburbs, the landscape opened out into rippling hills punctuated by teeming wildflower meadows and thick forests. For many miles there wasn’t a road or building in sight.

The train may be slow, but who needs speed with views like that? My fellow passengers were mostly grumpy looking locals who alighted at the various towns along the way; it was only the more intrepid travellers and business types heading to the ports and resorts of the Adriatic. A charming Serbian architect who sat opposite me explained how he would normally have taken the one-hour flight from Belgrade to Dubrovnik, a few hours by car from Bar, but owing to a bout of DVT (deep-vein thrombosis) had decided to stick to trains – “terrible for business but great for inspiration”.

And “inspired” is exactly how I would describe my mood as we chugged out of the city of Valjevo, where the gently rolling hills suddenly erupted into jagged mountains. Most striking as I gazed out of the window was the intensity of the greens against the clear blue sky – there was something almost tropical about the dense foliage. Having passed without incident into Bosnia and Herzegovina, we were then informed that we needed to change trains at the border with Montenegro.

Chaos ensued as lippy guards checked passports before herding us into the narrow corridors of a much scruffier graffiti-laden train containing tatty wood-lined compartments and faded red velvet banquettes. So here was the Soviet legacy[2]. I spent the next few hours wedged in on all sides by irascible locals, lanky backpackers and harried families heading for the coast; it all felt very Cold War era, but the pandemonium only added to a sense of messy anticipation.

And the views just kept getting better. Among the highlights was the majestic Mala Rijeka viaduct[3], until 2001 the world’s highest railway bridge at 200 metres. It’s here you truly appreciate what an ambitious venture this must have seemed when work began in 1969.

The Yugoslavian project became a symbol of President Tito’s might.

The approaches to the Mala Rijeka Viaduct, a monument to President Tito’s vision for Yugoslavia Credit: Alamy

Since then this ode to engineering acumen hasn’t exactly had an easy ride. Chronic under-funding in the 1990s left the railway in a state of dangerous disrepair. Then Nato’s bombing campaign deliberately targeted the Serbian section, causing extensive damage.

A major reconstruction project began in 2016, returning the line to its former glory; trains can now travel at a mighty 75mph along certain sections. Up next was a particularly precipitous section of line carved into the mountainside. At the remote town of Kolasin, 1,000 metres above sea level, the views were both awe-inspiring and vertigo-inducing – if you’re afraid of heights, stay away from the right-hand side of the train.

Kolasin is 1,000 metres above sea level Credit: Alamy

Safely back at sea level the train rattled across dreamy Lake Skadar[4] before hugging the Adriatic coast down to Bar.

As I emerged from the station the sun was just beginning to set over the sacred mountain of Rumija, casting a rosy glow over the popular seaside resort. It was a suitably dramatic end to an unforgettable journey though some of Europe’s loveliest scenery. Apparently a motorway is under construction which, when completed, will mean a much speedier journey from Belgrade to Bar.

A boon, perhaps, for frustrated locals who view the train as a tired relic of a troubled past. But if it means the end of the line for the venerable Montenegro Express, those of us who love travelling by rail will see it not as progress but as tragedy.

Getting there

Several airlines fly to Belgrade, with Wizz flights from Luton starting at GBP32. The Montenegro Express from Belgrade to Bar (or vice versa) costs around EUR24 (GBP20).

For the night train, add EUR6 for a couchette, EUR15 for a bed in a three-bed sleeper or EUR20 for a bed in a two-bed sleeper. A reserved seat on the daytime train costs EUR3. There is no online booking available so purchase your ticket in person at Belgrade’s central station.

Where to stay

Mama Shelter in Belgrade[5] (doubles from GBP76) has a stylish rooftop bar and funky rooms decked out in colourful retro furniture; the perfect place to begin your adventure.

If you decide to spend the night in Bar, the Princess hotel (from EUR59) has good-value rooms overlooking the beach. Those seeking a spot of luxury might take a bus or cab along the coast to Boka Bay, a stunning Unesco World Heritage Site where you’ll find Mamula[6], a former island prison now a top-end hotel (from EUR900). The airy rooms have wonderful views of the bay and the atmosphere is glamorous but relaxed.

Other nearby options include Nikki Beach (from EUR328), where beautiful people go to party and, at Lustica Bay, the elegant Chedi[7] (from EUR250).

References

1. ^ sleeper service (www.telegraph.co.uk)
2. ^ Soviet legacy (www.telegraph.co.uk)
3. ^ Mala Rijeka viaduct (www.telegraph.co.uk)
4. ^ Lake Skadar (www.telegraph.co.uk)
5. ^ Mama Shelter in Belgrade (www.telegraph.co.uk)
6. ^ Mamula (www.telegraph.co.uk)
7. ^ Chedi (www.telegraph.co.uk)