We shall say bad things come in threes and keep our fingers crossed.

After the dramatic start to the holiday two more things went wrong. Smoothly went the bus journey to Dubrovnik (though it should be mentioned that an enterprising bus company could run a service straight into Montenegro rather than travel 20 miles away from the border to go 40 miles back) and after a quick meal and plow into a novel the bus to Herceg Novi left.

Never having experienced anything other than a western European border crossing, the border from Croatia to Montenegro was certainly unforgettable. There's something about the Balkan build, characteristic and Slavonic language that gives off quite an intimidating pressence. So picture the burly 6ft border guard, unsmiling barking orders in Croat extending his left hand whilst toting a pistol in the other.

Not understanding what he had said, I did as everyone else had done and handed over my passport. The passports were then removed, much to the bemusement of myself, an English and Australian couple. We glanced at each other: the Aussies said "He can keep it, it doesn't get us anywhere!", the English did the terribly English thing of beginning to draft a letter of complaint and I kept my fingers crossed that lost boarding pass day was not going turn into lost passport day.

The driver, not the guard, returned with our passports and proceeded to drive off whilst passing the bundle of documents over his head!

Now I was in no mans land without my passport yet. What do you picture when you hear no man's land between the former war torn countries of Croatia and what was Serbia? Fallen tanks, barbed wire and shell holes?

You'd be wrong. It was duty free after duty free after duty free. Rocket propelled grenades and mortars had given way to cheap Vodka, Beer and Rakija (having tasted Rakija at 7am on a sail boat bound for the Kornati Archipelego the previous year, I'm not sure which was more explosive).

Just as I got my passports back, we came to the end of no man's land and had to hand the passports over to the Montenegron border patrol (much sunnier in disposition and just stamped our passports in our hand. This brought about the thought what - if the snp got their way - would a Scot's border guard be like? "Aww yiv escaped! Come awae in and weel look after ye!" anyway I digress).

The rest of the journey was very successful. I arrived without hitch, met the fantastic people at the Black Mountain Travel Agency. They phoned my hostel who said they would come to pick me up. The girl on the desk, who would save me later on in the evening, told me to wait at a blue box across the road and when a Passat pulled up get in.

Here the phrase don't get in a car with a stranger came to mind, but when in Montenegro and all that!

The car pulled up - a 15 year old passat estate - there was a driver and a girl in the front who didn't introduce themselves and a man in the back. The boot popped open by some design and I put my stuff in. The man in the back patted the seat and I got in. He introduced himself as Slobodan and the car drove on.

After 5 minutes the car pulled off the main road and onto a little single lane track that led over a little stream and through some woods.

So I'd gotten into a beaten up car with three Montenegrons, two unknown, one going by the name of Slobodan and they were now taking me into the woods on a dirt track. This was it then!

However despite every US film that includes Slobodans, mystery drivers and dirt tracks into woods, I was led not to a shallow grave but a cracking Hostel set back off the main road with it's own bar and waterfall! Slobodan showed me my bed and I was in Montenegro.

It was now about 6pm and all that was on my mind was food and bed after my 4am start. I strolled along a lively waterfront (they do call it the beach, but I call it concrete slabs jutting into the water, it's nice anyway) had some meat , trying to keep up with the high protein diet, a beer, not so much with the diet and walked back.

This was the second of the bad things to happen (1 being lost boarding pass). Could I find the track for the hostel again? No! I used all my mannav skills and I later found out if I had trusted them I would have been fine, but then doubled back to the safety of the bus station and Black Mountain Travel Agency. Got the directions again and again didn't trust my instincts and doubled back. The slightly amused woman offered to get me a cab, but like all good men when it comes to directions (especially tight Scottish men) I endeavoured to beat my lostness. Third time lucky, (what is it with 3s?) I made it and the 20 minute walk out had taken 1hr 30 going back.

So what was the third thing? As my iPod and phone were running out of battery I went to charge them and I'd left the adapter in the flat.

Luckily Slobodans' don't just carry silencers for weapons, they also have UK plug adapters.

Day 1 over, day 2 will be relaxing I hope!