I met some people from the hostel (loads of them actually), a couple of British guys who'd flown into Podgorica and then taken the bus to Kotor ("I think they were building the roads as we came in, the traffic was that bad") (on a related note, I'd heard similar horror stories about the highways in that part of the world, which was why I put paid to my original plan of nipping over to Albania) and then a really friendly Japanese guy who didn't speak much English but had a really pleasant personality. The Japanese guy had come up the normal way, as had the Brits (paying their way in and climbing the boring stairs), and they were all surprised when they saw me emerge from that obviously off-the-beaten-track hole in the wall, sweaty and dishevelled. Was that the backdoor route then, they said. Well, it certainly wasn't the frontdoor route, I answered. The Japanese guy ended up taking the backdoor route for his descent. I advised him that it wasn't too safe, although the view was marvellous, and watched him make his merry way down, feeling a little bit worried for his safety, but only a little bit.
(Spoiler: he did manage to make it back safely, and he's back home in Japan now, so there's that.)
I watched the mountain goats prancing their way through the rather dangerous broken precipices, and wished I was as sure-footed as they were.
The descent was extremely uneventful. I can't stress this enough. The path was safe - a little too safe; it was basically a steep stairway down. Nothing exciting at all. I encountered an elderly Montenegrin couple, who offered to take a picture for me, which I thought was very nice of them. I was a little worried about being stopped at the entrance and asked if I'd paid to go up, but nothing of the sort happened. I happily made my way into the old town, and that was that.
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