Hiking to Kotor Fortress in Montenegro.

Hiking to Kotor Fortress in Montenegro.

September 2021.

After a couple of days fine-combing the characterful streets of Kotor Old Town, it was finally time for Sladja and I to put on our hiking boots. It had been lovely sauntering Kotor’s maze-like lanes and alleys, but now we were looking forward to the challenge of a steep hike and the thrill of leaving the crowds behind.

Our goal was to reach the summit of Kotor Fortress, which stretches dramatically across the cliffs above the town. But first, we had to find our way onto the path that leads up to the ancient city walls. While there are several access points, we chose the main pedestrian entrance — a charming archway at the northeastern edge of the Old Town, just off Ulica 1 (Street 1)

The ascending cobbled path winds dreamily uphill, brimming with residential charm. Flaky wooden doors and ornate brass window grilles line the way, while short flights of stone steps climb to tucked-away apartments. Overhead, flower-filled balconies and laundry-laden clotheslines leaned out above us.

Naturally, there were a number of sleeping kitties to admire as we climbed.

Elsewhere, a lone dog lounged outside his home on a cool stone doorstep, perfectly unfazed by all the cats. And indeed travellers like us making our way up to the fortress. How many tourists had he seen come and go over the years, we wondered? And how many had paused to admire him and his serene little kingdom?

Hiking to Kotor Fortress.

Before long we were up on a path that runs alongside the city walls.

According to historians, these walls (and indeed the fortress we were heading for) date back to the 3rd century when Kotor’s original inhabitants, the Illyrians, laid out the first defensive structures to oversee and guard the bay.

Later, in the 6th century, the Roman Emperor Justinian I reinforced and rebuilt the fortifications following severe Slavic attacks. The results were so successful that Kotor (known then as Dekatera) became a major military outpost of the Byzantine Empire.

Medieval expansion came next, between the 9th and 12th centuries. Particularly under the guardianship of the Grand Principality of Serbia, who strengthened the fortifications in response to military threats from the Slavs, Saracens and Normans.

As we ascended that afternoon, the views slowly unfolded, growing more and more breathtaking with each passing minute. At first, it was all terracotta rooftops and narrow winding streets spread out below like a living mosaic.

A Terracotta Skyline.

But soon, the panorama expands—revealing the glittering expanse of Kotor Bay, a jewel nestled between towering limestone cliffs. The deep blue waters meanwhile sat perfectly calm, the tiny boats that dotted the surface looking like delicate brushstrokes in a painting.

Considering it’s free to hike this part of the fortifications, we had expected to encounter plenty of other people. But the trail was agreeably subdued, allowing us to drink it all in, revel in the solitude and take photo after photo.

In order to access the upper trails of the fortifications, one has to buy a ticket. So we grabbed two (15 Euros in total), passed through the turnstiles and set off in earnest for the ruins of Kotor Fortress.

From the ticket office, the trail becomes agonisingly steep right away. But no worries — we’ll handle the walking; all you need to do is tap back into the history.

After the Serbs, it was of course the Venetians who took over. As regular readers will know by now, their influence on the region was immense, thanks to a swaggering rule that lasted nearly 400 years (1420–1797). As a result, much of what we see today is largely their creation.

Hiking to Kotor Fortress.

I’m not gonna lie, getting up to the fortress is a knackering affair; not for the faint-hearted. Thus we were grateful when, around halfway up, we got to rest our weary limbs at the 16th century Church of Our Lady of Remedy.

Constructed in 1518 (by this time Kotor was called Cattaro), this limestone church sprang up in response to the outbreak of a devastating plague.

With tens of thousands of people across the region lost to sickness, locals dubbed the new church Our Lady of Remedy in the hope that it would act as a divine protector during such desperate times.

Inside, we found the church surprisingly small and bare. Nevertheless, it is not without its charm and remains a fine example of early Adriatic Gothic and Renaissance design.

Over the centuries, Remedy has grown in importance, to the point where it is now one of Montenegro’s most venerated  churches. With its history and special location, thousands of pilgrims hike up St. John Mountain each year to pray within its modest walls.

Church of Our Lady of Remedy.

Before continuing up to the fortress ruins, we paused in the courtyard outside the church to soak in the view. Make no mistake—this was the finest panorama yet, so we lingered, taking in the bay from every angle.

After another fifteen minutes tackling the mountain’s relentless stone steps, we finally reached the first ruins of Kotor Fortress. Perhaps this is a good moment to explain that, in actual fact, this is a fortress of many names. While researching our visit, we found numerous articles referring to it as San Giovanni Fortress, its official name in the Venetian era.

Moreover, there is plenty of local literature calling it St. John’s Fortress, which is simply the English translation of San Giovanni. In Montenegro all three names are perfectly acceptable and have long confused visitors who come to hike to the ruins.

The final twenty-minute push to the summit is where one’s grit truly kicks in, the stone pathway often dissolving into little more than a jagged, crumbling mess. In fact, the entire affair felt more hazardous than heritage as we negotiated loose, rusting railings, broken steps, jutting rock and clanky metal bridges connecting watchtowers.

Hiking to Kotor Fortress.

If there was one spot in Kotor where I didn’t expect to find cats, it was here. And yet, much to our disappointment and disillusionment, we came across several tucked away in quiet hidden corners of the ruins. What the heck were they doing up here? Did they really get enough food from passing hikers? Although seemingly comfortable, the poor things definitely looked rougher around the edges than the spoilt kitties we’d seen in the old town.

The lack of care taken to ensure the safety of hikers was discouraging, our uncertainty growing with each precarious step. A stretch of particularly crumbly path made us question what on earth we were doing. But then we stopped to catch our breath, turned around, and saw the view below. The Bay of Kotor stretched out  —absolutely stunning, and suddenly, every risky step felt worth it.

It felt good to finally stagger up to the summit. Positioned 260 metres above sea level, this wide viewpoint marks the culmination of Kotor’s layered, age-old military defences.

There’s virtually nothing up there to celebrate the history — or to acknowledge those who brave the neglected paths. Nothing, that is, except a lone Montenegrin flag fluttering gently in the breeze.

Hiking to Kotor Fortress.

Still, there was plenty of reward in the absolute silence of the spot. In the opportunity to take a rest and think of how, hundreds of years ago, one could stand here and witness a fierce Ottoman offensive unfolding down in the bloody streets of the old town.

Eventually, we had to accept that it was time to hike back down. Ah, nuts. As we stepped off the viewing platform and rejoined the rock-strewn path, I suddenly noticed an old man sitting quietly in the shade of a gnarled tree — someone we’d somehow missed on the way up. .

Beside him sat a small cooler with a handwritten sign: Cold Water, Coca-Cola, Beer. I laughed at the thought of tackling the treacherous descent with beer sloshing around in my gut. We bought a water, exchanged a few friendly waves, and began our slow retreat down the mountainside. The sun beating down on our backs… the bay gleaming far below… the fortress walls at our heels.

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