Recently, I led my Mountains of Montenegro photography tour, and this year turned out very different from what I’m used to. Early October is usually the sweet spot—autumn colours beginning to glow, shepherds still working the high pastures, decent weather, and plenty of life in the mountains. But not this time. A sudden early winter storm rolled across the Sinjajevina plateau, reshaping the landscape and our plans. Here’s a short story and a selection of photos from our two visits to this wild Montenegrin highland.
Sinjajevina Plateau
Sinjajevina — locally also called Sinjavina — most likely takes its name from the Slavic word “sinja,” meaning light sky blue. The name fits the character of this enormous high-mountain plateau in northern Montenegro, where the open karst pastures seem to dissolve into a vast, dominating sky. Wedged between the Tara and Morača rivers and stretching beneath Durmitor, it’s one of the largest traditional grazing areas in the Balkans: a raw, windswept landscape of rolling grasslands, sinkholes and scattered katuni. Harsh weather and immense horizons define Sinjajevina/Sinjavina, making its sky-coloured name feel entirely earned.
I first visited Sinjajevina in the Summer of 2021 with two of my photography friends. It was a very different experience back then – a hot summer, arid, rough pastures, and wildflowers. One thing was the same – the unpredictable weather that turned blue sky into a heavy storm within minutes!
When Autumn Turns to Winter Overnight
Sinjajevina was not on our itinerary this time. We were leaving Durmitor National Park behind, travelling toward Biogradska Gora. The usual road connecting the two parks had been closed due to a rockfall, which had completely destroyed part of the route. That forced us to detour south. As we drove, I remembered a small mountain road leading up to Sinjajevina and suggested we check the conditions up there. When we reached the top, we stepped straight into a mix of everything—strong wind, snow blizzard, rain, and occasional bursts of sunlight breaking through the clouds.
We photographed a small katun and a flock of sheep braving the harsh weather. The light was epic, constantly shifting, dramatic, unpredictable. Soon, the storm grew too intense to continue shooting, so we decided to push on toward our hotel.
But once we reached the main road, I felt that familiar tug in my gut. Something told me the story wasn’t finished. I slowed down, looked in the mirror, and said, “We have to go back to the mountain.” And so I turned the car around…
Shepherd Darko and his sheep
Upon our return to Sinjajevina, we drove the gravel road that traverses the plateau. It was a difficult drive because of low visibility, and there were numerous piles of windswept snow on the road. We continued, stopping at a few interesting scenes to photograph the rugged landscape and lone katuns (small shepherd pastures in the Montenegrin mountains).
Suddenly, a flock of sheep appeared in front of us, blocking the road. We stopped, grabbed our cameras and ran out to photograph them. I noticed a person in the distance with a dark jacket and a hoodie. We waited respectfully until the sheep were gone, then approached the man.
The shepherd’s name was Darko and he was collecting sheep to bring them to safety. He explained that this is the end of the season, winter has arrived, and there is nothing left for the sheep to feed on up here. He was also trying to get ahead of the heavier snow forecast for the week ahead.
Despite the harsh conditions and the strenuous work of herding in a storm, he invited us in for hot tea and some food. I declined, thinking he should stay with his sheep rather than entertain a couple of silly tourists—but I promised we’d return if the weather allowed.
We spent the remainder of the daylight driving and photographing along Sinjajevina, arriving at our hotel late in the evening.
Our return to Sinjajevina
We spent the following day at Biogradska Gora National Park. The mountain roads were covered with deep snow, and broken trees and branches were scattered throughout the area. The heavy, wet snow had taken a toll on the still-green forests. We decided to give Sinjajevina another try the next day.
We took the scenic road via Gornje Lipovo to return to the plateau. The road is truly spectacular but tough—rough gravel, potholes, sharp turns and fallen rocks. Still, a piece of cake for a Land Cruiser! When we arrived back at Sinjajevina, we first visited Darko at Konoba Vratilo. The humble restaurant was closed for visitors, but we were still greeted with coffee and rakija. We timed it well—the owners came to pick up their sheep with an old truck. The remaining flock belonged to Darko. He would travel with them on foot for three days to reach Danilovgrad, where he lives.
Over coffee and shared stories, they told us to visit a small mountain lake nearby. “You can drive there, the road should be clear—just don’t go any further, the road is snowed in!” Darko said.
We followed his advice and visited the lake. What a gorgeous sight! It reminded me of some Norwegian or Icelandic landscape, not Montenegro!
Despite the harsh weather and the unexpected challenges on the mountain roads, this trip to Montenegro turned into something truly special. We returned with powerful images, unforgettable encounters, and a renewed respect for the raw beauty of Sinjajevina. This plateau has a way of surprising you—sometimes with peaceful golden light, sometimes with a full-blown winter storm in the middle of autumn.
If you ever find yourself in Montenegro and want an experience far beyond the usual tourist trail, make time for Sinjajevina. Go slow, give yourself space to explore, and bring a sturdy, high-clearance car—the roads demand it.
And if you’d like to experience places like this with a small group of passionate photographers, I’d be happy to welcome you on my next Mountains of Montenegro photography workshop. Each year brings its own surprises, and that’s exactly what makes this region so rewarding.
