Krstac sits at 926 metres, and it is where the serpentine finally lets go of you. The last of the hairpins from Kotor swing out onto a shoulder of limestone, the bay disappears behind you, and what lies ahead is a different Montenegro: a high plateau of stone, thin pasture and beech, with Mount Lovćen rising on your right. The name Montenegro, black mountain, makes sense up here. The slopes look dark under the forest, and in cloud they look black indeed.
This is the junction where most riders choose. One way runs east into the village of Njeguši, ancestral home of the Petrović-Njegoš dynasty that ruled Montenegro for two centuries, and now better known for its smoked ham and cheese. Stalls and small restaurants sell both, with bread and a glass of the local rakija if you insist, and it is a very reasonable place to eat at midday. The other way climbs into Lovćen National Park toward the mausoleum of Petar II Petrović-Njegoš, the poet-prince who is the nearest thing Montenegro has to a national saint, on the summit at around 1,650 metres. That road is narrower and slower, but the view from the top is huge: on a clear day, sea, bay, lake and mountains in one frame.
The road from Krstac to Cetinje is a pleasant ribbon through karst fields, quicker than the climb, with long open corners and little traffic once the coaches have turned off. Weather up here is worth respecting. A hot, still morning in Kotor can be fifteen degrees cooler and cloud-wrapped at the pass, and fog on the plateau comes in quickly. Wind is common.
Kotor is five kilometres down, and Cetinje, the old royal capital with its embassies in wedding-cake villas, is about eight kilometres away on the other side and has everything. Water and a toilet are easier to find at Njeguši than at the pass itself, so stop there when you can. In winter snow can close or chain the upper sections, and a rider on the wrong tyres should check before committing.