The clocks rolled back an hour and we were out the door by 7. The rode was pretty busy along the coast despite being a sunday. Lots of tour buses going from town to town, viewpoint to viewpoint. Chad became really nervous about his out of true wheel and decided to take a leap and reapair it himself. With a little bit of time the wheel became as close to straight as he could get it, while Jowita drew, deflecteing the curious eyes the tourists eyes that peered over her shoulder. Once we got past the tourist zones, the traffic eased and we had a nice ride. Summer had returned and we rode in shorts and short sleeves, and sweated to much relief.

We crossed the border into Montenegro. It seemed mostly the same as Croatia but quickly we began to take note of the amount of trash littering the beaches. It was pretty off-puitting to say the least. It was growing dark and the bay was full of homes and trash until we entered the World Heritage site of the Bay of Kotor where the traffic eased, the homes were more sparse and the perfect little private garden called us int to pitch our tent. The view was great and the sunken patio was a welcome kitchen for us.

Nice view from the climb out of Dubrovnik

Kiwis??? We have never seen how kiwis grow and here were thousands!

Chad tried to get his wheel trued in Dubrovnik. He carried the dirty wheel around the city in search of the tourist information and then in search of a phantom motrcycle repair shop. Apparently, no one rides a bike here and those who do never break down.

It rained a bit more but was much warmer. We explored the old city a bit, but were a little overwhelmed by the number of tourists pouring off the Carnival Cruise ship sitting like a floating city in the bay.

Steps of Dubrovnik

Old Town Dubrovnik

We screamed a lot this day. Not at each other of course, but at the wind and then some more at the rain. This was one of our hardest, most exhausting days yet. The morning views from our coastal campsite were really breathtaking. We knew the skies meant trouble for us ahead, but the drama of the clouds made it hard to blink. The colors on Pag, and especially with severe weather, are amazing but riding a fully loaded touring bike through the sand is a real bitch. Yes, we screamed at the sand too.

We drove hard into the coastal wind. We screamed; maybe felt like crying; stomachs always feeling hungry; and then it began raining and did not stop. Despite the strength of the wind, we moved pretty fast. We had been getting much earlier starts than we had been used to thanks to ever shortening days, our efficient German Friend, and the series of early ferries. Yesterday was no different. We woke and got on the road by 8 and rarely stopped. We even chose to forego a lunch break (who wants to stop once one is soaked to the bone and chilled from the wind?) We arrived to Zadar and went to the Information center to inquire about a place to sleep for the night. We were directed to a slum hostel that was too expensive. Combine this with a rainy forecast for the next couple days, and you get a trio of minds not keen on staying any longer than forced to in Zadar.

First plan, Train to Split, ride from Split to Debrovnic. (too long of a train ride for too short of distance but surely we could take our bicycles aboard the train)

Second plan, go to the bus station and try to convince a driver to let us pack our bikes on the underside us the bus to Split (risky but more frequent service and more likely to be able to bribe)

We chose the plan we didn’t make ahead of time (ride the bus all the way to Debrovnic.)

This decision would get us past the rain and give us minimum five days extra time to be spent elsewhere. Ultimately it was a good decision, however, the journeyman’s mind had to justify the appropriateness of the decision repeatedly along the way. It was, at times, really hard to sit on the bus for nearly 8 hours watching the same road we would have been riding for five days straight pass by so quickly. It felt as though we were robbing the heavens of time. Gobbling up kilometers in hours and minutes rather than days and nights. It tasted of betrayal. It made our kilometers feel somewhat insignificant. Today, we traveled one quarter of the toal distance of our trip to date, in one day.

We stared out the window of the bus, moving our eyes between the white line we would be riding and the coastal view we would be experiencing. Then we watched as the bus hits the collected water on the edge of the rode and the 3 meter high wave projected in its wake. We watched the traffic along the coastal road. We watched each curve and each and every time the bus dropped to sea level and raised back up into the mountain edge. Our eyes would return to the white line and picture us there as the bus passed, and we knew we made the right decision.

Today, we bought a week for 200 Kuna (less than 30 euro) each and we discovered that the computer is not broken!

Our disassembled campsite on Pag Island

Morning on Pag Island

Bike packed into the underside of a bus

175 Kuna per person buys five days time in Croatia and keeps one dry, out of the spray of the passing bus wheels

This was the day of three islands, a mainland, and a ton of climbing. Ferry from Krk to Rab; Ferry from Rab to Mainland; Ferry from Mainland to Pag. Each time you went to a ferry you went 300-400 m down to sea level and each time you got off a ferry you went 300-400m up into the hills. Island Rab was pretty overbuilt without much planning, and was rather unattractive and off-putting, overcast skies to no aid. The mainland was intense, with high peaks to the east and dramtic coastal cliffs to the west. Pag was out of this world beautiful. The photos speak for themselves.

Sinking vessel on Island Rab

Chad cold on the ferry from Island Rab to mainland Croatia

Port town of Jablanac, mainland Croatia

a courageous family of five cycling towards Pag ferry on Croatian Coast

This place really felt like riding through a desert, but chilly

Our road from the ferry on Pag Island

Riding through the rocks of Pag island

Endless grids of stone walls

Jowita on island Pag

It was a very cold night here. When we woke the thermometer read 3c and there was ice crystals on the tent poles. We had to be on the road very early to get to the ferry to island krk on time. We had planned to go to Island Losinj but opted out for fear of being stuck there all week until we could get a ferry to Zadar. So we retraced our steps a bit to the ferry to Krk about 25km from our campsite. It was a very beautiful morning ride. We got to Krk and found out that the next possible ferry to Island Rab wasn’t for ten hours and would put us there in the dark. We were gung ho for it until we found our own empty beach with a perfect campsite. We bought beer, pondered over our maps, and swam in the sea.

One of the many sheep ampitheaters on Island Cres

Decent to the ferry on Island Cres

Taking a load off on an empty beach on Island Krk

We woke early to catch the ferry to Island Cres. We were instantly charmed by this island as we began the slow rise into high ridge line that runs down it. Hand stacked rock walls made their mysterious prescence widely known to us as we worked our way up the hill. They existed everywhere; in the most absurd locations, where building them must have been a lifetimes worth of labor and appeared as though with a single gust would tumble to the ground.

We found a hole in one of the walls and wandered in to find a really nice secluded campsite. We stole some rocks from the walls and built a tall fire pit to keep our fire from wandering into the dry grasses.

Wersja Poska 10.20.09

Wyspy Chorwacji uslane sa drzewami oliwnymi (ktore sa wlasnie w sezonie i sama sie przekonalam, ze prosto z drzewa sa wstretnie gorzkie!!). Male poletka pokryte trawa lub onisto pomaranczowo gleba pocwiartkowane sa plotkami z kamieni. Wydaje sie, ze ktos uklada je porzadkujac wszystkie kamienie na wyspie, a jest ich sporo! Panuje niesamowity lad. Czasami niewiadomo co te ploty oddzielaja szczegolnie gdy polozone sa na niesamowicie stromych zboczach oddzielajac jedna bezuzyteczna czesc gory od drugiej. Towarzyszy nam wiatr, a przydrozne owce czasami witaja nas beczeniem.

Tea Time by sheep ampitheater

City of Cres

Ripe Fig from the tree

The roads from Mareda were pretty busy and and the surroundings were swallowed in the signs of the tourist economy now going into hibernation. We tried to buy some meat from the roadside pig roasts without asking the price first and the man tried to charge us something like 30 euros at the register. Naturally we balked and continued down the road, sure to find another one at a reasonable rate. The fresh roastted pork was a hungry vegabonds dream and we stuff ourselves only to have to ride into a hard climb, belching the whole way up. For most of the day we were trying to out run the dark clouds behind us but eventually got caught right as we needed to pitch our tents. It rained hard enough to soak our shoes through but not for long enough to keep us inside our tents. Yet again, we found a great seafront site.

The next morning, just as we were about to head out, Chad made a painful discovery. The prior evening he carelessly moved his bike from one tree to the other so that it could be closer to the tent. He forgot to check to make sure all of his bungee cords were properly stowed and this morning when he saw a small bungee that was missing a hook, he instantly feared the worst. And so it was. Broken spoke by the sea. This is exactly why we both left for this journey with extra spokes, but we never figured it would be human error but rather a cause of nature, the nature of constant riding a bike day in day out for months.

Chad kept calm for the most part and got busy repairing the wheel, and did a decent job for being his first. We headed to Pula, the next big town to find a bike shop to true the wheel only to discover that it was sunday. Nothing is open on sunday, so we took our chances and headed dead on into the wind up the Istrian coast to get us to a campsite near the Brestova Ferry to Island Cres.

Campsite near Fazana, croatia

Striping off the tire to replace broken spoke

Roman Ampitheater in pula, croatia

It took some time and some patience to find the right place to camp for the first time on the coast. Of course, we had to be right next to sea. We wanted to be able to jump in from our tents, but in such a populated area this proved quite difficult. None the less, we found a really good spot in an olive grove, on top of a cliff overlooking the sea, Izola and Koper in the distance. Waking to this was wonderful.

Campsite in an olive grove on cliff above the sea in Isola, Slovenia

View of Koper from near our Campsite in Isola, Slovenia

We rode through the old city of Piran, went sightseeing for a few, and stopped for an espresso, which for three table spoons of coffee lasted for over an hour. Ugh. Service in tourist destinations is, almost always, predictably poor.

Piran, Slovenia

Jowita rolling acroos the cobbles in Old town Piran

The best children's tri-cycle we have seen....make them work for you!

Main Square in Piran, Slovenia

We crossed the border into Croatia, the first time we have had to show someone our passport at a border since beginning our journey.

Lunch break along the coast in Umag, Croatia

At lunch, we began to discuss our ideal seaside campsite. Obviouslly, it had to be by the sea, close enough to go for a swim. It needed to have plenty of dry wood to make a fire. It needed a good sunset and we needed a bottle of Croatian wine.

One of our best Camps

Sunset Camp near Mareda

Tobias prepares the fire at sunset near Mareda, Croatia

Going for a morning swim out our front door near Mareda, croatia

Yeah, we pretty much nailed it!