It rained the entire day we were on the island of Korcula, and the rain continued the next day as we ferried to Dubrovnik. Korcula was another nice island town, but we got impatient with the rain and our inability to explore by bike. The city of Dubrovnik received a lot of the bombing during Croatia’s succession from Yugoslavia, but it was rebuilt completely since peace was struck in 1995. Now it’s one big pile of tourism built on a 1000-year old foundation. We again got impatient off the bikes while we spent two days waiting for our ferry to Bari, Italy and then Ignoumenitsa, Greece, and we got so desperate for something to do out of the rain after exhausting the museums that we sat through The Da Vinci Code. At least it kept us dry.

We flirted briefly with the idea of continuing on to Montenegro (newly independent fom Serbia as of 10 days ago) but the logistics didn’t work out. We later talked to one cyclist who did the overland route through Albania and Montenegro and described the roads as horrible. He showed us one photo of a 19km stretch that took 10 hours with potholes that would swallow a bike.

So we leave Croatia getting only small glimpses of the true country behind the thick tourism facade. Perhaps it was the seaside route we chose, but everything seemed prepared for the tourist rather than the tourist having aaccess to the culture and place they were visiting. But perhaps that’s says more about the toursts who come in droves. But it was indeed beautiful and offered great cycling and a good start to our trip.

South of Zadar, we found ourselves using our middle chainrings as the ground flattened out. We rode through small villages where small village activities were going on — wood being chopped, sheep being shepparded — that sort of thing. These were not charming or picturesque villages so no tour buses were present which was what I appreciated most.

We camped at another German campground. Pretty much everywhere we’ve been in Croatia has been dominated by Germans, smoking and speaking German. Most people think I’m German, too, from the stewardesses on Luftansa who kept calling me Herr Steffens to waiters in restaurants that greet me in German. Unfortunately the only German I know is tanze samba mit mir which doesn’t get me very far.

Zadar to Split was very good cycling where we increased our speed and had great coastal views. We met a Swedish woman who was cycling the other direction who has family that lives in our Swedish neighborhood in Seattle. We’ve seen a lot of other bike tourists but haven’t talked to many.

We passed through the medieval towns of Trogir and Sibenik and eventually got to Split and decided to head to the southern Dalmatian islands of Hvar and Korcula, this time equipped with better ferry information.

Hvar was fantastic. We found a room in Stari Grad to stash our things then headed out to explore the island on lighter bikes, so we didn’t mind the 10% grade up to 450m on the deserted “old road” to Hvar town. Hvar is becoming more of a resort town, but the high season hadn’t started yet as things were still being cleaned and painted. Back at our room we made dinner with some excellent Croatian wine and a slice of cheese bigger than a dinner plate, taking a needed break from the squid and pizza. We also found time to look at our larger leg muscles (which you can see if the lighting is at just the right angle).

Now on the boat to Korcula, home of Marco Polo (“Mark Chicken” doesn’t sound nearly as adventurous).

A few hundred kilometers inside Croatia we find ourselves in Zadar. Getting in and out of Rijeka was a bit stressful, with a lot of heavy traffic on the coastal roads. It was all white-line riding and looking into the rear-view mirror to see what was coming next. If two trucks met, it was best to find a place to bail rather than have the drivers decide what to do. To their credit, the drivers have been extremely courteous overall, perhaps more than at home. Lots of friendly waves and honks help ease the nerves, too.

After Rijeka was the Island of Krk, which offered a much better campground and our first dip in the Adriatic. The Bora winds come down from the huge coastal mountain range and leave Krk without trees (or vowels).

We changed course and decided to head to the Island of Cres next, which looks more appealing than Rab and Pag Islands, our intended route. Immediately off the ferry on Cres Island we’re met with a 9-10% grade for 6km, topping out at 350m. Then back down to sea level, and back up to 340m before finding a campground down by the water in Osor. When you ride next to a cell phone tower, you know you’re at the highest point around, and I think we rode by all the cell phone towers in Cres.

At the campground we heard conflicting information about the ferries south, but it turned out that the ferry to Zadar only ran on Thursdays. Unless we wanted to stay four days, we’d have to backtrack to Krk and go another route. Back over the two huge climbs the other way made for a day of 4100’ of climbing in 71km. Our mantra during all of this, “at least it’s beautiful.”

Back in Krk, we learned that the ferry to Rab wasn’t running this time of year striking down that plan, too. The ferry system was very frustrating and lacks clear information. As our waiter put it, “Why would I, as someone who lives on the Island of Krk want to go to the Island of Rab?” Evidently the ferries were mainly for the tourists and would start in June.

Rather than more backtracking by bike, we decided to bus our way to Zadar to get back on track and have a rest day after all that climbing.

We feel good, are getting tan, and have been eating well, including some form of squid the last 5 of 6 days for me. As for Cašcaiš, she’s enjoying all the stinky fish delicassies that she seems to like.

Tomorrow, further south, and no ferries to mess with.

Trieste - Obrov - Opatija
77km
5:16 ride time
14.5 avg speed
3250’ of ascent

Our first day came with much intimidation for European driving, although that proved to be unwarranted — the drivers were generally courteous and gave plenty of space… no worse than at home. However, we seriously underestimated the roads getting out of Trieste. The small neighborhood road kept getting steeper — much steeper than exits anywhere in Seattle. We found ourselves pushing our bikes, barely, up to a highway on the ridge above town. Today was not going to be a warm-up.

>From there we continued going up. It was a harsh reminder that border crossings in Europe involve high mountain passes — none of this “49th parallel” business like we have in the New World.

After crossing into Slovenia, we climbed some more, to 2200’. This section of the country is a 30km ridge before dropping down into Croatia. Slovenia happened to be the first country I’ve visited where I shamefully don’t know how to say “hi”. (And now Croatia would be the second.)

We rode downhill most of the way to Opatija, a small riviera-type place that’s kind of a playground for German tourists. The campground is no more than a weed patch, but offers hot showers. There’s a great walkway along the water for several kilometers, where we can see tomorrow’s route along the bay and onto the island of Krk.