I
reach out the window, handing my passport to the expressionless
uniform-clad man in the booth. He critiques my stamps before scanning
and stamping my passport. A similar thing happens in another hundred
metres, this time at the whims of a different police force. Typical
European bureaucracy. Seemingly minutes later the highway rounds a
bend marking the transition from valley to hillside. Suddenly the
vast Adriatic is stretched out far below, a blanket of consistently
dark shades of blue juxtaposed against the aridity of the surrounding
landscape. Its one of those things that causes a sudden sensory
reaction. I don't think about it when I'm at home but we're so used
to seeing the sea. I hadn't seen the sea in six weeks.
Olives
and figs dot the hills, growing in whatever purchase they can find in
the rocky, barren landscape. Few things grow successfully here. The
salt leeches the nutrients from the sparse soil and the heartless
wind, whipping at my hair right now, dictates vegetation height. The
road begins to follow the sea proper, benched into the yellow hills,
sitting at an average of perhaps fifty metres above the water. The
landscape is undulating, forcing the meandering road in and out of
numerous steep valleys. This means that distances on the map are
rarely as short as they seem. Croatia is a relatively small country
but traveling the length of it is a time consuming experience. Don't
take this with any kind of negative connotation. The landscape draws
out the length of your journey, but it's one of those road trips you
just don't want to end. This point caused us to spend three days
around a small town on the central coast, another three in Split and
a couple of stopovers between drives. Bad idea.
* * *
It
was getting late. “This place is too exposed! This place is too
close to houses!” This kind of exchange went on for at least an
hour until we found camping. In one valley we turned off onto an old
Roman road, now surfaced in asphalt, etched into a steep hillside.
Part way down it was blocked by a boom-gate which we raised. Of
course. In the tiny cove at the bottom we discovered an off-shore
fish farm and began to drive around, shining our lights in hollows
looking for camping. Suddenly a dog came bounding over, barking
ferociously. It came at the driver's side window, getting its paws
above sill level. We quickly whipped the car around, tearing back up
the steep hill. So that's what the boom gate's for!
On
our first night in Croatia the local weather gave us its best. I
doubt if the temperature dropped below twenty degrees overnight,
teaming up with consistently strong winds to make a concentrated
effort at impeding sleep. We camped outside a walled cemetery, not
the first or the last time I might add, playing around to find the
most sheltered spots. I weighed my tent down with blocks of unusually
dense local rock, resulting in a cut corner pole housing and a frayed
cable in the morning. Still, it was making the best of a difficult
situation. After packing up on little sleep we pushed south to
Paklenica, a climbing area we had heard rave anecdotes about in
Ljubljana.
The
park is a major attraction but for some reason finding the road
leading into the huge canyon is somewhat challenging. We missed it
twice on the first day, both times finding other areas of the park
with their own charm to capture our interest. The little frequented
northern part consists of numerous steep limestone peaks dropping
straight into the ocean. The scrambling was fun and the rock was
featured with ridges, pockets and striations like none I had ever
seen before. We climbed a peak of respectable height by south west
Tasmanian standards, catching the build up to yet another spectacular
Croatian sunset. Most nights the sun limits its intensity to a single
bright orange orb, slowly sinking into the ocean.
The
next day we played on a large freestanding boulder, climbing a
stunning arete on pinches. This was quite possibly a first ascent,
being in a tucked away area of the park, obsolete to the typical
traveler with the readily available mass-production climbing guide
book. This area made for great exploration with so many small peaks
worthy of ascents and multiple boulders with quality looking lines.
It was a pity not to have more time here but three days had already
passed and we only had just over a month available to explore the
whole Balkans peninsula.
Every
day without fail I visited a Pekara, or bakery, for the obligatory
Burek. The Balkans probably makes some of the tastiest pastries of
anywhere in the world at very tolerable prices. Burek is a sausage
shaped pastry baked in a squashed s shape, in Croatia coming in Meso
and Sir varieties, meat and cheese. The cheese is very much like
ricotta except sharper in flavour and grouped in clumps. A Burek sets
you back about two Australian dollars and is plenty for a light meal.
Balkans
bakeries to me are like an addiction. If I see one and have not
visited one already today then I will definitely go in. Best of all,
this is actually the best way to feed yourself on a budget. A local I
met in Split told me that Bosnia is next level because they
practically invented the Burek, citing the availability of spicy
potato, pumpkin and cheese and spinach varieties. This was cause for
excitement as this inland nation was our next planned destination.
On
our second night we camped by the water. I don't think you're
technically supposed to camp outside of designated areas in Croatia
but two other groups were camped here with us. It was obviously a
well know spot to climbers seeking free camping. We propped the
bouldering mats up on trees, forming couches and cooked dinner, the
water calm and relaxing. The light faded soon after the water began
to boil, a typical occurrence. Our body clocks have definitely
adjusted fine to late Mediterranean dinner times.
In
the morning we checked out Paklenica gorge before continuing the
drive south. The park has an entry fee but no one was on the gate or
visible in the information centre, making it de-facto free entry. No
raised voices followed us, confirming this conclusion. We parked
where the canyon narrowed to a pedestrian only zone, huge limestone
walls towering above on either side. The gorge would struggle to be
more than 50m wide for the first 200m or so, an impressive spectacle
when you notice just how high the walls are. The entrance to the
canyon is not far above sea level yet the canyon walls give way to
steep, rocky monoliths piercing the 1600m mark.
After
checking out the limited bouldering with another round of free
guides, photos taken of guidebooks as per usual, we continued down
the coast to Zadar. We cooked our evening meal by the ocean, frying
seasoned kebabs and following it up with carbonara. It was our best
self-cooked meal yet, solely because it was our first time buying
not-so-simple food. We cleaned up just as the sun dipped to that
point where it illuminates the ocean, playing in the slight
depressions between the subtle chop. 
Split,
Croatia's second biggest city, has great deep water soloing. For
those of you that don't know that means route climbing utilising deep
water rather than rope as a safety net. This and the historic centre
made it a natural next stop on the coast. We got in mid afternoon and
found a free park in a deserted area of the port, watching numerous
cruise ships deposit throngs of Americans and Brits on the wharfs.
The city's adjusted itself well to pulling in tourist dollars,
converting what was once an industrial port into a harbour capable of
holding as many luxury liners as possible.
The
historic centre is littered with lines of Corinthian columns,
sometimes supporting roofs and reaching up two or three stories,
decrepit reminders of the extent of the Roman Empire. We moved with
the sea of tourists, in one square coming across a local wedding. We
tried to get away from the water as fast as possible but the tourist
numbers simply didn't decrease. Split's historic core can only be
described as feeling like yet another western European tourist trap.
Then
we headed north. Things began to change. We popped down an alley,
emerging in a bustling street sporting numerous bakeries, a
supermarket and a couple of restaurants. American accents were no
existent and Shtokavian, the language formerly know as Serbo-
Croatian under former Yugoslavia, became much more prevalent.
That
night we camped in Sustipan, within the high walls of another
cemetery. Yes. Within this time. Today its merely an enclosed park
with a small mausoleum but thousands were supposedly buried here
during Roman times. Ignoring the previous, it was idyllic. The walled
park sits perched above 10- 20m high see cliffs on a prominent hill
overlooking Split harbour. A mere ten minute walk from the city and
you rarely meet any non-locals. Bliss. We stayed three days, camping
in various places, using one particular local cafe we liked for WiFi
and climbing on the cliffs.
It
isn't even late summer yet and the water reads in at a pleasant
twenty-two degrees. In the heat of the day its easy to spend hours in
the water, swimming straight off the rocks in deep water, a better
alternative to the often pebbly, uncomfortable sea floor you can find
at Croatian beaches. This place was exciting. I had done a bit of
deep water soloing at home but never on rock this steeply overhanging
and definitely never in a setting with temperatures this comfortable.
On two different days we were here when the sun went down. 
On
one night we met a local who spoke great English to the point that
his expression was extremely animated and included many semi-subtle
jokes out of understanding of the nuances of our language. The three
of us had a beer together and discussed everything from linguistics
to the limited bouldering in the Balkans, our new Croatian friend
laughingly saying that the latter is because everyone picked up all
the boulders in the whole area and dumped them in Macedonia.
The
following night we had beers with Nikola, another friendly and
hospitable local I met at the local deep water soloing spot. Getting
to know a few locals painted an interesting picture of local life.
Everyone is so curious about wages, welfare and the like in Australia
and are awed when they hear how damn good it is, stimulating a
reaction I can best describe as longing. Things work differently in
Croatia. Locals freely describe the culture as lazy, illustrating
this description with examples of work hours and the amount of effort
required to make money in certain jobs.
On
our last day Nikola showed us a bouldering spot friends had told him
about which happened to be located in a cemetery! We walked through
this elaborate cemetery called Lovrinac with crash pads and climbing
gear in hand, barely drawing the attention of mourners. The climbing
is pretty well hidden from sight of the graves, rimming a small knoll
that has been hollowed out to contain a war memorial. A guard
informed us on the way out that climbing has been banned since the
cemetery expanded but he showed no desire to do anything about it.
This seems so common in Croatia. Rules are subservient to
understanding; why disturb people who are doing no harm?
* * *
Eight
days after entering Croatia near the coastal city of Rijeka we found
ourselves in the southern town of Omiลก, spanning both sides
of the River Cetina's confluence with the sea. That first day when we
popped out on the coast that time period of a bit over a month seemed
indefinite. Not so. Now I can look back and see the time we spent not
doing too much, content, but again, not doing too much, could have
been better spent. There's so much I want to see in this fat,
oversized peninsula. But now I know better. I plotted it out the
other day. Over two thousand kilometres of road awaits.
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| Approaching the next border crossing |
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| I currently have coins in five currencies, all stored under the hand brake |
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