May 17th, 2022
We both suffered a night of very little sleep. The bed was comfortable, but it sounded like the people upstairs were practicing their furniture removal skills from about 2 am until the sun was peeking through our window. Add to that the distant sound of dogs barking and a metallic clicking noise coming from the building next door, and we would have likely had a better night’s sleep if we camped under a motorway flyover.
The property had a shared fridge, so we had bought yoghurt and milk last night to support us to have breakfast before setting off, rather than at the side of the road next to the first supermarket of the day. The lack of sleep didn’t help with the speed of our morning routine, but by 7:30 am we were fed, and the bike was packed.
There was one objective for today, which was to make it to the coast outside of Split, find a campsite and sit on the beach… okay, three objectives.
The day was the regular pattern of big steep ups, big frightening downs and blistering heat from about 10 am. The scenery remained spectacular to take our minds off the uncomfortable temperature, but it was the reward of the Adriatic Sea that kept us going.
The entrance to the city of Split for us was a tunnel. We don’t like tunnels at the best of times, but as we entered it, surrounded by cars, the road surface immediately changed from reasonable tarmac to damp, loose, slippery cobbles, which at 30 km/h left me struggling to stay upright while cars and lorries pushed by less than a metre from us. It wasn’t long, maybe 100m, but it was 100m of sheer terror, so when we reentered the sunlight, and the road surface reverted back to its usual self, we both took a deep breath, realizing we had been holding it for the past 30 seconds.
Immediately after the tunnel, a supermarket appeared on the right side of the road, so we pulled over for an ice lolly break. Ice lollies in hand, we headed over to the other side of the road where there was a conveniently located bench seat and a view of the city and turquoise sea below. While we enjoyed the scenery and a family pack of ice cream cones (three each), Deborah received a call from Roger, one of our sailing students back in Scotland. Deborah has had a few such calls since we have been on the road, chatting as if we are in the classroom in Kip Marina, not thinking to mention that we are currently cycling around the world. Me, as Deborah’s glamourous assistant, was then left to complete the necessary admin to sort things out.
The route down into Split was steep, testing the brakes to the limit and forcing us to pull over a couple of times when something didn’t quite feel right with them, allowing them to cool down. Once at the bottom of the hill, the route through the eastern outskirts of Split was stressful. The honks of encouragement we had received since leaving Kinross seven weeks ago were replaced, for the first time, with aggression for no apparent reason. We were cycling on roads that we had every right to be on, and were keeping as far over to the side of the road as we could, yet the aggressive blasts of the horns continued. Not that I’m a violent chap, but I would have loved for one of our aggressors to have pulled over and confronted us face to face, although Deborah was a little less keen on that scenario playing out.
We eventually made it to the campsite we had planned for a couple of weeks. I had messaged the campsite but received no response, putting it down to poor process or start of the season chaos. It was therefore a little concerning when we freewheeled off the main road and down into the campsite to find it completely deserted. I say campsite, but a small messy garden would have been more appropriate.
We knocked and looked around, but clearly there was nobody there. We were aware of another possibility a 100m further along the road, but it was only a possibility as it was advertised for motor homes. Rather than hauling the bike and Deborah along the road, I headed off using my feet to see if the site existed, and if it did, could they take a tent.
It wasn’t easy to find, but I eventually stumbled across Autocamp and the old lady that seemed to be the boss. Without any common language between us, she confirmed that we could stay at the site and could pitch up anywhere we liked. I headed back over to where I had left Deborah, by which time the owner of the messy garden had arrived, only to confirm the site was closed, possibly permanently.
We completed the additional unplanned 350m in no time, put the tent up under a canopy of vines even faster and then headed to the shop to buy drinks, snacks, washing powder and something to cook for our evening meal. By the time we made it back to the campsite, it was around 4 pm, so we put a load of washing on a 15-minute cycle and headed down the beach next to the campsite.
12 minutes later, Deborah headed back to the washing machine, while I attempted to get comfortable on the oversized cat litter beach. By the time Deborah returned with a bundle of wet clothes, I had just about managed to make myself comfortable, but was then ordered by the boss to lay my half of the wet washing on the aforementioned cat litter in an attempt to dry it before it was needed again tomorrow.
We stayed on the beach for a couple of hours, but with tummies rumbling, it was time to consume a few calories. I wouldn’t say the meal was enjoyable, because it wasn’t, but it was the right sort of calories, so enough food to end the day on.
It’s not a big site, full with a Dutch couple touring their campervan around Europe for three months and a group of three guys from Denmark with off-road vehicles. One of the guys loaned us his gas stove earlier when Deborah was struggling to light our MSR WhisperLite petrol stove, struggling only because we are starting to run short on petrol so the angle of the fuel bottle needs to be just right.
We are back at the tent now after another excursion to the supermarket for some bedtime snacks. I’m finishing the blog while Deborah is sorting out the inside of the tent. At 9 pm, I am sitting in complete darkness outside of the tent, with only the light from the Samsung tablet I am using, and the background hum of a boat’s engine somewhere out on the water below me.
We haven’t established a plan for tomorrow yet, but we will be heading south in the general direction of Athens, so that will have to do until the morning because I’m tired.