Croatia - September 2002

Following the trip to Croatia in Easter 2001, we decided to have another go. Memories of the cold winds, more like Scottish conditions, made us think of going later in the year.

Work holidays and other commitments meant that the original group of ten couldn't get dates to coincide, so it was down to two car loads going at different times. Even this fell apart, as 'the others' had difficulty getting the right numbers to commit to the trip, and decided for the easier (in transport terms) option of going to Sweden.

So, now down to four, we decided to mix in some touring/sightseeing into the trip.

The initial plan was: ferry Hull to Rotterdam, drive to Split, ferry out to Hvar, paddle around the islands off the west end of Hvar, ferry to Dubrovnik, drive to Rotterdam, ferry back to Hull.

Friday evening at six thirty, we were into the first pint of the holiday, comfortably ensconced in the Irish Bar on the Pride of Rotterdam. Half past eight next morning we were through customs and on our way. Helped by Dave and Kay's Harry Potter tapes, we stopped for Saturday night in Bavaria. You get some strange looks with sea kayaks on the car when you're that far from the sea! Sunday night Senj, about 30 miles from Split, on the Adriatic Coast. By this time, we had noticed a strange climatic phenomenon - it was HOT.

Saturday and Sunday were spent in Split, exploring the old city and its roman remains, sorting out ferries for the next legs of the journey, and generally chilling out. Well, not exactly chilling as the temperature was well into the 30's for most of the daylight hours. A two hour ferry ride took us out to Starigrad on Hvar, where, after stocking up on fresh food and plenty of water, we set out paddling.

It was strange paddling into a force 3 wind which was hot, and being splashed by warm water, but these are the things you have to put up with when you decide to take up these pastimes. Occasionally, small shoals of sardine like fish would leap from the water, presumably trying to avoid being eaten by something bigger. We started looking for a campsite. Hmmm, all the shores seemed to be rocky right down to water level, this could be a problem. Eventually, we found a small beach. The only occupant was a partially clothed young lady enjoying the sun. Someone had to volunteer to go and ask her if there would be a problem for us to camp. Again, this is one of those unpleasant jobs that are best got out of the way quickly, so I just gritted my teeth and got on with it. Pausing only to put on her bikini top, she assured me that it would be OK. Now, 'camp' is a bit of an overstatement. The beach wasn't actually big enough to get a pair of small tents on above high tide line, so we resorted to bivvying. Next day, we crossed over to SV Klement, the main island in the group, which appeared to have a church, two holiday cottages, three or four houses and two bars. Clearly on the stop off itinerary for some of the many yachts, is seems to rely on passing trade to keep the drinks trade going, as there was a considerable pile of crates of empty bottles on the quayside waiting for transport back to the mainland. We had a quick look around the island during a brief shower, then set off on the hunt for a camp site for the night. It was quite late by the time we managed to find somewhere to stop, and it had looked as though there could have been the possibility of it getting dark before we found anywhere. This site lacked the space or beach of the last stop. We lifted the boats out onto scrub covered rocks, and rolled out the bivvy bags on rock ledges next to them.

The site was memorable for reasons apart from its difficult access. Wendy and Kath had a 'How much can I swell up from one insect bite' competition. Nick tried to frighten the fishes, and us, with his skinny dipping. Little particles of phosphorescence danced in the sea, and the stars were stunning, and there were flashes in the sky from a distant thunder or electrical storm.

Somewhat disappointingly, all the islands were showing the same form of rocks right down to the water. Most were covered in scrub, but occasional small stands of conifers gave some shade, and were alive with what can only be described as 'small, but loud chirping critters' - they could be heard from quite a long way away, but not seen even when standing under the trees. Places to stop were very few and far between, and there was no water to be found on any. It was blisteringly hot, from a clear sky, and sunburn, heat-stroke and dehydration were a worry.

Thunder clouds were building to the south, and all the next day there were rumbles from distant storms. Finding somewhere to stop was now taking on a high priority, as options seemed to be getting less. After some backtracking we managed to find a small cove with a minute sandy beach. There was nowhere big enough to set out the bivvy bags, so we managed to cram the two tents on stones at the back of the beach. Guy ropes were tied to rocks as pegs wouldn't hold securely in the shingle, and the boats were pulled up in front of the tents and tied off to rocks. We ate whilst watching an amazing electrical storm out to sea, as it turned dark. The storm turned from an electrical one to a full blown thunderstorm as it came towards land. From about nine thirty until sometime after midnight, we lay huddled in our tents as it rained stair-rods and blew a gale whilst lightning earthed onto our little island. The lightning lit up the inside of the tents like bright sunlight, whilst there was simultaneous thunder. A little comment from Wendy 'We aren't in a stream bed are we?' prompted me to venture my head out to check conditions. Helpfully, lightning was supplied to avoid me needing to look for my torch. No signs of a watercourse, so back to wondering how rough the sea would get in the wind, and can you swim in a tent. Waking from a doze between thunderclaps, a warm, wet patch in my sleeping bag, around my nether regions made me initially think old age and incontinence had crept up on me unnoticed. I was really happy to discover that it was the tent leaking, and not me.

We were a bit late up the next morning, but the sky was clear and blue, with little wind. The sea had a bit of residual swell, but it was quite OK to paddle. We had a couple of options at this point, and we decided to head back to the main island, instead of extending the trip further.

Dodging hydrofoil ferries and pleasure yachts, we paddled into Hvar town and spent a while looking at the floating gin palaces in the harbour before pulling our own boats out and finding somewhere to eat. Just to add a final touch, a sudden storm left us (and many others) standing sodden and ankle deep in the piazza in Hvar town.

Moving into the sightseeing, eating and drinking phase of the trip, a seven hour cruise to Dubrovnik in weather restored to blistering sunshine, a couple of days there, then a relatively leisurely drive towards Zagreb, before heading back into Slovenia and the autobahns of Austria and Germany, leading us, and Harry Potter, back to Rotterdam.

Well, that seems to be Croatia well and truly 'done'. Would I go back? Perhaps not for sea paddling, but for a country that's got rivers, limestone mountains and lush forests, and people who are friendly and helpful, it's got an awful lot to offer for climbers, cavers and mountains bikers.

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	Swaledale Outdoor Club

Croatia - September 2002

Pete Bridgstock