Our entrance to Croatia might have gotten us off on the wrong foot. Through no fault of the country’s own, the day we crossed the border happened to be the most significant rain we had yet to experience and also some of the gnarliest “gravel” I’ve ever seen. The “trail” was a proper rock garden. Descending a rock garden wet and with a fully loaded rigid bike eventually feels like the mental equivalent of five no bathroom back-to-back zoom meetings.
So when we rolled into Opatija, which very quickly began to feel like Croatian Florida – resorts that had seen their hey day 30yrs ago, kitschy faded tourist signs, practically no one under 40- we were feeling a bit out of sorts.
Luckily, the next day we took the first of our three Croatian ferries to the islands. First up: Cres. This began the sharp dichotomy between mainland and island Croatia. On the islands the roads were amazing and the campsites affordable and with the most incredible amenities you’ve ever seen. We’re talking massive bathrooms kept sparkling clean, laundry rooms, grocery stores, cafes- you name it they had it. And all of these campsites were filled to the brim with German tourists.
On the mainland the roads were a bit more frightening, folks were less welcoming, and campsite prices just as high as amenity-heaven islands. Back on the mainland we were also facing a new challenge we hadn’t expected: the Bora winds. These are very strong winds from the northeast that blow from the mountains and down to the sea in the Adriatic region, mostly affected Croatia, Slovenia, and Italy. While winter is peak season, they are still common in September and October. We were lucky enough to experience these 100mph gusts and had to take a taxi back to the islands one day to save us from blowing off the road.
Spirits were high as we left our last island, Pag, and headed towards a medium-sized city – Zadar. Given our cat and mouse game with the Bora, it was the most logistically wise place to stay a day or two and plot our routes out. On our ride into town, just as we had come back onto a main road from a little gravel section, we rolled up on a group of four bikepackers. As we approached, I noticed an REI label on a piece of clothing, and instantly I thought – these are Americans. We had seen almost no Americans, we were in European holiday country after all, let alone any American cyclists. So this was really quite thrilling. It turns out they were four Alaskans – Jim, Pat, Doug and Jessie – on a three week trip. They were all in their late 60s to early 70s, living my future dream. They were also loosely following the same route as us (Trans Dinarica), and were also heading to Zadar to hide out the wind. We met up with them again the next day in Zadar to catch Stage 2 of the pro cycling race – the CRO race.
Given our firm deadline to get to Athens, we ultimately had to make the call to bus into Bosnia to keep ourselves on track given the wind that continued to plague us. Two days after arriving in Zadar, we rose from the amazing place we had been camping (Camp Dido, made so amazing by the most delightful host, Sandra) before dawn had begun to crack and hightailed it to the bus station. With a little bribe, they allowed us to put the bikes in the luggage zone of the bus and we were off to Split, and then finally a second bus to Mostar which brought us into Bosnia.
Despite the frustration of delay, given how our bodies were feeling I think the universe handed us a little blessing in disguise those few days of rest and recovery. We had done A LOT of big climbing days out of the gate in Slovenia, and the fatigue of that as well as likely just all the new experiences and places had our bodies a bit cooked. It was best to rest now to forge ahead later than a slow sputtering out of our energy. I’m not sure we would have rested enough on our own if Bora hadn’t forced us to be a bit stationary. -M
Ev’s version:
In Croatia, my carefully constructed plans were blown apart by wind. Before the trip, a colleague asked if I was a type A plan everything out person or a type B make it up as you go. I responded, “somewhere in between- I want to plan everything out so I know enough about the options to be able to improvise as we go.” Turns out that was a lie- I’m a type A plan everything out and be sad when you can’t follow your plan person.
In Slovenia I had learned that following the wisdom of existing routes makes a big difference. When we followed existing routes we were on safe, lovely roads (if also on tough climbs). In the days we made up our own plans, we either ended up on busy roads or bushwhacking up creek beds. Those days were fun in their own ways, but I wanted to stick to the route. We were only going through every place once, I wanted it to be the best way possible.
But when a Bora wind arose out of season and gave us gale force winds for a week, we needed to reroute. And it turned out great. The route from Rtina to Zadar was lovely, and we probably needed the three rest days we got. The one rest day every 6 days that I had planned wasn’t cutting it. We got to meet Alaskan friends, see a stage of the CRO race, get new brake pads, meet Sandra at Kamp Dido and witness the Sea Organ. I’m sure the Trans Dinarica route from Rtina to Mostar is great, but now we have some extra buffer days to give us some flexibility with the weather and extra rest days for our bodies. Lesson learned (for the nth time and likely not the last time, if I know myself well). -E
