Gobble Up Turkey

Monday 21 October 2024

After last nights ‘sumptuous’ dinner I was looking forward to a crack at the breakfast buffet to fuel up for a walk along the coast to Santa Cenarea Terme. It is renowned for its thermal hot spa treatments which supposedly fix everything from arthritis to mental illness. Jesus somebody had read my medical bio.

The first assignment was getting untangled from the curtains around the four poster bed. That was followed by a 400 metre hike from the garden to the restaurant, via the series of caves.

Must say all efforts were worthwhile with a best on tour offering including my now favourite sweet start  to the day – the Lecce Cake.

Well fed it was off on what started as an almost circular walk through the olive groves,most healthy new growth stock, to to reacquaint ourselves with the narrow path steamrolled flat by yesterdays cycle race.

It made for easy passsge with the mud flattened, only disappointing thing was the rubbish left by cyclists as they dropped their empty packaging along the way – so much for cycling being environmentally friendly,

The track followed a huge fissure in the ground which finished at a bridge under where a weir / dam structure was built.  Too bad about the lack of water. 

The track dropped down into the gully, which required a 3 metre bumdlife due to track erosion.

The track turned into a road as we wound our way up past a not particularly appealing little beach and onto the coast where we had a great view back down the coast. 

Found a Supermarket  and then a cafe where we managed a coffee and cake plus a panini for lunch. It was no easy walk with 7.5 Kms taking 3 hours. Only downside was the horde of cats sitting around as we had coffee.

The next few kilometres were a tough slog, albeit with great views, along the rocky shoreline. It was a bit reminiscent of Turkey where every step needed to be measured to avoid an appointment with the sharp rocks.

The torre’s continued to dot the coast line and were a great landmark, though keeping hills on the right and sea on the left was about as technical as directions got. Played some tortoise and harr with three other couples doing the walk, with us tortoises eventually winning as the others lost their way.

Left the coast at a sunbathing deck perched on the coast below a ritzy resort and again ended up following the narrow trail shaped  by the bikers. 

It was again stony fields with sparse olive groves and in many cases just piles of rocks where farmers tried to clear areas for use.

The last thing you expect to see in the middle of nowhere is an abandoned sports stadium intact with lighting, parking areas and next door a huge building also abandoned. The Balmain Tigers would have drooled at such amenities. A  scamper through some blackberries  to a peep hole showed the ground completely grown over. Later we found out it was built 10 years ago and never used, with nobody able to explain why.

Soon we turned back to the sea and caught our first glimpses of Santa Cesarea Terme. What a sight with modern and old houses and hotels perched along the coastline. One in particular would not have been out of place in Istanbul. Sadly we didn’t get to visit as it was under renovation.

It was a very steep run down roads and stone paths to reach our modern hotel with stunning views from the terrace. The track was littered with burnt trees courtesy of a recent bushfire which threatened the town and needed aerial bombing to douse.

It was probably the hottest day of the walk and with luggage not arriving till later we had nothing to do but hydrate on the terrace

Once luggage did arrive we spruced up and did a lap of town. It was showing signs of end of season with very few tourists, other than those at a huge thermal spa , and many shops closed.

With these amazing views and plentiful sea water it’s a bit of a disappointment that there are few if any swimming spots. 

Complete a lap of town before drinking with the locals at the ‘Disco Bar’ which had a very eclectic collection of customers from bikers to business men to a bloke wandering around aimlessly outside clutching two unopened bottles of beer having animated phone discussions.

A little stair climb back to the hotel where the ‘swimming opportunity was a cuddle puddle ( spa for two) which was occupied.

We enjoyed  dinner on the terrace with a very small crowd and retired early.

Sunday 20th October 2024

Otranto to Porto Badisco

Woke to grey skies, drizzle and a howling wind, but the forecast was looking positive.

Another cracking breakfast that we lingered over hoping for improved  weather for what was a 13 km walk. Notes indicated it’s essentially along the coast on muddy and rocky paths, with a bit of knee high Mediterranean vegetation to boot. On that description I donned the long  trekking strides for the first time on tour.

Lingering breakfast did the trick with drizzle disappearing, probably courtesy of the increased wind which we walked into all day. At times felt like the dog with its head out the car window with the jowls flapping.

It was our last goodbye to the castle, old town and port as we snuck onto the coast where the sea was quite angry and wind too much for a hat.

Despite the grey skies we could see a string of cargo ships heading south and a shadowy outline of the Albanian coast.

It sure was rocky terrain and an ideal landscape for the protective bunkers that were built during WW2. There were bunkers and observation towers consistently along the coast.

Unlike previous days there were plenty of other walkers including a guided group of about 20 who remained at our rear.

The signage was good if you simply followed the orange arrow.  Though the next bit of signage wasn’t as helpful, as the owners and Council had decided to remove right of way because of environmental damage being done on the trail.

That meant a diversion through some muddy fields where we were confronted with different signs pointing  generally in the same direction, but at other times down rocky paths.

We ignored them for a while and then on closer inspection found they had something to do with cycling.  We thought there must have been a race at some time 

We were soon to get more information from a photographer when our track swung onto the bitumen. Our path for the day was to be shared with 800 mountain bike riders competing in the international event called the Legend of Castro over 80 kilometres along the coast.

Just as he finished his explanation the trail clearing motor cycle came racing through, ignored the huge puddle and drenched him. He mumbled something like F..k Y.. is the same in any language.

Within minutes the World Champions in several classes came whizzing through and then it was a procession. We walked the road – no other option- to a nearby drinks station and took a rest watching a conga line of cyclists pass by. 

The drinks station was plonked near the lighthouse at the most easterly point of the coast and opposite some Secret Squirrel Military establishment protected by several layers of razor and barbed wire.

Also along the coast are strategically placed Torre or ancient lookout towers.

The walk is also part of the Camino trails this one is the Salemto. Like many it is rocky and here particularly open to the wind.

We set off again trying to share a slightly wider path, but it was impossible so we bush bashed back onto the road which would be our trail all the way to our accommodation.k

As we walked we could see the cyclists heading out to the coast. As they faded into the distance we detoured up a gravel road to our accommodation . What a find it was a working farm with accommodation and reception centre .

We got a bottom of the gardenroom which had a four poster bed and its own outdoor sitting area – we could understand why the host said it was their favourite room. 

Unfortunately we arrived earlier than the bags so wiled away the time until they were delivered and then changed into proper clothes and enjoyed an apperitivo.

Dinner was a fixed menu nouveau cuisine arrangement. The main was pork chops served with potato. The picture tells the story.

To be honest without the bread bag and dessert I would have gone to bed hungry. We managed to complement the food with a nice 2021 Malvasia blend.

Thankfully all the steps home were downhill.

A little bit of post dinner Google research revealed the hotel was built from an old ruin in the late 90’s and in 2007 won hotel of the year.

Saturday 19th October

Around Otranto

Up early to try and dodge the rain and enjoyed a hearty breakfast before donning the walking gear for a limber up walk of around 8 Kms.

The town was still hardly populated as we made our way down through the old town, where many shops had put up the shutters for the year and gone on holidays.

Jane started day poorly when she recognised she had one of her poles and one of mine, the latter could not adjust low enough for her so most of the day she was like a drunken sailor.

The town  has a beautiful beach and port as well as a castle and old town full of shops of the usual variety. Cafes were doing a bit of early business as we walked the canal and headed out into the valley which was primarily olives and vegetables.

The majority of olive trees had been dramatically affected by the disease and growers were trying to remedy things by giving trees a super hard prune or alternatively replanting.

Struck up a conversation in mixed dialect with an old grower and he explained that the disease and drought had affected him and  other locals badly. The ‘For sale’ sign painted on his fence said it all. He was laboriously pruning / shaping low  growing healthier  branches- gave me one as a gift  ie an olive branch of hope and good luck from what  we could glean.

Further down the road another farmer was tidying up acres of grove with just a whipper snipper.

There were many deserted farms with the only splash of wealth being a farm selling truffles and running a restaurant.

On the floor of the valley we came across a rock church over which a protective awning had been installed. There was a huge rock altar that dominated it and a very faded fresco in one of the holes carved into the wall.

In the cultivated areas there was an enormous amount of rock in the ploughed fields, not sure what would be grown in such soil.

Being close to coast it was affected by wind and the farmers used bamboo plantings as windbreaks.

Soon we were walking along a big channel, basically waterless,  that led us back to town. Close to the end we ran into a couple of local walkers and traded stories about walks we had all completed.

It was an amazing duplication.

Got back  home just before it started to bucket down, but we needed to head into town to do the laundry. So it was on with ponchos and armed with a prawn roll from local cafe we splashed our way to the laundromat sharing machines with an eclectic bunch. 

Imteresting sign on all of the washers and dryers with a Red Cross over a cat and dog. Not sure if you couldn’t put them in the appliances or they could not come inside. 

Did a bit of window shopping and general sightseeing before heading home to dry out , cleaned up and then popped up to the bar for an afternoon tipple. Worst beer, but best nibbles and Italian gin on tour.

Listened to the falling rain and pawed over forecasts for tomorrow’s coastal walk, before finding another hidden gem restaurant for dinner. The pasta was great and plenty of sauce left for a bit of scapetta ( soaking it up with bread).

Twas a lonely walk back home at 900pm with the only company being other diners leaving restaurants and doing likewise.

More rain tomorrow, but that can be dealt with then.

Friday 18th October 

Bari to Otranto

Slept well after the plane issue was resolved and heard nothing from Trenitalia to say the trips had been cancelled, so it was with confidence we struck out to the local cafe for a standup coffee and croissant.

Dropped our bags in for storage at shop next to accommodation and paid our €15 minding fee.

Headed off for our self guided 5 hour walking tour of Bari, both new and old city. The town was certainly going through a construction boom with new buildings sitting next to old and with remarkably sympathetic architecture. Some places were doing floor to roof changes with buildings totally gutted.

Crossing the road is still a raffle with Zebra crossings and green lights meaning little. It’s a bit like Vietnam , pick a break and walk with confidence. 

At some stage there was  a trolley bus system, which became defunct and then was going to be reopened. Nothing to date but  overhead  wires still in place.

The city is very vibrant and the people friendly. Only cranky person was the guy from local automotive industry opposite Government building trying to fire up his 6 comrades participating in a National Union 24  hour strike.

Was surprised to find a statue of Puccini, as it’s not his territory- he was from Lucca  way. Well if I realised it was Piccini it might have made more sense- Specsavers moment- that said he was a famous composer, perhaps not of Turandot  standard.

We were soon in the old town with its narrow streets where verandas on each side nearly touch. During the Covid lockdown people used the verandas as a contact medium whilst preserving the 2 metre rule. Like many old towns the washing line is an attachment to the veranda rail. 

The local blind man must only have bought  one pattern of material as there was a common thread as you looked down the streets.

The most intriguing part of the old town is where the Nona’s sit outside their houses making the myriad of different coloured and shaped pasta, along with biscuits with as many flavours as the local gelato shop.

It was fascinating to watch them make different shapes, with no apparent change in execution. We naturally bought some bickies to munch along the trail.

Left the narrow streets and headed to St Nikolas church which took pride of place in a huge square. It was the first encounter with large groups of tourist on the day,  with lines filing in and out. It was still only about 10% on Dubrovnik density. An interested group included five Monks clad in their brown habits and sandals.

Inside it was huge and ornate. A priest and 3 helpers were conducting a service for about 50 people sitting in a special area adjacent to the pulpit. The camera clickers were occupying many of the other available seats.

Left the old town and walked along the port wall where major works were in place constructing a new seawall and marina facilities.

Around the older side of the port we came across the gnarled fisherman selling their catches. Looking at the catches one wondered what a six inch cod would be used for. One thing for certain was that the squid would be tender with the fisherman slapping it on the stone wharf for 10 minutes and then bashing it with a wooden board before dropping it in the display tub.

The area was obviously an after work haunt for the fisherman,  as  several tables were full of guys swilling beer and playing some sort of card games that evoked some pretty high emotions bordering on fisticuffs.

Had a rest in the park watching the world go by and it reinforced the fact that car dealers would go broke selling people movers- other than taxi’s, family use is minimal.

Found a quiet lane for a 3 P lunch- pasta,panini and Prosecco. Sitting their I noted a whole lot of units with rainbow coloured  whirly gigs spinning around. Mentioned to Jane it must be something to do with being gay friendly. Was politely informed that they and the spiked power lines are used to deter the pigeons- never too old to learn.

After walking a street with one of the shortest people seen on tour, we found the gelato shop. Used my best Italian to get 2 cones of the same flavour and got the flavour right, but a double serving.  Had to live with my linguistic shortcomings and demolish the lot.

Sat in a park watching the kids in their lunch break and as expected 6 Italian kids and a soccer ball becomes a World Cup final with no holds barred in trying to be a goal scorer.

Thete was some great street art that took the focus away from the graffiti vandals.

Headed back and picked up our luggage and made our way to the station, warding off a local tout who wanted to help with luggage and tickets. Played some platform lotto before finally getting on the express service to Lecce. Don’t worry about booking a seat it’s sit wherever you want. Thankfully our wrong seats never got challenged by the rightful owner.

The trip down soon got out into rural areas with olives and vegetables the main crops. The olive groves had been decimated by disease and it was sad to see so many dead. Apparently the annual crop has diminished from 500,000 to 300,000 litres in the region over the last 3-4 years.

Many older trees have been lopped to prevent the disease spreading and other torn out and replaced with new growth.

Arrived in Lecce with more platform lotto before ending up on a remote platform with about 10 other passengers.

Passed down through Brindisis, which looks to be a relic of WW2 with lots of cement 4-6 storey apartments.

Arrived at the next change- an unattended station where you crossed the lines to check the next platform. With a bit of help from local kids it was back over the lines and onto a much slower, smaller and less populated train. By the time we reached the last station of Maglie it was down to 5 customers.

Last leg with just 3 passengers was on a motor rail – like the old one that ran from Sutherland to Waterfall. It chugged and rattled its way to the terminus at Otranto and all three of us alighted.

No taxi so it was a 1.6 km walk with the GPS app guiding us along. The town was basically empty at 645.

Skirted the old town and found our accommodation which looked to have been a church or monastery. Got a lovely spacious room where the shower won best on tour.

Cleaned up and headed to town to find a great restaurant The pork was divine and the Fiano white wine a great accompaniment.

After dinner we walked down around the harbour where there was a bit more activity and then into the old town which in places was totally deserted. The whole town looks charming and can’t wait to explore it in the light of day.

Tomorrow is a warm up walk out through the olive groves. Timing of walk will be dependent on the rain as it’s forecast for most of the day. 

Thursday 17th October 2024

Around Dubrovnik and off to

Bari.

Once the crowds went home it was a pretty quiet night in Dubrovnik and other than leg cramps it was a pretty restful night.

Down the road for a  nice breakfast and hot cup of coffee before heading back to home and organising to leave luggage. 

Hercules was pleased we had moved our bags downstairs and he held them in his shoe store, which had been closed for 2 years, whilst we toured the city.

He gave us a rundown on what we could do till our trip to the airport and also gave a sad recollection  of how his Dad had been killed at 36 in the war when he was 3 months old.

After taking in the waterside, where it was alive with tenders moving people in and out off liners and day tour boats , we spent an hour at the Rememberance Museum.

It was a very solemn time reflecting on yet another futile loss of life and wanton destruction of Dubrovnik. Nearly 200 locals aged from 16-59, mainly service volunteers,  were killed along with a similar number of residents killed or injured. Secondary School kids who volunteered were in this number.

The bombardment of a UNESCO  site by Yugoslav forces was a crime not an act of war. Thankfully the brave Croatians with limited forces turned the battle around and lived a much more certain life now.

Dulled the senses a bit with a pre lunch Irish Coffee before battling the crowds to organise printing of boarding  passes and a cab to the airport.

We passed a pub with a moniker my mates at BLRGC called me which made me feel at home

That last walk to the taxi left me thinking that whilst tourism sustains the city financially it has stolen its soul.

The cab driver we had to the airport was by far the  best  guide on tour, filling our head with facts about anything and everything from history to sport to politics and the economy. The 25 km trip through the hills flew by and we were soon at the flattest bit of land in Croatia with a fabulous international airport. 

Dropped off at Kiss and Park, but best we got was a handshake.

All the usual process was organised and quick and we were soon on the plane, me in 10e with a mum and son and Jane  between two guys needing extender belts in 25b. One of us had a comfortable flight.

The surprise with Ryanair ,who is often criticised, was the flight left early and was 10 minutes early landing.

Same quick processing at the Bari end and we were soon at train station. Don’t be busting for a leak if you go there. One stall and 8 clients – all fidgety after a long flight and somebody who must have been reading the newspaper in there. Despite a lot of shouting by others, I departed after 5 minutes and relied on all of those pelvic floor exercises learned after chemotherapy.

Pretty short trip and we were off into the dark and dinghy streets to find the garden apartment. For second time in Italy no host and thankfully local shopkeeper roused him.

A garden apartment it was with 8 ‘units’ in a courtyard. Loved the sign on inside of front door that you must wear clothes in the backyard- perhaps they were expecting some nude bathing in and around the fountain.

Unpacked and found a local restaurant that opened at 730- we were usually fed and watered by that time in Slovenia and Croatia. We enjoyed a great home made pasta, local wine and a Peroni Grande- all 600mls  of it. Jane was in heaven back in Italy.

Shared some chat with an IT guy there on a conference who was selling algorithms used by the likes of Facebook and Google. With all of the ‘tracked’  FB stuff I get he was working on a winner.

Wandered home to sleep and perhaps ponder in the waking hours what tomorrows national transport strike will bring.

Wednesday 16th October 2024

Korcula to Dubrovnik

A new alarm today, in the form of guys wet sawing the beautifully tiled path outside the owners house- seems problem was bigger than expected.

Given the great brekky yesterday, it was rinse and repeat for us, even our 3 fag lady was there for company.

Our travel plans were still in disarray with no online help from either the booking agent or Ryanair for the flight to Bari.

Gave ourselves a break from the drama and did some more touring around town. Mine host again assisted in lugging Jane’s bag down the stairs so we could put them in storage at the wharf.

We  even found Marco Polo’s  house, attached to St Peter’s church. By chance a tour guide was giving a lecture about the divided opinions on where he was born. She was adamant that he was born in Korcula while it was under Venetian rule, lived there and was gaoled there. 

Supposedly he could not write despite his intellect and whilst in gaol  another inmate became his ghost writer. The question is which urban myth to believe – that of Venice or Korcula.

Ironically it’s the 700th anniversary of his death this year.

Did some laps of the castle and then grabbed a last look at the crystal clear water.

With a 1215 ferry to catch and time to burn we found our spot for a lemonade and internet access to continue solving the flight riddle. After 45 minutes online chatting with Ryanair , we were no better off. Our only hope was the booking agent would come through with check in details and boarding pass information before days end.

Onboard another fast ferry that zipped down the coast, which did not change- rugged and small towns sitting at the bottom of the mountains. Had two stops for small island drop offs before getting our first glimpse of Dubrovnik and guess what – more cruise liners. That said there was plenty of different craft on and around the port.

Like other Croatian towns mansions adorned the waterfront.

Disembarked and soon on a €20 taxi ride to the gates of the old down where we were staying. It was a crush of tourists, with dividing ropes on footpaths to improve the flow of foot traffic. 

It’s a beautiful old town, but impossible to get a photo without a hundred heads in the background. Looks like it will be the album of my mind which will capture its charm.

Found our apartment about 200 metres from gate and with help of a local bar owner had the owner letting us in. In a Herculean feat he simultaneously took our two cases (all 37kgs) up a steep stairwell.

Nice little place, which had apparently been renovated after the 1991 assault of the old town by Yugoslav forces.

After unpacking it was off on a walk around town. It has undergone an amazing reconstruction since the war and the process is still continuing. The usual fill of tourists off the two liners in port- supposedly 5000 people which is amazing given total population is 44k of which only 800 live in the old town.

The only thing there is more of than tourists is steps, with any access away from waterside involving steep steps. We took a wander around the harbour and a few points of interest before challenging a few to check out the chairlift and bus stop to airport.

An amazing view from up high with the port and sea to the west full of boats. A steep downhill walk gave us a great view of the moat that protected the old town – olden day warriors would have struggled if they didn’t come by sea.

The crowds were filing up the stairs onto the old walls- for the meagre cost of €35 . At peak periods they were gathering €1000 every couple of minutes. Must be the best revenue earner in town.

Read the other day that some European towns are restricting tourist numbers because of the crowd crush. Dubrovnik has a two ship per day limit. At one stage it was 4.

As usual an afternoon shop is not complete without a Xmas  decoration purchase. One fascinating thing in all tourist towns has been the obsession with ducks – have we missed a new phenomenon.

Back in the room we anxiously watched the clock to see what happened at 1700 when check in opened. Hallelujah right on the dot confirmation came through that we were checked in and ‘here are your boarding passes’ . Neither of us gave a tinkers that we were at opposite ends of the plane.

Now we just need to manage Friday’s nationwide train strike.

With all that relief all we could do was enjoy a nice meal and demolish a litre of wine. Would swear one of the grandkids painted the table mat.

Not sure if we finished with a gelato – I was on a high.

Tuesday 15th October

Korcula to Lombarda and Back

It seems to be a holiday of different alarms, with today’s being the boys jackhammering outside to repair the sewer problem which necessitated our upgrade.

Nothing melodic about that so we were  off into town, a whole 150 metres away, for a toastie and coffee, in company with a couple of old ladies who were defying the ‘smoking is bad for your health’ mantra and knocking off 3 cigarettes and a coffee.

Needed two coffees to calm the nerves after hearing those helpful Italians are staging a train strike on Friday when we are due to travel from Bari to Otranto to start the walk. Not many real alternatives other than a taxi- which might mean extending the mortgage. The shorter term issue is no confirmation of our flight to Bari which I booked through a Ryanair endorsed agency and Ryanair have no record of it.

Put that aside and zipped around town again before opting to take a bus to the other side of Korcula and enjoy a rare sandy beach.

It was an interesting trip across with lots of vineyards, most showing the ravages of a severe summer, and a sprinkling of market gardens. 

Got dropped off in the middle of nowhere outside a tiny chapel with only instructions from driver being ‘left for rocks and right for sand’’- how far was anyone’s guess.

It was sand for us and only a 15 minute walk along a country road to a pristine beach about 300 metres long with little waves and refreshing clear water.

There was a dozen or so people and countless boats out along the horizon. A 60 metre wade had you in chest deep water so buoyant you couldn’t sink.

As with any beach in the world there was that one swimmer who demonstrated their swimming skills with 4 strokes  of butterfly.

Enjoyed the swim and a sunbake before heading off to the beachside bar for a drink and some lunch, plus a good dose of people watching. They sure love a head on the beer over here.

Had an appointment with the 230 bus which we nearly missed after taking a wrong turn. All worked out and managed to run into a biker who snapped a photo of us two together.

An unadventurous bus trip was followed by another swim at a pebbly beach close to town, before a quick happy hour cocktail and wander back past the docks where 5 more small cruisers had arrived. Whilst not a throng of people there was enough to change the vibe. We shared the beach with a couple of families and 3 untanned, oversized Liverpool lads.

Booked in for dinner at a grill restaurant before heading up the path to home which now had a huge 50 metre trench dug to ‘find the sewer problem’.

We scoured the web in meantime looking for travel alternatives before heading off unresolved to dinner. No seafood for us it was an old fashioned country pub mixed grill without the mash and peas.

Tried to use my best Hungarian to engage the next table , but my defunct skills and their lack of English meant a smile and shrug of the shoulders as we both left.

Just one task to go – pick a different flavoured gelato. A bit difficult with 30 or so choices, but we managed a couple of concoctions we had never heard of before. It’s a strange thing in Croatia that 90% of staff in gelato shops are Asian. 

Off to bed to toss and turn over the trains planes and automobile.

Monday 14th October 2024

Hvar to Korcula

It was back to a Croatian brekky of pastry and coffee, partaken with a few worse for wear Spartans on the harbourside wall, with a pretty marina backdrop.

Obviously a lot of athletes had gone home, but nonetheless there were plenty more people being ferried in to replace them.

The Spartan team were pulling down all of the obstacles which appeared to make a few of the locals and visitors a bit happier with normality. 

Jane took off to do a bit of packing and I did one last lap of the town square and the church. Again the cats outnumbered the dogs and one was even guarding the door to the local supermarket.

Met a couple of travellers outside the church who bitched incessantly about the race the previous day and their inability to see the town in its normal state- can’t please them all – they would probably whine about all the bulls running around in Pamploma.

The church was a lot more ornate inside than expected given the plain exterior , but camera’s were banned- didn’t deter the whingers from outside from clicking away.

We packed up and lugged the bags down to the wharf and grabbed another coffee and watched the world go by before jumping on our catamaran and heading off for Korcula.

The seas were pretty calm and we got a great view of the coast line with its tiny towns and vineyards steepling up the mountainsides. It would surely have been a hand harvest. 

We also got glimpses of the karst mountains on the mainland, again bringing back memories of the rugged Turkish coastline.

It was a relatively short trip and we soon snuggled into a small harbour devoid of boats much bigger than about 30  metres long. Vasco soon had the map and App out and we unsurprisingly found our way to the apartment – at the top of the stairs.

In what was to be a 10 out of 10 experience with our host, he met us halfway and took Jane’s suitcase. On the way up he explained there was a problem with our booking so they gave us an upgrade into a 2 bedroom apartment. It was a home away from home and it even included welcoming biscuits and a bottle of wine. 

Went to a recommended cafe for a light lunch before doing a tour of town. Like most places it had an old town up on a hill and a vibrant harbourside with markets and the usual selection of bars, cafes, restaurants, jewellery shops, and excursion huts, with many having a view of the crystal clear waters for which Croatia is famous 

Looked for the town beaches and the main two were probably 30 metres wide, both empty. When it comes to history many places in Europe have some association with Marco Polo. When quizzed the local shopkeeper couldn’t convince us if he was born here, lived here or simply dropped in. It didn’t stop them having a statue and amphitheatre or a designated Marco Polo  shop selling everything a budding adventurer might need, from sextants to sundials and telescopes.

A bit more reconaissance for a restaurant before it was home to taste the wine and a little siesta, plus more organising for our forward journeys to Dubrovnik and Bari.

Rested and spruced up we headed to a lovely waterside restaurant, which like many were now full of the people from the small cruising boats. Quite a few Aussies but predominantly American. 

Lovely seafood inspired dinner, albeit with a backdrop from a loud whinging tourist moaning about boats, hotels, guides and food. Poor harangued husband just took a deep breath and asked ‘ guess you pick where and with whom we travel next year.’ Touché  it certainly quietened her down. 

We wandered along the seaboard a bit more taking in the view by night, before the daily fix of gelato and one last plod for the day up the stairs.

Sunday 13th October 2024

Managed some sleep despite the town living up to its reputation.

Decided we needed an Aussie breakfast and had stocked up on fruit, juice and a combined yoghurt / cereal mix.

The town was already alive with athletes preparing for 3 more circuit races today when we popped into the square. There was an amazing collection of physiques ranging from the lean and mean to the muscular and equally mean. 99% of women fell into the simply lean category.

It was interesting that most were breaking the local clothing law which didn’t allow men to go bare chested or wear budgie smugglers or women to wear bikini’s. Race organisers must have done a deal otherwise many would have coughed up the €300 fine.

We decided to walk some parts of the course whilst the race was in progress as it led us to our pebbly beach. What an ordeal for athletes, ranging from professionals down to Mum and a couple of less than athletic kids. The Mum was doing an amazing job, especially when trying to get a 110kg kid out of the water and up a net- with the help of a few on land they succeeded. 

We were walking the course backwards and it was definitely a test of resolve with the last few legs including a 400 metre carry of a canister with 20kg of gravel inside. Then it was into the water , fully clothed for a 200 metre water navigation. They used every stroke in the book and some towed themselves along the lane rope. Other less competent swimmers had life vests, including one who walked along the rocks with one foot in the water. After the difficult net exit it was a rope climb, whilst soaking wet and then a set of monkey bars. Failure to complete drew a penalty of carrying a 20 kilo chain or another bucket of gravel around the outside of obstacle and then try again. After that it was the clambering over the high walls and a  hop over the fire pit. 

Before all that there was apparently another swim leg, more hurdles and a tortuous  run up to the castle where it had obstacles of its own.

There was one obstacle which many climbed up and somersaulted down – little wonder there was a paramedic at the bottom of the 8 metre descent.

We held our breath each time somebody used that method.

Still working on how to put a video in.

After passing one of the more remote points of the race we ended up at a tiny beach that we had to ourselves. Those tiny lumps behind my ears indicated how cold it was. The water was picture postcard clear.

Headed back towards town and ran into 4 Aussies doing a motor bike tour of Croatia. We had a few good experiences to swap. The Aussie flavour continued when we reached a group of restaurants where one was selling Aussie Parmi’s. We opted for a New York Reuben at New York prices. Croatia is sure dining out on tourists for the lost profits of COVID. 

Watched a bit more racing including Mum and son finally teaching the finish in over 3 hours for a 5km race.

A bit of a wander through town before a siesta and when refreshed we tackled the steps and paths to the top of the castle. In doing so we got to realise again  just how diverse and tough the race must have been.

Got a great  ‘on high “ late afternoon view of Hvar on a shady balcony, sipping cocktails, whilst another group was having a wine tasting of local wines. We would pass the vineyards tomorrow on our ferry trip to Korcula.

The crew  from Spartan was already deconstructiing a few of the crazy hurdles as we wend our way back to town to have dinner in a local “cash only” restaurant, just off the waterside. 

Town was packed with exhausted athletes  all proudly showing off their medals whose size was saucer like. Being metal if you closed your eyes you would think a herd of Swiss Alpscattle were heading your way. The town takes on a different perspective at night with all of the little alleyways and monuments in a different light.

As usual always room for a gelato before tackling the stairs to our apartment for a much quieter night. 

Saturday 12th October 2024

Around Split to Hvar

We woke of our own accord and went looking for a Croatian breakfast. Found 2 thimbles of coffee for 7 Euros and unsustained went to the local bakery and got two more plus a Burek each for 6 Euros – might say the first bloke saw us coming.

Did our own self guided tour down to the harbour – still with 2 huge liners, but this time different ones. Norwegian cruise lines sure must have a fleet when they shuffle them overnight.

Decided on another visit to fish market and at 800 it was buzzing and the stocks  / selection of produce had grown. A few less beer swilling mongers, but many were still happy to drop their cigarette ash on the goods.

The boat people were out in their hordes doing laps of town on foot, in buses and in little tuk tuk styled vehicles.

We managed to get a better look at the castle and inside the walls under ground level. Then it was up to snap a couple of pictures including St Gregory Nins who was excommunicated because of his wish to convert the religious teachings from Latin to

Slavic so that parishioners might better understand. Think he and St Cyril might have teamed up at some stage to create the Cyrillic language. It’s a custom to rub his toe for good luck. As luck would have it 50 other people had the same idea so a picture was all I got.

We went home packed up and bade farewell to another great piece of accommodation that Jane picked off the web. Arrived in time to join a queue of people waiting to board the catamaran to Hvar.

The journey was in a traffic jam on water,  as boats of all sizes headed out of the harbour to end up at any one of the myriad of islands off the coast.

A quick 55 minute trip with views at every corner and we turned the  into the little harbour of Hvar where boats not much bigger than the Manly ferry were the only ones that could be accommodated- what a blessing.

The town flowed up the hills surrounding the harbour with the old fort taking pride of place.

Our disembarking was a bit laboured as we had to give way to the athletes competing in the Spartan World Championships. 

The event included a 23 kilometre run, swim and then 20 agility ststions spread across the course. We hope to see more of the course tomorrow.. The last hurdle was a fire pit. 

In conjunction with that event was the world 100 Metre, Ninja Warrior type race for men and women. We watched the heats before our own agility test to scale the steps up to our apartment. Jane had done it again a place on the edge of town with a magnificent view up to the castle – with just  a few steps added in to maintain the fitness.

Dropped our gear off and walked the foreshore around to the nearest pebbly beach.  It was nice and you definitely needed the reef shoes to get in and out of the crystal clear water. We will pack ours when we return tomorrow. 

It was back to the centre of town to have lunch with a ringside seat the the next series of heats. We fuelled up with a burger and beer and became a cheer squad for the Philippines team who were the only south of the equator team.

The town was packed with extremely fit and tanned athletes and even when I donned my Lycra pants and singlet it was obvious who the athletes were. I changed back Into civvies for the medal presentation for the ‘lugging suitcases uphill’ event. Somehow my medal was much less osignificant to those who finished the 25km event.

Wandered around town a bit more before returning  and taking up our position to cheer on the athletes from quarter finals right through to the gold medal event. 

When the crowd dispersed it was a bit of shopping and fighting our way through a throng of locals celebrating something at a local restaurant which was going at 130 when we arrived and in full swing at 1000 and petered out at 230.

The noise of the athletes celebrating in the town square wafted up the hill to provide a different lullaby. That wasn’t the end of festivities as an entourage of about 50 cars honked their way through town. Hvar was certainly living up to its moniker of the Party Island..

At least I could take in the view of the castle at night when peering out the window.