by John Pringle & Yvonne McLean

Background.  Bernie Phillion on October 31st, 2011, answered a Newsbrief ad stating, “I am interested in leading the proposed cycling tour (of) Croatia in September 2012.” Great news it was! Bernie was new to the club, and had organized no club events, but he oozed potential leadership skills, thus the Board granted him Tour Coordinator status. He consulted with Barb and Rick Mathias and Flavia and David Kolac (Croatians by birth), who’d organized a successful non-club sponsored 2011 Croatian tour; and there we were, 14 CCCTS members in Pula, Croatia on September 8th at the Belvedere resort in 30°C weather, gathered around Tour Contractor Alen Augusten and assistant guide Damir Leka (a cycle-loving physician, on leave). We knew it would be a tough tour (rated “Advanced”); it was already hot, we got a view of the hills (yikes!) on our drive from Trieste, Italy to Pula, but we knew nothing of the ever-lurking Bora, of which you will learn more of below.

The Balkans (the area between the Adriatic and the Black Sea) is a descriptive term given to the region by the Turks, and means “…chain of wooded mountains”. The Denaric Alps run south through Croatia, with bedrock of limestone and dolomite, which forms a karst landscape; rocky with little surface water. The soils are generally poor (we saw red, gray and white Istria) and often strafed by the relentless Bora winds (strong and from the north). The climate is Mediterranean. The Adriatic is warm (24°C in summer), beautifully transparent, full of life (greater than 7,000 species) and was important to the success of various eastern empires from the Romans (2 BC), through the Byzantines (late Romans to ~1200 AD) to the Ottomans and Hapsburgs (1800s). Currently its beautiful setting, and abundant sea life, has allowed a thriving regional tourist industry led by Croatia (30,000,000 tourists/year).

The route/the Hills. Contractor preparation for this tour (21 days including three non-cycling days) was impressive. Alen presented us with a large packet containing, not only detailed daily cue sheets and coloured maps, but also notes describing the history and importance of the areas/towns to be cycled each day. It was a must read each evening for the fourteen of us (gender equity prevailed) who ranged in age from 54 to 78. When Alen was asked if he was worried about our ages, he replied, “Not a chance. Your club has a reputation for being strong cyclists.” Was he setting us up? Hills were expected by all of us…we had been warned. However, hills were indeed a daily agenda item; we quickly learned that highways posted grades above 6% only. Unposted roads, which we mostly cycled on to keep away from the traffic (no paved shoulders here), had varied slopes. Bernie informed us that one such hill we had climbed ranged from a steady 10% up to18% at one point…this was a day in which the temperature was over 30 degrees before noon! Alen did mention that short distance days meant a hillier route; longer days meant fewer hills, except that no road is flat in Croatia! Accommodation and Food. Alen had arranged our accommodations and food on a “half-board” basis; we’d have breakfast and dinner at our lodgings each night. We found Croatia was, for the most part, spotless, and our very clean accommodations came with freshly-ironed bedsheets. Breakfasts consisted of good breads, cheeses, meats, juice, fruit and sometimes eggs and occasionally a coffee cake. Coffee was machine-dispensed expresso or “Americano”. Dinners consisted of a soup or seafood risotto starter, a simple salad of greens and tomatoes or squid and greens, and an entree of fish or meat (a memorable chicken and potato dish was cooked in a kepa under a pile of white-hot coals) sometimes with a side of a cooked spinach/potato mix, and dessert. The dinners were too much food for some, but we learned it was not impolite to leave food on our plates. The seaside resorts served buffet meals. Lunches were not part of the tour package, but Alen agreed, the driver of the day (either he or Damir) would buy food (with our collective monies) for picnic lunches. We feasted on bread, cheese, meats (prosciutto was a favourite), pâtés (cod was delicious), olives, tomatoes, salads, and fruit. Twice we departed from the picnic plan: First, Alen, in Istria, arranged for a local specialty – freshly made pasta (wild boar, mushroom and chicken dishes); and secondly, on the Island of Cres, following a morning of headwinds, we had their famous lamb. Delicious! The picnic lunches were always tasty and an opportunity to share feelings about the hills past or coming; the locations varied from tables in a winery or under an arbor, to the shade of a single olive tree by the highway, to even, literally on the roadside. On our few days off we tended to search for pizza….thin crusted with simple ingredients, but very tasty.

The Ride: Istria, the Islands, Inland – the National Park, and the Cities. Istrian Peninsula. Parts of this hill-riven, tree-covered peninsula had been Italian for centuries. WW II saw it passed back to Yugoslavia, and hence many of Italian descent immigrated back to Italy. Pula, the largest city, has a four-storied Roman amphitheatre (circa 42 BC) that was, as we watched incredulously, being readied for an ice hockey tournament! We climbed this peninsula’s hills (Flavia, we do hope you appreciate our effort to reach your beautiful home village where, John F. was congratulated by one aging tourist [“I’m so proud of you!”] for completing the final 1 km cobble-stoned ascent in saddle) and pedaled its roads for six days, which included a couple of hours in a monsoon like downpour between Motovun (Flavia’s home village) and Buzet. Rain gear was pulled from packs in the van at lunch as it began to sprinkle. Soaked to the skin, and hands numb, we “streamed”, quite literally, on a long downhill descent into Buzet while the thunder and lightning surrounded us. The dreaded Bora was up the next morning with rain threatening. It was deemed too dangerous to ride, thus most were bussed to Lovran. Alen offered, however, to lead any who might be sufficiently deranged, to take on the mountain (15km climb), the rain and the dark Bora (termed dark when accompanied by rain); three (Garry, Charlene and John P.) took up the challenge. With no van service to provide lunch, they stocked up on chocolate (Garry later noted he had eaten a ½ kilo) and set off. All four were stopped by the wind during one gust and nearly fell as they passed within metres of the Slovenian border. As the rain heightened, John had the first of a few flats! Can you imagine? They ducked into local farmer Mikac’s garage while Alen rousted him from his comfortable house. He plied the soaked, shivering riders with coffee laced with generous portions of schnapps or grappa, while they waited for a ride to Lovran and a day off. The next day most walked to Opatjia along the lungomare (a 12 km seaside promenade – think Stanley Park Seawall) from Lovran, all the while enjoying a botanical garden, well kept hotels, restaurants, and other tourist facilities, some dating from the 1800s. Here, as elsewhere, Panko searched and found his childhood breakfast treat, a rich pastry filled with cheese called a burek.

The Islands. The Adriatic has 1,300 islands, the bulk of them are along the Croatian coast. We cycled four of the larger islands. Each tends to be long and narrow, stretching northwest/southeast. Departing Lovran for the island of Cres we were warned of a steep downhill to the ferry. Gino and Panko, at road side, lubricated and tuned Sonia’s front brake system, while Damir replaced Yvonne’s front brake pads (not a place for poor brakes). This tiny ferry port was the first and last time we saw flotsam and jetsam marring the coastline. We munched granola bars on the ferry as a long climb was ahead before lunch. As we climbed we had time to contemplate a landscape of rocks and more rocks (but not the last time on the tour) and so little vegetation. We took a break to enjoy a conversation with four retired Danes touring south to Dubrovnik. The following day, just to keep all of us on our toes, Alen and Damir drove us south to Mali Losinj so we could battle the northern Bora on the return to our hotel in Cres (the city). Not even the delicious lamb lunch was a sufficient bribe to forgive Alen this prank; but the view down on Cres just might have been worth it; azure blue waters, white gravel beaches (little sand in the Adriatic), fishing boats and red roofed houses – truly beautiful. We crossed Krk, the largest Croatian Island, to the mainland and eventually viewed our next island, Pag, from a height of 950 m – a truly spectacular vista. It appeared to have no vegetation; it shone white and brightly scoured in the far distance. Alen explained that the Bora, at up to 150 km/hr coming off the mountains, keeps the eastern side of Pag soil free. But we could see what appeared to be stone corrals? Off the ferry, in likely 35°C heat, we again climbed. Even up close Pag seemed soil free, but nestled in amongst the rocks were sheep! Yes, Pag is famous for lamb and cheese, and the town of Pag, for salt pans. The appropriately-named, luxurious Luna Hotel at Pag’s north end hosted us. We touring cyclists, even following a shower and dressed in our best duds, stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the moneyed crowd. That night we had “unhappy” hour, paying inflated prices at the bar (the hotel discouraged our brown paper bagged drinks and snacks). Korcula was our next island, and a three hour ferry ride from Split got us there. Alen’s wife Sandra, with daughter Nicole, had replaced Damir; they prepared our fine lunch on board, which included Sandra’s tuna salad. It became a favourite. Unlike Pag, this island is most fertile, and heavily vegetated; the many terraced hills and valleys were loaded with grapes. The village of Mokvica captivated us; oh to stay a few days in such a beautiful setting. The vineyards went on and on. Neat red tiled roofs nestled on the side hill; wild pomegranates for the taking. Most agreed with Alen, this was our favourite island. But the hills; man, we climbed. Gino asked, after one particularly long climb, “Was that necessary?” Ann, just ahead of him, said, and we paraphrase, “Another one down!” Happy hour wine was purchased at another Alen-favourite, the Dingac winery. The three reds went very quickly. Garry, not used to wine, went into a deep slumber.

Inland to Plitvice Lakes National Park (on the UNESCO World Heritage register). Alen claimed Flavia insisted this Park (the largest national park in SE Europe) be on the tour. We had long known it would be our longest and most gruelling ride (122 km): There were those who had seriously considered not joining the Tour for fear of this day. Distance is one thing, but with hills, and on top of a tough ride from Cres to Nova Vinodolski the previous day, and other energy-sapping problems (Warner left his wallet behind in Cres, and John F. had misplaced his prescription sunglasses. He found them on his dresser after searching everywhere but his room [John swore off beer that day]. Alen, [as Charlene noted, “…doesn’t believe in problems, only solutions.”] made a couple of calls and had Warner’s wallet by night fall.). Why hadn’t Alen scheduled a day off? We woke to the usual beautiful sunny warm morning in Nova Vinodolski, and after climbing the equivalent of Vancouver Island’s Malahat Drive (with spectacular ocean views to the islands) we began “the terrible climb”, as Alen dubbed it in the cue sheet. At elevation we went through a fertile valley that had been heavily populated by ethnic Serb Croatians before the war. They’d fled, and only recently were trickling back. We passed the tiny community where the first shots of war were fired; houses showed signs of strafing and bombing. The ride continued, with plum harvesters offering both fresh fruit and plum brandy, and farmers selling cheese and honey – Diane couldn’t resist. We finally made the day’s last climb, a narrow, semi-paved road closed to traffic (national reserve) for 14 km. We wended our way through an old-growth beech forest; the deep shade providing a niche for moss on the trees and road. There was no signage. Had we taken the correct turn at the last junction? The quiet was pervasive. Kumiko thought she’d heard Yvonne, with Diane. Yes, she had. The cue sheets had brought us through. It was a jolly old happy hour that late afternoon, starting with the speedy cyclists as they arrived, and continuing into supper, which began with a generous serving of schnapps and challenges of “bottoms up”. The next day, a day off, we joined the visiting hordes on the boardwalks and in the boats as we made our way around and across the national park’s six or so major lakes. The lakes cascade down from about 630 m to 500 m over eight km. The water colour varied in hues of green, blue, and gray. Rivers suddenly burst from their underground limestone beds to fall into plantfestooned gorges. The lake and river waters tumbled and fell down and over ragged limestone/dolomite formations resembling small icebergs. So beautiful. Thank you Flavia.

Zadar/Skradin/Split/Dubrovnik. Cities tend not to be the favourite destination of cyclists; traffic, congestion, noise, smells, etc. Croatia is not a cycling country, thus its drivers aren’t used to sharing the road. We persisted in Zadar, Split and Dubrovnik without serious incident. It was easy enough entering Zadar, as the last 10 km was on a smooth, double-laned bicycle path. Skradin (the oldest Croatian city, and founded by the Illyrians), on the other hand, came to us after 100 km of flat scrub land, impoverished towns, flying ants to Yvonne’s chagrin, and the Bora. It lies at the head of a long arm (gorge) of the Adriatic and boasts a tiny marina. The town was a marvelous surprise; small and compact, with marble streets. It was a delight to hunker down on our small boutique hotel’s patio, in the middle of such an ancient city. Beer was cold at the street-side bars, where all heads turned, Warner later noted at Happy Hour, as Alexandra and Bernie, dressed in swimsuits, walked amongst the well coiffured tourists. No swim, however. The nasty swans would have none of it.

The residents of Split and Dubrovnik each claim their fair city as the world’s most beautiful, and they may be correct. These cities, along with Zadar, have their respective old towns (or centras) that date to before the Romans. Each is well kept, but Zadar’s took our prize for cleanliness, with cobbled streets so clean and polished, one just might consider consuming, from the pavement, a dropped gelato. Markets, trinkets, souvenirs, high-end clothing and jewelry, gelato and ice cream, and bakeries tend to make up the shops fronting the ancient buildings. A peek beyond these “fronts”, down the narrow winding streets, will show living quarters, replete with hanging laundry cheek-by-jowl with offices. And usually, the center of attraction was the magnificent architecture of the centrally-located Catholic cathedral. For most of us the attraction was not the cities alone, but their spectacular settings. We came upon Split following a long climb to 270 m; it and its bedroom community of Trogir were awash in azure coloured waters with boats and contiguous islands. We snuck up on Dubrovnik, our last riding day, by taking the road along the rugged, indented coast – a truly spectacular and beautiful ride. But, one eye was always on the rear view mirror and the never-ending traffic. More comforting were the adjacent boats as they motored toward the city. We had agreed to enter the city together, thus we waited at the most modern Franko Tudjman Bridge for all to join; here John F. looked down to observe a cruise ship make a 360° turn in very tight quarters without tugboat assistance. The wait was most pleasant as the city’s setting is truly spectacular: It gave us the opportunity to reflect on a most adventurous and spectacular tour; now ended. When all arrived we took the tunnel down into the bustling city traffic for a great lunch on the patio of a high-end restaurant. Later, happy hour was taken up by Bernie and Alexandra giving Croatian mementos, as “awards” to each of us. Alexandra had corrupted the lyrics of “Cruising Down the River” to laud “Touring in Croatia” with Alen Augusten: A sing-song we had.

Thanks. Ah, what a tour. Thanks to our Tour Coordinator, Bernie Phillion, and a well-organized lad he is; to those of the previous tour (see above), including Chris Hodgson and Carol and Glen Evans, for their assistance and encouragement; to Alen, and crew for an exceptionally well organized and well led tour; and, to our fellow riders who were all wonderful cycling mates: The “four amigos” (Charlene, John F., Garry, and Warner) led the pack each day; Diane Farris on her first CCCTS tour, had the longest ride of her cycling career and aced it; Ann, the oldest of us, put her head down, focused and pedaled ‘til the ride was finished, yet later looked most refreshed at Happy Hour; Bernie rode and photographed in and around Alexandra, and at day’s end both swam together; Sonia was ever cheerful, positive and strong, and even after a long ride would go for a walk; Yvonne, interested in all aspects of the countryside, could always be found at the head of a pace-line during the Boras; Kumiko and John cycled together near the back of the pack, as they have been for nigh on 50 years; and lastly, Panko and Gino the ultimate touring cyclists, took their time, and, upon occasion, ignored the cue sheets.