Was up pretty early and scooted over the mountain to Hvar Town to meet Daniela and Nadia, henceforth known as D&N for a brew.
(Stari Grad on a still morning)
Hvar Town turned out to be a pretty busy little tourist spot…I think my impression of it may have been unfairly soured when I walked into one cafe with my Croatian greeting and request for coffee at the ready only to be greeted by “yeah, whaddya want?” from the waitress… I went next door where they were at least smiling. Hvar Town was full of backpackers wearing improbably skimpy clothes lugging improbably huge backpacks… Met a German touring cyclist here too…I had seen him on the road and waved a couple of times but with his huge load I think he was suffering too much to notice a road bike scooting by … 50kg I think he said “I am camping you see”… yes, with a very heavy tent I imagine… he followed up with “but now I go to the the 5-star resort on the hill”. Worn out I guess…. ;-)
(not so scary after all…)
So after charging up with coffee I headed east to explore while the girls headed off to find a boat for the day… I was tempted to join them but thought I should ration my excellent company for the time being rather than spoil them, lol, so instead I went back towards Stari Grad then Vrboska and Jelsa for a beer and ice-cream lunch before exploring the quiet mountain roads further east.
East of Jelsa the roads are narrow and quiet as they wind their way around beautiful mountain scenery blessed with wildflowers, olive trees and ancient stone terraces… (oh how poetic…). A bike really is the only way to explore. I ended up in a tiny little place on the north coast called Vela Stiniva… a stunning hairpinned descent, tiny road, through a limestone gorge brought me to this place… a crescent of shingle in front of a bay of the usual crystal clear and impossibly blue water with a little quay and a bar,, hardly a soul in the place, lovely… after a quick dip I dozed in the shade for a couple of hours at the bar (while the owner and his buddy letched through binoculars at a woman swimming off the cliffs) before mustering my energy for the return journey to Stari Grad…
It was on the ride back that I had my only “dickhead in a car” experience for the whole trip.. Big BMW 4×4 (typically…) pulling an enormous caravan with German plates… came hammering past way too fast for a little mountain road with a blast of the horn that said “out of my vay schwitzenden cycling person”. All I could do was stick my finger up and think of the war and how he was probably a big sweaty wurst of a man…
In the little network of roads west of Jelsa I managed to get lost…. “nudist camp? I don’t remember a nudist camp…” as I headed down one tiny wooded road… I turned round pretty quick and found out what the locals do with their old cars… they chuck ’em over a handy hedge in the same way as I do with a banana skin…
So a very lazy 125km of exploring some fabulous little roads. My companions for dinner the previous night were unable to make it for dinner… beer related incident I think… so picked a place with a smiling waitress and sat in the evening sun with spaghetti and beer….
Another observation.. nothing to do with loo seats but rather stripey tee shirts,..on sale everywhere… but nobody ever wearing them. Very odd. Perhaps the local equivalent of fetish wear so they only come out after dark…
