Northern Croatia
Scorching Heat and a bit of Paradise
This Blog Entry is about
how we take advice from a local, find a piece of paradise and battle the blazing heat of the last weeks of July. We conquer un-ridable roads and discover unconventional breakfast choices. As is so often the case, we meet numerous people who make our journey special through their hospitality and generosity.
Some Advice at a Real Border
We have already cycled through two countries today, Croatia is the third one. The second border crossing today is also the first hard border control as we are leaving the Schengen Area: we pedal along a deserted road on a plateau that separates Slovenia from Croatia. No vehicle has overtaken us for about an hour. The thermometer shows 35 degrees Celsius and we have already climbed more than 850 metres in altitude. The spacious border station appears almost like a mirage. The two border guards are very friendly: our bottles are filled with cool drinking water by the Slovenian border guard, while the Croatian official checks our passports. He knows the area very well and so he recommends an alternative route. (Note: The officer can’t quite understand why we’re on our way to a campsite – why not just camp on the side of the road? The migrants do it all the time! – By the way, wild camping is forbidden in Croatia).
Advice from strangers is always a tricky affair. On the one hand, the locals know the terrain of the area, but on the other hand, metres in altitude and loose road surfaces are often underestimated by non-cyclists. Out of politeness, we take the advice. The official calls after us: “Don’t be afraid if you see migrants! They don’t want anything from you, they’re all moving on… to Germany or France!”
We drive through the half-ruined village of Slum (a really apt name), and then we climb another 100 metres in altitude in the last 2 kilometres, so that we almost crack the thousand-metre altitude mark at the end of the day. The border official had assured us that the road was supposed to be mostly flat.
A Paradise in the Middle of Nowhere
A weathered welcome sign greets us on the sun-baked plateau at the end of a gravel road. Two campervans are standing within the partly fenced-off area in a small copse with withered grass. Far and wide there is not a single sign of life apart from a blonde middle-aged woman standing at a stone sink in front of a small hut washing dishes. The air is flickering in the heat.
It turns out the lady is a camper from Austria, and Nevio, the owner of the campsite is away on business till the following day. To our disappointment, we learn that there is no drinking water up here. The next well is located in Buzet, about 400 metres downhill and 5 kilometres away in the valley. Great. We are thinking of leaving straight away, away from this dried-up, desolate place, but then where will we go?
Trying to keep a cool head, which is not easy after the heat and exertion of the day, we check our water supplies and conclude with relief that we still have enough drinking water for the evening. In addition, the water from the tank for washing up/showering is cool and odourless, so we drink it out of our filter bottles.
In hindsight, giving the Raspadalica Camping and Paragliding Site a chance is one of our best decisions: Our Austrian neighbours recognise our plight and provide us with drinking water, Nevio brings us fresh water from the well the next morning and we stay for a total of four days: Raspadalica is not the dried up, desolate place we had mistaken it for when we arrived: Raspadalica is actually mainly known as a paraglide launch site, most guests come just for that. We have the opportunity to watch the paragliders take off right next to us!
And the best thing about Raspadalica: The incredible infinity pool that Nevio built right on the hillside and from which you have a magnificent view over Buzet and the surrounding area. A real blessing with the temperatures, which sometimes climb to 40 degrees in the afternoon. It is not just us who enjoy the pool to the full, but also the animals in the area, which come to drink at night. The swimming pool is the only source of freshwater in the vicinity.
Beware of Forest Fires!
In Raspadalica we also meet some interesting people: The backpackers Noor and Nean, who are currently building their own Tiny House in the Netherlands to deal with rising property prices, and the bikepackers Perrine and Tristan from Belgium, who quit their jobs to go travelling. As we sit by the pool together at night, drinking a beer and stargazing, the air suddenly smells smoky. A forest fire nearby? This region of Croatia is currently affected by many fires due to the heat and the lack of rain. A little later the smoke becomes visible and the stars disappear in the black misty sky. However, we don’t see a fire so decide to go to bed. The next day it turns out that the smoke we saw and smelled has been spreading over from a big forest fire near Trieste – 50 km away. For the first time in our life we become aware of the real and tangible danger forest fires pose, as in Germany and England, we only see them on TV. Luckily, our route is leading us the opposite direction.
A Sweltering Affair
It is Thursday and so hot that we decide to defy the hot hours of the day in the pool and only continue cycling in the afternoon. With heavy hearts we leave Raspadalica at 3 pm – 34 degrees Celsius. It is far too hot and most of the journey today is uphill, because we have to cross the Učka National Park Mountain Range to get to Rijeka. We buy a cool drink in almost every supermarket on our way.
Towards the evening the temperature slowly becomes more bearable. We reach Brest pod Učkom (590 m.a.s.l.) and are very surprised to find it surrounded by a plateau after so many metres in altitude and serpentines cycled. The small village with about 50 inhabitants, surrounded by fields, looks like a postcard of a coastal village.
We carefully inspect the landscape – pitching our tent on one of those fields would be perfect! It is already late though and we don’t see any farmers in the fields to ask for permission. In the village itself, an elderly couple is sitting on one of the balconies and we ask them about camping. However, they don’t seem to understand us and we get the impression they don’t care to to do so either. We thank them for their tip to just pitch up in the public carpark close by, then we keep cycling as this is certainly not a good idea in the middle of the croatian holiday season.
A Hot Night
A little bit further we hear a tractor engine and follow the sound to the farm of an elderly couple. The farmer’s wife speaks quite good English and we ask permission to spend the night in their garden. They are a bit sceptical at first, but in the end we are allowed to pitch our tent in the adjacent field, we are even offered coffee, but due to the heat we gratefully decline the offer. That night, the temperatures barely drop below 30° Celsius.
An Impossible Day
The next day takes us further through the Učka National Park and over the eponymous mountain range, up to almost a thousand metres, but this time we are prepared for the heat: the alarm clock rings at 5:50 am and at 7 am we start cycling at a cool 27° Celsius. The tarmac road we had followed the day before turns into a rough gravel path almost immediately. On a mountain bike certainly an exciting challenge, for our touring bikes a disaster: even on a 5 percent incline, any large stone can cause a crash and the rear wheel is constantly skidding. Not fun and terribly exhausting.
The further we get, the looser the gravel becomes and the steeper the incline. In the upcoming kilometres we reach our limits: first we have to push the bikes, then it gets so steep that we can’t even manage that. Over a distance of about two kilometres, the two of us push one bike about a 100 metres forward, then the other. We set a new record on the slowest speed cycled/pushed: 2 hours for 5 km.
Popsicles for Breakfast
Eventually we reach a hilly plateau surrounded by bushes and shrubs – at least we can ride again, albeit slowly. The path turns off onto a proper road and we’re through the ordeal – for now. To our delight, there is a visitor centre up here with a small café – we are ravenously hungry, so we have the only edible thing the café offers: Popsicles for breakfast! By the way, we highly recommend the Croatian Magnum imitation “King” with the excellent Triple Chocolate and Blueberry Cheesecake flavours. Physically, but also mentally we feel exhausted after this ordeal – it’s without doubt a great feeling to master a challenge, but today we are rather disappointed, because this route has been impossible. Joel nods off briefly on the comfortable beach chair next to me.
From here it’s all downhill on a tarmac road and we have a great view of the sea. It’s only 30 kilometres to Rijeka and we even find a small source of freshwater at the side of the road to fill up our water bottles – what more could go wrong today?
When it Rains it Pours ...
Ten minutes later we stumble down a single trail surrounded by brambles whose thorns constantly pinch us and get tangled up in the bikes. The decline is 24 percent, so steep that we have to push the bikes again! Yes, it is actually too steep to ride! But even while walking, it is difficult to brake at the same time as keeping our balance with the 40 kg bicycles. Joel crashes twice with his bike, and so do I. Unsuspecting, we had followed our navigation system Komoot instead of taking the beautifully scenic and asphalted road along the slope. Our nerves are further strained when the footpath turns into a flight of steps. “If this is a bike path,” Joel remarks bitterly, “I don’t want to know what the footpaths are like here.”
We survive the breakneck descent only just and come out on the busy coastal road towards Rijeka. We feel like we have been cheated out of a well-deserved descent. Due to the scorching heat, our navigation phone switches off a few kilometres before our destination.
A More than Tightly Sealed Storage
Even though the phone called it a day, ours is not over yet: We climb steeply uphill for a few more kilometres. With the last of our strength we arrive at the Old School Hostel in Draga, Rijeka. The hostel is not only called “Oldschool” because it is furnished in an old-fashioned way – it actually used to be a school!
We stay here for two nights before flying to Sweden for Joel’s brother’s wedding. Luckily, the hostel operator had offered us in advance that we could store our bikes in his garage in our absence. However, we don’t get to see the owner during our entire stay, as he is constantly “on a job”. Eventually though, a friend of his hands Joel a key.
Small problem: After Joel locks the bikes in the chamber, the door can no longer be opened – probably due to heat-induced expansion. Joel tries it a few times the next day, then some other guests, then me. Fiddlesticks. I guess the bikes are even more safely stowed away than we thought!
Note: In the morning before our flight, Joel manages to open the door after all. During our stay in Sweden, the owner had the lock repaired.
More Impressions
