In the historic center of Split, Croatia, lies Diocletian’s Palace, a prominent Roman fortress built from white stones in the fourth century. I sprinted right through it with a bicycle wheel in one hand and a bag of tubes in another. As I dodged nicely dressed people walking leisurely along the shiny stone walkways, I considered how often I find myself racing like a mad woman in foreign countries. Four years of guiding bicycle tours in Italy has molded me into this prototype. Only now I’m not getting paid to lead people on a bike tour; Instead I’m paying to organize my own bike tour!
I’m so accustomed to my hurried, sweaty-mess look that it’s easy to ignore sideways glances from beautiful people sipping cappuccinos and taking in the view. I rushed along the promenade that is lined with cafes on one side and the harbor filled with boats on the other. Boats! The reason for my morning run; I had a bicycle to assemble and a ferry to catch!
Our European bike tour began with four flat tires before ever leaving our apartment. My jet lagged husband and I were perplexed by each of our failed attempts to pump up my tubes, only to have them immediately flattened. Out of ideas and spares, I found my way to a bike shop while he finished setting up our bikes. We were in a time crunch to catch a catamaran to the island of Hvar, hence my sprint through the old town center.
With a series of panicked hand gestures and pointing, the mechanic at the bike shop was able to air up my tire with no problems. Mystery unsolved, I accepted that I was the helpless cyclist who couldn’t pump up her own tire. Regardless, I was ecstatic to have a functioning wheel and spare tubes again so I paid him and darted out of the shop.
With fully-loaded (and aired up) touring bikes, we pedaled in a frenzied rush to the boat dock, only to find out that bicycles are not permitted on catamarans. Instead we would have to wait 3 hours for the big ferry and board with the cars. Dumbfounded and out of breath, we wheeled our bicycles back to the promenade where people transitioned to sipping glasses of wine in place of cappuccinos.
Our rushed pace continued to be put in check time and time again during our first week touring on the laid back Dalmatian Islands.
When we finally boarded the big ferry we were instructed by giant Croatian men to squeeze our bikes in like sardines with all the cars. (I swear all Croatian men have the “big and tall” gene that make my 6 foot tall husband look tiny). Then it was more waiting. The ferry creeps along the water at a snails pace and takes 2 and a half hours to get to Hvar. We went up to the top deck and sank in to a couple of comfy chairs. Across from us was a group of local men who had run into each other on the ferry. The mixed generations drank beer and coffee and chatted jovially, while one older guy quickly fell asleepj in his chair next to them. Their relaxed nature made me realize how wound up I had been all day. I should slow down and not worry so much. This is our vacation, after all. I told Jarrod that my motto for this trip will be to “take it easy”, just like the Eagles song.
This notion completely lost me when it was time to get off the ferry and we were front in line. Panicked with the sound of car engines behind us, we steered our bikes the wrong way as soon as we disembarked (there are only two possible ways to go). Then we had another stop to adjust seats. Finally, headed in the direction of Hvar City, we got into a rhythm along the narrow winding road. The gradual ascent from one side of the island and descent to the other was stunning. It was also challenging. I became very aware of how heavy my bicycle is and how weak my legs and lungs are. Our plan to bike from here to Austria, traversing the Dolomites AND the Alps, seemed completely unattainable.
When we reached our apartment in Hvar City my bike suddenly began making a click click click sound. Uh oh. That is the sound of worn disk brakes. My brake pads have not been replaced in years. And we are on an island…with no bike shops. To top it off we had somehow lost our sunscreen while on the ferry. And sunscreen is damn expensive on Islands filled with tanned people! I honestly wasn’t sure if this bike tour was going to happen at all. “Taking it easy” might be my biggest challenge.
Sticky, sweaty and covered in bike grease, my brakes were semi-fixed until we could find replacements. We forced our tired bodies to clean up and walk into town for dinner. The sunset over the glassy water was calming and the town had a buzzing energy with plenty of seaside restaurants to choose from. Our curiosity led us into the maze of narrow alleyways and stairs with hidden restaurants and wine bars. We picked one that was tucked away with wooden tables dimly lit with candles between the stone walls. We were served a huge board filled with traditional Croatian specialties, which included marinated and smoked fish, olives, cured ham, grilled zucchini with goat cheese, warm crusty bread and local olive oil and spices. We devoured all of it!
After dinner we stumbled upon a wine festival and for 50 kuna ($8), we were given wine glasses that were filled and refilled by proud Croatian wine makers from the island. Was our luck changing?! We tasted the rich Cabernet-like Plavac Mali, and the juicy Cjyrienak Kastelanski, which is the origin of red Zinfandel. Delicious food AND wine on one little island is quite impressive in my book.
http://thetravelingsomm.net/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/img_4075.trim_.movThe rest of the week on Hvar island served as a constant reminder to slow down, relax and enjoy each moment. We pedaled our bikes slowly past fields of lavender, olive trees and grape vines, stopping to chat with people along the way. When we were hot from riding bikes, we stopped and jumped in the clear water to cool off. One afternoon we ditched the bikes and hiked to secluded white pebble beaches that line the island.
We set up our tent on beachside campgrounds and took advantage of warm showers and flushing toilets that European campgrounds offer. We savored fresh fish and meals cooked entirely with local ingredients in wood fired ovens.
On a quiet Sunday evening, with not a single restaurant or market open near our camp, a very kind woman insisted on preparing us dinner. She even took the time to set the table outside for us with a tablecloth, a carafe of wine and a toaster so we could toast our bread!
We are now on Korčula island. If you look at a map you’ll see that we haven’t actually gone very far. I’m ok with that. We’re moving, but we’re not rushing. We’ve taken 2 more ferries and it feels easier each time.
Today we took a break from the bikes and spent most of the day by the water exploring Korčula. It’s raining this evening but we have an apartment with a bottle of wine and a smorgasbord of food so we don’t mind at all. I think the “island pace” is rubbing off on us and it feels great.
So happy you got the knicks out and now can ENJOY island pace. Thanks for sharing this journey.