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Saturday, September 14th - Pula to Cres - 11,458 km
I get an early start this morning, having woken in the open air on the second floor of the youth hostel under construction. I creep down the stairs as quietly as I can with my loaded bike over my shoulder. Just as I am climbing onto it and adjusting my gloves, the damn dog starts barking again. But it’s too late. If the staff emerged half-awake to look to see who was there, I was already gone.
I ride back into Pula’s centre. Nothing is open this early on a Saturday morning. I have to satisfy myself with juice and a sandwich I bought last night until later in the day. I eat it while I sit in the deserted main square of the old town. It is cloudy this morning and there is a chilly, damp wind that cautions me that summer is drawing to a close. Hopefully, it won’t rain while I am on the road.
I set out heading north and east along the inside of the Istrian Peninsula. It is quite a while before I see the water as the road is set inland several kilometres. It takes an hour to reach Marcana, the first town. The road circumvents it and I don’t bother going in. It is only 10 am and it still looks dead. The traffic is light still too. I push on to the next town Barban. I am able to find a bakery here and buy some rolls and deserts to give me fuel.
Barban is at the crest of a hill 220 m above a marshy tidal flats. The road drops to sea level and I cross a bridge that spans the marsh. The road follows the bottom of another arm of the canyon to the village of Rasa, and then it climbs to the town of Labin, which looms above me as I make my way up.
This is not as scenic or charming as the west side of the peninsula but it has its moments. A few kilometres further the road turns south-east to follow the steep side of a short fjord by the town of Plomin. It continues to the headland at the end of the fjord, then turns sharply north-east again. From here, it clings to the seaside cliffs all the way to the city of Opatija at the north end of the inside coast of Istre, and then around the bay to Rijeka on the Dalmatian Coast.But I am not going that far. I am on my way to the ferry dock at Brestova, not much further along, where I will catch a boat to the island of Cres. From the south end of Cres, a full day’s ride further along the island, I can catch a ferry to places further down the coast. That is my plan.
I am nearing the turnoff for the Brestova ferry when I am stopped by a middle aged man, named Janko, who pulls his car off the road to talk to me. He asks where I am from and makes small talk for a few minutes until I begin to wonder what was his purpose for stopping. He confesses that he is a ‘homosexual’ and he wants to know if I would like to have sex. His covert way of talking about it convinces me he is sincere.
I must admit I have never been approached so bluntly by a total stranger, and he is taking a risk since gayness is not well accepted in this part of Europe. Just to say that I did it I tell him I’ll give it a try. He tells me he knows a great place with a view to have sex and leads me in his car to a semi-secluded field overlooking the sea 150 m below. He parks his car in a way that we cannot be seen from the highway and throws a blanket down on the long, damp grass. But right beside us is a pile of rotting smelt that someone has dumped by the cliff side. There’s nothing romantic about the smell. I apologize, but I cannot get it up. I wish him well and head off down the hill to Brestova.
There is nothing in Brestova but the ferry dock. I wait there for twenty minutes for the next ferry. It is only a fifteen minute crossing to the island of Cres, which stands like a giant A-frame over 200m high across the water. The road climbs steadily from the ferry docks up the west side of the knife-sharp ridge the forms the spine of the island. After 10 km, it reaches the top of the crest where the road falls away steeply to the sea from 250 m on either side. The view is exhilarating and a bit scary. There is a wind from the west up on top of ridge too, which gusts sharply at points and tries to blow me onto the other side of the road and beyond. I struggle against it for another 10 km until the road drops below the ridge and begins its decent into the town of Cres.
It is a modest town of not more than a thousand people. It has a quaint, understated harbour designed only for smaller boats. There are no hotels open but there is a tourist office here that helps me find a room in a Croatian family’s home. They speak no English but they are very nice. They make me dinner for a small fee. In
spite of the language barrier they try to talk to me. They want to know where I have been and where I am going. I mention I was to go to Zadar and Siblenik, two coastal cities further south. ‘Ah, no Zadar!’ the host shakes his head violently. He drags me to the TV screen and shows me the news. Planes are dropping bomb on a city. ‘Zadar!’ he exclaims, pointing to the screen. ‘Siblenik?’ I ask. ‘No Siblenik!’ he gasps and makes like he is firing a machine gun. I am at a loss as to what to do next. There has not been fighting on the coast up to this point. Obviously the situation has worsened in the past two days or so. I am starting to fret. It would be best to get out sooner than later. I check the ferry schedule I picked up at the tourist office. The next ferry from the south end of the island doesn’t leave for three days and I can’t wait that long. Tomorrow at 1 pm there is a ferry from the south end of the neighbouring island of Krk that can take me to the island of Rab, and from there a ferry stops at 9 pm that will take to the very south end of the country at Dubrovnik. There have been no reports of trouble in Dubrovnik throughout the summer, and it is one of the first World Heritage sites ever designated by UNESCO. It has no military importance so I would likely be safe there.
To get to Krk I will need to catch a ferry at Merag, a landing place on the east side of Cres about 11 km away. It is very short ferry trip but from there I will need to climb a 700 m hill over the top of Krk to get to the port of Baska on the south side. I am very concerned. The situation is getting way to risky. To pacify my hosts, I tell them that I will head back north tomorrow, but I am sure I will make it to Dubrovnik if I don’t delay.
PHOTO 1: Pula in the morning
PHOTO 2: Marcana, above me
PHOTO 3: village of Barban
PHOTO 4: Labin
PHOTO 5: Plomin Fjord
PHOTO 6: Brestova and the ferry
PHOTO 7: the town and harbour of Cres
PHOTO 8: Cres harbour
PHOTO 9: the quaint mail square of Cres
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