Sailing South - Coastal Croatia

 

Dubrovnik

The Adriatic coastline of southern Croatia is truly sublime. Karst limestone cliffs, topped with green deciduous forest, lapped by gin clear waters which turn a translucent shade of turquoise in the bright summer sunshine make for an idyllic landscape. The old Venetian-style architecture of its towns, characterised by pale-cream coloured classic Renaissance stone buildings, topped with terracotta roof tiles perfectly complements the natural beauty. To my mind, there is no urban and natural landscape more perfectly allied for its climate than that of the Mediterranean. If I lived here my eyes would never tire of looking on such scenes. If Illyria is the setting for the dream-world of star-crossed lovers in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, then, without any shade of doubt, this coastline is music to my enamoured eyes.

 

In the summer of 2016, I travelled south by boat down the Dalmatian coast from Split, by way of the various little islands dotted along its course, to the walled city of Dubrovnik. Making a small detour inland, crossing the border into Bosnia-Herzegovina, to visit the town of Mostar. I’ve travelled to Greece and Italy before, but despite its ancient connections to both Greece and Rome, and its later links to the former City State of Venice, Croatia is very much its own distinct cultural entity. As a region bridging the divide between Mitteleuropa, the rest of the European continent, and the Orthodox and Islamic regions to the East, the Slavic lands of the Balkans have weathered the cultural and political tides which have swept back and forth over it for centuries. Such changes have frequently been dramatic, the recent civil war when the Federation of Yugoslavia collapsed in the early 1990s is still a fresh living memory for everyone living here. To the tourists of today, such horrors seem unimaginable in this idyllic holiday paradise. Unlike most other parts of Europe, when the locals here speak of “the War” they aren’t referring to the events of 1939-1945.

 

Split

Split is an ancient city. Its centre sits right on the seafront. A huge palace built by the Roman Emperor Diocletian in 295 AD as his retirement home. It took ten years to build, measuring roughly 200 by 240 metres, with protective walls which were 2 metres thick and at least 25 metres tall, substantially fortified on its land facing sides. The Emperor, a native Illyrian, even in his retirement maintained an opulent court here with luxurious apartments located in the south, and a formidable military garrison in the north. After his death the palace was occupied by a succession of regional warlords, and it has essentially been inhabited to varying extents ever since. It has slowly been transformed over time into the labyrinthine warren of shops, dwellings and churches that it is today. Exploring such a site of continuous nested domesticity genuinely boggles the mind, but in order to get a real sense of what it would have been like in Diocletian’s time, and to better judge its vast size as a single edifice it is best to descend into the huge vaults of it cellars, several of which are still under archaeological investigation.

 

Diocletian’s mausoleum, where his body lay entombed for at least 170 years, is located not far from his personal waterfront apartments, although now – rather ironically, given his harsh persecution of early Christians – it has become the city’s Cathedral. Given the longevity of his palace, despite all the changes which the centuries have wrought upon it, his spirit still definitely presides over the place. As Roman Emperor, Diocletian is unusual in that he seems to have risen through the ranks from a fairly lowly status, and instead of jealously holding onto power until his demise in his later years he sought to divide the empire into four regions, each administered separately, so that he could retire to his homeland. Ultimately though, this new style of power-sharing governance faltered after his death, and, after a period of disarray, the empire was eventually reunited under a new political and military strongman, Constantine the Great. 

 

Diocletian’s influence, however, invisibly persists into our present, pervading throughout the architecture of Western Europe thanks to the interventions of an eighteenth-century Scottish architect. Robert Adam arrived in Split in 1757 with a team of draughtsmen, who despite the hostility they encountered from the Venetian civic authorities of the time, managed to survey and record much of the palace’s original details. The published results of this work, in the form of a folio of engravings, had a marked effect upon Neoclassical architects, such that many of the buildings of Georgian era England and other parts of Europe owe much of their architectural grace and symmetry to the old Roman Emperor’s retirement home.

 

Split is also the perfect base for several day trip destinations. We took the bus out of town and spent a day wandering around the old town of Trogir, a little further up the coast. Founded by the Ancient Greeks in the third century BC on a small island, it forms a picturesque little town with seventeenth century town gates, a cathedral, various churches and a fifteenth century fortress which is well worth visiting for its stunning views of the town and the sea.

 

A day spent on the sea, island hopping around this stretch of coast is a wonderful experience. The main reason for hitting the waves is to see some of the wonderful coves and sea caves thereabouts, particularly those on the islands of Vis and Bisevo, many of which are only accessible by boat. Bisevo is perhaps the best known because of its ‘Blue Cave,’ a magical grotto reminiscent of its more famous Italian counterpart on Capri. We joined a high-speed, high-powered rib boat tour which departed from Split fairly early in the morning. This meant the group we travelled with was fairly small, and as the boat and its skipper’s job was mainly to get us from A to B, we all felt fairly independent still – generally dispersing at each stopping point to do our own thing, smiling and saying ‘hello’ to our fellow passengers when our paths crossed at the various halts along the way. After a long James Bond-like high-speed dash across a sea which seemed to undulate like liquid glass, with leaping dolphins spotted on the far horizon to one side of us, our boat made the Blue Cave is first priority stop of the day, mainly because it’s perhaps the furthest point from Split, but also to get into Bisevo before the daytime crowds descend. That said though, it was still fairly busy when we made our first landfall here. We managed to negotiate the somewhat confused queuing procedures and transfer onto one of the older wooden boats which then motor a short way around the headland to the Blue Cave. The boat captain then lines the boat up and makes it very clear that we all need to be prepared to duck very low, those who don’t quite catch this instruction soon instinctively understand what was meant when he suddenly powers the boat forward, heading straight towards the sheer cliff-face at an alarmingly rapid rate, but the boat slips very neatly through the low narrow and almost invisible cavity into the rock wall.

 

Entrance to the Blue Cave, Bisevo

Suddenly, after the bright sunlight, we find ourselves lost and blind in pitch blackness. The boat captain immediately cuts the motor, and we seem to glide silently into the darkness. A short file of similar boats drift ahead of us. Our eyes begin to adjust to the dimness, but then rounding the corner we enter the most remarkable effect of natural sunlight which I think I have ever seen. Somehow the sun seems to be shining intensely in a clear blue summer sky, but very strangely the horizon has been inverted. The sun and sky are now beneath us, overhead it is still night-time, and our faces are bathed in a strange, soothing yet other-worldly aquamarine sheen of light. Magical is exactly the right word to describe it. This blue shine seems to dance all around us. The passengers of each boat are hushed and awed by the effect. Looking down over the side of the wooden boat as we drift, I can see the rippled white sand of the bottom far below and the sunlight streaming in from another opening in the cliff, set far below the waterline. After an all too short a stretch of time our boat has rounded the interior of the cave and we are now drifting gently back towards the tunnel-like entrance. We duck once more and the boat powers us out. The Captain turns the prow and the water surges around the boat as we head back towards the jetty, round the headland once again, where we disembark and wait for a brief moment as our speed boat motors back in to pick us up. All heads are accounted for and we are soon flying over the waves once again, this time heading for a point on the far side of the island of Vis, where we slow down to enter another cave, this time much larger and lit by a golden shaft of sunlight from a hole in the cave’s roof overhead, the reflection from the water bathes the interior in a soothing green light. The depth beneath us balanced perfectly by the height overhead. These moments of drifting through silence and space, darkness and light, with the gentle sounds of water lapping contrast starkly with the long high-powered dashes we make over the open sea with the bright, blinding sunshine scorching and beating down from above.

 

Vis

Our lunch orders have been phoned ahead and so we stop on another island, low levelled and covered in scrub vegetation and tall trees, like some secret pirate hideaway. We are welcomed into an open-air restaurant overlooking the small secluded bay, taking our places at a long communal table under the welcome shade of reed mats. No sooner have we sat down than the friendly waiters and waitresses are setting plates of food and bottles of wine before us. Everyone is fiercely hungry now after all that fresh and salty sea air. Lunch is over in no time. Everyone fans out across the island for an hour or so of relaxation, exploring the hidden paths, finding a spot to take a quick dip in the sea before the time when we are due to rendezvous back at the boat quay. As we wait, I watch a cook from the restaurant who appears close by. He crouches down over a rock at the water’s edge and expertly guts a large fish. Throwing its gizzards to one side the fish’s guts barely hit the water before a gull with large outstretched wings hops down and necks the entrails down whole.

 

Our boat and skipper

Our last port of call before the boat returns to Split is the lovely town of Hvar. Here our skipper drops us off at the quayside where some very expensive looking motor yachts are moored along the Riva. We wander into the town to explore the churches and the winding streets of the Groda – the Old Town. Climbing up Matije Ivanića and the steep hillside path through a forest filled with enormous agave plants to a fort with spectacular views overlooking the town. The Fortica, or Citadel was built during the Venetian era in 1550 using the know-how of a group of Spanish engineers, hence the fort is still known to the locals as ‘Španjola.’ – If only I had a short length of fuse and some gunpowder, I think mischievously. I wouldn’t even need to aim one of the many rusty old cannons poking out of the battlements to take out one of those rich millionaire’s yachts moored in the harbour far below!

 

View of the harbour at Hvar Town from the Fortica

The boat ride back to Split is one last madcap dash across the water. Our boat seeming to chase, level with, and then overtaking other fast boats similarly filled with tourists commuting back to Split. We catch them up, only to fall behind as they then overtake us, and us in turn overtake them again in a brief and cheerful dance across the waves as each boat skipper amiably hails the other. The sun is starting to lower into the late afternoon sky, it’s been a long but immensely enjoyable and exhilarating day on the open sea. When we disembark for the last time back at the Riva in Split, we bid farewell to our skipper and fellow passengers – the spell of our time together has now been broken. We wander off in search of a restaurant to relax in, our smiling faces taut with sea salt and sunshine, our bones still humming with the lingering thrum of turbo-charged horsepower, the resonance of a day spent surfing the sea in comfort. A glass or two of Plavac Skaramuča warms us into the evening as we eat outside, attended by two sleek cats, each patiently purring for scraps from our meal.

 

Night view just along the coast from Split

A few days later and we are back at the harbour front, but this time in the early hours. We checked out of our hotel before the restaurant had opened for breakfast, but the lovely couple at the reception desk insist we go in and raid the breakfast buffet for our onward journey, they won’t hear of us leaving on empty stomachs! – So now we stand, second or third in the queue, eating croissants and pastries, as we wait to board the ferry to Dubrovnik. The large catamaran, which looks like a futuristic spaceship from Jerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds, guns its powerful engines and moves gently out of the harbour. Heading out into the open water, it rises up as it gains speed and soon we are cutting back across a familiar stretch of water to Hvar. Each time the ferry stops at one of the islands on its course down the coast we stretch our legs and catch some sun on the afterdeck.

 

Time to Split - 'Thunderbirds' style ...

"Marco Polo's House", Korcula

Korcula

One port of call intrigues me more than the others – Korčula. In a couple of day’s time, we returned here to explore the place properly. It is a lovely little walled medieval town which fills a small leaf-shaped peninsula. And like a leaf, it has a main street running down its centre with smaller side streets branching off, but these vein-like throughfares are curved and set at angles, specifically designed to avoid channelling the coastal winds down the lanes and alleys, hence it forms a neatly compact and enchanting, homely sort of settlement. Immensely picturesque, it is said by some to have been the birthplace of the much fabled thirteenth-century explorer, Marco Polo. Although our local guide was somewhat sceptical about this ‘invented tradition’ (see more here). It’s a lovely place to lunch at one of the restaurants looking out to sea, after which a pleasant hour or two swiftly disappears while exploring the backstreets and the churches and cathedral. It must be lovely in the evening too, but unless you elect to stay-over, getting there and back overland from Dubrovnik is quite a long journey with many places to see en route, such as the oyster beds at Mali Ston and the vast salt pans at Ston, which have been worked continuously since at least Roman times.

 

The Ancient Salt Pans at Ston

Dubrovnik is perhaps one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. My guidebook says it was “first settled in the early seventh century by Graeco-Roman refugees from the nearby city of Epidauros (now Cavtat), which was sacked by the Slavs.” Originally an island the old town became a peninsula long ago when the narrow channel between the island and the mainland became silted up or was filled in. Then known as Ragusa, the town became the seat of the Ragusan Republic – effectively an independent city state, but paying tribute to the Ottoman Empire. The city went on to establish trading colonies stretching from the Adriatic to the Black Sea, it grew prosperous and began to expand its territory as a result, enjoying a ‘golden age’ during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. It was during this time that much of the city’s imposing walls, with fortress and defensive bastions, and its principal urban features – its safely enclosed buildings, smooth stone paved streets, its churches and harbour, were built. But the city’s fortunes began to decline after an earthquake did considerable damage to the place in 1667. Feuding amongst the city’s ruling elite eroded the city’s standing even further, and the city state itself was eventually dissolved by Napoleon when the French occupied the city in 1808. The city and its surrounding regions were then heavily contested and fought over by the British, Russians, and Montenegrins, until it was eventually given to the Austrians at the Congress of Vienna in 1815.

 

Dubrovnik

As my guidebook, The Rough Guide to Croatia, attests: “The symbolic importance of Dubrovnik long outlived the republic itself. For nineteenth-century Croats the city was a Croatian Athens, a shining example of what could be achieved – politically and culturally – by the Slav peoples. It was also increasingly a magnet for foreign travellers, who wrote about the city in glowing terms.” Indeed, it remains a popular tourist destination today. I found it rather beguiling to overhear so many tourists marvelling and enthusing over the place as the location for the recent and immensely popular fantasy TV drama, The Game of Thrones. Listening to them expounding and ‘geeking out’, wide-eyed with unabashed awe, over the place like some sort of trans-dimensional time-travelling tourists was distinctly odd, as they were clearly seeing this as a very real but completely different place to me, someone who has never seen a single episode of the TV show!

 

The genuine history of the place though certainly should not be overlooked, not least because in addition to its very long and venerable past it has also been the site of some major and important events in recent history. Not least when the medieval walled city successfully withstood another siege as recently as 1991-1992, when the Yugoslav People’s Army attacked but were later repelled by a Croatian offensive which descended from the north during the civil war which ensued after the break up of Yugoslavia and the collapse of the Communist Eastern Bloc.

 

Much of the city has been repaired since that time, but walking the two-kilometre circuit of the city’s walls, which are as high as 25 metres in some places, it is possible to see some of the areas and buildings which are still sadly left empty and in ruins. Walking the city walls is by far the best way to get a sense of the old city, and the views out to sea are spectacular. It’s best to allow yourself plenty of time and walk the circuit at a leisurely pace, and if you are in need of a rest or refreshment there are cafes along the route. The old walled town itself is well worth exploring thoroughly too. There are so many interesting little local craft shops as well as restaurants and cafes hidden away in the labyrinthine backstreets that it is a wonderful place to get lost in.

 

Having travelled the Croatian coast from Split to Dubrovnik, visiting so many interesting places and small towns in between – as well as making a brief excursion to see and experience the cultural contrasts of Mostar in Bosnia-Hercegovina (which will be the subject of next month’s blog post), I felt we’d got a real taste of Croatia. It’s possible and very tempting to travel on from Dubrovnik further down the coast into the neighbouring republic of Montenegro, but we were out of time and so this will have to wait for another trip at some point in the future. Reluctantly we had to leave, but flying out of Dubrovnik airport gave us wonderful views from the aeroplane of all the places we’d visited as we flew back up along the coast. Looking down, working out the geography of where we’d been, and reflecting upon which places we’d liked the most, and which little towns we might like to return to one day to explore further, was a nice way to end an enchanting journey through beautiful landscapes, and a delicious melting pot of Mediterranean cuisines, in picturesque places steeped in history and truly gorgeous scenes of natural beauty – Croatia is a real gem of a country.

~

Also on 'Waymarks'

The Old Bridge at Mostar

Winter in Slovenia