Dugi Otok

Wiggling Through the Adriatic Islands

Zadar, Croatia, was our base of operations, a place from which to make day trips and general whatnot.  Despite our best intentions, for two days we sank into the rhythm of slow coffee at our beach-side cafe' before strolling the narrow streets.  Today, however, was the day we would strike out across the water.  After we had coffee.  And strolled a bit.

We boarded the ferry Anamarija at her berth in the inner harbor.  Our destination was Dugi Otok, the outer island of the plethora of karst islands barricading Zadar from the open Adriatic (see the cool map insert, above!)   Onboard, the passengers were a mix of local folks, a few tourists, and a bicycle group.  Before even a single hawser was cast off, the below-decks cafe' was churning out espresso and dispensing some sort of local Grappa firewater.  This was obviously not the first rodeo for the men crowded around the bar.

The Anamarija's aged engines throbbed to life and we were off.  There are myriad islands between the mainland and the open Adriatic.  This labyrinth of limestone islands extends up and down the Dalmatia Coast and supplies the loveliness required for the picture postcards.  There are three (depending on how one counts them) rows of islands off the shores of Zadar.  These long craggy barrier islands are shaped like thin bits of the coast, sliced off and left to drift. 

We threaded the incredibly narrow passage of Pašman Otok, where I could have thrown a rock to the shore on either side of the boat.  Back out in the open water, the engines pulsed as we headed towards Sali, a small village on the southern end of Dugi Otok.  From Sali we planned to bicycle up and over the spine of the island to end up at the Telašćica Nature Park.  We did not know quite how tall the spine actually was.

The Tiny Port of Sali

The village of Sali pushes up to the edge of the snug harbor, a ring of cut stone and red-tiled roofs.  The passengers unloaded themselves whilst the crew unloaded all of the various goods being delivered to the island.  There were boxes and bales, sets of car tires, furniture and bulk food.  The crew got things onto the flagstones of the quay and the locals took it from there, sorting out what belonged to whom.  The whole of the thing was so damn picturesque I felt as if I had been dropped onto the set of Giuseppe Tornatore's "Cinema Paradiso."

The Tourist Throng, just enough for a volleyball team.

The dozen or so tourists, including ourselves, wandered into the village.  Outside the tourist office, we met the shuttle driver, who was hoping for a full load of souls to haul over to the Nature Park.  When I told him that we intended to bicycle, he transformed himself cheerfully into the bicycle rental agent.  We were soon aboard some fairly decent Scott mountain bikes, grinding up the steep hills out of Sali.

 

Well, it looked pretty flat on the map...

Yes, grinding the bicycles up, and up, then a bit more up.  All of the islands seem to have one basic feature:  a high spiny ridge of limestone down the center.  The nature park lay on the other side of the ridge.  

What goes up must come down, and so it was with us.  Sweaty climbing was replaced by the exhilaration of whooshing downhill, finding the small one-lane road to the park, and more downhill whooshing.  Of course, all of that downhill whooshing would be uphill grinding on the return.  

The road leveled out as we coasted along the corrugated shores of one of the bays that make up the dragon mouth shape at the south end of the island.  Rolling past wildflowers and the dull green of olive trees, we passed a wild donkey sanctuary and continued onward.  

Here is a link to a video of the bicycling in action:

Bicycling Dugoi Otak

Blue and Green, Green and Blue

An Upgrade from the Mao-Bike Trusty-Rusties of SE Asia

A bit more climbing over the next ridge and we dropped down to the salt pond, a long narrow lake that is fed with seawater via underground channels in the karst limestone.  Avoiding a noisy little pod of tourists at the nearest end of the lake (how did they get here?) we bumped along the shrinking trail until it was time to park the bikes and continue on foot.  At the far southern end of the lake is an almost barren rocky ridge.  The eerie pile of limestone separates the salt lake from the sea.  This was Lands End for the barrier islands.  From this spot we were gazing out across the open Adriatic, from whence the Venetian fleets had come to burn Zadar.

Lands End

The ridge of limestone was a strange place.  Between the lake and the sea, thousands of rock cairns had been built.  Some were simple stacks of stone while others were more like primitive sculptures of rocks, flotsam, and bits of driftwood.  There was a placard describing various theories on how the cairns came to be, but the theories were all crap.  People piled up the stones.  The question is why?  The rock field between the two waters covered several acres.  Almost every square foot of this space was occupied by a rock cairn.  A great deal of human effort had gone into the ant-like work of piling rocks into towers. 

Here is a link to a video of the field of rock cairns at Lands End:
Lands End at the Adriatic

 

The Result of Human Obsession with Building Piles

Turning away from the Adriatic, we continued our circumnavigation of the lake.  We walked amongst olive trees, the tumbled remains of stone huts, and the rustling of skittering lizards.  The lake is the home to eels, probably not Shrieking Eels, but still unique in their own right.  Although there is no visible passage from the salt lake to the open sea, the eels manage to commute through the underground water passages in the limestone.  They leave the lake to spend several years in the open sea, then return to the lake to breed.

Returning was on our mind as well, for our options were either a mid-afternoon ferry back to Zadar or a late evening boat ride.  Opting for the former, we left the lake behind and began grinding back up the lovely hills we had whizzed down.  Along the rough bay we saw the small tour boat that explained the knot of noisy tourists who had been assaulting the quiet of the lake when we first arrived.  It was heading out of the bay, taking its noisy cargo with it.  We started up the long grade back to the main road.  It was hot and sweaty work, but we managed to climb each ridge until all that was left was a glorious sweeping roll back down into Sali. 

Tired and happy, we left the bikes, unlocked, next to the little tourist office.  When I had asked the agent if we should lock them upon our return, he had laughed.  Where would the bikes go?  It was an island where everyone knew everyone else.

And so it was back across the water, back through the narrow passages, and hence back into the inner harbor at Zadar.  We walked our tired selves to our digs and cleaned up.  Soon it was time to set out for that magic food that restores all to vigor.

Pizza!

Another fine day wandering the environs of Zadar had come to an end as darkness engulfed our little terrace.  We kept a sharp eye out for our friend the hedgehog, but it seems he had other tasks on this fine evening.  The heavy scents of roses and jasmine hung in the air as the moon traversed the sky.  All was well.  

From Zadar, Croatia, as always, Ciao for Now!