Heaven and Hell on the road to Italy
Saturday, May 19
Camping Nevio There really may be nothing not to like about this place. The only problem is what to do with the time we have here. The proximity of the town (about a half-hour walk) means it’s handy for all the mundane things, as well as the nice stuff. So, for example, after much deliberating and agonising, Jane decided to abandon the noble plan to let her hair go grey and, having spotted a nice, friendly backstreet hairdresser just off the main passeo in Orebic, she went back to being a blonde. Aaaaaaaand we’re all happy again! Orebic is also a key staging post for the island-hoppers who tour the pretty outposts off the main Dalmatian coast. The nearest one is Korčula, about a half-hour, if that, from Orebic by ferry. We took our bikes, knowing that the ferry port is about 2.5km from the main town, although we learned later that there is a foot ferry which drops you right in the heart of it. If we’d taken that we would have missed out on a gruelling ride from the port, up a heart-attack hill, then back down into the town! Once that was over, we locked the bikes up in the old harbour and had a good wander around the inside of the citadel, which has earned Korčula the unofficial title of ‘little Dubrovnik’. There were beautiful bars and restaurants throughout, while a walk out of the town took us along the coast, past a succession of nice mansions and private little beaches. For anyone coming to this neck of the woods, Korčula is a must and we could easily have given it another day, via the foot ferry, of course. Thursday, May 24 Dubrovnik Earlier in the week, we’d booked an excursion to the ‘Jewel of the Adriatic’, Dubrovnik, from a kiosk located at the edge of the campsite. At €30 each, it wasn’t cheap but it did mean we wouldn’t have to negotiate the impossibly windy roads that lie between Orebic and Dubrovnik, about a good two hours’ drive away. Far better to let the minibus driver do it. He took us and two other couples to this fantastic, amazingly well-preserved city in the south of Croatia, via a ‘comfort stop’ in the very quaint town of Ston, about halfway. Ston itself is worth a trip – it’s the centre of salt production in this corner of the country and has long had a strategic importance, so much though that its founding fathers built a grand fortress and a remarkable defensive wall, which from a distance looks like a mini-great wall of China, as it snakes up and over the hills to the east of the town. But even this couldn’t distract us from the main point of the day and at about 10.15 we fetched up outside the main gate leading into Dubrovnik, with fives hours to kills before the bus driver collected us back from the same spot. So well preserved is Dubrovnik that it comes as a shock to find it has regularly been destroyed over the centuries. Even as late as 1991, during the Kosovan wars as Croatia fought for its independence, gunboats from the Yugoslavian navy left more than half of the old buildings in ruins. Happily, it has been rebuilt sympathetically but its beauty and popularity means that the old town is more at risk now from the millions of tourists who flock here every year, to the point where there is talk of limiting numbers to just a few thousand each day. Part of the problem comes from the sheer number of cruise ships who call into Dubrovnik and on the day we were there we could barely move for the tour parties who thronged the narrow streets and alleys and marched wearily along the 2km of fortified walls that surround the town. With time short, we restricted our visit to an hour or so at the wonderful museum of war photography, located in an alley off the main street, and a good session taking in the wall. The museum is probably the best way to get a good sense of what the people of Croatia, and Dubrovnik, went through during the civil war and the shots of the frightened children and the aftermath of the massacres and other atrocities really bring the reality home. It’s to the Croatians’ credit, though, that they don’t dwell on the horrors and the injustices and less than 30 years on they have generally cordial relations with all the new countries that have sprung up in the wake of the collapse of the old Yugoslavia. By 3pm we were ready for home, having ‘done’ Dubrovnik as much as we could. Like a lot of places we’ve seen on this trip, it stood out as somewhere we could come back to for a weekend, staying in one of the fancy hotels. One day... Our one day here though wasn’t complete without the planned wine tasting we had on the road back to Orebic, at one of the many little wineries which punctuate the route along the peninsular. When we pulled in, the farmer was waiting for us with bottles of red, wine and rosé, plus bottles of the fruit liqueurs he makes as well. The six of us helped ourselves to the lot for a half-hour before dutifully buying a few bottles each. We came away with a litre of red and a litre of white which, to be honest, will slip down nicely when there’s nothing else left to drink in the van. On the Saturday, we took our seats in the campsite bar to watch the Champions League final along with dozen or so Germans, Dutch and one other English couple. Everyone was supporting Liverpool, which became clear from the widespread groans that greeted each successive clanger from the hapless Liverpool ‘keeper. Everyone, though, admired Gareth Bale’s spectacular first goal. Never have we been prouder of our Welsh heritage! The next day, we treated ourselves to a meal at the site restaurant, knowing as the sun went down over our view of the sea and the site that our time here was drawing to a close. We should have really gone the next day but the weather was so glorious and the site so perfect that we delayed our journey back north until the Tuesday. Tuesday, May 29 Camping Stobrek, Split Yes, we’ve been here before. We didn’t intend to but we had to break our long drive north to Istria when the van had another calamitous breakdown. We were on the motorway, quite near Split, when Jane, who was driving, said two warning lights had lit up on the dashboard, alerting us to the fact there was something wrong with the brakes. We knew there was nothing else to do but get to the nearest Fiat garage and, luckily, there was one in Split. When we came off the motorway and paid the toll, we pulled over and then it became clear what had gone wrong – when we changed over about 30 miles ago, Jane had not let the handbrake off fully and had driven with it on for the entire time she was at the wheel. We set the satnav up to take us to the garage and we arrived about 10 minutes after it had shut but, luckily, the service manager was just locking up and, in his perfect English, with a hint of an Australian accent, he told us to come back in the morning and he’d have a look at it. Coincidentally, the garage was just a mile or so from the Split campsite we had stayed out earlier in May so we limped down the hill to the site to find it virtually full. Nevertheless, they managed to find us a makeshift pitch and we settled down for the night. In the morning, we limped back to the garage for its 8am opening and our NBF Toni checked the diagnosis with his computer and informed us we’d knackered the speed sensor which had burned out because of the heat generated by the friction of the locked-on handbrake. It needed a new part which they didn’t have in stock and, as the next day was a public holiday in Croatia, we’d have to come back on Friday to have the work done. So, we had another layover in Split (not the worst thing, to be honest) and decided that we’d go back to the site, find a proper pitch and book in for a couple of nights, to take us up to Friday and into Saturday. Then, on Saturday morning, all being well, we would get off and recommence our journey north to Italy and Venice, before heading up to the lakes to meet our great friends Kathy and Jeff. Well, all was well. On Friday, we dropped the van off with Toni, caught the bus into Split, had another look around Diocletian’s palace and then, just after lunch, took a phone call from Toni saying everything had been done and the van was ready to go. Elated, we caught the bus back to the garage where he was waiting for us with a box of knackered brake parts and the news that, although things were worse than he first feared, he had fitted new rear discs, shoes, a brake cylinder and the burnt-out speed sensor. In Spain, where a garage in Almeria had done less work on the rear brakes, the bill had come to more than €1,000. Here, the bill came to about half that and, of course, we were thrilled by this but, more, were thrilled by the standard of service. Toni, knowing we were screwed without the van, treated us with courtesy, kindness, humour and honesty and we drove away thinking that if a catastrophic breakdown can be a pleasant experience, this was it. Thanks Toni, we’ll be sure to give you a great review! Still glowing, we went back to the site, told everyone we could how great the service had been, had another great pizza in the camp restaurant and, in the morning, left for the north with a spring in our step, ready to face any emergency stop with a smile and the full confidence that the van could deal with it... as long as we didn’t drive with the handbrake on! Saturday, June 2 Camping Selche, Croatia Our last night in Croatia was at a steeply terraced site right on the beach, next door to the very busy resort of Selche. It was a long drive here but mainly on the excellent A1 motorway that slices right through Croatia and makes getting north to south very easy indeed. We arrived in enough time to unload our stuff and get the bikes off to see more of this part of coast. Whether it was because it was the weekend, or just because the season has started in earnest, the beaches were very busy and all the touristy shops were open. Still, it has charm and life and the site was fine... it was a shame we would only be there a night. Sunday, June 3 Camping Venezia, Venice As the route to the Italian lakes took us right through Venice, it would have been foolish not to have taken the opportunity of at least one night here to enjoy what is officially the most beautiful city in the world. We arrived at lunchtime, picked our spot, had a good look around the site (excellent facilities), popped to the nearby Lidl for supplies (and great summer lights) and planned our visit to the old city. We rose early on Monday and bought two €20 ‘rover’ tickets, giving us unlimited travel on buses into Venice and on the water buses which are the cheapest way to get around the canals. Once there, we took a direct route to St Mark’s Square to find it rammed with tourists, either taking pictures of themselves, the buildings or queueing to get into the historic sites, like the Doge’s palace. Tourist ninjas that we are, we decided to do our usual trick of wandering aimlessly about the place, hoping against hope that the amazing attractions would magically present themselves to us. Of course, it didn’t work out that way although we couldn’t help but be amazed at the staggering beauty of Venice. Every alley and canal offered a different picture-postcard view but it was impossible to capture it all, so we didn’t try. We took the bus over to St George’s island and found it to be far less choked with tourists. There were no queues at all for the lift to the top of the bell tower which gave you unrivalled views over Venice, across the lagoon. Nor were there crowds in Murano, one of the other islands we hopped over to, but its delightful canalside restaurants and the glassworks that have made the place famous, made this place, for me, the highlight of the trip to Venice. By 5pm we were back at the site, exhausted but glad we’d made the effort. We may not ‘do’ Venice as well as some other tourists but we knew we’d ticked it off our list and, like Dubrovnik, done the hard pathfinding for the real visit at some unknown date in the future. Tuesday, June 5 Camping Al Lago, Lake Ledro, Italy Sometimes, the journey is almost as good as the destination; sometimes better. Travelling to this less fashionable lake in northern Italy may be a case in point. From Venice we had to cover 130 miles to get here but the often gruelling, tortuous hill climbs were worth it, if only for the amazing view of Lake Garda that you get from high up in the mountains. Gosh, it’s amazing – vast, blue and inviting, with the kind of tasteful, dense development on its shore that would probably appal conservationists from the Lake District National Park but, somehow, seems to only add to Garda’s charm. Lake Ledro is hardly any less beautiful but it’s so much smaller and nothing like as overdeveloped. Our campsite is right on the shore (it’s probably 20 metres to the edge if you fancy a swim in its warm waters) and is the perfect place to relax for a few days in the company of our friends, who’ve rendezvoused with us to celebrate Jeff’s 60th birthday. Before their arrival, we set up our pitches together and had a good look around the little village here, Pieve, which seems to be a typical Italian village – a little church, lots of bars and restaurants and a few arts and craft shops. The real reason people come here, though, is the lake which, when the sun shines on it, is beautiful, blue and crystal clear, perfect for kayaking, swimming and generally messing about on. Before all that, though, we had to have our usual first night: dinner outdoors, lots of laughter, real ale and swapping travellers’ tales, then a retreat indoors for a few bottles of red wine when an electric storm struck at about 10pm. Wednesday, June 6 Camping Al Lago With the team all settled in, it was time to enjoy all that Ledro has to offer. As a proper mountain lake, its waters are clear and blue, but quite cold. Nevertheless, ever intrepid Kathy showed us the way and when the sun shone, which was frequent, we dipped first our toes then immersed ourselves completely to be baptised by this prettiest of the smaller Italian lakes. Jeff, a keen kayaker, took his craft out onto the water and we all had a go, with varying degrees of success, it has to be said. The lake is perfect, too, for cycling and after one false start, interrupted by a rainstorm, we eventually got to complete its 10km circumference (it took about 30 minutes and left me totally knackered!) to see what a really fine place this is. The town itself has charm but when it came to eating out we chose the lovely campsite restaurant, sampling its pizzas and it’s incredible, plain, pasta and garlic sauce. Perfecto. On our last night we had another meal, just as good and reasonably priced as the first. And when it came time to leave it was with a heavy heart. But, another exciting chapter lay ahead – Lake Iseo, about 60 miles away. Saturday, June 9 Camping Covelo, Iseo God bless Kathy and her exhaustive research! She came up trumps again with this site, on Lake Iseo, and the two reserved pitches, right on the shore. The camp is about a mile from the busy commercial centre of Iseo and is bordered behind us by the main railway line that connects Iseo to Brescia. Nevertheless, there are only an average of about six trains a day, and none in the night, so we are fairly undisturbed... unless you count the ceaseless chatter of the resident mallard population and the early-morning honking of the lonely goose. Their antics, watched by us from our sun chairs perched on the edge of the shore, seems like an avian soap opera as the mating season kicks in and the lucky ones pair off, or are left on the shelf to take out their frustrations on the females, if they’re male, or run away from their pestering, if they’re female. On our arrival, it should be noted, the receptionist settled us into the bar with a welcome drink and then her staff guided us expertly to our pitches. Then, after we’d parked up, wound out the awning and put the kettle on we could see what a spectacular place it really was. About 60km in circumference, the lake is fairly big in Italian terms. To the west and north, the last hurrah of the Alps rises up out of the lake to give it a dramatic backdrop while, on the lake itself, a regular stream of traffic suggests this is a busy tourism centre, helped no doubt by Monte Isola, the largest inhabited lake island in south and central Europe (allegedly). Monday, June 11, was Jeff’s birthday and, after a pre-meal aperitif by the lake, we went to the restaurant and took our places at a lakeside table for the celebratory dinner. We’d opted for the €30-a-head fish tasting menu and it didn’t disappoint. Course after course came out, platters groaning under the weight of fresh seafood, followed by some lovely desserts and a complimentary bottle of Prosecco, complete with flaming sparkler. It was a great night, finished off by more drinks and nibbles back at our prime lakeside spot. If that was the highlight of the stay, the following night ran it a close second: a wine and pasta evening back at the bar. What seemed like a measly three glasses of wine each (one red, one rosé, one white) and three different pasta dishes actually turned out to be pretty good value for €15 a head. We topped that up with our own bottle of the rosé (€12) and stood around chatting to the Dutch regulars. One had been coming since 1973 and another, Renee, since 1998. By the end of the night we could see the attraction, even if we couldn’t quite see straight. Back at the pitches, we cracked open more wine, more cheese, more chocolate, more crisps, while Jeff tried to explain the intricacies of Kraftwerk. With the help of Spotify, we spent a long time studying Krautrock before, probably around 1am, giving our long-suffering neighbours a break and turning in. Oh, did I mention the spectacular electric storm which illuminated the party, or the downpour we endured under the awning? Our stay also included a ferry trip to Monte Isola with the bikes. We managed to circumnavigate the island (about 10km) before having a lovely lunch back at the ferry terminal. A mountainous, charming old place, it was well worth the visit. Thursday, June 13 Camping Covelo It’s our first full day back by ourselves after Jeff and Kathy started their long drive back to Calais. They headed to Lake Piano on wednesay, leaving us initially a little deflated to be without their lovely company. When they’re with us, as they were last year in the Ile D’oleron and the Ile de Ré, we tour hard and party hard. The car crash of a picnic table after our last night together (see pic) bears witness to the lightweight debauchery we get up to but, the hangover of the following day and their departure remind us that we’ve got to cut down on the booze and the calories and get back on track. With that in mind, we had a good long walk into Iseo on Wednesday evening and a cycle into the town again on Thursday, rewarded with a lovely ice cream! Friday, June 14 Pictured, from top: The terracotta rooftops of Dubrovnik; one of the alleyways in Korčula, known as ‘little Dubrovnik’; six views of the real Dubrovnik; six views from our return visit to Split; a view of our pitch from the restaurant at Orebic; more views of Split, including Jane with our saviour Toni; our pitch at Camping Venezia; one of the gondolas in Venice; more views of Venice; two shots of Lake Ledro in northern Italy; kayaking on Lake Iseo; the gang and the aftermath of the wine tasting
|