As soon as we had set up in Kamp Galeb, I sent George a WhatsApp to let him know that Steve and I were in Omis for a few days and we would love to take a trip on his catamaran to Brač. He responded almost immediately saying he remembered us well and that we should arrive Friday morning at 08:45 where the Mariano is moored with Stella. It was late Tuesday afternoon and we couldn’t wait!

This is George’s smaller boat that he used to take us for a cruise up the Cetina Canyon and also to the Radmanove Mlinice Restaurant.

Due to travelling during the Covid-19 pandemic, except for our Winter months in Cabopino, Marbella, we have been used to having campsites to ourselves. When we arrived end of March in Croatia we stayed at Camping Stobreč Split for six weeks. We were carefully counting our days (only being allowed a total of 90 per country, Schengen counting as one country), so that we had sufficient days not only to travel through for our journey back home but also to enjoy a few more weeks to explore and enjoy Croatia in the sun. Stobreč had around 300 pitches and we never saw more than 20 units, usually lined up along the beach shore line.

Staying at Autocamp Naluka in Montenegro for eight weeks, let’s face it, we took it over with Steve being the local tourist office as he had a good collection of maps which complemented the experience we had accumulated travelling around.

In Albania where we stayed for four weeks, the campsite grounds were vast and had a very different configuration from the norm. Usually camp sites are car park style fitting in as many pitches as possible. Here the generous sized pitches were essentially either side of a ‘football pitch’, so it didn’t matter how many campers were on site as we never felt crowded or restricted.

Arriving into Croatia the second time, August and holiday season, everywhere is bursting at the seams catering for every whim of every tourist, everyone trying to make up financially for lost time. We were not only lucky to find a space at Galeb but especially lucky to have a view of the beach and the island of Brač. We’re not quite hemmed in, but the campsite is full of short term holiday makers and children. I know some of you will be totally put off by this photo, but bear in mind we’ve been travelling for 10 months in our portable apartment, we have our space, the beach and a warm sea to swim in.

Looking at it financially, our pitch fees have been between 16€ and 20€ per night, equating to a monthly fee, including various discounts, between £450 and £540. I appreciate that Albania and Montenegro are a ‘bit out of the way’ but staying at Galeb the rate is 44€ per night, more than double of what we have been used to paying. We did think of moving until our research showed that other campsites are totally full, including the once empty Stobreč and/or the rates are over 70€ per night. It’s still too hot to tour as the roads are too busy and there are other people about. How very dare they!

As you know we went out to dinner the first evening in delightful cobbled streets of the charming town Omis. There we viewed traffic officers wearing white uniforms who were patrolling the roads for the tourists. On the first night the officers were young attractive females using whistles and waving one arm like a continuous windmill sail to beckon the traffic to continue. It was quite an art form. On another evening the officers were young males. I wondered if they are college volunteers and if it’s alternative gender per evening? I must go again, ask next time I see them and also try and take a video.

Thursday evening arrived and we were excited about Friday’s catamaran trip. We loaded Steve’s wallet with Kunars, packed sun tan lotion, wore our swimming cossies under our tops and shorts and had a waterproof bag for our cameras and stuff. It had been incredibly windy through Thursday and also throughout the night and I wondered if the boat trip would be cancelled. However, we woke up to clear weather, a slightly reduced temperature of between 28 and 30 and a warm welcome breeze. 

Arriving at the boat promptly which was already half full, when asked for our tickets I said that George had arranged our trip and we were shown to our seats, Stella settling herself under our table in the shade, away from the sun’s rays.

George arrived at the last minute, when the boat was full with its 50 passengers, settled into his captain’s chair and off we set for Supetar, the ferry terminal for Brač, an hour’s cruise away. We let him get on with the steering and saved saying hello to him for later. A little while into the journey, I could see from where we were seated, George encouraged his day trippers to sit in his Captain’s Seat and wear his white Captain’s Hat for photos. You can imagine how much everyone who did that enjoyed themselves.

We were seated at the back of the boat opposite Konrad and Magda with their two daughters Paula and Nella aged 7 and 4 who became our favourite Polish travel companions on the trip. George’s crew of two came round with glasses of fruit juice and shots of Rakijat. We said thank you to the first and passed on the second as it was was twirley time (what’s twirly time? Too early!!!). I noticed there were very few other boats of any size around us in the sea.

Passing the campsite outlined by the trees we pointed it out to Konrad and Magda who were on a three week holiday.  Before this trip, only taking a week or so holiday at a time I would have been jealous of a three week break, but I thought poor things, only three weeks.  Which just goes to prove that all views depend on where you are standing.

As we pulled into Supetar we could see a bay dedicated to tourists and yacht and boat owners in the marina enjoying their crafts in their swimwear. I was a little jealous, but not not for long as I know owning a yacht is a money pit. When I win the lottery I might change my mind.

George gave instructions for everyone to be back on the Mariano by 1pm, which gave us three hours of free time. Walking over to him, we said our hellos and had a brief chat before we disembarked to explore Supetar which has a frontage of restaurants and bars, with a line of tourist kiosks behind. Choosing a restaurant with sea frontage to sip a cold drink, we planned our to spend our free time. I’d already spotted some shops so I knew what I wanted to do.

The bay was also lined with bars, each with their own trendy music, ATM’s of course, upmarket beach beds and lots of sun loungers to hire on the beaches. The music reminded me a bit of Ibiza but wasn’t quite up to Nikki Beach standard. I think I found just about every retail outlet of interest to me and managed to buy a cute pair of white shorts and a beach dress. This Anita came from Glasgow – I know we have a Scottish reader!

The beaches were not overcrowded, fun pedalos and inflatables to enjoy in the bay, together with water slides. The water in the bay was typically Croatian completely clear and warm now it was summer. All of us had a swim and people-watched.

Stopping for another drink at another bar before boarding the Mariano for lunch and return journey we watched the Jadrolinija car and passenger ferries arriving and leaving with full loads like yo yos. Quite different to our ferry crossings to France, then Barcelona to Rome, Ancona to Split and our island hopping when they were practically empty.

Returning to the Mariano we were served our pre-booked delicious fresh mackerel (me) and meat dish (Steve) with a side salad, basket of bread and George’s own red wine. We spent all of the trip back chatting with Konrad and Magda.

I don’t know who chose the music on the boat but it was hysterical 70’s & 80’s stuff including oom pah pah beats, Ibiza holiday spirit, singalongs, Zorba, Una Paloma Blanca, the Birdie song and even Alice where no-one batted an eyelid at the chorus asking who Alice was.

Getting back to Omis for half past two we thanked George for a wonderful time out and asked ‘how much’.  He shook his head and said he wouldn’t accept anything from us.  We weren’t expecting that!  In the photo I’m pointing to his wedge in his left hand from the day’s takings but he was able to hide his fist full of kunars behind his back by the time Steve snapped. 

We’d had such a brilliant time enjoying the cruise there and back, fresh lunch, wine, sun, sea and sand. Supetar was a wonderful place to visit. Just the right amount of people, not too crowded, enough to view and watch, reasonably priced bars and enough tourist stalls and shops to visit.

What’s that Steve? You’ve spotted a motorhome with a UK registration and they’ve asked us over for evening drinks? What time?

View From the Cockpit

We went to get gas yesterday, as you may remember we carry two large 12kg bottles, but our fridge freezer consumes around 2 to 3kg per week depending on the temperature, running out is not an option, because lets face it, who wants a warm beer? Gas bottle filling is a black art, maybe a Balkan art. No exchanging bottles like the UK system, we can get ours refilled at some out of the way places, known only to a select few. It’s not dodgy, those places are multinational gas refill depots, and have the connectors and expertise to fill our foreign bottles, it’s just that they don’t publicise this service, leaving many a humble tourist with their warm beers.

The Balkans tends to work like this, confidence and an attitude of “let’s do it now, not tomorrow” seems to work. There’s always a solution to be found, which is helped by a friendly smile, and a warm handshake, and maybe a reference to English football. Money does not generally change hands, it’s not a grease my palm transaction, tips have been refused, or half has been returned as it’s “too much”.

We have found the Balkans a totally brilliant experience. People are accommodating, friendly, sharing and genuine, they ooze hospitality in spades, and with a bit of luck we get things done. Sure there’s some recent bloody history here, which we don’t understand, it’s all too complicated and we certainly don’t openly discuss it. What we do see are economies rebuilding, full of young vibrant people, taking opportunities, having families, proud of their countries.

In the Balkans everything is impossible, and everything is possible we were told. We like it here.