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Published: April 2nd 2012
So, drive up the coast we did; the 90 euro price tag for the Dubrovnik campsite making us choke more than cat hair ever could. We didn’t really have a particular destination in mind, so we resolved to keep an eye for places to camp that looked all right. We figured we couldn’t really go wrong as long as we kept the ocean on our left and kept driving on the right.
So, back into Bosnia for the blink of an eye, the Bosnian border guards too busy chatting and drinking Turkish-style coffee to even bother checking documents. A slow drive past what looked like miles of oyster beds or something, then back into Croatia. Every so often there would appear a whole bunch of cars randomly strewn along the sides of roads as sunburnt Europeans in small togs made their way down to some rocky beach or another, and small towns clinging to rocky hillsides overlooking a very blue sea cruised past the windows.
We took it pretty easy, and we found a few different campsites. Most were crap. We almost stayed at one, nearish to Split, but it was huge, impersonal and expensive. Split, also,
had camping, but they were similarly shithouse.
We were enjoying the day driving, but getting just a little antsy about where to sleep when, north of Primošten and just outside of Grebaštica we spotted a hand painted sign reading ‘camping’. It seemed to be pointing off a cliff, but we took a punt, chucked a screaming u-turn and drove down the steep dirt driveway. No idea what the name of the place was, but I did find it on Google Maps – the coordinates were 43.630354,15.93816
incase you were interested.
We rolled up at a small house and were met by a smiling older lady and her shirtless husband who, judging by the leathery aspect of his skin, hadn’t worn a shirt since 1974. They spoke zero English and about as much German as Klaire. Which is to say not a lot. Still, it’s not hard to figure out what people want when they rock up a camping site with a tent. They pointed out a spot and we took a look around.
It was a small area, but absolutely awesome. Three large terraces led down to the very edge of the
Adriatic – space for about 6 or seven large tents really. There were a couple of spots on the second terrace, so we set up. Cars were parked up on the top most terrace and you had to carry your stuff down.
The whole place was well shaded, and the other campers immediately friendly. The price, too, was great – it was going to cost for almost a week what it had cost for one night at the other places. We set up our tent, cracked a beer, and just sat for a bit.
We based ourselves there for almost a week, breaking up long periods of sitting and swimming with day trips down to a supermarket, and the nearby historic town of Trogir – sort of a smaller version of Dubrovnik, and a great place for lunch and a quiet beer.
Now, sitting on the shores of the Adriatic, impossibly blue and amazingly clear, listening to some atmospheric trance, our quiet seaside interrupted only by the single-cylinder chug of a small fishing boat as it cut through the calm blue waters.
But, argh, so many blogs to write. This is
so much like work.
Klaire looked at me and snorted, “We floated around the Adriatic on a blow up airbed today, This is nothing like work.”
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