We had to cross the entire length of Hvar island to get to the ferry port of Sucuraj. The island is quite narrow so we got regular glimpses of the sea and across the channel to the white stone of the cliffs on the mainland, glowing brightly in the sun, looking almost like snow.
The road, as it undulating up through the rocky terrain, was good. Smooth and well maintained with channels built in along the top of the cuttings for drainage. Croatia generally seems to have a good infrastructure and it feels safe and laid back with a definite lack of intimidation and edginess.
As we approached the eastern end of the island, the distant, higher peaks of the mainland loomed hazily from the sea. It was more sparsely inhabited here, the scrubby land dotted with olive trees, their silvery green leaves fluttering and twinkling in the warm breeze. The few properties we did pass had hand painted signs advertising wine and olive oil for sale, wares laid out, optimistically, on tables and barrels underneath parasols.
The air up in the high ground smelled really fresh, with nothing around to pollute it, apart from the few vehicles like ours, travelling the winding road which seemed to keep getting narrower.
I kept my eyes peeled for the lavender fields that Hvar is known for, the results of this year's harvest being very prevalent in the market stalls and shops in Hvar town and Stari Grad, but I didn't spot a single one. Perhaps here, unlike the large, swooping fields in France, the lavender is cultivated in small parcels of land hidden from the road behind dry stone walls.
It was a small ferry from Sucuraj to Drevenik, back on the mainland, that took just 30 mins. On reaching the other side, we took the coast road south towards Dubrovnik, turquoise sea to the right, limestone slopes to the left, the scent of pine strong on the air blasting through our open windows and cheese on the radio.
On the ferry.
The route passed numerous pretty villages, each with a cluster of shoreside properties and a beach with its roped off swimming area. It then moved inland, passing a flat agricultural area in a valley with rows of fruit trees and crops. Set up along the roadside were stalls full of the produce grown literally metres away - no concerns about food miles here.
A few miles on, we pass into Bosnia Herzegovina, driving through the only part of that country that has access to the coast - just 15 miles.
After almost 2 hours we arrive at our destination. We didn't go quite as far as Dubrovnik today, instead staying in a small village called Zaton that hugs the shore of a tranquil cove just north of the city. This is so that we can visit nearby Trsteno arboretum where some of the garden scenes in Game of Thrones were filmed.
Our accommodation feels a bit like staying with your gran, if gran lived in 1960s Russia. Plenty of faux wood furniture, a fridge that is older than us, orange synthetic cushions and a bathroom so dated it could be about to become fashionable again. Our hosts are also ancient, he, clad in an open shirt over a baggy old vest, is half blind and she has a better beard than him. But the location is lovely, with a little secluded 'concrete beach', or jetty, complete with sun loungers and sheltered by flowering shrubs right in front of the property, giving direct access to the water for a cooling swim after the journey. The water is so clear that from up on our balcony, across the narrow street, fish can be seen swimming about.
After our swim, we found our room had been double booked and we had to move to the much nicer room next door, with more space and reduced old-people-smell.
Zaton is the kind of place where the one lone restaurant is either going to be a complete let down, because they can get by knowing that people have no other choice, or a little gem. Luckily for us, Konoba Dandy, with its checked tablecloths on the 7 table terrace by the sea, is the latter. We had a delicious seafood dinner for a very good price, the tonic for Erik's G&T costing more than the gin!
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