Ičići – KRK – Rab: 205 km

The ride from Pula to Ičići and the stay there were nice but uneventful. I intend not to bore you with those rides. I must say however that the long descent with the steep pine covered mountains on my left, the view of the deep blue Adriatic on my right, the perfect tarmac and War on Drugs in my headphones made me the freest man I’ve been for a while. Cruising down that road fulfilled me with a luck you only get when you’re travelling, nobody knows where you are and the time ahead is filled with opportunity.

Then comes the ride from Ičići to KRK (what a name). A little more eventful. It is one of my toughest rides so far. I’m not sure why. Although there are some climbs, the ride isn’t particularly long, yet it simply tires me out. Meanwhile, I’ve been riding around with another broken spoke for two days now. I plan to get it fixed in Rijeka, one of the bigger cities along the way. The two shops I set my hopes on don’t have the right size. The Corona crisis has created shortages in the bicycle industry for a while now. I find a sketchy looking bike mechanic on Goole right in a residential area just outside of town. I decide to pay him a visit. This man turns out to be amazing, a real connoisseur who knows what he’s doing. He replaces not only my one broken spoke but puts in eight new ones, cutting them the right length as he goes. My derailleur apparently extended too far and got my chain behind the cassette, that ate into the spokes of my back wheel, therefore now more prone to breaking. Not sure when that happened, I think in The Alps. We are there for 90 minutes and we casually talk about all things bike.

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I hate how hard today is for me as I continue my journey towards KRK. That hatred is only making the day harder. A vicious circle. Cars and trucks pass me on high speed on the main road to the town. KRK is pleasant but dull, a town made to take the ferry to other towns on the nearby islands where life is better. Luckily, I’ll be in one of those towns on one of those islands tomorrow.

The Island of Rab, or Otok Rab in Croatian, is one of those magical places you’ve never heard of but you could spend your life there. A small piece of rock just in front of the coast, with a couple of towns of which Rab City is the main one. The campsite is small and cute; more olive trees than places. Half of the island is covered by a moonscape of beige-grey boulders, the other half is forest. One main road connects the villages. I take the earliest ferry and the remaining ride is short, so I have the hole afternoon. I fill my time sitting at the most relaxed beach bar writing this blog, and planning out the next couple days of travelling. And swimming obliviously.