Rab – Gospić: 80 km

I’ve been following the Croatian coast for a week now and it has surpassed all my expectations. The nature is amazing, the roads are good, albeit somewhat busy at times, and, after Italy, it’s quite nice to be able to communicate in English. At the same time, like I mentioned previously the cities along those rocky beaches are becoming interchange; similar architecture, culture, views and experiences. I’m up for something new. Inland. Towards the mountains that have accompanied me like the Adriatic, just on the other side.

Today I’ll die on the bike. I know I will. 1500 meters of climbing in temperatures exceeding 30 degrees Celsius. But hey, “I survived the Gotthard”, I keep telling myself as the mountains in front of me seem to keep rising the closer they get to the ferry taking me there. The main ascend is about 20 kilometres in length, and it is stunning. Little lizards dart away just ahead of my front wheel, white butterflies frolic through the air next to me. The edgy limestone is light of colour and varies from grey to beige. The road is unforgiving, not because of its steepness but because of its length; it seems endless. Sometimes I hate myself for not staying near the more lenient coast, other times I enjoy the challenge. All the time sweat drips from my face as if it’s raining. Slowly the atmosphere changes from coastal to mountainous. There’s something that sets the two apart, other than its landscape. The ambiance is somehow different. I think it’s the people. People that enjoy mountains are different from people that enjoy the sea. They dress differently, they talk differently, they even walk slightly differently. I wouldn’t be surprised if mountain people wake up earlier.

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But that’s not the only thing that’s different here. After a short descent I roll into Gospić, a small town on a plateau just behind the Velebit mountain range. The village is surrounded by farmland worked with rusty equipment and tractors from a bygone era. The absence of the sea and the lower temperature makes it unlike the places I’ve previously seen. It’s like I arrived in a different country. For the first time since entering Croatia, there’s not a tourist in sight. It’s much poorer here too. The shiny, polished marble streets of the old city centres in the coastal towns I’ve grown used to, here are crumbling asphalt and dirt roads. Scars of the war are highly visible here. A lot of houses have since been replastered, but I recon one in five houses still are riddled with bullet holes and bomb damage. Some of them occupied by humans, others by just plants, trees and bushes grow out of their windows.  

Today I set out with the plan of finding a nice spot for some wild camping. During lunch I do some research to find a nice spot, but I’m strongly discouraged to do so in this area. Minefields are common here, and I’m advised not to stray too far from the main roads. Another reminder of a not very distant war that ravished this place. Luckily, there’s a cheap guesthouse a couple kilometres out of town. I’m the only guest here tonight, and seemingly for the next month to come. The woman who owns the place is sweet and caring. We communicate via Google Translate. I fall asleep and will wake up in yet again another world.