I’ve skipped some days in this blog because now have managed to post something it feels better to write it live rather try and play endless catch up.
Striking Camp in my Army days was well organised chaos, everything had a place and there was always an urgency to moving out. We are still learning the most efficient way to strike camp and urgency is tempered by the desire for a leisurely breakfast and a predicted journey time of 3 1/2 hours. The packing up turns into a physical test in the morning sun of 27 degrees and massive humidity. The mere act of rolling up a tent sends rivers of sweat pouring off of me. Surveying a packed Betsy feeling moist and limp I decide on a shower before departure. Returning refreshed from the shower I realise the there is one packing drill still to be done – the bloody roof has not ben pulled down.
Lowering the roof is a 2 person tasking involving physical contortions in the confined space of a metal box that has been heated in the sun to sauna temperatures and humidity.
Moist and limp we set off on our journey from Slovenia to Croatia. The verdant valleys of Slovenia start to yellow as we drive south. There is a long queue to cross the border, surly border guards open the side door and ascertain we are not carrying illegal immigrants – no free movement of people into Croatia. We hit the motorway and realise our mistake of travelling south on a Saturday in August when the whole of Europe is going on holiday. Almost immediately we run into queues of traffic with over 150km to go. A random survey of 10 cars revealed no Croatian vehicles. The rest of Europe was heading in our direction: Germans, Dutch (loads of Dutch are the any left in Holland?), Czechs, Poles, Hungarians and Italians. I spotted one other Brit car the whole way down.
As we ground along at between 20 – 50 mph Carol read the history of Croatia from the Rough Guide, how complicated. We are visiting a country that committed act of ethnic cleansing only 20 years ago. The UN peacekeeping and Dayton Agreement are very much part of our adult memory.
It took over 6 sweltering hours to reach the campsite, it is everything I feared and hoped for. Chaotic crammed with tents hugger mugger, random electrical provision, hard stones ground but it is 20m walk for a swim in the Adriatic.
Betsy before striking camp and the sunset in Croatia 20m from our pitch
Rolling Into Retirement With Betsy 