KRK ISLAND
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| Baška's beach |
Malinska is a small seaside touristic town, though it lacks the charm of the lungomare between Lovran and Opatija. The harbour is lined-up with restaurants and cafes along a promenade that extends towards the North West past some derelict seafront buildings that awaited redevelopment. October meant the beginning of renovations in order to be ready for the start of the next tourist season in spring. A new resort had announced its imminent opening on its doors but the number of workers on the building site suggested that there was still plenty of things to do. We quickly went to buy food for the next day in a supermarket where it was specified that dogs as well as people in bathing suit were not allowed. Right in the middle of the entrance stood two pallets of large candles, packed in a red translucent containers, of the kind used to commemorate the deceased. This was a further sign that we had entered autumn. In contrast to the ban on bathing suit, a promotion ran on the Venus red wine, whose label represented the outline of a naked female bust in black and white. By the time we got to our room, the rain was pouring heavily. Our hostel was an unusual place on the first floor right by the harbour. The door was opened, a paper glued over it mentioned who to call if one wanted a room and for those who had booked ahead, they would find their names written on the door together with the key. It was a reception without receptionist. The entrance door opened onto a large living room with contemporary wooden furniture and a kitchen for self-catered breakfast. The rooms were simple but chic.
We went for dinner to a small restaurant around the corner because the rain was still falling. The young house cat, that was not supposed to enter the restaurant, rushed in through the door and started playing hide and seek from behind the curtain hanging in front of the window near our table. The waitress discovered it and chased him softly.
The rain had stopped the next morning but the sky remained cloudy. We stopped by the baker to buy a fresh piece of bread and started our walk towards the hills for we were going to Vrbnik which is located on the east coast of the island. Most of the path went through a vast forest planted with oaks. We passed through Rasopasno and then as we reached Dobrinj, the sky cleared. Dobrinj is a hilltop village from which Rijeka and the nearby mountains are visible by clear weather. It was the case that day. We had decided to stop for picnic in Risika. Along the way we attempted to take shortcuts to avoid the asphalt but each time we found overgrown thorn bushes blocking the way. We soon gave up and sticked to the road. We kept discovering trailers buried in tall grass by the roadside or in some private enclosures. Some of them might still serve as houses, others might just be used as a shed or simply be abandoned. In any case, they appeared as a recurrent pattern in the rural landscape. Sometimes an old boat kept them company and formed the perfect duo for an ideal holiday: where to sleep and how to enjoy the sea. If only they could speak, they would have plenty of stories to tell.
Risika looked like one of those hamlet where nothing but the wind is allowed to disturb the entrenched quietness of the place. It overlooks the channel between the island and the continent. The sun shone heartily but in order to escape the cold Bora we choose to have our picnic on the steps of the church front, away from the wind. We had a view on the 3-in-1 school/ city hall/ grocery store building. This was great for such a small place to have a grocery store even if it opened only a few hours a day.
From Risika, we joined the seashore and followed it along a wild path between the deep azure of the sea and a sea of yellow flowers filling up our eyes with vibrant colors.
Vrbnik appeared in the distance, at least the fortified part of it, built on a rock above the sea. It has a tiny but well protected harbour. The old town is a maze of narrow streets - it claims to have the world narrowest - with uneven cobbled stones. But it is small enough not to get lost. Winemakers of the town have specialized in a white wine called Zahtina, which is ideal to accompany seafood.
We tried it at dinner at the konoba Dana, a local gourmet restaurant that uses this wine to cook its meals. We also learnt about the concept of Valomet, which is a sparkling wine kept to mature at 30 meters of depth in the sea for a few months.
The next morning was clear and the wind still blowing when we left Vrbnik for the hills in the direction of Baška, the southernmost town of Krk. We passed by a cove south of Vrbnik before joining an "official" walking path, meaning one marked with red paint, which took us through some scrubland full of protruding stones.
Kermes oaks progressively disappeared as we went up because the Bora wind would only allow meagre vegetation to survive. The shape of bushes was actually dictated by the wind that had modelled them, like a gardener, branch by branch, forcing them to espouse the outline of the ground.
About mid way to the Vranjak summit, about two hours walk from Vrbnik, we heard branches crack and saw shortly afterwards two sheep, with a very old wool on their back running past before vanishing quickly in the bushes.
A few minutes later, we heard the voice of a shepherd repeating, in a soft way, a word which we did not understand. Soon he emerged between two bushes followed by a herd of well groomed sheep. He was carrying a bag in one hand and shaking it to produce a scratchy sound. The bag was probably a bait. It was the promise of food to the leading sheep that was followed, as sheep are known for, by the rest of the herd in a very stubborn way. The herd was quite large. The shepherd told us to move out of the way because he feared our presence might scare the leading sheep who could in turn cause the rest of the herd to scatter away in a minute, bringing the painstaking effort of gathering them to nought. Another shepherd, who was walking on a parallel line higher up the hill, made the request in a less friendly way, telling us to disappear behind the bushes. The cattle went ahead without problem. Two other men, walking behind to close the march, greeted us in a much more polite way than their wilder colleague had done.
A little earlier we had come across a car with a dozen sheep packed at the back. This time of year was probably the right one to gather the herds before winter while the weather was still fine. It surprised me that the shepherds did not use dogs. This might be because the sheep are left to roam on their own over the hills in spring and summer. Also given the thorny nature of the vegetation it may not be practical to use a dog.
Silence resumed next to the wind and so did our slow progression towards Vranjak through a vast stony expanse which was quite uncomfortable to the feet and only strewn with thistles. Spotting the red paint marks, that were materialising our path, was not always easy as we moved against the sun. However, the view with the mountains of Velebit in the background was amazing. Near the summit, we moved on to another slope protected from the Bora. The vegetation changed completely into an oak and pine forest, with olive trees grown into dry-stone enclosures. The sun was hot in the absence of the cold wind.
We went for dinner to a small restaurant around the corner because the rain was still falling. The young house cat, that was not supposed to enter the restaurant, rushed in through the door and started playing hide and seek from behind the curtain hanging in front of the window near our table. The waitress discovered it and chased him softly.
The rain had stopped the next morning but the sky remained cloudy. We stopped by the baker to buy a fresh piece of bread and started our walk towards the hills for we were going to Vrbnik which is located on the east coast of the island. Most of the path went through a vast forest planted with oaks. We passed through Rasopasno and then as we reached Dobrinj, the sky cleared. Dobrinj is a hilltop village from which Rijeka and the nearby mountains are visible by clear weather. It was the case that day. We had decided to stop for picnic in Risika. Along the way we attempted to take shortcuts to avoid the asphalt but each time we found overgrown thorn bushes blocking the way. We soon gave up and sticked to the road. We kept discovering trailers buried in tall grass by the roadside or in some private enclosures. Some of them might still serve as houses, others might just be used as a shed or simply be abandoned. In any case, they appeared as a recurrent pattern in the rural landscape. Sometimes an old boat kept them company and formed the perfect duo for an ideal holiday: where to sleep and how to enjoy the sea. If only they could speak, they would have plenty of stories to tell.
Risika looked like one of those hamlet where nothing but the wind is allowed to disturb the entrenched quietness of the place. It overlooks the channel between the island and the continent. The sun shone heartily but in order to escape the cold Bora we choose to have our picnic on the steps of the church front, away from the wind. We had a view on the 3-in-1 school/ city hall/ grocery store building. This was great for such a small place to have a grocery store even if it opened only a few hours a day.
From Risika, we joined the seashore and followed it along a wild path between the deep azure of the sea and a sea of yellow flowers filling up our eyes with vibrant colors.
Vrbnik appeared in the distance, at least the fortified part of it, built on a rock above the sea. It has a tiny but well protected harbour. The old town is a maze of narrow streets - it claims to have the world narrowest - with uneven cobbled stones. But it is small enough not to get lost. Winemakers of the town have specialized in a white wine called Zahtina, which is ideal to accompany seafood.
We tried it at dinner at the konoba Dana, a local gourmet restaurant that uses this wine to cook its meals. We also learnt about the concept of Valomet, which is a sparkling wine kept to mature at 30 meters of depth in the sea for a few months.
The next morning was clear and the wind still blowing when we left Vrbnik for the hills in the direction of Baška, the southernmost town of Krk. We passed by a cove south of Vrbnik before joining an "official" walking path, meaning one marked with red paint, which took us through some scrubland full of protruding stones.
Kermes oaks progressively disappeared as we went up because the Bora wind would only allow meagre vegetation to survive. The shape of bushes was actually dictated by the wind that had modelled them, like a gardener, branch by branch, forcing them to espouse the outline of the ground.
About mid way to the Vranjak summit, about two hours walk from Vrbnik, we heard branches crack and saw shortly afterwards two sheep, with a very old wool on their back running past before vanishing quickly in the bushes.
A few minutes later, we heard the voice of a shepherd repeating, in a soft way, a word which we did not understand. Soon he emerged between two bushes followed by a herd of well groomed sheep. He was carrying a bag in one hand and shaking it to produce a scratchy sound. The bag was probably a bait. It was the promise of food to the leading sheep that was followed, as sheep are known for, by the rest of the herd in a very stubborn way. The herd was quite large. The shepherd told us to move out of the way because he feared our presence might scare the leading sheep who could in turn cause the rest of the herd to scatter away in a minute, bringing the painstaking effort of gathering them to nought. Another shepherd, who was walking on a parallel line higher up the hill, made the request in a less friendly way, telling us to disappear behind the bushes. The cattle went ahead without problem. Two other men, walking behind to close the march, greeted us in a much more polite way than their wilder colleague had done.
A little earlier we had come across a car with a dozen sheep packed at the back. This time of year was probably the right one to gather the herds before winter while the weather was still fine. It surprised me that the shepherds did not use dogs. This might be because the sheep are left to roam on their own over the hills in spring and summer. Also given the thorny nature of the vegetation it may not be practical to use a dog.
Silence resumed next to the wind and so did our slow progression towards Vranjak through a vast stony expanse which was quite uncomfortable to the feet and only strewn with thistles. Spotting the red paint marks, that were materialising our path, was not always easy as we moved against the sun. However, the view with the mountains of Velebit in the background was amazing. Near the summit, we moved on to another slope protected from the Bora. The vegetation changed completely into an oak and pine forest, with olive trees grown into dry-stone enclosures. The sun was hot in the absence of the cold wind.
While we progressed further south, the landscape opened up to reveal the gentle curves of the plateau leading to Baška. It was an ocean of stones, cream coloured limestone scarred by long dry-stone walls that demarcated landownership. It was an uplifting panorama, like all vast semi-desert ones often are.
Towards the East we could see the range of hills that dominate the island between Baška and Krk town. We met along the way a couple of artificial watering holes, cobbled and oval in shape.
Close to the Hlam summit, at 461 meters above sea level, we turned right towards a point called Diviška which dominates the south-western part of the island and offers beautiful views over the neighbouring islands. A few minutes later, we spotted some sheep grazing in our vicinity. A dash of blue paint on the woolly cream color of their fur matched the colour of the sky while their fur matched the colour of the karst stones protruding from the ground. It was like wearing an invisibility cloak, but also an unintended display of fashion. Little grass grew amid the stones but it was the sheep's bread and butter. They moved away as we approached, anxious to preserve their safety distance. When we got near Diviška, we saw four dry-stone walls converging into a sweet water pool where the sheep from the respective enclosures could go and drink without having to meet with their fellow neighbours.
The end of the afternoon was approaching and the sun tainted warmly everything it caressed with its rays. The view opened on the channel separating Krk from the mainland and, in the foreground, the barren island of Prvic was like a piece of firm brown nougat that would have been under attack from greedy children. The water had taken a soft blue tone. The elements were in unison and despite our tiredness we partook in that harmony.
The descent towards Baška was spectacular over a path winding its way along the limestone cliff that brought the island to an end into the sea. The narrow path had been carved into the rock. It then joined the end of the valley where Baška is nested, between two plateaus. The town spreads along the shore of a natural bay. It is designed to host a large number of tourists but development has been kept in check so that the town still feels like a friendly place with a view on the continent. By now, while the sun was disappearing behind the hills, the rocks that took a pink shade above the dark blue of the sea. The impression of the town in summer might defer a bit from our perception, when all the yellow and blue umbrellas on the beach are in use.
The shape of the coast of Croatian islands is very tortuous, it really feels like a continuation of the hilly landscape of the mainland, that would have been flooded at some point by the sea. This could explain why there are so many islands so close to each other.
The Bora was blowing again when we woke up, the sea was agitated. What looked like a quiet lake the day before had morphed into the usual picture one has in mind when thinking about the sea: it had proper waves breaking on the shore.
On our way to Krk town, we walked through Punat, another seaside village ,a few kilometres east of Krk town, where many boats come to stay because the bay of Punat is nearly closed so it is well protected from the wind and the waves during bad weather episodes. It also has a large marina where boats can be stored outside the water off-season. We arrived in Punat through the southern end of the beach that had switched to winter mode. Only the skeleton of sunshades remained, like a forest of empty fir projecting their conical outline over the pebbles of the beach. A party of three generously proportioned ladies occupied the third crescent beach. Regardless of the wind they changed into their swimming costumes and went into the refreshing water, no doubt using their natural cushioning as a cold insulator. We also went swimming a few hours later in Krk. The wind had abated. The water was probably no more that 18 degrees Celsius. It felt like our skin was burning when we first started to swim, but somehow we got used to it and stayed about a quarter of an hour looking at the walls of the old city and the onion shaped archangel-ridden clock tower.
The seashore east of Krk's old town has been developed into a lovely promenade with Aleppo pine trees hiding hotels from the sea. The rocky shore has been fitted with concrete terraces to make access to the water more convenient.
The old city is relatively small within the fortification wall. Its upper part is occupied by a monastery and a church around what has been named "glagolitic square" after the name the first slavic alphabet. A modern structure has been built to host a school and a museum, next to the old churches which reflect their simple and pure lines in the new mirrored-glass facade so that the two connect with each other.
Krk has been uninhabited since the antiquity. There are still ruins from the Roman baths. Venice conquered the town in the 11th century AD and lost it to the Croatian before winning it back in the early 12th century with the concession that the Dunjam family would rule the territory as hereditary counts. In the 15th century, they called themselves as Frankopans (the remains of their castle can still be seen today). After that Krk followed the same destiny as other Kvarner territories.
Down by the cathedral, it was photo time for brides in wedding gown while street cats greeted everyone who could possibly be a food bearer since they were hungry. We stopped for dinner in one of the long established konobas not far from the harbour. I had a nice fish soup followed by grilled calamari served with the mandatory salted boiled potatoes and Swiss chards.
The next day we were off to the island of Rab. The driver of the taxi that picked us up in front of the hotel was a lady from the mainland. She had moved to Krk with her husband because life was nicer on the island and tourism was a good source of income. The ferry was ready to depart at the Valbiska Ferry Terminal and so were we, ready, with fond memories, to bid farewell to our second Croatian island.
Towards the East we could see the range of hills that dominate the island between Baška and Krk town. We met along the way a couple of artificial watering holes, cobbled and oval in shape.
Close to the Hlam summit, at 461 meters above sea level, we turned right towards a point called Diviška which dominates the south-western part of the island and offers beautiful views over the neighbouring islands. A few minutes later, we spotted some sheep grazing in our vicinity. A dash of blue paint on the woolly cream color of their fur matched the colour of the sky while their fur matched the colour of the karst stones protruding from the ground. It was like wearing an invisibility cloak, but also an unintended display of fashion. Little grass grew amid the stones but it was the sheep's bread and butter. They moved away as we approached, anxious to preserve their safety distance. When we got near Diviška, we saw four dry-stone walls converging into a sweet water pool where the sheep from the respective enclosures could go and drink without having to meet with their fellow neighbours.
The end of the afternoon was approaching and the sun tainted warmly everything it caressed with its rays. The view opened on the channel separating Krk from the mainland and, in the foreground, the barren island of Prvic was like a piece of firm brown nougat that would have been under attack from greedy children. The water had taken a soft blue tone. The elements were in unison and despite our tiredness we partook in that harmony.
The descent towards Baška was spectacular over a path winding its way along the limestone cliff that brought the island to an end into the sea. The narrow path had been carved into the rock. It then joined the end of the valley where Baška is nested, between two plateaus. The town spreads along the shore of a natural bay. It is designed to host a large number of tourists but development has been kept in check so that the town still feels like a friendly place with a view on the continent. By now, while the sun was disappearing behind the hills, the rocks that took a pink shade above the dark blue of the sea. The impression of the town in summer might defer a bit from our perception, when all the yellow and blue umbrellas on the beach are in use.
The shape of the coast of Croatian islands is very tortuous, it really feels like a continuation of the hilly landscape of the mainland, that would have been flooded at some point by the sea. This could explain why there are so many islands so close to each other.
The Bora was blowing again when we woke up, the sea was agitated. What looked like a quiet lake the day before had morphed into the usual picture one has in mind when thinking about the sea: it had proper waves breaking on the shore.
On our way to Krk town, we walked through Punat, another seaside village ,a few kilometres east of Krk town, where many boats come to stay because the bay of Punat is nearly closed so it is well protected from the wind and the waves during bad weather episodes. It also has a large marina where boats can be stored outside the water off-season. We arrived in Punat through the southern end of the beach that had switched to winter mode. Only the skeleton of sunshades remained, like a forest of empty fir projecting their conical outline over the pebbles of the beach. A party of three generously proportioned ladies occupied the third crescent beach. Regardless of the wind they changed into their swimming costumes and went into the refreshing water, no doubt using their natural cushioning as a cold insulator. We also went swimming a few hours later in Krk. The wind had abated. The water was probably no more that 18 degrees Celsius. It felt like our skin was burning when we first started to swim, but somehow we got used to it and stayed about a quarter of an hour looking at the walls of the old city and the onion shaped archangel-ridden clock tower.
The seashore east of Krk's old town has been developed into a lovely promenade with Aleppo pine trees hiding hotels from the sea. The rocky shore has been fitted with concrete terraces to make access to the water more convenient.
The old city is relatively small within the fortification wall. Its upper part is occupied by a monastery and a church around what has been named "glagolitic square" after the name the first slavic alphabet. A modern structure has been built to host a school and a museum, next to the old churches which reflect their simple and pure lines in the new mirrored-glass facade so that the two connect with each other.
Krk has been uninhabited since the antiquity. There are still ruins from the Roman baths. Venice conquered the town in the 11th century AD and lost it to the Croatian before winning it back in the early 12th century with the concession that the Dunjam family would rule the territory as hereditary counts. In the 15th century, they called themselves as Frankopans (the remains of their castle can still be seen today). After that Krk followed the same destiny as other Kvarner territories.
Down by the cathedral, it was photo time for brides in wedding gown while street cats greeted everyone who could possibly be a food bearer since they were hungry. We stopped for dinner in one of the long established konobas not far from the harbour. I had a nice fish soup followed by grilled calamari served with the mandatory salted boiled potatoes and Swiss chards.
The next day we were off to the island of Rab. The driver of the taxi that picked us up in front of the hotel was a lady from the mainland. She had moved to Krk with her husband because life was nicer on the island and tourism was a good source of income. The ferry was ready to depart at the Valbiska Ferry Terminal and so were we, ready, with fond memories, to bid farewell to our second Croatian island.
note: Krk is pronounced like "Kirk"
Images:
1/ Baška's beach
2/ Vrbnik
4/ Above Baška
5/ Krk town: a cat interested in checking out the bride
3/ Diviška
4/ Above Baška
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| Vrbnik |
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| Diviška |
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| above Baška |
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| Krk town: a cat interested in checking out the bride |
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