BRAC ISLAND WITH VITAMINS AND WATERBIKE
 |
| around Supetar |
After about an hour's walk we met four bus drivers in a cove who were going for a swim on the beach during the time their customers were doing a visit somewhere else. Our trail went uphill through olive groves. People were harvesting them manually. We saw on a signboard that the second World Championship in Olive Picking had just taken place over the past four days in Postira. A pity, we had just missed it!
As we approached the creek of Splitska, the atmosphere became really Riviera-like. The steep shore was filled with nice villas converging around the quiet harbour that had a few cafes and restaurants. Pomegranate trees were full of pink-red ripe fruits like Mediterranean versions of decorated Christmas trees. Postira, in contrast, was bigger and more ready to handle summer tourism. The large harbour was decorated with limestone sculptures which echoed the white of a large fishing boat stationed next to the entrance pier.
Limestone from Puščica, the next village along the coast tucked at the bottom of a creek and fairly well protected from the sea, was used for its quality to build the retirement palace of Diocletian in Split. Quarries are still visible and most of the older houses on the islands are built with blocks of that limestone. Nowadays, stone carvers have moved into carving decorative objects that they sell to visitors in wooden huts on the main square.
We left Puščica over a nice road built along a vale cultivated with olive groves, vineyards and occasionally vegetables. When we reached the plateau, limestone made itself king in form of dry stone walls and gravel roads. A few sheep grazed in rare pastures full of thorny bushes.
Puščica's tourist office had recommended us to follow the path between Mala Luka and Povlja by the seashore which was proudly documented on the tourist biking map in dotted line. We tried our best to find it but the tiny trail we had identified soon ended leaving us stranded in the middle of nowhere surrounded by thorny bushes and fences, in short, the only option was to walk back and follow the main road all the way down to Sumartin, fifteen kilometres away. We summoned some courage in our legs and walked. Fortunately, the weather was warm and the sun in our back coloured the landscape nicely. We reached Celca on the ridge of the central plateau. From there we could see, in the background, the hills above Makarska and the bay of Sumartin down below. The first contact with Sumartin, coming by road, was the petrol station for boats and road vehicles at the same time. It is therefore built on the seashore of a quiet creek. The water was really clear. About half a kilometre further, the village of Sumartin welcomed us under the last rays of the sun that quickly disappeared behind the hills. The temperature dropped quickly as a result. It was a village simple to navigate at this time of the year. There was one small supermarket, two cafes and a single restaurant open. The owner of the studio that we had booked for the night was waiting for us on the roadside by the harbour. We were glad to have finally made it, the studio was warm and comfortable with a nice view from the balcony over the harbour. A basket of fruits had been prepared to our attention by the owner's wife. We showered, washed our clothes for the next day, went for dinner to the restaurant and quickly drowned into sleep.
Before leaving the next morning, we pressed the bell at the owner's door to hand over the keys. In the discussion we said that we had walked all the way from France. They really couldn't believe it and said that to walk so much one really needed vitamins, which prompted the owner to quickly run to the garden and come back the hands loaded with mandarins and pomegranates as a gift full of vitamins to help us walk over to Bol. We accepted it gracefully (together with the extra weight on our backs for the pomegranates were close to one kilogram each!).
The weather was stunning. We left in a diffuse light. We walked past the petrol station but instead of using the same road as the day before we continued along the creek towards another group of houses overlooking the sea and branched up into the hills to cut across the island all the way to Bol located on the southern shore opposite the island of Hvar. Along the way, the terrain was full of bushes bearing spherical and granular fruits ranging from yellow to red that gave those bushes the allure of Christmas trees as well.
A large tree stood on its own, full of reddish brown leaves, in the middle of a large expanse pruned of all its original vegetation. The ground looked orange as it was full of white stones tainted with red earth. With a deep blue sky as a background, the scene was surrealistic. That land was in fact being cleared for a fruit tree plantation like the one we saw a few hundred meters down the path. It was a large irrigated plot of land enclosed within a fence two meters tall. Young trees were planted a regular intervals. An American style pickup truck was parked in the middle of the field while two men inspected the trees. It was the first time we had seen a modern attempt at agriculture on the islands which otherwise focuses traditionally on grapes, olives and sheep farming (and obviously tourism).
We traversed a few remote hamlets with their collection of abandoned vehicles rid of license plates. It was a sort of flashback in the history of automobile amidst olive groves, oaks and pines. Many of the houses were vacant too, awaiting either renovation or simply a slow transition into decay.
We pursued our route over large gravel paths where cars of another age were driven, most of the time, by people of the same generation. For our picnic break, we carefully selected large stones to sit on in the shade. We were hungry but also eager to absorb the vitamins offered to us in the morning. Eating a pomegranate is not a straightforward affair for the beginners that we were. We split them into four quarters and bit on the aggregate of juicy seeds, chewing on it carefully to release the sweet juice without getting to much the bitter taste of the fibers. Our hands were properly sticky at the end of the exercise. We finally reached the main road, which traverses the island from Supetar to Bol, and followed it for a few kilometres before branching into a proper walking trail that snaked its way along the cliff right above the sea.
Bol appeared, spread along the shore, against the evening sunlight. When we entered the town, we saw three construction workers exit a site and seat on the opposite sidewalk, it was time to rest for the day, it was 5pm sharp. Bol's harbour was busy as passengers disembarked and then embarked on the Jadrolinja catamaran going to Jelsa. The old town looked pretty with its harbour full of bars and restaurants, from which the sea and the faded shape of Hvar Island defined the horizon. Visitors were arriving for the weekend, with a mandatory visit to Zlatny Rat, the famous A-shaped pebble beach.
As we approached the creek of Splitska, the atmosphere became really Riviera-like. The steep shore was filled with nice villas converging around the quiet harbour that had a few cafes and restaurants. Pomegranate trees were full of pink-red ripe fruits like Mediterranean versions of decorated Christmas trees. Postira, in contrast, was bigger and more ready to handle summer tourism. The large harbour was decorated with limestone sculptures which echoed the white of a large fishing boat stationed next to the entrance pier.
Limestone from Puščica, the next village along the coast tucked at the bottom of a creek and fairly well protected from the sea, was used for its quality to build the retirement palace of Diocletian in Split. Quarries are still visible and most of the older houses on the islands are built with blocks of that limestone. Nowadays, stone carvers have moved into carving decorative objects that they sell to visitors in wooden huts on the main square.
We left Puščica over a nice road built along a vale cultivated with olive groves, vineyards and occasionally vegetables. When we reached the plateau, limestone made itself king in form of dry stone walls and gravel roads. A few sheep grazed in rare pastures full of thorny bushes.
Puščica's tourist office had recommended us to follow the path between Mala Luka and Povlja by the seashore which was proudly documented on the tourist biking map in dotted line. We tried our best to find it but the tiny trail we had identified soon ended leaving us stranded in the middle of nowhere surrounded by thorny bushes and fences, in short, the only option was to walk back and follow the main road all the way down to Sumartin, fifteen kilometres away. We summoned some courage in our legs and walked. Fortunately, the weather was warm and the sun in our back coloured the landscape nicely. We reached Celca on the ridge of the central plateau. From there we could see, in the background, the hills above Makarska and the bay of Sumartin down below. The first contact with Sumartin, coming by road, was the petrol station for boats and road vehicles at the same time. It is therefore built on the seashore of a quiet creek. The water was really clear. About half a kilometre further, the village of Sumartin welcomed us under the last rays of the sun that quickly disappeared behind the hills. The temperature dropped quickly as a result. It was a village simple to navigate at this time of the year. There was one small supermarket, two cafes and a single restaurant open. The owner of the studio that we had booked for the night was waiting for us on the roadside by the harbour. We were glad to have finally made it, the studio was warm and comfortable with a nice view from the balcony over the harbour. A basket of fruits had been prepared to our attention by the owner's wife. We showered, washed our clothes for the next day, went for dinner to the restaurant and quickly drowned into sleep.
Before leaving the next morning, we pressed the bell at the owner's door to hand over the keys. In the discussion we said that we had walked all the way from France. They really couldn't believe it and said that to walk so much one really needed vitamins, which prompted the owner to quickly run to the garden and come back the hands loaded with mandarins and pomegranates as a gift full of vitamins to help us walk over to Bol. We accepted it gracefully (together with the extra weight on our backs for the pomegranates were close to one kilogram each!).
The weather was stunning. We left in a diffuse light. We walked past the petrol station but instead of using the same road as the day before we continued along the creek towards another group of houses overlooking the sea and branched up into the hills to cut across the island all the way to Bol located on the southern shore opposite the island of Hvar. Along the way, the terrain was full of bushes bearing spherical and granular fruits ranging from yellow to red that gave those bushes the allure of Christmas trees as well.
A large tree stood on its own, full of reddish brown leaves, in the middle of a large expanse pruned of all its original vegetation. The ground looked orange as it was full of white stones tainted with red earth. With a deep blue sky as a background, the scene was surrealistic. That land was in fact being cleared for a fruit tree plantation like the one we saw a few hundred meters down the path. It was a large irrigated plot of land enclosed within a fence two meters tall. Young trees were planted a regular intervals. An American style pickup truck was parked in the middle of the field while two men inspected the trees. It was the first time we had seen a modern attempt at agriculture on the islands which otherwise focuses traditionally on grapes, olives and sheep farming (and obviously tourism).
We traversed a few remote hamlets with their collection of abandoned vehicles rid of license plates. It was a sort of flashback in the history of automobile amidst olive groves, oaks and pines. Many of the houses were vacant too, awaiting either renovation or simply a slow transition into decay.
We pursued our route over large gravel paths where cars of another age were driven, most of the time, by people of the same generation. For our picnic break, we carefully selected large stones to sit on in the shade. We were hungry but also eager to absorb the vitamins offered to us in the morning. Eating a pomegranate is not a straightforward affair for the beginners that we were. We split them into four quarters and bit on the aggregate of juicy seeds, chewing on it carefully to release the sweet juice without getting to much the bitter taste of the fibers. Our hands were properly sticky at the end of the exercise. We finally reached the main road, which traverses the island from Supetar to Bol, and followed it for a few kilometres before branching into a proper walking trail that snaked its way along the cliff right above the sea.
Bol appeared, spread along the shore, against the evening sunlight. When we entered the town, we saw three construction workers exit a site and seat on the opposite sidewalk, it was time to rest for the day, it was 5pm sharp. Bol's harbour was busy as passengers disembarked and then embarked on the Jadrolinja catamaran going to Jelsa. The old town looked pretty with its harbour full of bars and restaurants, from which the sea and the faded shape of Hvar Island defined the horizon. Visitors were arriving for the weekend, with a mandatory visit to Zlatny Rat, the famous A-shaped pebble beach.
We had booked Manuela's apartment, one street away from the harbour. Manuela is a teacher who lives with her mini-dog and her 70-plus-but-50-looking mother in a house with a lovely garden.
The upper floor is an independent two-bedroom flat with a terrace. It is decorated with Manuela's dreamy artworks and vintage furniture from the 1970s in green and blue tones. For a moment we thought we'd dine out but the flat was inviting enough for us to skip the restaurant and cosily cook pasta instead. The next morning we took a stroll along the coastal promenade towards Zlatny Rat. It was planted with tall pines that were sometimes dangerously close to the cliff. We saw a yellow kiosk dispensing selfie-postcards, essentially a machine inserting one's portrait over a preset array of backgrounds to choose from.
The beach was not busy but far from empty. A man appeared to be riding a bicycle on the water, this looked amazing and I absolutely wanted to try it out. The waterbike actually consisted of the frame of a bicycle mounted on two floaters like a catamaran while the pedals allowed to action a propeller under water to go back or forth. It was really fun. The only limitation on the sea were the waves. The guy renting them said reassuringly that it was his first season and that there hadn't been any accident so far. I suppose I was subconsciously looking for a solution to reach other islands with the power of our legs, which could be compared with walking on water so we could reach our goal, Corfu. However the waves might have made such an attempt very hazardous. In any case the concept was brilliant!
After this successful watercycling experiment, we had a swim at the tip of Zlatny Rat, one side of which was under attack from a strong and cold wind while the other side was partly protected at the level of the water which was cool. Swimming with the cliffs of Brac and the shadow of Hvar as a background was a treat. A guy came pushing his mountain bike over the white pebbles wearing a large backpack and board. He had packed his kitesurfing gear very efficiently.
As we picked up our bags to catch the ferry to Jelsa on Hvar island, we spent some time talking with Manuela about the evolution of the contacts she had with her guests over time. She was telling us that nowadays with internet bookings her customers came only for short stays which made relationship building quite improbable. Ten or twenty years ago people would stay a couple of weeks and come again the following year. She was holding her mini-dog in her arms and gave it a mouth kiss. Her mother who stood next to her looked at us mimicking that her daughter was crazy. She was probably thinking that a real man would have been more appropriate for her daughter than a mini-dog.
The upper floor is an independent two-bedroom flat with a terrace. It is decorated with Manuela's dreamy artworks and vintage furniture from the 1970s in green and blue tones. For a moment we thought we'd dine out but the flat was inviting enough for us to skip the restaurant and cosily cook pasta instead. The next morning we took a stroll along the coastal promenade towards Zlatny Rat. It was planted with tall pines that were sometimes dangerously close to the cliff. We saw a yellow kiosk dispensing selfie-postcards, essentially a machine inserting one's portrait over a preset array of backgrounds to choose from.
The beach was not busy but far from empty. A man appeared to be riding a bicycle on the water, this looked amazing and I absolutely wanted to try it out. The waterbike actually consisted of the frame of a bicycle mounted on two floaters like a catamaran while the pedals allowed to action a propeller under water to go back or forth. It was really fun. The only limitation on the sea were the waves. The guy renting them said reassuringly that it was his first season and that there hadn't been any accident so far. I suppose I was subconsciously looking for a solution to reach other islands with the power of our legs, which could be compared with walking on water so we could reach our goal, Corfu. However the waves might have made such an attempt very hazardous. In any case the concept was brilliant!
After this successful watercycling experiment, we had a swim at the tip of Zlatny Rat, one side of which was under attack from a strong and cold wind while the other side was partly protected at the level of the water which was cool. Swimming with the cliffs of Brac and the shadow of Hvar as a background was a treat. A guy came pushing his mountain bike over the white pebbles wearing a large backpack and board. He had packed his kitesurfing gear very efficiently.
As we picked up our bags to catch the ferry to Jelsa on Hvar island, we spent some time talking with Manuela about the evolution of the contacts she had with her guests over time. She was telling us that nowadays with internet bookings her customers came only for short stays which made relationship building quite improbable. Ten or twenty years ago people would stay a couple of weeks and come again the following year. She was holding her mini-dog in her arms and gave it a mouth kiss. Her mother who stood next to her looked at us mimicking that her daughter was crazy. She was probably thinking that a real man would have been more appropriate for her daughter than a mini-dog.
images:
1/ around Supetar
2/ the plateau above Puščica
3/ Puščica
4/ soon a fruit tree plantation
5/ Bol's harbour
2/ the plateau above Puščica
3/ Puščica
4/ soon a fruit tree plantation
5/ Bol's harbour
 |
| the plateau above Puščica |
 |
| Puščica |
 |
| soon a fruit tree plantation |
 |
| Bol's harbour |
Comments
Post a Comment