KORČULA ISLAND, THE LAND OF POŠIP AND GRK

fishing in Vela Luka's harbour

The western shore of Korcula appeared lush and low above the azure of the sea. It was dotted with nice villas. The ferry entered the well-protected creek of Vela Luka, whose harbour is hosting many sailing and fishing boats and stopped at the pier next to a couple of larger fishing boats. In the late afternoon sun, a man was fishing on a foldable seat, right by the pier, unconcerned by the arrival of the ferry. The town of Vela Luka looked modest in comparison with the stateliness of Hvar town and its fortress. For a display of fortification muscles, Korcula town on the western side of the island was the place to go. Getting to the one bedroom apartment we had booked for the night, not far from the ferry pier, was not as straightforward as the distance on the map suggested. A lady would meet us next to the pier, we were told over the phone by her daughter who managed remotely online bookings for the apartment. Initially, we had understood that we would pick-up the keys at the reception of a hotel in town. The disembarked crowd had now cleared from the pier area, so it was easy to identify each other with the lady. We walked together through the back streets over to the flat that was on the first floor of the wing of a family house, in perfect 1980s style. The family engages partly in olive business. They said that this year's harvest wasn't very good as many fruits had gone bad.
Vela Luka's harbour front extended over several kilometres lined-up with houses, shops, bars and restaurants, many of which had already closed for the season and so had the Riviera Automat Klub which apparently made most of its gaming money from idle tourists. We walked along the harbour in search of a place for dinner, having a look on the way to the lovely bell tower that stands tall above the rest of the town. We settled for the Konoba Taberna Skalinada. where I ordered a rumsteak and was served a solid T-bone instead.
Under a bright blue sky we left town the next morning and soon reached the outskirts, finding ourselves in the middle of farms. Mini-tractors, going to the fields, made most of the road traffic. A rugged-faced man wearing an "unlimited" black pair of sport trousers was busy starting his engine, producing on the occasion a cloud of black smoke. Once the engine turned on, he sped off in haste. A few hundred meters outside of town was a factory with three palm trees on its front that gave it an air of California. However, a warning road sign featuring a wild boar and the nearby terraced groves of olive and fig trees rapidly cleared the possible confusion. A winding road took us to the southern ridge of the island in the direction of Karbuni. Right there, at our feet, was a large garbage dump in a ravine which reminded us of the price to pay to keep the island clean: some corners have to be sacrificed. To avoid the smell all the way to Karbuni, we branched towards Blato, a large village at the center of the island which has a metallic cable factory a few hundred meters long at its eastern end. Houses have grown on both slopes of the island's central valley. On the southern side, around the bell tower and the open-air market hall, a network of stairways link the different layers of houses all the way up to the road that goes southward to the cove of Gršćica, a hamlet with about as many fishing boats as it has houses. The contrast between the azure of the sea under a mackerel sky and the warm glow of houses was stunning.
From there, we followed the exclusive road to Prižba and Brna, which has beautiful south-facing villas built on the cliff with often a private staircase access to the sea carved into the rock. A series of small islands were making the horizon particularly attractive to look at with their dark shapes floating on the water against the light. Many houses have been built or repurposed into holiday houses but not yet all. There were still a few older properties, especially above the level of the road, planted with olive and mandarin trees. They looked a bit like anachronistic oddities on that land now worth gold. In Brna, we left the coast because the road didn't go further and went up towards the southern plateau, the area where the grape of Pošip, long grown on the island, was rediscovered in the second half of the 19th century. It has now become the largest agricultural production of the island and Pošip has become a flagship white wine of Korčula. A small mausoleum, the Pinćaluša, has been erected in honour of its re-discoverery on the hills above Zavalatica. The golden light of the sun was turning pink as we approached the first houses of the creek of Zavalatica.
Sunglasses on, a boy, standing in front of his house, was busy interacting with his smartphone next to his electronic ignition scooter. When he saw us getting near he jumped on it and drove downhill without a helmet like a gust of Bora wind towards the harbour. He was visibly pleased to show-off his skills. It took us a little while before reaching the heart of the village built on the steep slope of the creek because there was no bridge to cross the creek. Fortunately, the village's supermarket was still opened for us to stock up food for the following day. We were also relieved that one restaurant was still serving food that evening. The day had been long and the strong wind was now freezing. We dined inside the restaurant's cosy wooden interior instead of the balcony that overlooked the sea. The barbecue was on and the smell of grilling was very appealing. We were hungry!
The wind was still blowing strong the next morning, after a long night of hurling through the window panes. It had shaped clouds like bunches of brushed cotton wool with surrealistic shapes. Our plan was to cross the island from south-east to north-west through the villages of Pupnat and Kneže. We went up to the plateau covered with wineyards and left the village of Smokvica on our left before branching over to a narrower road that was going back to the sea along the southern ridge, a place called Pupnatska Luka (Pupnat's harbour). A black mini bulldog with a Swarovsky necklace came towards us to find out who we were and decided to accompany us for a while. First to mark its territory and second because the people to whom he belonged were busy harvesting and had therefore no time to play with it. We got worried when we saw that the dog wasn't very smart with cars, but traffic was very infrequent. A truck driver looked at us with anger after having had to break seriously to avoid the dog. Not much we could do though, so we were relieved when at some point, it decided to go back.
It was around 11am when we reached Pupnat, a sleepy village, full of flowers with a lovely rural atmosphere and an ancient olive mill next to the church. There were still some rose blooms. A couple men sat at the terrace of the only bar of the village beside the Konoba Mate, drinking coffee along with a little glass of schnapps to smooth things out until lunchtime.
We continued on a gravel path towards Kneže which traversed terraced plots of lands with a few pine trees and cypresses up to the northern edge of the island.
The clouds had morphed into elongated pieces of freshly torn cotton wool over the mountainous and barren peninsula of Pelješac which connects to Dubrovnik. The view was thrilling.
Kneže was just a few kilometres away down by the sea. It was a very modest village by the side of the narrow channel of water that separates Korčula from Pelješac. The shallow harbour was only able to host smaller fishing boats.
The old man seats on a stone wall in the harbour and watches on, talking to himself on a grumpy tone. The bright blue of the channel waters do not seem to be enough to cheer him up. After all, he probably doesn't see them anymore after looking at them for so many years.

Unlike that old man, we enjoyed every bit of our picnic lunch sitting on a bench by the water and relished in the wild beauty of Pelješac where we intended to go after the island of Mljet. We were about ten to twelve kilometres away from Korčula town. 
We resumed our journey along the waterside road. As came closer to Korčula, the density of houses and holiday resorts increased significantly. In Žrnovska Banja, a small bay, the holiday mood was definitely still alive. The next village, Medvinjak had practically merged with the modern part of Korčula town. Behind a curtain of tall palm trees, the fortified town appeared proudly, dominated by its bell tower. The Croatian flag was up on all the towers of the fortification wall.
We finally were in front of Korčula's impressive main gate. Its stone staircase ushered us into an empty town whose streets had been deserted by the sun and human beings. We wondered for a split second if we had not come in the aftermath of a chemical attack that would have rid the town of all life and left everything else intact. It was 4.30pm on Oct 25th, a Thursday afternoon.
We asked our landlady which restaurant she would suggest for dinner. She looked at us a bit perplexed, then mentioned the Konoba Komin, down the street by the water. As many native from Korčula town, she was no longer living in the old town and had moved to a proper house in the periphery because it was easier with her kids. Her uncle was still leaving on the upper floor of the house in which we were staying.
We later passed in front of the recommended konoba and saw a signboard wishing everyone "Happy October, 20% discount on everything!". In fact, the prices were high enough to effortlessly bear with such a discount permanently.
We bought a ferry ticket to Mljet and asked the clerk for restaurant recommendations, he also looked puzzled and told us to try the area around the jetty, there would be one restaurant. How is it called, I ask? I don't know those restaurants are changing names - and owners - all the time.
That night we cooked pasta arrabiata and had a bottle of Tomic plavac mali from Hvar which went down very well. After dinner we went out for a walk. We had the streets nearly to ourselves.
Cats were actually the true owners of this former Venetian city and the night was their playtime. The main square with the cathedral and the bell tower is the center of the small peninsula hill on which Korčula town has been built. From there, a network of narrow stairway streets descends towards the sea. The town is densely built with houses that have around three floors each. Clothes were hanging on ropes that ran above the streets, like colourful garlands, between opposite houses. It was the fastest way to get them to dry in the wind that was accelerated by the narrowness of the streets.
The next morning we climbed to the top of the bell tower, from which a 360 degrees view explained easily why Korčula town had been built were it was. One could control the Pelješac channel and also what was going on in Orebic, on the opposite side of the channel. This strategic location also explains why the island changed hands so many times between Venetians, Ragusans (from Dubrovnik) but also Serbs and later Austrians and briefly French, English, Italian before being fully part of Yugoslavia. The island was inhabited from a very long time, some traces of settlement would go as far back as the 12th century BC. Greek and Illyrian presence was also recorded.
The summit of Pelješac, Sveti Ilja, was caught in the clouds, as if it was an active volcano, filling-up the sky like an inverted pyramid. One could also see the western coast of Korčula down to Lumbarda where yet another local grape, called Grk Bijeli, was grown to produce a dry white wine. We went there to walk around the Rajnik hill which culminates at an altitude of seventy five meters. There too holiday time had started for the permanent residents. The beach of Pržina was empty except for the skeleton of a beach hut with a "Cocktail" signboard still hanging. A little further, summer beach materials had been neatly packed for the winter behind a dry-stone wall. However Lumbarda's harbour beach still had a couple of red Ferrari-shaped pedal boats out on the sand, chained for the winter.

Back to Korčula town, the sun was beaming over the old town against an ominous background of black clouds floating above Pelješac. Would rain come to Korčula? No it wouldn't. The sea channel is an efficient barrier for the clouds forming around Sveti Ilja because it acts as well as a wind channel.
To end the afternoon, we went for a sundowner on the rooftop of the northern tower which has been repurposed into a cocktail bar. One thing is sure, there the view IS great from the upper terrace accessible through a simple ladder to challenge drinkers' skills.

Images:
1/ fishing in Vela Luka's harbour

2/ unlimited driver in Vela Luka
3/ off Prižba
4/ cloud over vineyards
5/ view over Pelješac
6/ Korčula town

unlimited driver, Vela Luka

off Prižba

clouds over vineyards

view over Pelješac

Korčula town