Zrmanja River
DISPATCH 3, Krupa 05/30/05
Just past three, from the TK Krupa River. We woke up this morning in a 700-year old TK monastary, hosted by a 29-year old monk named Gabriel. We’d met the night before wandering neighboring farms for red wine and prosciutto. He was wearing a big black beard and ponytail, black robe, silver belt buckle from Jerusalem. He gave me a ride. putting his cell phone on the dashboard he floored it...Peugot turns on a twisting asphalt road. I like to lease new cars, he explained, I’d rather not spend all my money on mechanics. The countryside here this early summer is green, the river is clear and the roadside marked by burned out houses that will most likely never be rebuilt, remnants of a war that just ended 10 years ago. Upon Gabriel’s mass the next morning, he’s dressed now in heavy red robes and box cap, it’s sparsely attended. Afterwards, as he introduced us around he joked, my flock is small, but chosen.
A naturist beach in Korcula. To check out more photos, click here
DISPATCH 4, Zrmanja River 05/29/05
The Zrmanja River -- long and clear blue, marked by shallow rapids and big waterfalls -- has never hosted big sea kayaks before, for understandable reasons. But, 60 kilometers from the Adriatic Sea, we found ourselves lowering our 17 foot long boats down the banks of a 40 foot waterfall. It made sense to me, the first time I saw these big, braided falls . . . to start our adventure here and paddle to the sea, towards our starting point at Zadar. The river was the most direct route . . .
Back in our boats at the bottom of the falls, even under an early summer sun the mist off the tall fall hitting the river was cold. The braided falls -- 180 feet across, in a horseshoe -- are perfect for pushing our boats into and out of, playing, before being pushed gently down the river.
The rest of our day was spent running small rapids and pushing the boats around several more small waterfalls until taking them out for good above a metal bridge. A wooden shack nearby bore a sign that read FAST FOOD.
Once seated along the riverside, another sign , this one on the wall of the shack, caught my attention -- NO HATCHETS. Which was a bit intimidating, until it was explained that in Croatian the word for WORRIES sounds a lot like HATCHETS . . . . so this was a place where worries were not allowed . .. .
DISPATCH 5, Kornati 06/05/05
We spent the last five days traversing two of Croatia’s biggest national parks, made up entirely of islands. At the first called TK, we were greeted by the park’s director, who laughingly introduced himself as Bozo (actually in Croatian it’s pronounced Bo-Jo). He said, I know, I know, I’ve been to the United States, I know Bozo was a clown. He’s now the protector of islands where his family has lived for 400 years, a really nice connection, I thought.
Just to the South lay TK national park, the jewel of the Croatian park system. It’s 140 islands in a 21-mile by 9-mile radius. Some of them are not more than two acres big. The side of the island…the sea is marked by 200-foot tall cliffs, shining and brown and purple and orange as the evening sun sets…stone walls because there were shepherds here. Today the islands are mostly barren and, on our long days of paddling, our longest was 25 kilometers, the afternoon temperatures climb to 100 degrees. We make camps anywhere we could find flat space and avoid sharp rocks. If we were lucky there was a shade tree nearby.
Last night we slept inside a solitary church built in the 6th Century, sitting just below the ruins of a Roman fortress. The motto over the church door read, Queen Mother of the Sea--Pray For It. Somehow it seems appropriate.
Just past three, from the TK Krupa River. We woke up this morning in a 700-year old TK monastary, hosted by a 29-year old monk named Gabriel. We’d met the night before wandering neighboring farms for red wine and prosciutto. He was wearing a big black beard and ponytail, black robe, silver belt buckle from Jerusalem. He gave me a ride. putting his cell phone on the dashboard he floored it...Peugot turns on a twisting asphalt road. I like to lease new cars, he explained, I’d rather not spend all my money on mechanics. The countryside here this early summer is green, the river is clear and the roadside marked by burned out houses that will most likely never be rebuilt, remnants of a war that just ended 10 years ago. Upon Gabriel’s mass the next morning, he’s dressed now in heavy red robes and box cap, it’s sparsely attended. Afterwards, as he introduced us around he joked, my flock is small, but chosen.
A naturist beach in Korcula. To check out more photos, click here
DISPATCH 4, Zrmanja River 05/29/05
The Zrmanja River -- long and clear blue, marked by shallow rapids and big waterfalls -- has never hosted big sea kayaks before, for understandable reasons. But, 60 kilometers from the Adriatic Sea, we found ourselves lowering our 17 foot long boats down the banks of a 40 foot waterfall. It made sense to me, the first time I saw these big, braided falls . . . to start our adventure here and paddle to the sea, towards our starting point at Zadar. The river was the most direct route . . .
Back in our boats at the bottom of the falls, even under an early summer sun the mist off the tall fall hitting the river was cold. The braided falls -- 180 feet across, in a horseshoe -- are perfect for pushing our boats into and out of, playing, before being pushed gently down the river.
The rest of our day was spent running small rapids and pushing the boats around several more small waterfalls until taking them out for good above a metal bridge. A wooden shack nearby bore a sign that read FAST FOOD.
Once seated along the riverside, another sign , this one on the wall of the shack, caught my attention -- NO HATCHETS. Which was a bit intimidating, until it was explained that in Croatian the word for WORRIES sounds a lot like HATCHETS . . . . so this was a place where worries were not allowed . .. .
DISPATCH 5, Kornati 06/05/05
We spent the last five days traversing two of Croatia’s biggest national parks, made up entirely of islands. At the first called TK, we were greeted by the park’s director, who laughingly introduced himself as Bozo (actually in Croatian it’s pronounced Bo-Jo). He said, I know, I know, I’ve been to the United States, I know Bozo was a clown. He’s now the protector of islands where his family has lived for 400 years, a really nice connection, I thought.
Just to the South lay TK national park, the jewel of the Croatian park system. It’s 140 islands in a 21-mile by 9-mile radius. Some of them are not more than two acres big. The side of the island…the sea is marked by 200-foot tall cliffs, shining and brown and purple and orange as the evening sun sets…stone walls because there were shepherds here. Today the islands are mostly barren and, on our long days of paddling, our longest was 25 kilometers, the afternoon temperatures climb to 100 degrees. We make camps anywhere we could find flat space and avoid sharp rocks. If we were lucky there was a shade tree nearby.
Last night we slept inside a solitary church built in the 6th Century, sitting just below the ruins of a Roman fortress. The motto over the church door read, Queen Mother of the Sea--Pray For It. Somehow it seems appropriate.
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