Kristen
It’s hard to write about the hard days. I’m not sure why. Maybe because it’s easy to make them sound melodramatic, which cheapens the memory.
Kristen
It’s hard to write about the hard days. I’m not sure why. Maybe because it’s easy to make them sound melodramatic, which cheapens the memory.
Callum
Before starting this hike, we bought ourselves a Trangia stove, assuming that methylated spirits, the fuel of choice, would be as easy to get in the rest of the world as it is in Australia. Apparently not. In fact, that fuel seems to be more or less illegal here.
We thought some of you might be wondering what exactly it is we’re doing out here…
Kristen
The Winter room at Schlosserov dom is so dark that I don’t wake until 8 am. It’s drizzling outside. Andy is pottering around, but Thomas is still asleep along the full length of the table like a blue caterpillar. Being too tall to cram into a bunk bed, he took his pick of the other furniture. Andy, slightly shorter, took the lower bunk, and Callum and I top and tailed above.
Callum
Kris gasps excitedly and dashes forward to pick something off the ground, heavy pack and tender blisters forgotten.
I’ve hardly had time to wonder what she’s found this time, before a blue circle comes hurtling through the air towards my face.
Kristen
From Hahlić dom, you can see the ocean. The sun sets over it in a pink and purple blush. I can see all the way down the dark green coast of Croatia, curled up like a spindly dragon. We’ll be walking along it’s spine for the next month and a half. It sounds like a long time, but what strikes me from here is just how small these countries are.