Of Poreč and Pirates

Our Rough guide chapter on Istria had highlighted the port town of Poreč, just a few kilometers from our campsite near Funtana, so we thought we’d have a look. As we followed yet another scenic, but direct-route-deviating peninsula on our cycle route north, we soon realised that a short distance (as the crow flies) and a short ride, would soon mean very different things.

This part of the Croatian coast is blessed with dual-purpose cycle/walking tracks that (often literally) follow the coastline. They are interesting for lots of reasons: the scenery right on the rocky coast can at times be outstanding; they are a lovely way to explore in a hot climate, as for much of the time they cut through woodland that runs right to the shore’s edge; they pass many photogenic sights (some of which are helpfully signposted as such, in case budding photographers were unsure of where to best take a good pic); they pass plenty of bars/cafés etc, most of which are just setting up at this early-ish part of the season; and, intriguingly, they also cut through campsite and hotel grounds that let onto the seashore. As far as we could tell, this is a legal requirement to allow public access, so long as you don’t try and sell anything! We’ll see how this pans out as we travel more of the Croatian coastline, but it’s an interesting approach to balancing a public ‘right to roam’ the coastline, with commercial interests that want a piece of the coastline for their guests.

After a good hour of zigzagging our way along the wooded shore, with the Adriatic shimmering invitingly on one side, we arrived at the port of Poreč. We were struck immediately by the posh motor cruisers moored up, the dual language signs (it’s also known by its Italian name of Porenzo) and the absence of the hordes of ice-cream wielding tourists our Rough guide had warned us of from May to September. Apart from wanting to have lunch out after an appetite-prepping ride, we’d come mainly to look at the Romanesque Basilica of Euphrasius, a UNESCO Heritage site.

After chaining our bikes to a lamp post (checking first that it was OK with a passing local), we wandered into the old town in search of the basilica, clocking potential eateries to return to as we ambled through the very picturesque ‘Dekumanska’ – the old Roman main street. Using only the page map in our Rough guide and Mr B’s unfailingly accurate sense of direction, we managed to walk right past the edge of it without realising, taking pictures as we went and blissfully ignorant that we’d snapped bits of it whilst still searching for it!

After finding the wrong church first, we sought help in a local bookshop, from where, and equipped with a larger scale town map, we were able to find it in a few minutes. The grounds of the basilica are enclosed and the layout is set out very clearly, with multilingual signboards to help explain each area.

We’re not usually big fans of ecclesiastical sights but the basilica held the attraction of being established in the mid-to-late Roman period, at the point that Christianity was starting to be recognised. Some of the sights in the basilica hark back to these early days.

One of the best bits has to be the bell tower though, with views to all points of the compass and the looming presence of the four big bells. They are still used, so you need to choose your time to climb the steep stairways to the top.

The bit most folks come to marvel at however, is the 13C apse which was indeed pretty impressive.

Sated with the basilica and with tummies rumbling, we headed off to find an eatery. Mrs B has a great eye for possible eateries and before long we had ambled back to one she had spotted as we entered the old town that had good views of some of the older buildings in the town.

90 minutes later we had tucked away a couple of Croatia’s ubiquitous Aperol-spritzers, and shared some delicious mussels and a ‘scampi pasta,’ whilst listening to the owner and a group of Ukrainians and Romanians discussing the dubious benefits of democracy, in English.

Keeping our opinions to ourselves (Istria is generally liberal/left leaning but you never know…) we then girded our loins for the return ride. With the benefit of hindsight we were able to return by a slightly more direct route, with the glimmer of a plan that we might just sign up for one of the many day-trips by boat that left Poreč for trips down the coast to Rovinj, Vrsar and the Limski ‘canal’ – all on our itinerary anyway!

A colleague of Mrs B’s once said “Never put any obstacles between an old person and free food!”; an observation that was to be a theme of the day on the boat trip!

We arrived bright and early for the 10am sailing and were welcomed on board by the lovely crew.  Surprised (and secretly pleased) that an 80+ capacity boat was sailing with just a dozen guests, we smugly took our seats on the prow of the boat for the best views.  Ten minutes later we pulled into the next bay to collect a party of forty elderly Germans, complete with tour guide and microphone.

The next hour was spend being deafened by a loud and apparently hilarious commentary on the coastline, nudism in Croatia (the boat sailed a little too close to some sunbathing nudists, causing a huge roar to emit from the party), Casanova (who stayed in Vrsar, one of our stop offs) and other amusing anecdotes which were completely lost on us!

The sun was shining though, and the views were wonderful, even if the sea was a little choppy and the breeze a tad brisk.

An hour and a half later we were in Rovinj, a picture postcard of a fishing village and a welcome two-hour escape from our fellow passengers. Once past the slightly touristy market on the harbour, it was fascinating to wander up through the town, past the combination of artist-colony businesses, tucked in with the eateries and day-to-day info on politics and music events. There was even a large convoy of guided cyclists that rode through – a popular way of seeing this part of the coastline.

Back on board, lunch (included in the bargain £25 fare) was served.  Foolishly we imagined this would be eaten in the harbour, but captain and crew had a timetable to stick to, so we went lurching off into the high seas as the valiant crew balanced plates of delicious, freshly grilled mackerel, chicken skewers, smoked sausages, salad, and the all important litre carafes of wine.  Our dining companions, an Austrian couple, branded the wine ‘a disgrace’ and agreeing, we stuck to juice and water. 

Next up, the Limski canal, famous for its farmed oysters and mussels nowadays, but in the past had made a name for itself by (allegedly) being a hiding place for Captain Morgan of rum fame. 

By this point much disgraceful wine had been imbibed by the rest of the passengers, and the waters were calmer, encouraging one of the guests to stand up and take the microphone (we think they’d lost the guide in Rovinj), and regale the assembled German speakers with more anecdotes.  Cue much laughter and singing and a sneaky bit of wine re-allocation from our table to the one behind.

As the boat headed back into open seas, we reclaimed our perch on the bow just as an elderly woman tottered over to rescue our table’s second carafe.  By now it was getting very messy with more wine and a second round of fish, chicken and sausages being stowed away by our shipmates.  We suppose the crew have to break the monotony of these trips somehow as suddenly, the boat seemed to turn and hit a wave broadside, soaking the passengers, who gamely tried to leap up. One chap went sprawling headlong across a table as jugs of juice went sliding down, exploding their contents all over the guests and deck.  It was chaos – and just a little entertaining from our vantage point 

In the tiller room, the captain was grinning from ear to ear…

By the time we reached Vrsar it was time for the crew to clean up whist we had freedom to roam for an hour before the final leg back to Poreč. We were convinced that this stop had more to do with deck swabbing than spotting evidence of Casanova’s stay!

Returning to Poreč by 5.00pm as promised, we admired the parking/berthing skills of the skipper as we promised ourselves a quick ‘sladoled’ (one of the best words for ice-creams we’ve encountered!) before returning back to camp.

It was a grand day out and we hoped that the olds had a good time too, in spite of the bruises and almost certain hangovers. Let’s hope that we’re still travelling when we’re their age!

J&S.