fivemen

The close up of the east side
all sharp theet to chew you.

.. while on the other side there are beaches with no gradient at all

a minor god with no capital letters but always a god

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Istria Croatia etc are the naturists haven. Naturism is practiced everywhere and the first naturist resort was founded in Rab in the first years of the century.
I obviously felt too integrated but I'm a "bastian contrario" (Always pro minorances and at the opposition )

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I must get rid of citations from Jerome Klapka Jerome but I bought those book in 1956 and I still think they are among the best.

Five men in a boat to say nothing of the dog
by GIOANNI

First day
We were five: me, Giovanni and mr. Possenti heading for Rab (an island in Croatia )
Yep you can count to three but my brother thinks that mathematics is an asshole's opinion and you must remember of mine and Giovanni's split personalities. Really we've tried to leave mr. Possenti who's notoriously the squarest of the group home to work but he came with his obnoxious cell.
Yep you're still missing the animal. It's me again alone and happily wagging my tail like an unleashed dog.
"Sorana " ….. "Lukovo" …. "Rab" …… really exotic names evoking nowhere islands and fabulous places without a precise geographic location.
Speaking of the real places Sorana is a hamlet a few miles from home where you can buy the best beans you can taste while Lukovo, where you may start paddling for Rab, is 318 miles from home ( In letters THREEHUNDREDEIGHTEEN brutal and neverending miles crossing two borderlines Italy-Slovenia and Slovenia-Croatia).
Like Forrest Gump I feel a little tired and after the shortest paddling in my life ( a quarter of mile including recognition) I stop in a wonderful inlet under the shrine of the Holy Bishop of Lukovo.
I make friends with the official photographer of the expedition mr. Fujiand feeling absolutely secure under the eyes of the Holy Man go to sleep without even setting camp.
During the night I realize that the Holy Man cares for earthquakes, tsunami, floods, wars etc but cares nothing about minor items like repelling sinner's souls reincarnated in form of mosquitoes (2 a.m. the tent is up).
Second day.
The weather can't be better, I'm alone, I'm using a SOT, last but not least I'm a naturist and so I also realize that I've too much clothing gear and I'll need a pair of shorts only in restaurants and visiting the village of Rab.
Crossing the strait to Rab and seeing the effects of the local wind "Bora" on the east side of the islands I begin to understand what kind of wonderful monster it can be. Till now the words I'd heard without listening on fifteen second TV communicates " the bora is 75 mph in Trieste" crossed my head from left ear to the right at light speed. I know it's mainly in winter but I look behind me if there are the telltale clouds on the Velebit.
Last night my faithful inflatable mattress blew off it's last breathe and so I must head for the too civilized and overcrowded Rajska Plaza for a replacement . I understand nothing of the local language nor of the german-croatian pidgin used with tourists and so I must go wandering under a blazing implacable sun for an hour.
Nearly overdone I refresh and rehydrate with a mixed fish fry and some ( a little more than… ) of the excellent local beer.
The effect is a mule kick that sends me unconscious in a tree shade.
This trip is full of useful lessons and I learn how to survive in this mid-summer odyssey.
1° paddle in the morning till noon
2° look for a good restaurant eat and sleep like a log in the shade till 4 p.m.
3° leisurely paddle and at 7 p.m. start looking for a good place for the night.
4° wait for the departure of sun bathers and seaquakingstinkingpowerboats and camp.
Repeat this tran-tran (routine) 'cause it's slightly better than work.
Third day.
Same boring routine like yesterday: a nearly infinite sequel of little beaches an inlets to enjoy, a good meal and in the evening a wonderful white pebbles beach to camp.
Here the sinner's souls are wasps and I think that ahead must be a better place. No way it's the same along all the coast and every place is full of wasps.
I'm a rational man and I notice that those poor sinners find and follow me also in the open sea and show particular enthusiasm for me and the front hatch of my Scupper.??????
All right, a nearly 200 lbs naked sweating body, I understand it, but the hatch?.
Now I remember; there is a half Italian Salami which is getting ripe in the sun under the black hatch from the beginning .
The coast is now inhospitable but the Holy Man is watching over me and makes a miracle. I find a three yard inlet so steep I must tie the Scupper to a tree branch. I swiftly disembark the salami that, quoting JKJ, smells only slightly better than a dead child. I brotherly share it with the wasps and then move a few yards away. All the wasps make the right choice between me and the wonderful sweaty salami and I can camp 30 yards away feeling like a god on earth.
Fourth day.
Nothing new on the west front. Really 'twas the west front of the island protected from the Bora and full of life and tourists.
Fifth day.
After an incursion on the east side, a "white desert of nothing" that really strikes my inner soul I return to Lukovo.
I have an half hearth desire to go in another place with the car but, following the tran-tran I'd learned on the second day, I had not realized how many tourists had come to Croatia in the bursting holiday season.
There was an interminable line of colored tin boxes on wheels full of tourists in the opposite direction and a wide open road in the direction home.
We six abruptly decide that we are not part of the crowd and having turns at the wheel after 5 hours paddling and eight more driving arrive happy and rested home.
Yep now we are six. Forgive me, from the very beginning I forgot mr. Fuji the photographer but you must know that fearing the humidity he stayed most of time in the sealed hatch between my legs without ever uttering a word.
Perhaps he was feeling home like in those Tokyo hotels with cubicles not more larger than graves.

PS The dog was intentionally lost at a diner on the highway. Who finds it may have it, but beware…. it resembles me.

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