Day 65 - July 14: Hazards

Sveti Juraj to Guvnine: 29.9 miles / 1,802 total

We wrapped early today at 3PM after a shortened distance to balance out yesterday’s long haul. Sveti Juraj is smaller and much less touristic than Crikvenica—which was fine by us. We walked the 40-meter seaside promenade that pretty much made up the entire village, scanning the half dozen restaurant options. We narrowed it down to the top three (all rated around 4.4) and went with the crowd—Bistro Riva, right on the pier looking out at the island in the harbor.

Yossipa—or maybe Josephine—a strong, kind Croatian woman served us. We shared a Greek salad and local marinated anchovies, followed by the fresh fish of the day: hake. I’d missed lunch, so I followed it with ćevapčići for dessert in honor of Mr. J.

Our lodging was two separate rooms in a guest house, which is common here. It was the first night of the trip Christina and I weren’t in the same room—honestly, I felt a little lonely. Over dinner we tackled logistics, each issue more stressful than the last: rising heat, no breakfast at the guesthouse, no clear restaurants along the remote route through national forest, and no confirmed lodging for the night. The route Google mapped also threw me way off course—diving into Northern Velebit National Park and back to the E65 with extra elevation and distance. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t getting a cleaner alternative.

Back at the guest house, Christina managed to charm the owner into letting her do laundry, but he drew the line at washing Jax’s bed. She’d already bathed him, so he got to sleep with me. I lay on one side of the bed, him on the other, both of us winding down with all these unknowns swirling in my head. At some point, he slid over and curled up beside me, and we both drifted off.

In the morning, I was back at Bistro Riva at 7:59. Yossipa was finishing a cigarette and smiled warmly, surprised to see me again in my running costume and hat.

I had a cheese omelet, bread with marmalade, and three coffees before heading back up to the E65.

Google kept insisting I take a turn up the mountain, but I ignored it and went straight—muting the voice that repeated “go back, go back.” Five kilometers in, the same thing happened: another recommended turn up a steep road, which I ignored again.

It was already warm, and everything was uphill. The road kept climbing, and so did the tension, especially with Google showing me off-course. Ten kilometers in and 1,000 feet up, I hit a posted warning: no pedestrians allowed beyond this point—due to the tunnel ahead.

But there was no way I was going back. I waited in the sun, listening for silence—just wind and insects—then sprinted into the darkness.

Inside the tunnel, my eyes adjusted quickly. It was only a few hundred meters, and when I popped out the other side, Google recalibrated. I’d saved 15 kilometers and a huge detour.

At the top of the pass, I spotted two cyclists I’d seen earlier—Phil and his partner, New Zealanders riding from France to Albania. They shared water with me, and we chatted for a bit before heading off toward the same destination for the night.

The stress eased after that. The road still climbed and dipped, but the views shifted into something big—Velebit mountains to the left, the Adriatic far below to the right. I noticed what looked like an ancient, narrow road winding alongside E65, appearing and disappearing through the trees and rock. Too narrow for a rail bed, and oddly arched over gullies.

Turns out it was the Via Josephina—built in 1775 by order of Emperor Joseph II to connect Senj (which I’d passed yesterday) with the interior. Completed in 1779, it replaced older salt routes used since Roman times. The single-arch bridges I saw spanning ravines were part of the original engineering. Some segments of the road climbed at 30% grades. It’s amazing to think about how they surveyed and built it through such steep terrain with 18th-century tools. And, that it was so well done that today E65 basically runs the same route.

From that point on, the E65 kept rolling through the forest, holding around 1,000 feet of elevation. But this wasn’t just any stretch of woodland—it was part of Northern Velebit National Park, one of Croatia’s most remote and protected regions. The forest here is deep and layered—mostly beech and fir—occasionally opening up with views of the sea or the bare stone ridges above. This park is home to over 1,500 plant species, including many that exist nowhere else, and larger wildlife like lynx, bears, and wolves.

All along the route today, big boulders which are karst limestone showed up again and again—lining hillsides, walkways, and slopes with dry-stone walls built without mortar, just rock stacked by hand. Some formed terraces for old vineyards or olive groves, others simply marked paths or boundaries. It’s like the land produced more stone than soil, so people shaped what they had. These walls are part of a building tradition so old and vital it’s now protected as UNESCO Intangible Heritage.

Still, the sun didn’t care about heritage. It was beating down now, and I had run out of water—again. From Sveti Juraj to this point (25 km) I hadn’t seen a single house, café, or gas station. Just as I started thinking about backup plans, Christina and Jax pulled over in a patch of shade with a full spread: water, sports drink, pasta, and this fried potato-and-broccoli patty that tasted like a Balkan latka. It was perfect. Then she took off again to try to find a place to stay.

I ran dry again at 40 km and couldn’t reach Christina. From there, it was survival mode to a spot we’d agreed on earlier—and she was there. I ended a few kilometers shy of the target. I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to push it.

Back at the room, I stepped on the scale as I have every day. I’ve been between 161–170 lbs consistently since day one. Today it read 152.9. Time for some serious recovery tonight.

Thanks for following along and the support.

Cheers,

David.