Day 72 - July 21st: 2k!

Zaostrog to Kamenice: 34.7 miles / 2,028 total

Camp life was simple and good. For the second night in a row, there was no internet, which meant no blog entry. Christina sprang into action—went to the front office and told them her “boss” was writing a book and couldn’t work with their awful Wi-Fi. Five minutes later, we had the 5G router plugged into our room.

I was really pleased to finish yesterday, but also concerned. The inside of my left quad started hurting towards the end of the day and I could feel it every step walking. I could hardly Theragun it. I messaged Lisa and we made a plan: stop and stretch if it starts to hurt, if it gets worse, pull the plug.

Before lights out, Christina and I mapped the next few days. She mentioned we’d passed Biokovo, the massive mountain towering above Makarska. I’d taken a photo earlier in the day of the church in front of it. Its summit—1,762 meters (5,781 feet), is the highest peak in the Dinaric Alps. On clear days, you can see all the way to Italy across the Adriatic. Historically, Biokovo has served as both a natural barrier and a strategic lookout, used for centuries to guard against inland threats. Today, it’s part of Biokovo Nature Park, known for its steep limestone cliffs, wild mountain herbs, and even a glass Skywalk platform suspended over a 1,000-meter drop.

Today would be a real test: elevation, heat, and a border crossing into Bosnia and Herzegovina. Bosnia has a tiny, 9-kilometer sliver of coastline that interrupts the Croatian shore—its only access to the Adriatic. Back in 1699, the Republic of Dubrovnik gave this strip to the Ottoman Empire as a buffer against Venetian expansion, hoping to preserve its own independence. That diplomatic move stuck through centuries of shifting empires, and when Yugoslavia dissolved in the 1990s, Bosnia retained it. For years, it split the Croatian coast in two—until the Pelješac Bridge opened in 2022, reconnecting Croatia without needing a border crossing. But for me, the only way to keep going was right through it. We’d be sleeping in Bosnia tonight.

We cranked the A/C down to 16°C. I actually had to use a comforter. Best sleep I’ve had. My resting HR was 38—lower than normal. The body has officially adapted.

I was out by 6 AM, skipping the 8 AM breakfast to avoid the afternoon heat. A kilometer into the promenade, I found a woman seated by the sea, cigarette in hand. “Coffee?” I asked. She nodded. I requested two espresso shots with foam. She brought out two coffees with foam, I drank both. Later, I grabbed fresh salted bread from a bakery just opening up. Nutrition and hydration locked.

After 5K along the quiet sea, I rejoined Route 8. I’ve gotten used to it. In the mornings, the road’s empty, the sun is behind the mountains, and it’s all mine. I could feel my quad, but I micro-adjusted my stride until it eased.

Through Gradac, I began a long climb inland—leaving the sea behind for a while. At the top, the route opened onto the Neretva Valley, also known as the Valley of Life. With multiple lakes and lush islands near Baćina, it’s one of the few fertile basins on the Dalmatian coast. If I were settling down 2,000 years ago, this would be the spot.

The road wound into Ploče, a port town and Croatia’s southernmost major shipping hub. Off in the distance, massive karst formations looked like they’d been hurled from the cliffs. One stood like an island above the wetlands.

At sea level, I spotted a cross atop a rocky hill, with a chapel below—marked as a wind organ, a sculptural piece that channels sea breezes into haunting tones.

Beyond Ploče lay a vast agricultural plain—the Neretva Delta, one of the few large farming regions on the coast. For the next stretch, I followed a lonely farm road straight through its heart. It was brutally hot. No breeze. But I had water, and at 30K I hit a market to restock. Three breaks in, and each time the quad felt better.

From Komin, I began my second mountain climb—6% grade for 4K, then steeper. I looked back over the valley I had just crossed—layers of ridges, water, and farmland. The road eventually veered left onto a narrow mountain path. This was not on any tourist map.

The climb led me past ancient olive trees, thick-trunked and gnarled, likely hundreds of years old.

At the top, in Slivno Ravno, a plateau opened up. On the right, a pristine chapel with a graveyard.

On the left, a row of abandoned stone houses— hollow,and silent.

Christina called. “You need your passport to cross the border. I’ll drive to you.” “Not possible,” I said. “I’m on a rough path at the top of a mountain.” I lost the signal. Kept moving.

Then I saw them: carved boulders with signs marked “Stazama stećaka.” These are stećci, medieval tombstones found across Bosnia and southern Croatia, dating from the 12th to 16th centuries. Often decorated with crosses, crescent moons, and primitive figures, they’re UNESCO-listed relics of the Bosnian Church and early Christian sects. Silent and stoic, they’re scattered across ridges like the one I was on.

Soon after, I reached the ruins of Smrden Grad, a medieval hilltop fortress that once guarded the sea routes and mountain passes. Perched high above the Adriatic, it was a critical outpost for controlling inland access to Dalmatian ports.

I started descending the rocky road when—unbelievably—Christina appeared in the car, honking and smiling. She’d tracked me with Find My iPhone. She had passed back and forth enough times that she was friends with the borders guards and she told me they were expecting me. She handed me a cold sports drink and my passport and was on her way. Only Tina.

From there, I dropped through sharp switchbacks to the last Croatian beach, then reached the Bosnia and Herzegovina border at Neum.

The police waved me past the car line. One stamp later, I was in my 8th country.

Christina had scouted ahead. The apartment she booked wasn’t great, so she upgraded us to a hotel in Neum, 5K before our planned endpoint in Kamenice. We agreed by phone: I’d push on to Kamenice today so I could stop short tomorrow in Dubrovnik, which now sits just 59K away.

Mission accomplished: 56K today. Quad okay. Hydration and nutrition perfect. One day left in Croatia. One day to my imaginary Dubrovnik finish line.

Thanks for following along and the support.

Cheers,

David.