Our second Croatian port was Split.  It was a mixed morning. Clean clothes arrived from the laundry service – yay! Then Ian’s back spasmed, and it was looking doubtful that he’d be going anywhere. Thanks to the wonders of ibuprofen and fisiocreme, he managed to get up and moving.

From the deck, we could see the pine-clad Marjan Hill, to the west of the town.  It looked inviting.  We made our way along the Riva, or waterfront promenade.  Split was packed with people getting on and off ferries, and promenading was not a simple matter – more like suitcase dodging.  We found the stairs that led upwards onto Marjan, and began the climb. 

After a short steep push, there was a terrace overlooking Split, as well as a café.  Pressing on, we reached a tiny stone chapel.  From here there was route choice – either a wide, smooth, gently rising track which contoured around the hill, or a long set of steps that went straight up to the highest point.  We opted for the track, as the steps looked brutal. We hardly saw anyone, and enjoyed the unusual sensation of being away from crowds of people.

After almost half an hour of pleasant walking, inhaling the fresh smell of pine needles, we reached another track junction.  Ahead of us was a strange looking structure that resembled a giant steel ice cream cone.  A newly sealed road led very steeply straight up to it.  There were no cars in the car park, just a handful of walkers like us, and a couple of bike riders. 

The ice cream cone turned out to be an observation tower, but it was still under construction, and not open.  Even so, we had amazing views from the base.  The sea was that unmistakeably deep Adriatic blue.  We could see people on a little beach far below, and small boats everywhere.  It was so nice to be in a forest.

Ian took the ridgeline trail back to the church, which took him to the Telegrin lookout, where a huge Croatian flag flies.  He descended the aforementioned stairway, while I retraced my steps on the flat trail.  There was a water fountain at the church, with clean, cold water; perfect for refilling depleted supplies.  Our walk was about 14 km.

Back at water level, Ian headed back to the ship while I went to explore “old things”.  I found another restorative gelato (biscotti this time), then wandered around Diocletian’s Palace, in the process meeting lots of cats.  One of them was decidedly grumpy at having his picture taken, so he leapt out of his pot plant, and hid under a nearby shrub, pretending I couldn’t see him.

The centre of Split is an absolute maze.  Unlike Dubrovnik, where the walls and Stradun provide clear definition, in Split it is quite hard to know exactly where you are.  I found myself going in circles (squares?) on multiple levels, and coming back to the same place, kind of like doing a pivot control.  By now it was more crowded than Dubrovnik, and I kept ducking into little laneways to try and get away from the throng.  It was all good fun.  When it came time to leave, I struggled to find my way out of the old town – eventually stumbling across the right set of steps to take me underground, through the Perestil, and out via a narrow and unassuming gateway.  Once back on the Riva, I had a nice big catching feature to aim for – our ship is unmistakeable.

Later on deck, we could clearly see our forest walk and the lookouts; we also watched hundreds of boats racing back to the harbour, while the sea sparkled like a jewel.