On the Adriatic

Several times this week, I have been asked to name the favorite thing I did while in Croatia. After debating for a couple of moments, weighing each activity against some imaginary scale of enjoyment, I inevitably settled on saying kayaking the Adriatic Sea.  While not a lie, it is also not the whole truth. It was a markedly different experience than that of hiking, so of course it stands out in my mind for that reason. And, I would argue, it is something that most people would readily agree as being a highlight of any vacation. Some of the other experiences that I would rank as the most enjoyable (which I hope to explore in a future blog) would require a more in depth explanation that no one really wanted to hear about when asking that question, so short and simple was my goal.

That said, kayaking and I have a kind of love/hate relationship. I enjoy kayaking immensely, but I find it challenging. I am not always at my best when faced with a challenge...and when I woke up the morning we were headed to the sea, I admit that I was filled with a sense of dread. A thick mountain mist blanketed the area near our hotel, and it seemed that our time on the water was destined to be shrouded in a haze. Yet, after breakfast we forged ahead toward a small town called Vrsar on Istria, the peninsula in the northwestern corner of Croatia.

As we were driving, I kept an eye on the outdoor temperature hovering around a cool 15 Celsius (60 to all of us in the US), and the lingering gray. I wasn't so sure about the whole thing, but then, after traveling through a long tunnel, it was like we were transported to a completely different place from before. Not only was the sun shining, the sky clear, and the temperature climbing steadily to about 25 Celsius (about 77), it was as if we somehow ended up in Italy. Signs were in Italian and Croatian. The architecture and landscape looked eerily similar to Italian villages, which makes sense considering it has been under Venetian control at some point and a heavy Italian influence has remained throughout its history.

After some intrepid exploring of the area (we got a great tour of some of the back country...even if it was unintentional), we found a good place on the public beach in Vrsar and launched our kayaks--Tom and Marty in one and Davor and I in the other. (For the record, having the well-experienced, much stronger guide as my kayaking partner made my job so much easier! I recommend it to anyone :))  It took me a few moments to adjust to these kayaks, as they were a different kind from the one I had used in the past, but I think overall, I like this kind better.

Our Kayak

 On a more random note, after only a few minutes of kayaking, it quickly became clear that we were not the only ones enjoying the beauty of the Adriatic. After turning a bend, we came across a (VERY) long stretch of coastline that I later learned was home to Europe's largest naturalist campground. So, for over half of the time we were on the water, it seemed like we were passing hundreds of naked Germans (okay, I have no clue if they were Germans or not, but in my experience--which is minimal mind you--those who bare all on the beach are German). A great source of amusement, I admit, but it limited the number of pictures I wanted to take of the shore... Oh, and one more point of clarification.  Also, this is NOT why kayaking is my "favorite" thing from my trip.

Back to the actual kayaking. What I love about kayaking is being so close to the water, where you can see, touch, smell, everything but be IN the sea. Experiencing the Adriatic while surrounded completely by its gorgeous  green-blue waters that while calm are not completely still. Seeing the rugged coast as it rises from the sea, vegetation clinging to the rocks, growing where it can. Watching other boats in the distance (and up close) as they pass by. The sun beaming down, radiating a pleasant warmth long forgotten during a dreary Midwestern winter.  Time stops as you adopt a rhythm of paddling, working with your partner to do something so simple as moving the kayak further. Like hiking, it lends itself to a meditative state. At least when you can free your mind of other thoughts.

Kayaking to get here was very much worth it!

And this is where I begin to 'hate' kayaking. By my own estimation, it is not something I am great at. I don't like being less than great at anything I do. Call it a type-A personality or holding myself to ridiculously high standards, but whatever it is, initially I had a difficult time fully immersing myself in the experience. And while I look back now and recognize how ridiculous my thinking was, I could not shake the feeling that I was little more than dead weight in the front of the kayak. For the first leg of the trip, I managed to maintain a fairly steady pace, trying to rest only when Davor stopped and praying that I wasn't making any stupid mistakes like paddling in a way that threw us off course. (I was very self-conscious about his opinion of my abilities. I didn't want to be seen as a slacker or lightweight, and I also have to admit, it was hard to relinquish control of the situation...)

However, by the time we got to the restaurant (our destination), I was pretty much drained. A combination of the sun, the sea, and the sheer fact that I had been going full-speed for about six days with minimal sleep hit me hard. I enjoyed a simple (but delicious) lunch of olives, cheese, and bread but was concerned about how I would make the trip back without admitting some kind of 'weakness.'

The view from the restaurant. There was a cave behind us with pirate cut-outs...

Once we were back on the sea, I didn't last very long before it became apparent that I was flagging. Eventually, Davor kindly suggested I take a break. And as a testament to my exhaustion, I did. Even though it wasn't very long (I am too stubborn to give up completely...and yes, resting when tired amounts to giving up in my twisted logic), those few minutes that I just sat there, I allowed myself to relax, and it felt good. It was as if I were waiting for permission to take a break, to feel okay handing the reins to someone else, even if it were for something as small as this. Just these five or ten minutes were startlingly refreshing because it is very, very rare that I let my guard down like that.

Much of my life has been spent trying to be wholly independent, not asking for much of anything from friends or family or even strangers--my guiding principle seems to be to do whatever I can not to be a bother, to have the least impact. Asking for any kind of help is weakness in me. (Yet, I admire others who are open and willing to seek and accept help...figure that one out.) But those of you who know me probably realize this about me, and I realize that the weakness is in NOT asking for support. If I am not careful, one of these days I am going to wear myself down so much that I won't be able to bounce back.  And in a long-winded way (see nothing is ever clear-cut with me), this is why it was one of my favorite days of the tour. I allowed myself to show imperfection. And while I know I am rife with imperfections, to willingly let one show like this without benefit of a polished facade is a big step for me. (And I had the opportunity to kayak on one of the world's most beautiful seas past a bunch of nudists, one of whom was riding a scooter across a bridge...tell me that doesn't rank up there as memorable?!)