It's an early rise this morning in anticipation of the arrival of 'motorhome repair man' who we understand will come between 08:00 and 08:30. At 09:00 Ali goes to reception to check. Apparently he'd tried to ring and left a message for a call back. A bit later someone asks Nick to go to reception where there is a message with makes and prices of tyres available, and that for safety he will only replace as a pair. Nick's choice is relayed to the garage and 30 minutes later a cheerful tyre fitter, with good English arrives, removes both back wheels and takes them away, leaving Mary*Lou perched on jacks. About an hour later he returns and puts everything back in order. Call out, two new Goodrich tyres, fitting, tax etc. comes to 1970K or £188.

Carefully avoiding the sharp corner wall, we leave the pitch and check out just after 13:00 Despite being so late we are only charged one night, and the staff who have helped no end with calls and messages 'hope it didn't spoil our stay'.

We drive to Sibenik but no-caravan' signs keep us away from the harbour and the rest of the town is unattractive urbanity but a few miles out we find a layby overlooking a valley where we stop for lunch. Another few miles finds us in that favourite location; a Lidl carpark.

The huge mountains have dwindled behind us and now we are on rolling lowlands with frequent views of the sea. We reach our site at Pakostane [not the sub-continent] where we are met by the German owner who doesn't bother to much about the formalities of check in. There is a small beach surrounded by tiny islands, green and white in the turquoise sea.

Early evening we grab a table at the beach-side restaurant for dinner. A litre of red is £8, beer £1.50 a half litre and huge steaks £13.

After dinner we walk a mile into Pakostane village. It's a lively little place, with a few bars, restaurants and shops, plus a few tiny market stalls directly in front of the owners' houses selling garlic, fruit and the ubiquitous lavender.

A service has just finished in the small church and as the last worshippers leave we are able to glimpse inside at its simple, plain beauty. Outside the trees are ringing with noisy sparrows going to roost as the sky turns pink and mauve, perfectly matching the colour of the steeple's stonework. We return to site past more lavender and oleander just as the Bura wind starts its normal evening blow.

We are all tired and turn in soon after 22:00