We are ready in good time to leave this absolutely superb campsite and continue north. The first part, to Split takes far less time than the bus the other day and soon we are the other side of the estuary on the way to Trogir.

There is a large car park just before the town, only a 7-8 minute walk in. Trogir is an old and important port city built on its own island, now connected by short bridges. The interesting bit, within the medieval walls, contains evidence of it Roman origins, but is heavily influenced by Venetian rule. Like Dubrovnik and Split there are polished stone pavements surrounded by sandstone architecture.

St Lawrence cathedral is unusual; the roof structure is raised on short pillars making it appear to float, and a balcony is constructed to give the same impression. On the opposite side of the small square stands a Venetian loggia dating to the 1470s, and from it comes the sound of a male voice choir entertaining a tour party with their harmony.

Doorways are intricately carved, walls show several periods of renovation and there is a variety of balconies, arched windows, pillars and carvings. We find a tiny courtyard with ornate steps and peer at ancient, cracked lintels now secured with props.

Out on the palm-lined waterfront large wooden sail-cruisers are moored, their guests ashore or taking a trip on the red submarines that are all along the Adriatic. We find a restaurant and enjoy salad lunches under their awnings, washed down with freshly squeezed lemon juice in water.

We leave Trogir mid afternoon and stop at a roadside fruit stall, then drive the pretty coastline through the attractive town of Primosten to its nearby camp site.

The site has terraced pitches accessed from central slopes. Nick misjudges the approach, intending to avoid a tree in the middle of the pitch, and catches a rear tyre on the sharp corner of the stone wall and tears a hole in the sidewall. The phone call to the breakdown insurance is a waste of time; a Mumbai mumbler who keeps accusing Nick of speaking too quickly because he can't understand English. Nick hangs up, but which time all and sundry are involved. The site manager rings a local garage who says they will attend tomorrow morning as by now it is almost 17:30.

We wander around the site and down to the sea, watching red squirrels along the way, have an early dinner and an early night.