So shorlty after posting my last blog, I crossed the border again into my 4th country - Croatia. In a beautiful piece of timing it was also exactly 7 months to the day I had left Falmouth, I celebrated by queuing up with the early morning traffic to cross the border (hoping for my first passport stamp but sadly dissapppointed). Two grumpy-looking, unimpressed border check points later and I was strolling along a hot and run down Croatian road towards the city of Rijeka. A motorway has been built parrallel to the road I was on and the run-down, boarded-up and sleepy cafes and hotels told of how much business the new road had taken from the villages I passed through. It was a bit of a sorry welcome.

After a brief stay in Croatia I took the train back north to Ljubljana to finally catch up with Mum and Steve. In the process I met 3 couch surfers who were heading in the direction I had come from, having hitch-hiked from Istanbul and heading to Venice. An international trio from Peru, Spain and Portugal; we shared journey stories, experiences and wild schemes for the future over a couple of nights sleeping on the hay bales in the barn of our host. As I was saying good-bye to them I was saying hello to Mum and Steve who had flown to Slovenia and hired a campervan to explore some of the country.

I gladly joined them to see some more of the mountains to the north and because they came with real westcountry cider! Camper-vamping (camping in the luxury of a campervan) at the foot of the mountains next to a crystal clear lake, swimming each morning as the cloud and mist cleared through the valley was a beautiful way to holiday. There was also a little ramble up the mountain - which turned into a bit more of a 9hr hike/rock climb (due to my ever reliable map reading skills and the general lack of a map!) Later we headed south again, stopping by the striking Castle Predjama, built into the side of a cave, and visiting the amazing Škocjan caves with an incredible underground canyon and huge rock formations. Keen to explore some more of the region Mum and Steve then returned me Rijeka in Croatia, before another hard good-bye as they dropped me off to continue where I had left off. I felt a bit lieka kid being left at the first day of school again as they drove off and i was alone again (I think the feeling was mutaual after not having seen each other for 7 months and probably not again foor the same amount of time). Luckily I had plenty to distract me though, after a week long holiday, my body was a little out of condition for the 12 day push along the coast road to Zadar. But there was another carrot on a string waiting as an old school friend would be on holiday there so if I made it in time a beer, a hug and a catch-up were waiting!

From Rijeka I headed out on the coastal road that runs the the 230km to Zadar. (Not before my host Ivan had introduced me to a late night of smokey poker, croatian football and milk and cookies!) It's a busy tourist route and the road was full of German, Austrian, Slovenian and Italian cars, campervans and caravans. With the Croatian traffic too there wasn't a whole lot of room for me, in one layby a kindly gentleman was waiting to offer me a lift; telling me the road was too dangerous. Having walked for 3 months on some of the Italian roads - I really didn't think it was that bad! When I tried to explain this to him he asked me where I was from.

"I'm from England, I walked here from England" I explained.

"I don't believe you!" he replied.

Well I couldn't really do anything about that but I still wasn't getting in his car so he wished me luck with a bemused expression and drove on with his wife indicating that I was crazy as they passed on the road.

This stretch of road runs parrallel to some of the many islands that make-up Croatia, and I had been promised beautiful views across to them as I followed it. But the sky was heavy and hazy and the air muggy, despite the growing wind. With my hosts in Kraljevica, a town 25km from Rijeka, I got to hear the power of the infamous Bura wind during the night. It is a wind that runs amock along the whole Adriatic coastline as cold air builds behind the nearby mountains before rushing over the high ground and tearing it's way out to sea. It kept me awake in the night, rattling the shutters and whistling through the appartment. The next day it died down a little before I hit the road but it was still hard work.

The traffic eased off a bit as I passed the last major town before Zadar, in Senj. But the Bura remained in force and I met it head on for the first time on a twisting s-bend section. The coast road runs at the foot of the mountains and as I came round the corner into a bay/valley I was stopped in my tracks by its' strength. The slight incline combined with the wind made it feel like I was in a strongman truck pull, leaning forward at a ridiculous angle to try and pull my trolley along, which by now felt like 50kg. This battle would continue on sections along the road for several days, sometimes whipping the sunglasses from my face or carrying my hat off and back down the road. Sometimes ramming me and my trolley into the crash barrier or up against the road banking. I was more than glad of the sanctuary provided by a secluded family appartement leant to me by my host Ivan from Rijeka. He even kidnapped me from the road on his way there to help me cool off from my excursions with a beer - all massively appreciated (especially as it pissed it down with rain moments later!)

After 2 more days of howling Bura it had done it's job, I woke up to a crystal clear sky, beautiful fresh morning air and not a hazy cloud insight to interrupt my views out to sea and along the mountain range. The leaves of the sun-scorhed trees that clung to the barren lunar-like rocks were already turning red and brown, in beautiful autumnal displays. The sea was a shimmering turquoise blue and when the wind completely dropped, the suface reflected the colours and shapes of the isalnds. The cleansing wind had improved the mood of everyone on the road too and I was waved at, beeped at with thumbs up and smiled at by loads of people on the road. There were several cycle tourists too and we acknowledged each others efforts with passing conversations and sweaty salutes. These were some of my best days walking on the trip. I stopped at little beachside campsites each night, from where I swam, saw dolphins out to sea, shooting stars in the huge stellar display at night and some other kind of stars after sharing some local home brew with a couple from Austria. They had passed me a few days earlier on the road and invited me to join them for dinner when I caught up with them at a campsite, with sage picked from the mountains and something like schnapps they brought from an old man!

I was almost sad as the last few kms were ticked off on the road signs to Zadar and I had to leave this beautiful windswept coastline. But my body was a little less agrieved. The relentless kms were making themselves known in my legs and the wind, sun and endless grinning had left me with cracked sore lips. In one final sun-scorched push I made it to Zadar and rolled up alongside a little beach to meet my old school friend Sonal relaxing on hilday. I was with rewarded with a beer, spinach burek (local pastry snack) and a hug. I think I made it just in time too as the next day there was a huge storm, the bridges and roads I had arrived on were closed because of the Bura (it's back) and it rained for 2 days. And my body gave in and I slept for nearly a whole day!