We spent a morning looking around Pula, which was very pleasant, with some old Roman ruins, an amphitheatre and a diverting old town. I decided to spend the afternoon lazing, for the first time on the trip, on a beach. There was a very cosy, though pebbly, beach, literally on the doorstep of the youth hostel, as I had discovered the previous night, so we decided to go back there. A bar filled with ice-cold, cheap Croatian beer made the prospect even more tempting, and the weather was positively balmy - clear, calm and about 26 degrees, the highest yet. One problem - by the time we got down there, the clouds started gathering, a stiff breeze blew up and the temperature dropped by about 15 degeres. A thunderstorm. Great. We spent the rest of the afternoon forlornly playing cards under an umbrella increasingly under threat of blowing away, sipping on tea to keep warm. Just like England in fact. We retreated to the apartment to watch TV, and I cooked a meal of prawns and mussels in white wine sauce - not bad for my limited culinary talents, and an attempt to try some of the local specialities.

The next day, we had planned to set sail from Pula to the largest of the Croatian islands, Cres. This plan was scuppered by the fact that the ferry had ceased to operate three days previously. This meant we had to cycle along what looked on paper to be a rather featureless stretch of road for about 40 miles before we reached the next avilable point from which it was possible to catch a ferry. On paper and in reality, the road north of Pula was dull and arduous, and other than a deep ravine to negotoate, it was one of those zen-like, 'get your head down' type of days. A town called Labin was the first point of interest, a hilltop fortress which was a beguiling conglomeration of stepped streets, cobblestone alleys and pastel houses festooned with stone ornamentation. It looked much too pretty for an industry as grubby as coalmining, but it was the mining capital of Istria until the 1970's. Labin's hill was mined so extensively that the town began to collapse about 30 years ago, when mining stopped and the town reemerged as a tourist destination, more understated and subtle than some of it's Istrian counterparts. The road from there to the ferry, ten miles north, was beautiful, and was bettered by a spectacular sunset.

We paid the two quid ferry fare and just as the sun set, we made it to our first Croatian island, Cres. A slight worry was accomodation for the night; the place where we had landed looked no more than a loose collection of houses around a ferry terminal, and the next town of any size was 20 miles distant, over a 600 metre climb. Fortunately, we got talking to some locals as they were walking off the ferry, and they spoke reasonable English. They immediately offered to put us up in their house for about 10 dollars each, so we of course accepted. It turned out they weren't locals, but were themselves holidayers from Rijeka, a large city some 50 miles distant, and came here at the weekends. The man of the house, Piotr, explained over home-made liquer that he had built the place himself and he brought his family out during the summer, and sometimes rented it. Much discussion followed into the early hours, and we were fed with local fish and bread which was very tasty. We retired to bed fed and watered, and in a much better condition than two days previously. The next day was breezy and dry, and the goal was to cycle the length of the island - not an easy task, since it is over 60 miles north to south, and is technically two islands, Cres and Losinj. They are joined by a narrow isthmus, but it has a canal running through it to allow boats through. The island had a stark, quiet beauty to it, and was fairly barren and mountainous. The climb over to Cres Town was lengthy and immediate - right from the first minute, we were climbing, and it went on for twelve miles. However, we were both a little battle - hardened by then, and it didn't seem too bad. After a 600 metre climb, we lost all of our altitude in the bank, and descended 8 miles to Cres. This sometimes drives you crazy as a cyclist; why can't they just make roads which go around mountains ? Who knows ? Anyway, after a look around Cres, which seemed pleasant and sleepy, with a jolly little harbour, we emerged from the town into another 7 mile ascent. And then another 5 mile descent. And so on. This trend continued all day, and we puffed and panted our way from north to south of the damn island without much sense of enjoyment. Losinj actually did feel very different to Cres, a little less wild and more inhabited. Both of these serpentine islands feel to be a little off the tourist track, but the capital, Mala Losinj, felt very cosmopolitan and civilised. It was a quaint harbour town, surrounded by houses which rose up on either side, in a maze of streets and cobbled alleys. We shouldn't have had any problems finding accommodation; it was out of season, the weather was cool and windy, and we had arrived early. We should have known better. After going on several wild goose chases, having been given wrong information by the Tourist Office, and with yet another inadequate map to guide us round what turned out to be a veritable web of streets jutting and winding in every direction, up and down steps, down blind alleys and into people's gardens, we started getting agitated. Eventually, after much searching and not a little swearing, we found a very reasonable place with a terrace, kitchen, bathroom and TV for under 10 dollars each per night. Bargain. A pizzza and bottle of local wine (red- poor) were consumed before we hit a club, it being Saturday night, and we danced until the early hours - well, until about 1am, when the dire music and irritating locals got too much and we called it a night. Whatever else was going right with the holiday, the nightlife was continually going wrong. At least my bike was still holding up...