Friday, July 4th – The Great Escape Begins
The latest adventure kicked off dark and early. I picked up Tim and Carlos in Henryd at 4am, and we headed to Steve’s place in Rhyl, where Elwyn joined the crew. Just a mile into the journey, Mic suddenly leapt up from the back of Steve’s van, where he’d been secretly stashed away like a gremlin. Classic Michael. Absolute chaos broke out — a rude, but very funny awakening.
Steve — who drives like he’s got a seat at Red Bull Racing — floored it to Manchester Airport, all while somehow avoiding a speeding ticket. It’s uncanny. Either the man has diplomatic immunity, or speed cameras just respect his style.
Once on the plane, I opened This Is My Everything by Christian Splath (Earth Island Books), but barely made it a couple of pages before nodding off. The 2-hour-45-minute flight passed in what felt like twenty minutes. When I woke up, we were already descending into the furnace of Dubrovnik.
Arrival in Dubrovnik – Alleys, Marble & That First Wander
Our apartment was an absolute gem — tucked up a narrow, shaded alleyway right in the beating heart of Dubrovnik’s Old Town. Once again, full credit to Steve, our trip’s unofficial booking agent, who absolutely came up trumps.
Tim drew the short straw and had to share a room with me — but came prepared with earplugs to hold back the snoring tide. Smart move. Our doorcode was 123456# and this followed similar pattern for wifi codes in a lot of the Croatian bars.
Mic, who booked later, ended up a few alleyways up at Hostel Castello on Zamanjina Ulica, right off Stradun — the perfect launchpad for late-night mischief.
We unpacked with cool music playing from the JuiceBox, then stepped out into the city — straight into the searing, high-summer 36deg Croatian heat. The Old Town’s marble streets shimmered like polished glass beneath our feet — worn smooth by centuries of footsteps and glowing in the sunlight. It felt like walking through an oven built out of mirrors.
First Wanders – Irish Bars, Cliff Bars & Cold Beers
We began our first explore by weaving through the Old Town’s back alleys, ducking past sun-soaked cafés and artisan shops, stopping for a beer, until we found ourselves near the Dubrovnik harbour. The view was stunning — historic stone towers, bright fishing boats, and water so clear you could see the seabed.
We even stumbled upon the famous steps used in Game of Thrones — yep, those steps. Instantly recognisable, and oddly majestic in real life. We couldn’t resist a photo opportunity.
Along the way, we could not pass a couple of Irish pubs nestled just off Stradun:
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Irish Pub Karaka, and
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The Gaffe (plus Gaffe 2 just upstairs).
Both charming and buzzing… and both eye-wateringly expensive, as Irish bars tend to be, especially in tourist hotspots. €8 pints? Unfortunately it's law to drink in them on these trips, and drink in them we did.
We were also guided to the legendary Buža Bar — one of Dubrovnik’s worst-kept secrets. It’s a literal hole in the city wall, marked only by a small hand-painted sign. You squeeze through a stone doorway and emerge onto a cliffside ledge hanging over the Adriatic.
Cold drinks in hand, we watched brave souls dive from the rocks straight into the sea below. It’s pricey — around €6–7 for a small beer — and cash only. But the views of Lokrum Island, the swollen sea, and the sunlit cliffs were ace.
Dubrovnik Beer Factory – That Well-Earned Pint
By the time we’d melted our way back through the Old Town, we were in desperate need of shade and refreshment. We found salvation at the Dubrovnik Beer Factory, just outside the city walls.
Ice-cold pints. Blistered feet. Sizzling brains.
It wasn’t our first beer of the day — but it was the first one that felt truly earned.
And as we sat there, slowly rehydrating with various beverages and watching the world go by, it dawned on us — this trip was going to be unforgettable… and yeah, probably expensive.
When I say unforgettable, well... I don't really remember the evening!
Saturday, July 5th – Sunburnt, Sea-Soaked & Slightly Brain-Dead
We woke into a furnace. The heat hit us like a curtain of fire — over 30°C by mid-morning — and the Old Town’s marble streets were already shimmering like a mirage. There was only one solution: get in the sea.
We wandered through the cobbled alleys, out through Ploče Gate, and made our way down the steep stone steps to Banje Beach — Dubrovnik’s seaside town patch of coastline. Pebbly, loud, a little chaotic… but with crystal-clear water, a view of Lokrum Island, and the city walls rising behind us, it felt like swimming inside a movie set.
We spent hours there — swimming, floating, diving, frying, and generally reviving ourselves from Friday’s excesses. The beach bar offered cold drinks at warm prices, but we weren’t complaining.
Sun, Shade & The Slide Toward Chaos
After the beach, we trudged back through the heat like slightly charred zombies. Showers, music, and another round of beers gave us just enough of a second wind to get going again.
The details of the evening are, frankly, gone. Lost to a haze of loud laughter, louder drinks, and possibly Mataxa-based poor decisions. But we definitely made it to 4am — don’t ask how. Or why.
The only memory I’ve retained is watching a boat that looked suspiciously like a pirate ship pulling out of the harbour under moonlight. There may have been cannons. There may have been music. Or maybe that was just the alcohol erasing hard drive space in real time.
As they say: alcohol kills brain cells… but only the weak ones.
Sunday, July 6th – A Liver of Steel & A Road to Split
After another 4am finish, you’d expect the morning to hit like a shovel. But weirdly… I felt fine. No hangover. No regrets. Either the Croatian lager is brewed with vitamins or my liver is made of something tougher than expected, or, more likely, I drank lots water alongside the beer.
We shuffled out for breakfast at Castello’s, near Mic’s hostel — the usual spot by now. Strong coffee, good eggs, shaded tables — perfect recovery setup.
After one last mooch across the marbled streets of Dubrovnik, we grabbed an Uber (bless it) and made our way to the bus station, ready to swap one ancient seaside town for another.
Bosnia, Briefly – Then Back Again
We hopped on a FlixBus bound for Split — a journey of just under 4 hours (Croatia is very long!), winding along the Adriatic coast. What we hadn’t realised was that the route dips into Bosnia & Herzegovina for a brief moment through the Neum corridor.
Cue an unexpected bonus country on the itinerary.
Our passports were checked as we boarded the bus. Bosnia gave us about 9 kilometres of rugged hills, a few roadside cafés, and then just like that, back into Croatia. Border-crossing fatigue? Minimal. Border-crossing bragging rights? 100%.
Bus With A View
Back on Croatian soil, the scenery kept getting better. The road hugged the coastline like a tightrope, winding past vineyards, tiny churches, and stone villages tucked into cliffs. The sea below was ridiculously blue — the kind of blue that makes you question every other shade you’ve ever called blue before.
Even the most hungover heads in the group sat up and stared.
Split by Starlight
Split met us with warm air, golden light, and an energy that felt easier somehow — more relaxed than Dubrovnik, more local, but still seriously stunning.
Dinner hit the spot — great food, and just a couple of beers for me. Then we headed out for some midnight sightseeing, and what we stumbled into was pure magic.
Inside Diocletian’s Palace, we found ourselves at the Vestibule — a vast, circular Roman hall with a gaping oculus in the roof, open to the sky.
We all lay down on the cool mosaic marble floor, staring up through the hole at a sky full of stars. Somewhere nearby, a busker strummed a slow, echoing tune that drifted in just right. It was quiet, surreal… almost spiritual.
And then, of course, someone jumped on Steve, and it turned into a full-on orgy-esq pile-on. Great laugh, and a male-bonded end to a long day.
Monday, July 7th – Rejected by Youth, Rescued by Rock ’n’ Roll
The morning in Split was just about as chill as it gets — lazy breakfast, a slow wander through the old town, and one last look at the shimmering Adriatic before we hit the road again. Back on a FlixBus, this time bound for Zadar.
The route took us north along the D8 coastal road — an absolute stunner. Think cliffside turns, olive groves tumbling toward the sea, and that perfect mix of rugged coastline and quiet villages. Mountains on one side, the Adriatic on the other. Even with a bus full of half-dozing tourists, the view demanded attention.
Too Old to Hostel, Too Stubborn to Care
We were booked into a hostel in Zadar’s Old Town, taking the budget route while Steve, Elwyn and Carlos went full luxury with a fancy apartment. Only problem? On check-in, the receptionist looked us up and down and delivered the fatal line:
“Sorry… you’re too old.”
Apparently the place had an age limit of 45. Arse!
Mic, Tim, and I looked at each other — battle-worn, sunburnt, and a combined age closer to 145 — and didn’t even argue. Time to pivot.
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| Church of St. Donatus and the Bell Tower of St. Anastasia Cathedral in Zadar, Croatia. |
The Lotus Bar – Redemption, €3 at a Time
We regrouped at the nearby Lotus Bar — A cool, alternative spot just off the promenade, it’s known for its hard rock and punk vibe, affordable drinks, and friendly, cash-only service, barely marked, and exactly what we needed. The bartender, a total legend, greeted us with a grin and two magic words:
“Beer’s €3.”
She played Motörhead, AC/DC, Sabbath, and other glorious hard rock tracks that immediately restored our souls. We sat inside, cold beers in hand, feeling like the gods of midlife backpacking. I prefer it when things like this happen, it adds an edge to the trip.
Room at the Edge of Town
A quick scroll through booking apps turned up Hotel Porto or Hotel Bastardos as we called it, about 3 miles out of the Old Town on Nikole Jurišića — €20 each, three clean beds, and aircon, no judgment. We booked it, no hesitation. Until check-in, we dropped our bags at Steve’s apartment and headed back out.
Dinner with Katerina
Later, after taking in the sights, we found a spot to eat outdoors under street lights and narrow walls. Our waitress, Katerina, was a wild, hilarious Serbian woman who made fun of our accents, and took exactly zero nonsense from anyone. The food? Glorious.
Dodging Disaster in Split
By some stroke of luck (or divine intervention), we completely missed the freak supercell storm that ripped through Split soon after we left.
Though it lasted only ten minutes, it packed hurricane-force winds over 140 km/h (87 mph), marble-sized hail, and sheets of rain. Trees were torn from the ground, cars were crushed, and parts of Poljud Stadium's roof were shredded. A Jadrolinija ferry broke free and slammed into a catamaran and a tour boat — sinking one, damaging the other.
Twenty people were injured, the harbour was chaos, and Marjan Park had to be evacuated by boat. Split looked like a war zone.
Meanwhile in Zadar, we were… ordering another round under blue skies at another bar. Completely unaware. Completely dry. Completely lucky.
Thunderstruck to the Suburbs
Dinner done, it was time for the wildest cab ride of the trip. The driver pulled up, AC/DC’s Thunderstruck was, on request screaming through the speakers, and took off like he was late for his own funeral.
He cornered like a man possessed, blasting through side streets. We held on, half-laughing, half-praying. By some miracle (and probably a few traffic violations), we reached Hotel Bastardos by 1am.
The receptionist greeted us like we were old friends:
“Ahh, gentlemen! We’ve been expecting you.”
The next morning, Michael, Tim and myself embarked on a 90-minute trek from the hotel back to the Old Town — in the blazing sun, dehydrated, but up to the challenge, almost relishing it. It felt less like sightseeing and more like a military endurance test. Each step squelched. Each breath felt like breathing soup.
Halfway through, salvation appeared in the form of a McDonald’s — not for burgers, but a desperately needed coffee stop. Never has a lukewarm flat-white tasted so heroic.
Eventually, we reunited with Steve, Elwyn, and Carlos, who led us — with ice creams dripping in our hands — to our final stop: the Sea Organ. Set into the stone steps along Zadar’s waterfront, the Sea Organ is a haunting, otherworldly installation where the wind and waves create music. Beneath the surface, a series of tubes and resonating chambers convert sea pressure into deep, breathy notes — like a ghost playing a church organ under the ocean.
We stood there letting the water compose its melancholy song. After all the noise, speed, and chaos of the trip — it was the perfect farewell. Our taxi driver to the airport later told us it plays different sounds in different seasons.
One last drink at Lotus Bar, where the orange juice and lemonade was cold, the music was pounding, and the bartender was, no exaggeration, one of the most stunning humans in Croatia.
It had been an eventful few days — full of mishaps, laughs, and surprises, plus Michael's chaotic charm never fails to entertain. From nearly missing his flight home to jumping out on us in the van. All great fun start to finish.
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| Sunset harbour at Zadar |
