Last night was our last supper together as a group. The evening went very long, maybe because we knew we would be up early, or because we knew that there would be no bicycle to ride up and down rolling hills.

The end of any tour feels a bit like the end of summer camp – bittersweet. We drank several bottles of delicious Croatian wine with, and after dinner, and talked with Margot and Dierdre until late into the night. We eventually stumbled off to bed around 11:00, so happy that we had the forethought to pack before dinner. (I give full acknowledgement that 11:00 is not late in most worlds but this group of ageing cyclists rarely made it past 9:30 or 10:00.)

And now – let’s talk about yesterday, our last cycle.

The boat engines started up at 6:00 a.m. and we laboriously pulled out of Primosten on our way to our last stop – the beautiful little island of Solta. No one really holidays there. It is just a tiny island where people live and go about their business, even though it is a relatively short ride from Split.

I think Solta was also one of my favourite spots so far.

Our ride plan was short – only about 22 km with a relatively small amount of climb at ~250m. I think we were all feeling a bit tired as we were slower than usual leaving the boat. Riding for 6 days in a row, even when you are fit (I’m not), is a challenge. There were a few more groans than usual when we climbed onto our bikes and headed out.

The first 2.3 km was a solid uphill. It curved and twisted a bit, but it was only up. Sina swapped bikes with Rick near the top of the hill which meant he was on an e-bike and she had taken his peddle-powered ride. Rick said even she had trouble and had to walk some part of the hill. I felt some comfort in that. He stayed with her – just as she had stayed with him on many of our rides. I was proud of him for that.

Just at the crest of the hill was a bee farm. The owner, Goran, is ridiculously passionate about bees. He says he has given the same lessons, several times a day, to hundreds of tourists and travellers (the locals don’t listen to him any more). He is a 3rd generation bee-keeper and his oldest son is the begining of the 4th generation. He keeps 100 hives of 50,000 bees each.

So many interesting facts. Here are a few little highlights:

• Bees are actually striped yellow and brown and are covered with 2 million hairs. In comparison, wasps, which he refers to as “flying assholes”, are black and yellow striped, with no hairs at all.
• Each of his hives have one queen that can live for 5 years and lay 1000 eggs per day. Now that’s hard labour. This is made possible by the nutrient rich royal jelly that only she is allowed to eat.
• Each hive has 50,000 worker bees, all female, with an average life span of 5 weeks. They work 24 hours a day, and never sleep. (Juries out on whether a worker or a queen has a harder life.)
• There are a small number of drones 100-200. They are basically sex machines. In May and June they fertilize the queen, after which the worker bees stop feeding them and they die. Fun life, sad death.
• Bees mate in mid air, but only once, as the queen can carry enough semen in her body to fertilize the millions of eggs she will lay in her lifetime.
• Honey really should not be used in tea or heated as it loses its healthy properties (at 40C) and just becomes sugar. This means pasteurized honey from the grocery store just tastes good and offers no other benefits.
• Goran offered loads of tips on how to buy pollen and how it can help with allergies, but only if it is from a beekeeper that is local to you.
• And finally, that very expensive Manuka honey has medicinal properties, but only comes from New Zealand.

Goran describes himself as a thief; he steals honey and wax and their pollen, after the bees do all the work. His family has a small shop where they sell their products including honey, the honey-based equivalent to an antibiotic cream, and lovely lip balm. We bought the cream and the lip balm – no regrets.

Here is a photo of our outdoor classroom.

After our longer than planned visit to the bee farm, we were given two options:

1) Go with Sina and ride back to the boat in time for a swim before departing (the all downhill route).

2) Continue on the originally planned ride to the end of the island and then ride back, with no swim time. There would be uphill – and a fair bit at it.

Rick chose option 1, and I chose option 2. A quick kiss good-bye and we were off.

Every group needs a sweeper, so Pam and I rode at the back. We were often hampered by a rather pokey group of Germans that had to stop and photograph every single thing of even the most remote interest.

The long downhill at the end swept us into a lovely little town called Maslinica. It reminded me so much of Cadaques, just swap the white-washed buildings for the beige limestone.

We had such a short time there! We bolted down a cappuccino before we were called back to the bikes with Shintzy’s strong assertion that we would need to pick up the pace in order to be back to the boat on time. As we were paying our bill, the waiter asked if we were Italian; only Italians are in such a rush to drink their coffee and leave. :0) I would have loved to spend more time in this tiny place and was also rather sad that Rick was not there to share it with me. (That’s Margot and Deirdre in the background btw.)

Pam and I were again the sweepers for the return trip. This was not as difficult a responsibility for me as it was for her; I had an e-bike, Pam did not. Nonetheless we set off at the back of the pack and in a relatively short time, were too far behind to see the others. Pam kept telling me that I could go ahead but there was zero chance of that happening. So I trundled along behind her, chattering away in an effort to distract her from the never-ending hill. To be fair, Pam seemed to be doing absolutely fine.

I was happy Rick had opted to go back to the boat; I think that hill would have killed him. I kept a close watch on the time, not really concerned that we might be late. Once we saw the bee farm, we knew we were on track and only a few kms away, if only we could recall the exact place to turn…. Fortunately one of the other cyclists was patiently waiting to flag us around the corner and then he headed off at light speed.

We raced down the hill at an eye-watering pace; once my speedometer hit 42km/hr I stopped looking. Or maybe I couldn’t see. It was a glorious and frightening descent. Here we are arriving at the dock exchanging a high five while still on the move. Kudos to Rick for the photo.

We were on the boat in a trice (which happened to be the Wordle word of the day, well, maybe the day before). Once aboard we had time for a celebratory drink before lunch (Aperol Spritz thank you!). We enjoyed another delicious meal of fettuccine carbonara and fish while we motored towards Trogir.

There has been some intrigue on the boat – something was definitely going on between our two guides. There were covert glances and smiles and they were rarely apart. In turns out that the guides are required to share a cabin… interesting…. Somewhere mid-week Shintzy started referring to Sina as ‘my Sina’. While in Primosten, they went off to the only nightclub together.

Never was a young possible couple so carefully watched by 30 middle-aged (or older) guests. We speculated over coffees and beers and watched them for signs of affection. Truthfully, ‘we’ really means the women on the trip, by-in-large the men seemed oblivious. Though Rick did ask Shinzy what he would do when the season was over in 5 weeks and he said he would be going to Germany to “improve his German”. Sina lives in Germany. We will never know how it turns out – like all summer romances perhaps this is just a moment in time. But they were good guides, knowledgeable and kind.

Our final stop was Trogir, a lovely little town and more than I had expected. We had a city tour and a v-e-r-y lengthy history lesson. While winding our way through the tiny streets back to the boat, we popped into a small shop filled with colourful sweaters. The days were warm but the evenings and mornings had become noticeably chilly. My only sweater was accidentally left in Vancouver, so I was happy to have a little poke around for something warm. In the end I came away with 2 sweaters, Cathy bought a belt and a sweater, and Pam bought a really cute pair of jeans. We were all pleased with our purchases. Shopping to this point had been non-existent. I will find some way to cram them into my carry-on and commit to only small objects from here on.

Tonight would be our last supper as a group. We were all departing in the early morning (7:30 a.m. breakfast call), most with further travel plans, some returning home. Italy seemed to be the destination of choice for those continuing their adventures.

The boat had to be emptied, cleaned, re-supplied and bikes moved about in preparation for the next group departing at 2:00 the next day. It was quite the undertaking, especially considering that there were 10 boats moored in 2 groups, 5 abreast.

The hop back across the boats to land was never my favourite activity. Today it seemed endless and even more challenging when loaded up with our luggage.

I woke in the darkness to the sound of the city bells that still ring each morning signaling what used to be the opening of the gates.

150km of cycling, 1500m of climb and 4-5 Gravol a day for 7 days was now behind us. I feel a tad nostalgic; sad would probably be an overstatement. I am looking forward to Split, to being on terra firma, to being alert with no more Gravol and some clean laundry, which will be our first order of business when we arrive at our hotel.

It is true that adventure begins at the end of your comfort zone. New adventures begin today.