At dawn trucks and cars began to fill the parking lot. Lumberjacks heading to work. It's the main industry here. Over breakfast we spoke with Marta's son. He runs an IT business in the basement and helps out when needed upstairs. We told him about the new trail in New Zealand and how fast it became popular. "This trail may do the same thing." Shadow said. I told how surprised I was that this many people came here for breakfast. He said no. They don't come inside anymore. They are not allowed. "They use to come in and drink before work." "Coffee?" I asked. "No. Liquor." The new boss stopped the practice and now no lumber workers can come inside before work. Even for coffee.
We left Marta's place in a mist. Foreshadowing for the afternoon. The next two towns we go through are close by via road. Not so close via a trail. And not very close at all via the Via Dinarica trail.
Thankfully the rain held off while we bushwhacked through fallen trees and backtracking looking for missed markers. Just before the town of Cabar, the trail turned nice. As we walked by a trout farm a man pulls up in a station wagon. He yells, "Where are you going?" We tell him. "Wait, let me pick up some trout for lunch and I will drive you." We say no thank you and explain what we are doing. "Crazy Americans." He says laughing with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Ok. I will drive you and every 10 meters I will stop, you can get out, and put your feet on the ground." Nice try, but no again. "Ok. I will by you a drink in town. Go to the cafe by the post office and wait for me. Order whatever you want. I'm buying." We agreed and walked into town. Shadow got us a coffee while I went to the post office to buy data for our SIM card. That's a long on going story itself, but I think I figured it out.
I waded through the smokey cafe and found the two in the back. The gentleman chained smoked as we spoke about how he was a retired civil engineer and learned English by listening to CCR and Rolling Stones growing up. Not a breath of wind to move the single stream of smoke lifting from his burning hand rolled, black market Marlboro red. "What do you think of Trump?" I love Croatians and their grit. They are not afraid to throw out a hot topic and see if it burns. Marta did the same this morning. I love a good debate.
We had lunch under a church over hang as it began to rain hard. The trail is actually blazed right through a cemetery. That's a first for us. We made it to the town of Trsce soaked and shivering as the wind picked up. We planned to resupply and keep going. Shadow and I sat under the canopy of the grocery watching the rain flood the gutters. Neither of us wanted to leave with the weather this way. A man in the adjacent cafe told the waitress he would call around to find a place for us tonight. We politely said no. We can not rely on others to help. We have to figure this out. Shadow made a call to one place. He quickly hung up and looked at me. "We don't have any money on our prepaid SIM to make a call..." Damnit! I said in my head. I hadn't planned to use the phone yet and needed to translate the instructions from Bosnian to English. I HATE being a damsel in distress. I HATE IT! With my tail between my legs I walked into the cafe and ask him to call around. Not only did he find a place, he refused for us to walk in the rain to the house. He grabbed his chainsaw and tool bag and brought his truck around front for us to get in. We jumped out and ran to the front door. Everything soaked. A nice couple answered the door and showed us an apartment they had with TV and kitchen for 30 Euros a night. "We'll take it!"
Long day in the rain.
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