Trogir, is 40 miles from Krka national park, if you use the motorway. However, we chose the slightly longer route via the D8, a wide, highly under-used coastal highway. The small towns are discreet, tidy, straight and planned, and it’s not until we reach the outskirts of Trogir things comes back to life. Chaos and bedlam spring to mind. 

Not far from Trogir, we’re divert off the main road. A new road has just opened taking traffic from Trogir to Split via the airport. We are slightly elevated and as we look down on Trogir we can see plenty construction activity including a new bridge to the island. Trogir itself is at a stand still as traffic queues to cross the tiny stone bridge to the island. Thankfully, we are saved from the traffic jam as we turn off a few kilometres north to the grand reception of, Belvedere (ASCI).

After registration we found our plot on the very busy, terraced campsite.  The receptionist was lovely and told us if we don’t like the plot the just move to an empty place and then come back to reception. But given its a 1.5 km hike up hill back to reception we opted to stay put. 

Our Bumble paid camping spot Trogir N043.510379, E016.195135

repairing the awning

Three days and nights at Belvedere allowed us to visit Trogir several times. As well as zip in to the town, we took the dogs on coastal forest walks, got drenched again, sheltered from more thunder storms, repaired our neighbours torn awning and finally had a fight with the mosquito door…and lost. More about that saga, later.

The historic town blankets the small island that is a stone’s throw from the mainland and accessible via a short bridge. We walked the circumference in about 60 minutes, but spent longer aimlessly wandering the narrow alleyways of the town centre and the market.

The market is in full swing by dawn and lasts as long as the crowds stay. Several truck loads of fruit and vegetables come and go, replenishing stock for the sellers. The aromas and excitement are fascinating. On the fringes and under the shade of the battered trees, the home grown sellers. Tiny tables with half a dozen fresh produce picked from their garden.  Its busy but little old ladies have good eyesight, pushing through the jam, they make a beeline for us. We politely decline the chillies stuck under our nose and the apples rammed in our hand.  Not long and flowers appear and it doesn’t stop there. This merely spurs them on to sell you seeds as well. The more you resist the more they like it. We were doing find until the freshly baked bread arrived, it was delicious. 

There are no canals in tiny Trogir. No gondolas. No bridges over meandering waterways. But never mind, it is still nicknamed “Little Venice” for its labyrinth of narrow cobbled streets. Its colourful history dates back 2,300 years ago. Founded by the Greeks before it was occupied by the Romans and later the Venetians.

Trogir is gorgeously set within medieval walls, a bit like a fairy tale town. Craig would shout “Look here” and I would shout “Look there”.  It’s a lovely muddle of stone palaces, homes and other buildings from a whole host of eras. Ingenious architectural details that make this island so fascinating. A carved doorway, a coast of arms or a mullioned window. The entrance to a courtyard, scented gardens, you can go on forever. All indications of a once prosperous and cultural past.

The town hall is located next to the cathedral.  The building originates from 15th century and has three storeys with open arches and windows with balustrade on the upper floor. To the side a porticoed courtyard where choir boys sing and people sit and listen whilst devouring a delicious ice cream.

The Cathedral of St Lawrence is the highlight with its amazing Romanesque doorway carved by Master Radovan in 1240. On the outer edge of the doorway are two lions, upon which two nude statues of Adam and Eve stand. Feels very similar to the statues in Sibenik. 

Inside full of statues, marble pillars and detail to keep Craig happy for hours.

A climb up the single file spiral staircase to the bell tower was worth it. The top of the cathedral’s 150 ft tall bell tower provides stunning views all over the town, area and surrounding waters. Be mindful the bells only ring twice a day. But when they do ring (and you are right next to them) it makes you jump right out your bloody skin. 

As for the mosquito door screen, well its goosed. Slowly over the last couple of weeks the door has become stiff to open and close due to the string. Its all down to the fraying string that concertinas the net. One of them has frayed and this morning, one snapped. Craig in his infinite wisdom took off the door without first taking a picture. Well you guessed it, the net work of string, cord and mess ended up like spaghetti junction. After 4 hours of head scratching, the string was not the only thing frayed! As a temporary measure it is now precariously balanced in its slot. Looking more like a frilly tutu than a door screen and will stop that way until we find a replacement. 

In the evening, the wind brings a cool breeze as the sun sinks behind the headland. This combined with a swarm of mosquitos leaves us battling with a next to useless mosquito screen. Door shut followed by a hot sauna and plenty drinking.