We rolled off Vin’s chocs and drove to the Simuni reception. I stood in line and waited to be checked out by a stern faced ex olympic shot putter who I nick named Helga. Her slow and methodical approach to check out had everyone rocking from side to side.  To avoid cramp setting in, I found myself swaying in sympathy. The white haired chap in front of me was hard of hearing. Helga was not amused by his failings but none the less, took great pleasure in raising her voice. There has never been a less pleasurable, more soviet style environment. After an hour waiting in the queue and I finally came face to face with Helga. Thankfully, we exchanged little words and my lack of interaction was met with silent approval. 

We wave cheerio to Simuni and retrace the road back to the main highway.  Not far and we are crossing the bridge in to Pag town.  Immediately, we are faced with fields of white stones and ancient olive trees that were twisted with time. The bora winds blew a gale as it descends down from Velebit mountains. Its gusts constantly push Vin causing him to rock. Apparently the Pag bora is specific for the salt it brings. When it the wind hurls down from Velebit in plunges into the sea.  The waves rise up and onto the surface of the island. Everything is covered in a dusting of salt. We hugged the Magistrala coast before making our crossing via a small bridge (free) that connects Pag to the mainland.

Our next port of call, Nin but not before we stop for a few provisions. Unfortunately, we had to abandon Lidl, which stressed Craig no end and instead opt for a local Koznum mini market.  It had everything we need for a basic shop but it is quite a bit more expensive than Lidl. Although it did have the most attentive and polite cashier on the planet.

We bob on over to Ninska campsite at €13 night. But not until our GPS gives us a guided tour of the Nin dirt tracks. The sophistication and complexity of mapping devices never fails to impress me. But yet, for something so ingenious, it is highly stupid at the same time. How can something so smart send you to the end of a dead end, repeatably tell you to turn around and then send you up a lane is made you drive passed?

Camp Ninska is an ASCI ASCIsite run by a chap named Evan. A welcoming fella who looks in his eighties. Dressed in hillbilly gear, straw hat and ray bans. Never has anyone dressed so aptly to match his character. I am guessing this used to be his farmland? But whatever, he was an absolute star.  We scout the small site, which is basic, clean but a little out dated. Finally, we park Vin on a small plot of land over looking the bay. Craig sets up outside, whilst I prepare lunch. My cooking skills are put to the test as I prepare slightly toasted fresh bread with a selection of preserves. Well, sounds better than jam butties.

Our Bumble paid camping spot Nin N044.247391, E015.175018

We watch the kite surfers as our lunch settles. Then an hour later, we prepare to get covered in mud. Nin’s lagoon is the largest beach with healing mud in Croatia and it’s situated half a dozen strides from our patch.  First you have the clear shallow waters of the lagoon then a thin slither of sand before you reach the ocean. To the left, a natural reserve with trails and plenty places to cover yourself in mud. 

The beach, is classed as one of the nicest in Croatia mainly because it is sand rather than rock, gravel or concrete.  Its also a fun place to cover yourself in mud and have a bit of laugh (sorry no photos, didn’t want to spoil the camera). Good fun was had by all with several hours of playing ball with Mac n Tosh. Although, I think it is fair to say the salt, sun and mud had immediate healing effect on Tosh. With a therapeutic colonic irrigation right in the middle of the beach. Embarrassing or what!

After a good scrub we take a walk in to the old town via the country lanes. The headland proved unrewarding, just a concrete promenade looking out to a dredger and small ship repair yard.  The horizon loomed over by groaning cranes, crushing rock and making more lagoons for tourists. We were about to turn back when we noticed a small stone bridge. 

Surprisingly enough there’s a lot of history in Nin despite its size. Once in the town via the rather nice stone gate, a small cobbled alley leads you to  a roman villa. Beyond the villa, the church of the Holy Cross from the 9th century, called “the smallest cathedral in the world”.

A tiny domed building not much bigger than the average bedroom.  Back on the main alley, the coronation church and museum is guarded by a huge statue. Bishop Gregory of Nin stands with bible in one hand and the other pointing. He strikes a pretty fearsome pose and it’s said that by rubbing his toe you’ll gain good luck. I rubbed and rubbed and await his good fortune! Despite its important place in Medieval Croatia, Nin was abandoned by the Venetians. The town was then ravaged and burnt during wars against the Turks. A lot of history but sadly, not a lot to see.

Our route back to the campsite, took us along a concrete path on the seaward side of the headland. By now the weather had changed.  Here, we were wholly exposed to the pounding sea and the wind was even more ferocious. Twice it all but lifted Mac n Tosh up and carried them forward several feet. After a day of bathing in mud we now experienced au natural salt scrub.  Battered by the gale force wind we quickly retreated to the safety of Vin. But fun doesn’t stop, Craig has a treat in store for us. Homemade chinese banquet and an in-motorhome movie.