Karstic Limestone in Paklenica National Park, Croatia

Fluted limestone

Big mountain days, sunny cragging, views of the Adriatic Sea from the mountaintops, and fresh olives and feta cheese are but a few of the delights to be experienced in Paklenica National Park in Croatia.

Rich Shaw and I (team 'Richel') headed down for a long weekend in May to explore the karstic limestone that rises up from the Adriatic Sea and provides a climber's paradise of mountain ridges and big wall faces.

Rich on the second pitch of the ridge up Veliki Cuk

Armed with enthusiasm, a forecast of quite likely showers and possible afternoon thunder, a 60m rope and a pullcord, we popped into town for a breakfast of croatian-pain-au-chocolat-on-steroids before heading to Veliki Cuk (4b+), a 700m peak with views of the famous Anica Kuk.  The walk-in involved a steel cable to traverse some slippery limestone cliffs, but the base of our route had us drooling in anticipation of beautiful rock up a winding ridge and then slabs to the top.

Rachel on the penultimate pitch

The ridge climb was true alpine style and included a combination of bolts and some moves that felt better with trad gear.  Making good time, we reached the bottom of the slabs and looked up at two blocks that appeared more intimidating than they were when we arrived.  At the top, we admired the fluted patterns of karstic limestone that formed sharp knife-blades up here out of the way of human traffic.

Well pleased with some satisfying climbing and sunny skies, we added to the list of lunch-breaks-with-the-best-view's that we've been collecting and then scrambled down a steep gully and some scree to the base of a route up the next pinnacle of Veliki Cuk.  With plenty of daylight and still some energy, we dashed up the easy slabs and ran out three long pitches with barely any need for gear, enjoying the beautiful features and foot-width fluting that made for a delightful climb.

At the top, we paused to gape at the Adriatic Sea and red village rooftops of Paklenica to the west, before rain pelted down and had us questioning the sensibility of scrambling to the summit.  But the clouds soon blew further inland and we were sweating again, bounding over rough blocks to the top before beginning a descent that would have been treacherous had it not been for fixed steel cables lining the way.

Rain clearing over the western hills and the Adriatic Sea

A tired but happy team made our way back to Paklenica for a seaside meal of Greek salad and pizza in an open-air cafe, then back to our campsite a mere 10 minutes from the National Park entrance.

When we had arrived the night before, the Austrian couple next to us took pity on our efforts to hammer flimsy aluminum tent pegs into the rocky Mediterranean soil by offering some steel spikes and a lead hammer which sufficed to hold Rich's "two-man" tent upright through the night, but not until after we'd succeeded in bending each aluminum peg in half.  We thanked them profusely and later brought them a bottle of wine, and they answered in broken English, "we are very happy to help, it's like helping Kate and Wills go on honeymoon."

The Adriatic Sea

Tired enough to sleep through mosquitoes, economy-sized tents, and warm sleeping bags in greenhouse conditions, we awoke the next morning ready to tackle another mountain route.  On impulse we began to climb Zubatac, which we thought would go all the way up a stunning ridge.  As I started up the second pitch I quickly found myself on much steeper ground than I'd bargained for, and after fighting for a bit decided to retreat and let Rich have a go.  He didn't like it much better and we eventually realised there were three parallel lines and we were on the wrong one.  Some more misdirected efforts brought us part way up a horrendous scramble and down a steep scree descent, cutting our hands and legs on sharp limestone edges.  Banter about who deserved the 'Captain Faff' title ensued.

Veliki Cuk.  Our route went up the ridge in the foreground, then followed the face to the right of the crack in the center of the photo.

We moved on to Mali Cuk to attempt the star'd route up an arete to a small summit, but tired from earlier efforts, found it more than we could manage and ended up going for a walk whose views made up for the day's climbing frustrations.

Anica Kuk, a project for another day

Evening entertainment included a chat with the campsite owner in German, which is apparently the common language for foreigners, and makes me think that the 8:30am daily language classes during university are finally paying off.  Our landlady was surprised that someone with a US passport could carry on a conversation in German and seemed quite bewildered when, upon asking where we lived, she learned that I live in Britain and Rich in Canada.

It does not cease to amaze me that due to technologies such as RyanAir, I can go for just a long weekend to a foreign country with a completely different language and culture.  But with such quick weekend escapes comes the need to cram in as much as possible.

Thus we were packed, ready to go to the airport, and at the crag by 7am to get in a morning of single pitch sport climbing at Klanci, the narrow and very popular part of the valley.  I regained my confidence from the previous day's off-route nerves by leading easy routes, and Rich pushed himself on a nice roof route before it was time to go.

I must have brought the rain back to East Anglia.  As always a bit disappointed to return to the flatlands with the only mountains those of work, I'm reminded of how large a role the CUMC has played in my time in Cambridge.  It's a great thing to have climbing partners in all corners of the world whom, although I might not have seen them in a year or more, I can meet at an airport and when we throw gear into the rental car it feels as though nothing has changed since Tuesday pub meets and Sundays in the Peak district.

Sunset on the sea.  Even Rich couldn't help but stop for a photo.