We woke up in our apartment feeling a little tired after a mosquito had interrupted our sleep several times during the night.
After coffee and baked egg on bread, we packed up and headed out. We had some time before check-in, so we decided to find a beach along the way and go for a swim.
Caro’s only requirement was shade, so Hugo scanned the coast between us and Trogir for somewhere that looked promising and tapped Go. The map left out one fairly important detail: Plaža Smokvina was not simply beside our route. To reach it we had to cross a mountain on a very narrow road—and because Vinišće sits at the end of its secluded bay, we would have to go back out the same way.
Vinišće is an old fishing village that has become a well-known holiday spot. The 2021 census counted just 668 permanent residents, although the apartments, villas and holiday homes around the bay make it feel much busier in summer.
Just after 10:00 we arrived at Plaža Smokvina. It was already very hot, so we went straight into the water.
There was a retaining wall and the occasional bush offering a little shade. After our first swim we lingered there for a while, then went in for another. Eventually we decided that the leftovers from the previous night would make a perfectly good beach lunch.
Then we swam again.
It was after 13:00 by the time we finally dragged ourselves away and set off for our accommodation in Trogir. Along the way we made our first and only fuel stop with the rental car: 28 litres of petrol for €50.
As we entered Trogir, Hugo’s phone died and took our directions with it. By the time Caro had her phone out and the route loaded, we had already passed our turn-off and been swept along with the traffic heading around the other side of the mountain.
Caro spotted a small connecting road, so we turned onto it. It felt about as steep as the Simola Hillclimb, although our little rental car was considerably less prepared for the occasion.
We eventually found our accommodation and checked in. Caro rinsed the beach towels while Hugo had a power nap. Once we had recovered, we headed out to explore Trogir’s old town.
Trogir’s historic centre sits on a small island between the mainland and Čiovo. It was founded by Greek colonists in the third century BC, and its ancient street plan still shapes the town today. Romanesque churches and Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque buildings were added over the centuries, all packed into a remarkably well-preserved centre that became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997.
The narrow cobbled streets were magically beautiful. There was also time for an ice cream while we wandered.
We bought a container of girice: tiny fish, similar to whitebait, fried until crisp and eaten whole. Hugo tried a few, but Caro finished the entire container.
As the light faded, it was hard to get our heads around the amount of history beneath our feet. The old town’s massive limestone buildings have already survived for centuries.
Walking back up the steep hill to our apartment, we passed new Airbnbs still being built from cheap red clay bricks. The contrast with the enormous stone buildings we had just left—still standing after all that time—was difficult to miss.
Back at the apartment, Caro made Hugo Indomie noodles with mushrooms, tomato and the cheese left over from the night before.
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