The idyll of my beach-side sojourn was terminated at about 0900 by two diggers arriving to finish off grading the little beach, which involved a lot of dust.

I decided to head south following the scenic coast road, about 60km to Trogir, which is just before Split. I have been there before but it’s a small place and easy to reach; yet another Venetian settlement, on a little island, with a core of narrow alleys, and some interesting buildings, but very touristy. The coast road to it was a beautiful drive, often down to the sea itself, but most of the time with a view of the sea and pine-clad islands, the sea looking an inviting shade of turquoise. Dotted along the road are a series of little towns and villages on the coast, most with a marina full of swanky yachts, and boatyards with even more, and everywhere signs for accommodation and camping.

I had a bit of a think at this stage because I was in two minds whether to spend another night on the coast nearer Dubrovnik, before executing my master plan to drive up to Mostar in Bosnia-Hercegovina, or to go there straight away. After lunch, and deciding it was too hot to battle my way into the large city of Split (I’ve seen the sights there before anyway) I decided to head straight for Bosnia. This involved a 20km inland drive to reach the Croatian A1 motorway again, running south parallel to the sea, and I then drove 160km south on it, an easy drive with hardly any traffic. Rather than forsaking the scenery by leaving the sea, I found some more beautiful landscape, but very different. The motorway runs through the mountains above the sea, through a scenic but very stark rocky, scrub covered landscape, past spectacular mountains with snow.

The motorway comes to an end actually over the border in Bosnia. Having gone through the two sets of passport and customs controls without a problem I set off down the brand new motorway signed “Mostar/Sarajevo” which was so new my satnav didn’t recognise it and took me flying over nothing on the satnav screen. As I reached a toll point after 1km I wondered if I’d made an error as I had no Bosnian currency (although I’d heard unofficially, and confirmed after arrival, that everywhere will take Euros). The toll booth man actually asked for a credit card instead and I paid 2.5 convertible marks (KM), the equivalent of a pound; Lucky there’s no foreign transaction fee on my card!

Disappointingly the partially completed motorway terminated abruptly after just 5 km further, depositing me at a minor road that was badly signposted. Luckily the satnav knew where it was at this point and we ended up on the correct main road after a bit. It’s is only 40km to Mostar: There is a notable difference from the Croatian coastal belt in terms of visible affluence-but I’ve not seen enough of Inland Croatia to say whether that’s similarly tatty to this bit of Bosnia. Certainly my driving guide says that apart from Bosnia and Albania the roads elsewhere in South Eastern Europe are generally good, so seems to imply that I should expect a reduction in road standards. Lack of clear signage, and road markings seemed the main problem. Also  I can tell I’ve changed countries as the road signs that exist are now in both Latin and Cyrillic script(the Bosniaks use Latin, the Serbs Cyrillic).Almost immediately I also encountered signs of the Muslim population, with Muslim cemeteries(tall thin stones, some of the older ones with turbans on top),and I passed some mosques. As I type this tonight I can hear a muezzin calling from a mosque across the fields.

I wanted to find the campsite I was heading for first before heading on into the city: despite the touristy element to Mostar (it’s the main photo on any Bosnia related tourist leaflets) campsites hereabouts are few on the ground, my guide offering two, both about 10km away from Mostar. I went for the most recommended one ‘Camping Mali Wimbledon’: it’s nice, but a world away from Solaris last night, there are spaces marked out in a small orchard next to the owner’s house, but there’s electricity and possibly Wi-Fi if I can get it to work, and a tiny shaded bar area (currently shut), and in the front of the house, two reasonable grass tennis courts (hence the name!)-but yet to be marked out for the season. The drawback seems to be that there’s just one toilet and shower for men, and one for women. But as there’s only two of us here that shouldn’t be a problem. The other is an Austrian man (at least the van has Austrian plates) who seems to be a long-term resident as he has an Alsatian in a wooden kennel next to his campervan and some pallets piled up. He wears combat trousers, and I’ve put him down as a fugitive from justice.

At about 5pm it was still hot and sunny so I thought I’d drive into Mostar to take a look at the bridge. I was given directions from the campsite to a suitable parking place near the bridge but after driving round and round for a while I couldn’t find anywhere. I had thought Mostar was quite a small place, but actually it’s a large town and even has a small airport. Its traffic is very busy at 5pm .I saw the old bridge from 200 yards away 3 times as I crossed and re-crossed the river on another bridge but I just couldn’t find a van-sized space to park, so in the end I gave up, feeling tired after a day’s driving .I’ll try again tomorrow morning .

There was a brief spot of drama soon after I set off on the slow road south in the direction of Split. The road is quite winding and has many long stretches of continuous white line (i.e. no overtaking). As I drove I was aware of a car behind getting impatient, and in a hamlet, with a continuous white line and a 50 kpm limit into the bargain, I spotted ahead a gravel layby so I started to partially pull into it to let him by. At that moment, I saw hidden in the shadows a Police car. The guy behind hadn’t waited for me do this and was overtaking anyway, but I think he suddenly realised the big mistake he’d made as he seemed to stay hidden in my blind spot to my left much longer than he should, and for a brief moment I thought I might run out of layby and run into the police car, as I couldn’t ease back onto the road for a few seconds, not knowing where the overtaker was. It must have looked quite dramatic, as if I was being run off the road. Sure enough, after about 1 km the Police car caught up with us, lights on, and overtook me (driving dangerously himself I thought) and ahead I saw him pull over the miscreant. I couldn’t help a wry smile.

The road improved as I came down into a plain, very beautiful with wide open spaces, with beech woods, the grass still yellow and dormant and ,on all sides ,mountains with snow on the tops. Before long I joined the main A1 motorway and after disappearing down the longest tunnel yet, through the Velebit range, 6km,I arrived at Zadar. In contrast to yesterday, the sun was out here and it was touching 20 degrees.

Next stop was to be Sibenik (Venetian 'Sebenico') which has a Unesco world heritage site, the Gothic Renaissance cathedral of St James, built by the Italians in the second half of the 14th century. I took the coast road, which was another very scenic 70 km route along the coast. I passed many signs for autocamps, some of them smart, but many seemed to be just in a large garden at the back of someone’s house on the shore. They seemed to vie with one another to have the most tempting names, like Autocamp Oasis, Paradiso, Romantika etc. But to my mind the clear winner in the name stakes was Autocamp Bozo.

Along this road ahead of me I spotted two people in dark clothes holding what I thought might be speed guns, and I checked my speed, thinking of this morning. As I passed, I realised they were each holding a bunch of asparagus out, for sale. I passed several more people doing the same.

Sibenik is, unlike many Croatian sea towns, not built on a promontory, but there is a steep slope behind it crowned by the ruin of the Venetians’ St Michael’s castle. The little cathedral was interesting, but was undergoing heavy restoration inside, no doubt paid for by Unesco. Up to the castle were a maze of alleys and staircases, all very attractive, and there were great views from the castle. Sibenik, though, has quite a large built-up outskirts, with apartment blocks and industrial areas.

I am parked for the night on a massive but pretty empty campsite "Autokamp Korana" which is well equipped.I shall definitely need my heater tonight, and there is a large restaurant, which makes life much easier.A good meal costs about £10 so its not really worth cooking in the van. After a month of Euros, I'm still getting used to Kuna, which are a factor of 10 less: an easy conversion as £1 = 10 Kuna.But it is still disconcerting when 100 Kuna notes keep slipping through my fingers, and the smallest note is 5 Kuna, which is 50p !
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I spent a quiet night on the quayside in Trieste: when I turned in for the night I was in a row of half a dozen or so other campervans, although when I awoke there were also some additional campers right next to me in the form of a Romanian couple fast asleep in the front of an old Ford Fiesta. They are doing it in style! There was still the strong cold northerly wind known as the Bora blowing down from the Alps (yesterday all the inhabitants of Trieste out for Bank Holiday Monday were wearing their down jackets and woolly hats)The Bora is apparently an example of a katabatic wind(geographers-please explain !) which is really chilly.

I set off south and was soon crossing the border from Italy into Slovenia, which are both in the Schengen group, so there is no border control. I slipped through just 10km of Slovenia before arriving at the Croatian border (sorry Slovenia!), having avoided getting onto the Slovenian motorway for which I would have had to have bought a pass .

It is perhaps 30 years since I made a border crossing by road at which I had to show a passport, so much do we fly everywhere now, so it was with mild excitement that I crossed into Croatia; really it should be no deal at all crossing from one EU country to another, but anyway I felt a frisson of mild adventure. The Slovenian official did look at my passport and asked “Only one?” looking my van over from inside his booth with an air of disbelief. The Croatian guy 5 yards further on just waved me straight through.

For lunch I picked up a big Borek from a bakery.These are a Balkan speciality,rather greasy crescents of filoux pastry containing either cheese or meat best eaten hot. l then rejoined the road  and moved down south 30km to Rovinj, having a chance to try a little section of the Croatian motorway system, which uses a pay as you go ticket system like the Italian one. It is very new, and almost empty, but clearly the way to travel any distance through Croatia. The other roads seem good too, although habits may be different: as I waited at some traffic lights at a roadworks ,the traffic started coming the other way-a couple of cars and a van, then a guy on a motor scooter with his dog on a lead running alongside.

Rovinj is a bit more upmarket than Porec, and is a larger and very attractive old town built on a rocky peninsular which is crowned by an 18th century baroque cathedral. Rovinj was a Venetian city, and it is still also known by its Italian name of Rovigno (the road signs are bilingual). The cathedral was built by a Venetian architect around 1750 ,before the Napoleonic era (when Napoleon abolished the Venetian empire and Istria was under brief French rule).The town has a lot of charm: inside, there is a maze of alleys and steps, but it is a very much a lived-in town, and the main area of restaurants are outside, around the nice harbour on the south side of the town. The wind had dropped and it was really very pleasant to sit outside a café on the harbour-front in hot sun.

I am told that in July and August there are no free campervan pitches on the whole of the coast, but within 10 minutes’ walk of the old town was a nice site, probably about a quarter full(i.e. still much busier than ones I’ve stayed at before Easter). There are a lot of families on holiday, mostly German and Austrian (whose territory this was, of course, between 1815 and 1918)

I picked up the van from Treviso airport this afternoon, and finding no problems, headed for Trieste.

This was an easy 140km motorway journey, and although I started in mid-afternoon, I had plenty of time in the late afternoon to explore Trieste a little.

On the way the whole range of Alps were close to my left,although where the Dolomites ended and the Julian Alps began I was not sure. The motorway runs through the flat Veneto plain with orchards and vineyards the whole way.I was conscious of a large stream of campervans heading in the opposite direction. Perhaps they know something I don't-although I suspect they are Italians vacating the Istrian coast after their Easter weekend .

I am aware that the countries I have visited so far, being in Western Europe, have been a "safe" aperitif to the journey, useful for getting any issues ironed out.I am fascinated by the countries next to come,for,even though they are all in the EU or applying to join, they  have  a history of huge and multiple changes to their boundaries and their rulers over time.

To this concept,Trieste,while part of Italy since 1918,makes an interesting introduction.Trieste was the major port of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and was an "open port",although the main base of the Austro-Hungarian navy was actually in Pula, Istria,now part of Croatia.Trieste was the fourth largest city in the Empire,after Vienna,Prague and Budapest..

Having always had an Italian influence,especially as part of the Venetian Empire, Istria was coveted by the Italians and nationalistic fervour in Italy led to the Italians entering the First World War on the side of the Western Allies particularly to win the provinces of Trento and Trieste from the Austro-Hungarians.At the end of WW2 the Yugoslavians under Tito took back most of Istria but Trieste remained in the West  after a scramble by the British to save it from falling to the the communist bloc. The agreement was that it become a "free territory" and it was ceded formally back to Italy only  in 1955.It is on a little strip of land almost completely surrounded by Slovenia. The romantic image Trieste puts out is that of its heyday as a resort for the Austro -Hungarians and hang-out of poets ,Bohemians, and as a melting pot of Latin, Slavic, and Germanic culture,in the belle epoque,or fin-de siècle period; I was pleased to find in the Victorian-era  aquarium building on the harbour front a photographic exhibition of just those years,1891-1914.

An interesting indicator of the cultural phenomenon was that from about 30km before Trieste ,all the roadsigns,and signs on big buildings like banks,are bilingual in Italian and Serbo-Croatian.

My camper guide led me to a car park  on the main harbourfront, and I am parked up right on the waterside overlooking the yachts. As an extra bonus it is free  as there is no charge on bank holidays. There is the slightest of inclines towards the water so I hope the handbrake holds overnight! .It was a nice sunny evening to stroll along the main seafront parade, and into the main square overlooking the harbour,now called Piazza Unita d'Italia (since 1918).

I had wondered how Trieste might compare with Genoa ,but while there were plenty of signs of a busy port(many ships waiting in the Gulf outside the harbour) the city has much more of the air of a resort to it, with a wide open boulevarded harbour-front faced by grand Austro-Hungarian buildings, and attractive hillsides leading down to the city dotted with villas and houses. As I was when I was in Genoa, I was tempted to eat in  a harbour-front seafood restaurant: again a very good meal.