Umm…can we pull over for a sec? I have to go to the bathroom…

That auspicious start to a 20 kilometer round trip bike ride then turned into a little personal torment by the presence of my old friend from the developing world, travelers’ diarrhea. We visited Krka, Croatia yesterday and noticed that the only other thing you can possibly do to pass time in Skradin is biking out to, Bribirska Glavica, a site with really old archeological ruins that sits up on a 300 meter high plateau. That sounded great last night. Really great.

Not so great 5 kilometers into a bike ride that went both gradually and consistently uphill for 10 kilometers. And although I take some poetic license in my tales, I am not exaggerating – 10 kilometers. Uphill.

The bike rental was really cheap and both H and J were loathe to spend a day lazing around since we really didn’t get in any hiking yesterday. So, although I had some rumblings in my tummy as we forked over the cash for the bikes, I really figured it would pass with time.

The ride was really hard though and strenuous and by the time we were about 45 minutes into it I motioned that we needed to pull over. I wont go into all of the nitty-gritty details of our hours of bike-riding tournament but the neat rows of quaint cottages and pretty farm houses were only torture – what I really wanted as an empty field with a really big tree to hide behind. Then,

Hey Helen, do you have any toilet paper…I ran out?

I know better than to not carry a stock of toilet paper, but having left the developing world behind weeks ago how was I to know that the bike ride would be so taxing?

Another disheartening part of the ride – we really didn’t have a clue where we were going. The bike rental man gave us cryptic directions in poor English and a few careless hand waves indicating we should head west out of town. So the whole time, all I’m thinking is “What if we aren’t even going the right way?’

At one point H and J tracked down two young and excitable  school kids just getting off the bus. They were ecstatic and giggly at the lost tourists and confirmed that we were, in fact, headed in the right direction. Where was I during this interaction? Praying that I wasn’t currently hovering over poison ivy and paying some massive dues.

We did make it to ruins but the prospect of hiking up the 300 meters to the plateau was less than appealing so I camped out under a really lovely mulberry tree to sample the berries (probably not a great idea in retrospect, all things considered) and read my book, Out of Africa, under the huge shady tree.

When H and J returned an hour later I was died purple from the juices of these uber-sweet berries that fell off of the tree into my hand at the slightest touch. I first discovered my love of mulberries in Laos at the organic mulberry farm in Vang Vieng where mulberry pancakes with lime and honey were an obsessive morning ritual.

A lot of the illness had passed and the ride back was so much easier because it was basically coasting downhill the entire way. We were all three sweaty and hot though because of the beating sun so we found a great little sandy beach and took a refreshingly brisk (read: freezing cold!!) dip in the Krka river. Not the most pleasant day of the trip, but I did get through it.

On second thought, I think I will just fly home Peter Petrelli style instead!

Soooo many more pictures of mulberry goodness!