The big packing happened on 30th. After who knows how many years, we go to the sea. This time with children. While Go went with my parents a few times, Nina never did. Since she has fewer days of vacation, she'll come by train three days later, and will leave three days before the rest of us. škodilak was heating up, but majstor Saša came during the day and took out the thermostat. The gadget was there to close the flow of coolant in the winter until the engine heats up, and then to gradually let in the rest of the water to circulate. Now it just wouldn't open on time, so until winter we're better off without it.
We stuffed everything in the car, or back in the trailer. We're going with the neighbor to the island Vir*, where he and his pal from skrobara are building a house each. He's got only a concrete slab so far; the other guy has roof, walls and windows. As planned, we started at two in the morning. And made it as far as Novi, where in Futoška ulica the škodilak just boiled. We let it cool and found water to add. Agreed with the other two guys that they should proceed without us and we'll find them next day. Refilled the water, refilled the canister, drove back and made it almost to Žabalj, when we ran out of water to add. I hitched to town and they (dad, mom, Go, Nina) stayed with the car. It was dawning.
Whom do I dig out now? Dropped by to her at work. The space was dark, the painters' ladders, buckets, brushes were everywhere, some redecoration was going on. Had to pass through that mess to get to her. She was stunned to see me, so I first had to explain what was going on. And now gimme the phone, let's see whom do I know that has a larger and functional car? Few...ah, Mika Fišer. Whether I found his phone from the book or my head, didn't matter - his lada was kaputt. Not running for a few weeks now. Who's next... aha, Radoja. Okay, can do. I walked to erc, had a coffee with him, explained the whole fuckup, okay, let's go.
We hitched the škodilak and the trailer and drove slowly, specially across the bridge, and then his engine started heating up. But he knew a trick from some majstor, to let it idle until it cools off, then hit the pedal and drive as far and fast as he can before it cooks again, then just turn it off or let it idle. Which worked - in about ten cycles we got home. Then called majstor Saša. Oh fuck so it wasn't just the thermostat... well of course, you got water mixed in oil, the head gasket blew. So he took half the engine out, sandpapered the old glue or whatever came between the gasket and metal, installed the new gasket, adjusted the valves again, messed with all that shit whole afternoon. He finished by evening, and we also had some sleep. And next night we started again.
Dad and I alternated at the wheel, and ran at rather good clip, considering the load. When we started climbing Velebit, it got hot. It's a steep climb in a slow column, so even with the extra cooling (I had added the override switch for the fan long ago) it barely made it to the top. There we made a coffee break, just to let it cool off enough. The girls were amazed at how huge the stones were here, and immediately found a 2m round boulder to climb on. Couldn't see the sea yet, it was behind the curve and rather fuzzy from this height, anyway.
When we finished the coffee and packed the stove, the starter won't. Well fuck what now... why did we even go in a contraption like this... But, luckily, there was a Czech guy right behind us, said he's a car majstor, actually does tractors but he also had a škodilak so... he pulled up the bottoms of rear seats, opened one of the hatches (one covered the battery, the other one the starter), then went around looking at the ground. After a dozen seconds he picked a fist-sized stone, took it inside and slammed it on the starter. Try now. It worked! Later I chided dad for not taking that stone with us, it's proven to work and we needed it twice more in the following weeks.
When we descended Velebit, at some point the high plane Zagora ends and the slope now reveals the sea. Nina jumped on the rear seat and kept shouting "Seeeeeaaaa... seeeeaaaaa...", amazed with the view. Similarly, when we pulled into the old town to visit the post office, call her and report our progress, she shouted "Paaaaaalms... paaaaaaalms!".
I mostly knew the way, and found the island without a problem. The bridge connecting it with mainland looked a bit flimsy, but if trucks can go over it, so can we. The island was practically a vukojebina** previously, but then they investigated a site to build a nuclear power plant, so first searched for potable water and found it. Then they built the bridge, then ditched the project. Now with bridge and water the island's boom began.
Some distance from the bridge I came upon a fork in a road, as if from the "Three scoundrels" comic by Valter Nojgebauer - no signpost, both roads look the same, there's a goat tied to a stake, grazing. I take to goat's side (right) and get exactly where I should. Neighbors were already there, with reinforcements - two guys, roughly the age of neighbor's son, living two houses to the left and one to the right from Učubić, roughly half of our street. And one more guy, who will later be Nina's teacher.
As we unpacked the trailer and raised tents, dad dug out the plastic 2l bottle of homemade rakija and offered it around. One of the guys asked "is that the water from our well?" "yep, sure is". Of course he knew in advance, and recognized from first swallow that it's dad's loza, but drank it like water, at least 0,15l. Boy, did he have a pull. "Good domestic... there's none like our well".
Went to take a swim, when it was almost dark. My hand traced a shimmering line through the water, must be that plankton. Took of my pants just to feel it streaming around me - hey, that's interesting.
It will be a chore to get water - it's half a kilometer up and down through some bushes. We did have a pump, but the water from it was half salty, perhaps good enough to wash, but not to drink. At least had a little wash before sleeping. Dad, mom and girls in the big tent, we (when she comes) in the little tent we bought 13 years ago. The beach is only 50m away. The tent floor elevation is less than 2m. We started calling neighbor susjed (in serbian there's the word komšija, of turkish origin; almost equally used is the word sused, meaning the same; croatian variant is susjed and they don't use komšija).
There's no shade, not a single tree arround. Perhaps by the little house which is halfway between us and the beach.
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*Kill me but I won't say "island of Vir", Vir IS the island, not something that HAS an island. That's my last word on the subject. Ditto for "city of", "kingdom of" etc. Ditto for italian "isola di Wight" etc. Until someone comes with a clear and easy to understand explanation how can something be its own island.
** "wolf fuck land", i.e. place where wolves fuck and there's nothing else
17-V-2021 - 20-XI-2025