The big storm cleared the air and it is a much cooler 24C today with a fresh breeze. We go to the bus stop at the site entrance to catch the 10:40 bus into Split, N+G are taking the bike in. The bus finally arrives at 11:05 and begins the 25 minute ride to Split Old Town. The suburbs of Split are not pretty; rundown tower blocks from the former socialist Yugoslavian regime, but soon we are off the bus outside the old walls with the port in front of us, complete with two of the cruise ships we saw in Dubrovnik.

We meet N+G and head inside the walls. They particularly want to see Diocletian's Palace, which involves steps, so we agree to split up, do our own things and meet back at camp.

Split dates back to the Greek empire but is generally accepted to have been established from the 4thC. It was a significant centre for the Venetians and bears a lot of their influence. Today Split is the second largest city in Croatia, but the walled town is small and compact.

There are many cool, narrow streets leading to a couple of compact squares. Fruit stalls and lavender stalls fill the air with their fragrances which mingle with the aromas of coffee and grilled food. Also dotted around are buskers and singers, their tunes echoing around squares and courtyards. The architecture is Venetian but without the crumbling plaster, and much of it has been cleaned back to the pale sandstone. Like Dubrovnik, pavements are polished to a glass-like surface. Small electric trucks deliver goods to the businesses and carry cases for hotel guests. We find the fish market, mostly sold out by now but there is a fresh delivery of two boxes the shiniest silver sardines immaginable.

It takes very little time to wander once around the town, negotiating the inevitable flocks of tour-parties and dodging Japanese selfie-sticks.

We have a pizza and beer at one of the restaurants then go down to the modern harbour-side promenade before returning for a closer look in the town. The Costa has sailed and the Thompson passengers are heading back so the streets are less crowded. Ali decides to go up the bell tower. It costs €2, which is less than a cent for each of the steep, narrow, polished steps, but the view from the top is worth the climb, although coming down with no handrail is a bit scary.

Deciding we have seen enough we go back to the bus stop, but the scheduled 16:45 never comes. The 17:45 eventually appears at 17:55 wasting a whole hour we could have spent better in the town if we'd known.

Back on site we exchange stories with N+G then have salmon and asparagus for dinner.