I’m going to cheat once again, to combine 2 relatively recent trips into one extremely hard-hitting consolidated piece. Not really, again the reason being lack of many hard-hitting sightings or quality photos. And lack of getting round to writing this while it was still fresh in my mind. Both of these trips were brief, and one of them was even my first time on the Balkans, in Croatia to be exact.
So on to the action, or where the action would’ve been anyway if I’d had much. Trip 1, & a last minute bit of flight booking in late September 2018 had me making my way to the Dalmatian coast and Croatia’s second city, Split. Or Croatia’s first city in my mind, which still associates the place with late-night Eurosport highlights of the local team playing various foreign devils in the UEFA Cup ties of the late 90s and early noughties. Ok, I’ll admit it, there was an ulterior motive to the trip, one afternoon/evening would be spent in a non-herping frame of mind. Having said that, there are still a few of the country’s snake species I’ve never seen (I think 4 out of the 16, although best not to quote me on the 16 being the right number there either..), with Cat snake being right up there on my wish-list. So as ever, snakes, at least the thought of them if not the sight, were the main theme. But after a particularly disheartening trip to Corfu one hot autumn in my very recent memory, I tried to diversify a little on these ones to avoid having to abandon Euroherping altogether and taking up a more productive hobby, like gardening.
As the first trip was only a few nights (making use of the these days barely-even budget airlines), with the return flight out of Dubrovnik way down south, I decided to focus my energy mostly on the Dalmatian coastal areas close to Lake Vrana. This, much like hitting data rather than flight-mode on my phone, would maximise roaming time, rather than travel time (specifically regarding some of the areas I’d read more about further north, Krk the main place that springs to mind, more on said island later..).
A fair few acres of Mediterranean scrubland adjoin the western edge of the lake (Vransko jezero, itself covering a few acres & the country’s largest) before the Adriatic takes over the aquatic duties, with a few small towns scattered along the coast. Plenty of olive groves, and enough drystone walls to keep any Cumbrian conservation volunteers entertained until next Christmas, meant that suitable habitat to search wouldn’t be a problem. However, finding the walls and rocks favoured by Europe’s only true nocturnal snake would be. Pygmy cormorants were a new one for me here at least.
The classic bit of edge-habitat searching next to a water-source provided a couple of the seemingly less well-received snakes in Euroherping circles, the lovable Dice snake (Natrix tessellata) & the (equally lovable I guess) Grass snake (Natrix natrix persa). The Grass snakes in the east of Europe are now considered a separate species to the UK version, a pretty simple switch-up that still thoroughly confused the British media at the time (no real surprise considering how environmental/ecological reporting tends to be restricted to the conservation merits of various land-use methods that have rendered the British countryside about as biologically diverse as a Morrisons carpark). Anyway, our “Trixie” has brightened many a spring/summer/autumn day for me during my years living/working in the south of England, so they don’t really feel like a massive Euro-tick. Certainly not like that massive Euro-tick I pulled off my thigh as it headed crotch-wards later on in the trip anyway. To be honest, I’ve never liked using the word tick to describe finding creatures anyway, so why I’m doing that now I have no idea. Lack of imagination I expect.
Anyway, it’s not just because I don’t get to see the other Euro-Natrixes much, it’s probably as I usually prefer seeing Natrix over Vipera, and Nerodia over Crotalus. Snaggability is key for me. Funny I should say that, as a comprehensively unsnaggable Eastern Montpellier snake (Malpolon insignitus) made a quick getaway from on the road that very afternoon. Road cruising whipsnakes on a hot afternoon in Europe certainly feels a different sport to nocturnal Floridian watersnakes. Later that evening I managed a Telescopus shed under a stone in the wall just yards from my “hut” but nothing else bar the Turkish geckos braving the chilly wind whipping in off the dark Adriatic. Highlighting that snaggability doesn’t matter a great deal when you can’t find anything to begin with…
A brief day trip inland followed, first to Krka National Park, which would be another shock to the system for those involved in the utterly pointless British park system (what, you mean a National Park with no shooting, burning, or overgrazing by farm animals?), where a swimming Trixie would be my only snake. Up next another nice tessellata spot; a cold mountain stream in a lovely bit of valley, I got my feet wet but couldn't get my hands on any of the snakes in the cold fast flowing water. A drive through some incredible limestone rockcuts in the Velebit range of the Dinaric Alps came later in the afternoon, on my way to have a look around a more upland section of old-school farmland on a plateau north of this jagged chunk of mountains. After a quick stop to admire a pair of Golden eagles and a couple of fruitless ammodytes searches on some just-about accessible rocky hillsides, I found myself in some very un-Mediterranean looking habitat ready for some rock flipping. Half expecting some Austrian milk-maids to come and kick me off their farmstead, I managed to flip a Smooth snake (Coronella austriaca) and a Balkan green lizard (Lacerta trilineata) before the shadows started to lengthen and the evening chill took over the land a little earlier than was the case on the parched coastal strip the prior evening.
So, productive was definitely not the word for that trip as I finished up by heading south to Dubrovnik. This was along an incredible coastal route, via an intensive security check on the Bosnia border by a gigantic but friendly chap who had enough weaponry to single handedly capture Morpeth, if he’d have thought it worth the trip. The snake and bird books in my bag were enough to convince him I wasn’t up to no good, although I’ve never seen anyone look at every single paracetamol capsule in my toiletry bag with such focus. But still, some snakes found, a Hajduk v Dinamo game seen, and some amazing scenery explored, albeit pretty briefly. I liked Croatia a lot, and would definitely want to return, perhaps even as soon as the next paragraph.
A Second Look
And just like that, I was back, for 5 nights on the 1st week of April 2019. The preceding winter had seen one of my best ever trips, a return to Costa Rica with Peal and Jill, as well as countless hours spent freezing on river estuaries and hilltops around the UK, so I was in good spirits for another brief Balkan trip to kick off spring earlier than usual (about 4 months earlier than if I’d have remained in Northumberland in fact..). Again, it would be a trip split between a few things just to avoid me returning home a broken wreck having not seen anything snake-wise.
Landing in the capital Zagreb late afternoon, I swiftly picked up my hirecar, and drove south through forested hill country for a few hours before reaching Sveti Rok tunnel, the threaded needle through the beautiful Velebit mountains, connecting the north and south of the country. Here I was held up for a long time to allow a giant wind turbine to make the trip in the opposite direction, but it was relaxing to sit in the calm mountain pass with the last light of the evening turning the giant limestone wall and rocky mountainside in front of me a beautiful pale ghostly shade of white, and feel a very long way from filthy riverbanks, Baltic coldness, and dog-walkers.
Day 1 and I had harriers on my mind. Not straying too far from normal there some may say, but this was to be my attempt at a variety that I’d not seen so much of over the years, the Monty’s variety. A drive north up the coast to Pag, and the not so secret summer home of the country’s biggest breeding population of this species, on the marshy grasslands of the Veliko Blato reserve. I was a little worried that I may be a little bit early, but luckily a good few had made it back from their African winter homes, and I had a brilliant morning watching at least 4/5 adult males and 2 ringtails. There’s something about harriers, their shape and habits, and Monty’s are no exception, they float about like a butterfly has taken over the mind of an underfed Hen harrier.
Anyway, that was great and all worked out to plan, strangely enough. Probably as it didn’t involve snakes. The rest of the day and next morning would be spent again in the general Vrana area (I needed to be somewhere between Pag and Split for the 1st couple of days before I went north), trying the cat snake area and another junk flipping spot I’d found last time. Unfortunately the area where I’d had the shed in September was now utterly wrecked to make way for additional holiday homes. This was classic Euroherping again, high winds and hot weather, and I struggled, a few bird highlights included Short-toed eagle and Blue rock thrush, along with numerous Subalpine warblers, Serin, Cirl, and Corn buntings.
Sidetracked in Split
So, before I could move onto the main herping destination, I couldn’t resist making my 2nd evening trip to Split. The toll road running almost the length of the country has numerous “green” bridges connecting the wild looking hills on each side, pretty impressive to think that the country has managed to hold off on destroying all of its wilderness, enough to enable wolves and bears to still roam free in some areas. The road signs showing these mythical creatures that actually still have a home in the Balkans were about as naturally wild as things would get for the remainder of the day, but another form of wildness was waiting not far off the exit toll booth, and down the winding mountainside highway towards the biggest city on the Dalmatian coast.
Brief weekend foreign trips to catch some European matchday atmosphere were the earliest trips I (sometimes with Neil, sometimes not) ever used to go on outside of Britain, before I was old enough to even hire a car. I’m not a city person, & wildlife soon became the only reason to go abroad (or go anywhere really, out of choice anyway), but it’s not forgotten that the first European snake I ever saw was on one of these trips in Sevilla (the less said about the IDing and snaffling of that one the better…). It’s also not forgotten the reason that I used to love these trips, to get a taste of the genuine passion and atmosphere that was, and is, totally lacking from the English version of our favourite game.
Another of the things I used to love about seeing some of these games on tv as a kid were the settings of the stadiums in these far away places, and Hajduk Split’s Stadion Poljud was up there with the best of them. Perched on the far western edge of the peninsula that makes up the city, it’s almost in the Adriatic itself, but the best view is from the inside. The famous north terrace of the ground is uncovered, and before nightfall this sweeping curva has as its backdrop on the far side of Kastela Bay a distant but monstrous limestone wall of mountains forming part of the western edge of the Dinaric Alps. This Wednesday evening the sun was just setting over the sea behind the ground, casting that final pale glow on the mountains across the bay as Torcida Split gave the north terrace some impressive colour of its own, one of their famous koreografijas marking the kick-off in Hajduk v Dinamo Zagreb, the country’s biggest game and one of the most important rivalries in eastern Europe.
The thing that always captured my attention as a kid, as it does for many, is the spectacle of the “proper” relentless, undying support that is part of the supporter culture in most Latin and Balkan countries. And it’s quite simply, despite what BBC may tell you, something we don’t have in Britain. Much like actual National Parks in that respect. Everyone knows some of the negative aspects that often come from this too, but that side is mentioned too much (and in British media it is usually the only side that is ever portrayed), so I’m not going to try and defend the dark side and say that it’s ok. But if you look hard enough into almost anything in public life, governments, supermarkets, transport industry, there’s also a very dark side, except it’s less in your face. And tends not to involve throwing pyrotechnics around quite as much as it does for Torcida. After all, it’s people, and why people like me mostly want to stick to nature.
But the positive side of this sort of supporter movement is also right there on evenings like this, the drums cranking and the voices belting songs out from behind a sea of swirling red blue and white flags, with the constant glow of flares and the Bonfire Night smell drifting on the warm evening air across to the “less involved” stands. It’s also well known that for all the troubles caused, Torcida are pretty much the reason why Hajduk are a partly fan-owned club, who wouldn’t stand being taken over by a foreign billionaire, no matter how many millions were waved at directors, who must obey a code of conduct written by the supporters themselves in order to even be in that position in the first place.
The traditional second half activity of Torcida in these games also splits opinion, as it involves a firework display, but Balkan style. Which tends to be lacking some of the health and safety aspects us Brits would associate with our 5th of November shows that light up the chilly night air in an orderly fashion above some of our most beloved dog toilets/parks every autumn. The last time I went to this fixture a local fireman tried to pick up the world’s loudest Tijuana Toiletcracker before the fuse had gone out, which wasn’t a great move on his part. But some ground closures, fines, and a fan-organised concert with all benefits being given to the Split fire department later, things were getting back to normal, and what looked like the entire supply of signal flares from a couple of navy boats parked up in the marina were soon lit and arcing and bouncing their way onto the running track and pitch. To be totally fair, which I usually am, this was probably the most interesting thing to happen on the pitch the entire game; it ended up 0-1 to Dinamo, and I think there was maybe a shot or 2 at somestage. Without animated supporters, professional football usually doesn’t have an awful lot to offer, especially not in the flesh. Anyway, that was way more than I intended to write about football, so I’ll get back to business.
2 nights on Krk
Perhaps the most famous herping spot in the country, and by the afternoon at last I’d made it up the Dalmatian coast to somewhere I’d wanted to try for years. I hadn’t left myself with too much time on an already brief trip, but I was straight into searching. Unlike my efforts on the mainland, it didn’t take long to get going here, a lovely Balkan whipsnake (Hierophis gemonensis) flipped under a large boulder on some lovely habitat in the north of the island. It took a good few hours in the warmish afternoon sun to turn up anything else though, but I signed off with a tiny juvenile Balkan whipsnake before the chill of the evening hit. A common species, but one I’d only ever seen once, thanks to a ninja-like leap ‘n snag off one stone wall and onto another by Neil during our Corfu trip six years ago, so it was a delight to have got another couple.
The one full day I had, and who’d have guessed it, the weather was dreadful. This was partly my thinking on not risking a whole trip here (and trying to include some birding and footy-related fun in there), in that some cold rainy early spring weather (or hot late summer weather on my 1st visit) could potentially ruin everything snake-wise, even over 4/5 days. I had a good look at a few sites I’d read about and Google-earthed, but even some of the flipping spots were too soaked to have much chance, and snakes being out was a definite no-chance. Some of the nautical themed artwork on the sides of the stone bus shelters from Armada Rijeka, the local side’s answer to Hajduk’s Torcida, was pretty impressive though. If you ever want to see a mural of a great white shark swirling below a Viking long-ship with the sails painted in the colours of Dalmatia’s second best supported team, well, go there as I stupidly didn’t take any photos, again. It certainly puts the constant defacing of the famous Shilbottle sign on the A1 into perspective anyway. Some would say too much perspective.
Luckily, late afternoon the rain stopped and some watery sun started to show. Back to one of the best looking spots, a boulder strewn hillside under a sparse canopy of trees close to a large reservoir. And a real Hawfinch stronghold by the looks of it; another rare British breeding bird, that like the cirl buntings are seemingly everywhere here. After a good hour of scrambling about, at last a Nose-horned viper (Vipera ammodytes), but it was just coming out of its rocky hideaway, and as I froze and then sneakily tried to wangle my camera out to at least get some video, it turned and slid back into the black. That was the last I’d see of it, despite returning a little later on in full on stealth mode (ie, not tripping over every boulder this time). Again, the evening chill came calling too soon, and I had to make my way back to my base near Kremenici. I sat out with 5 layers on and a hot coffee, looking north across the Adriatic towards the lights of Rijeka, and listening to a little Scops owl Booping somewhere on the edge of the village. It still feels strange to feel the chilly winds and the off-season empty feel of some of these Mediterranean towns, as all my early memories of the Med on family holidays were baking sunny days of snorkeling and amazingly balmy nights of tavernas & looking for geckos.
The famous black Biaccos were what I most wanted on Krk, a darker variety of my favourite European snake species, but I’d not get even a glimpse of one. Croatia would provide one final gem though, and as has become a bit of a tradition on these trips, it came just as I should’ve been starting my drive back to the airport. Another few hours in my Balkan whipper spot, and a mystery tail that I almost thought looked like a (well) out-of-place garter snake disappeared into a rocky bankside. I carefully removed a rock or 2 to find out that my garter idea was a little off, instead a beautiful and unexpected Leopard snake (Zamenis situla) was waiting for me. What made this even better was that it was the blotched leopardinus morph; my only previous one had been the delightfully striped situla form that me and Peal had flipped on that mythical Corfu trip (which came before my equally mythical Corfu trip a few years later…), so it was almost like a new species.
So that was it, a great ending to a really enjoyable trip, despite not actually getting any new species of snake on the board. My short stays and all over the place itinerary on both visits only gave me a glimpse of the beautiful land that is Croatia, and just a handful of the herps and other wildlife that could potentially be found. But that’s a lot better than nothing, and nothing is usually what you get if you bank on staying in Britain for your wildlife fix. Just the return trip north through Sveti Rok tunnel, following in the footsteps of the Dinamo Zagreb team bus on Wednesday night just with less of a military police escort, and before long I’d be in my customary position at the counter of Greggs in Newcastle airport, staring at the vegan steak bakes, and hoping that they’re not as full of palm oil as we all know they are. And thinking where the next hot mocha is coming from. And much more importantly, wondering if I’d actually manage to get any new snake species out of the rest of 2019…