The images of this place in our minds are coming to life as we glide across a softly rolling silky surface above a sea so clear we seem to be flying. White,  pebble beaches beckon us to end the day early from shady coves nestled between rocky hills. The days have more hours than our arms have strength.  We paddle, swim, eat and sleep while swallows and scarabs swirl around and sheep drink from springs in the afternoon and the sea in the morning. The sea is so salty; crystals coat our boats, ourselves, our gear.

We are holed up in Supetarska Draga waiting for a storm that will bring us two days of wind and some heavy rain. Our host,  Ivan, is entertaining us with homemade rakija, and some excellent pantomiming. We are surrounded by Germans and no one understands why we don’t speak Italian. Hopefully, tomorrow we push on to Rab Town.