Nudist Camping Review of Bunculuka in Croatia
Nudist Camping at Bunculuka in Croatia – By the time Gosia and I reached Croatia there was a rainbow gleaming in the distance. At long last we thought our search was done. The beautiful sun filled sunny skies waited. We headed to Medullin, a town on the southern tip of the Istrian peninsula where a friend of Gosia’s helps to run a pension. Much needed laundry was done. The atmosphere was cool. Gosia’s friend checked the forecast. Rain was on the way for Istria. Rain was on the way to practically everywhere. I wondered where it could have possibly come from. One thing I knew for sure. It wasn’t America’s fault – despite what everybody kept telling me.
In the morning, on the slim promise of a fairly friendly forecast, Gosia and I decided to head east along the coast – to the island paradise of Krk. The landscape was breathtaking. Freeway curves protruded off the sides of cliffs. Everywhere jagged rock soared up into the sky. Distant green mountains beckoned. The only problem was staying on the road. It wasn’t just a matter of keeping my eyes off the landscape. It was in Slovenia that I realized my GPS didn’t include Croatia. I was driving blind with only a vague freeway map to guide me. It was through sheer luck that Gosia and I had stumbled into a Kaufland where we could buy a much needed electric kettle to heat up water. Our Communist era screw-in stove took an hour just to get water steaming, never mind boiling.
Even with the freeway map I missed an exit. That meant an extra toll. If there is one thing I didn’t expect on this trip, it was how much I would have to pay for the privilege of driving. The entire continent, with the blessed exception of Germany, requires paying tolls for the use of freeways, usually in the form of a sticker called a vignette. Prices range from 10 euros to 40 euros. Talk about missing America. If there was one difference about Croatia, it was the fact that they employed young boys at the ticket booths whose job it was to press the button that prints the ticket, take the ticket and hand it to you as if you as a foreigner had no idea what to do – like back home in New Jersey, where there’s no such thing as a gas station with self service. The first time I pulled into a gas station in Europe I honestly didn’t know what to do.
The island of Krk has few gas stations – at least from what you can see from the main road. We saw nothing but beautiful brush. With three choices of nude friendly naturist camping available, Gosia and I decided to try the farthest one from humanity. It was Bunculuka, situated at the end of a fishing town called Baska, itself situated at the mouth of a narrow valley in turn situated at the very southeast corner of the island. It meant driving up a steep slope which at times I doubted my Ford Escort could do. But do it it did. Descending through the hairpin turns on the other side we didn’t regret it.
By the time we arrived at Bunculuka’s reception desk Gosia and I were both breathless from the view. We quickly declared our wish for a spot. The receptionist gave us a queer look. She asked with her sharpened English, “Do you know this is a nudist camp?” Gosia and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Yes,” we cried. “That is why we’re here!”
We were at the end of the world.
This article about nudist camping in Croatia was published by Young Naturists and Nudists America YNA