May 8, 2025 – Blaca Monastery & Vidova Gora

Caffeinated and Ready to Conquer… Until the Snakes Showed Up

Morning has broken, and thanks to my two glorious cups of coffee, I am officially a functioning human being. Today’s agenda? Exploring the great outdoors—aka, pretending we’re adventurous hikers. We bump into Petris, who’s busy with some morning chores when we announce our plans.

“You are going to Vidova Gora??” he asks, eyes widening like we’ve just declared our intention to wrestle a bear. “No. Noooo…” He flails for the right English word before landing on: “Snakes!!!”

Cue my full-body recoil. Apparently, this is prime snake season on that particular trail, and I do not do reptiles. I shoot Ron my best “ABORT MISSION” look, and he instantly knows—Vidova Gora has just been vetoed. Petris, our new hero, suggests we cheat and drive to the top instead. Normally, I’d protest such laziness, but… snakes. Yeah, I’m good with a little vehicular assistance.

Detour to the Middle of Nowhere (AKA Blaca Monastery)

As we’re plotting our snake-free ascent, I notice Blaca Monastery is also lurking in the vicinity. Perfect! A little cultural detour before our lazy mountaintop victory.

Now, let’s talk about this “road” to Blaca Monastery. I use the term loosely. Nine kilometers (maybe more—my memory has blocked out the trauma) of questionable terrain that had our poor little rental car whimpering. Ron starts eyeing the escape routes, but I channel my inner motivational speaker: “We’ve come this far! Turning back now would be… illogical!” (Spoiler: It was not, in fact, logical.)

When we finally arrive—after nearly missing the extremely subtle signage—we’re greeted by… well, not much. A boarded-up shack that might sell snacks in peak season, and zero parking lot glamour. But hey, adventure awaits!

The trail sign cheerfully informs us it’s only 2.5 km to the monastery. Only. Nowhere in my pre-trip research did this little nugget appear. But how bad could it be? Famous last words.

An hour later—after following cryptic painted rocks, descending what felt like the world’s longest hill, and questioning all our life choices—we finally stumble upon Blaca Monastery, a 16th-century hermitage with a backstory wilder than a Netflix drama.

The Drama, The Devotion, and The Determined Monks of Blaca Monastery

Back in the 1500s, when the Ottoman Empire was making life real difficult for Dalmatian monks, two Glagolitic priests said “Nope!” and fled to this remote cliffside with a handful of followers. Their mission? Live in peace, write religious texts, and—apparently—haul enough stone up a mountain to build an entire monastery by hand.

Over the next 400 years, Blaca Monastery became a self-sufficient powerhouse. These monks weren’t just praying—they were farming, making wine, stargazing (they built an observatory in the 19th century, because why not?), and even running a printing press. At its peak, Blaca Monastery was basically the Croatian version of a medieval tech startup, minus the venture capital.

The last monk, Don Niko Miličević, died in 1963, after which the monastery became a museum. But here’s the kicker—the guy was also an amateur astronomer who discovered a comet. So yeah, Blaca Monastery’s résumé includes:
✔️ Religious sanctuary
✔️ Secret Ottoman escapee hideout
✔️ 19th-century science hub
✔️ Possibly the most scenic hermit lifestyle in history

Sadly, the monastery was closed (we were a week too early, because of course). We could hear voices inside, but my polite knocking was met with silence. Either they were deep in prayer, or they’d seen us coming and decided out-of-season tourists weren’t worth the effort.

The Quest for the Perfect Shot (Because Instagram Demands It)

Now, I may not be a professional photographer, but I know one thing: if you want a killer shot, you don’t stand on the thing—you find a vantage point. So I backtrack, follow a windy little path, and—voila!—the perfect monastery-in-the-wilderness moment. Worth every questionable life decision that got us here.

The trek back? Let’s just say if the way in was all downhill, the way out was a cruel uphill joke. Ron was less than thrilled, but I maintain it was worth it. The sheer audacity of building something so remote centuries ago blows my mind.

Vidova Gora: The Snake-Free Victory Lap

After surviving Blaca Monastery’s death march, we decide Vidova Gora—by car, thank you very much—is our reward. The road is paved, the views are ridiculous, and most importantly: zero snakes. From the top, Bol sprawls beneath us, and Zlatni Rat (that famous Golden Horn beach) looks like something out of a postcard. Breathtaking doesn’t even cover it.

Wine: The Great Motivator

Back in town, we toast our mostly successful adventures at Stina Winery (one glass? Two? Who’s counting?). Dinner at Vagabond by Vendetta is just as good as the first time, and we cap off the night at a promenade bar, sipping wine and watching the little ferry from Zlatni Rat chug into the harbor.

And here’s the best part: the sunburned tourists spilling off the boat include a couple from Saskatchewan—because apparently, even in a tiny Croatian seaside town, Canada finds you. We bond over wine and mutual disbelief at how small the world is. (Did they also almost hike Vidova Gora before being scared off by snake warnings? Unclear. But I like to think so.)

As I drift into that blissful, outdoor-air-induced sleep, one thought lingers: We skipped Vidova Gora for fear of snakes… but willingly bushwhacked to Blaca Monastery. Priorities, right? I shudder one last time before passing out.

Absolutely silly. But totally worth it.