Ten Euros a Night

Day sixteen, Croatia. Yesterday I swam in the sea for the first time on this trip, somewhere near Split. I simply pulled over.

Standing on the beach digging my feet into the sand, it lands on me properly for the first time: I can drive wherever I want. I got this far, so I can get anywhere.

I think about sleeping on the beach and decide there are too many people on it. On towards Bosnia, then. In the evening I pass Camp Biokovo near the border, a place I had seen online two days earlier and liked the look of. Jack Gratton lets me in at ten at night without making anything of it.

In the morning he sits down with me and helps me plan. He knows the apps that let travellers find work anywhere, and he knows a map that keeps working when the phone contract stops — which matters, because mine will cost me a fortune in Bosnia.

Jack left England three weeks ago to travel through Europe. He is running this place for a few weeks and enjoying the people who come and go.

I stay far too short a time and leave the same day.

„If you're thinking about something like a journey, just do it,“ he says. „You don't need much of the other stuff to be happy.“

Camp Biokovo sits on a soft hill and costs ten euros a night. I hope I see him again.