What happens when the season ends? When the sea gets colder, the days shorter, and the wind starts carrying a different kind of cold?
Well, I return to my nursing job and to the structure of everyday life. But outside of work, I keep moving, keep looking for ways to stay active, and once everything settles in, Velebit usually starts calling louder.
This winter brought very little stillness. Instead of waves and paddles, it was shaped by snow, skins, transitions, and early starts. One weekend led into the next, and before long the season had taken on a different form.
At first, the sea and the mountains can seem like separate worlds. But the more time you spend in both, the more familiar the connection becomes. Both ask for respect. Both reward patience. Both strip things back to what matters.
So this winter, I followed that pull inland once again. What follows is a selection of weekends that, each in its own way, came to define the season — most of them centered around ski touring, which over the last two winters has gradually become my new focus (or better say obssesion😅) opening up more and more room for learning, improving, and moving forward…
Sv. Rok – Dušice, Velebit, Croatia
The snow finally arrived, and with it the start of the season for the ski touring section of PD Paklenica Zadar.
Our original plan was to climb Sveto Brdo and ski down toward Vlaški Grad and Libinje, but the bora changed that before the day had even properly started. So the six of us turned toward Sveti Rok instead, where the forest offered more shelter.
From the last houses in the village, we put on our skis and started toward Dušice. The climb was slower than expected. There were icy sections, fallen branches, and enough resistance underfoot to make every hour feel longer. After three and a half hours, with storm-force wind still hitting the upper mountain, we stopped there and turned back.
The descent began well. The upper section through the beech forest was genuinely enjoyable. Lower down, it became rougher and less controlled — more getting down than proper skiing. We joined the road near the cross and pushed back to the cars through deep snow.
By the time we reached Pivnica Pupi in Sveti Rok, we were tired, hungry, and in a good mood.
Winter had started.
Bunovac, Velebit, Croatia
The following weekend took us up from the Lika side toward the Bunovac plateau. About an hour before Bunovac, we had to leave the cars behind. Deep snowdrifts, shaped by earlier avalanches, had completely blocked the road.
From there, we put on the skins and kept going.
By the time we reached Bunovac, Malovan had already disappeared into cloud and fog. For some in the group, it was also their first ski touring day, so there was no need to force anything. The decision came easily: keep it safe, keep it simple, and make the most of what the mountain was giving us.
Instead of pushing higher, we continued toward Medački dolac. There we took off the skins and switched into ski mode. It turned into a good introduction and a useful training day ahead of our upcoming trip to Slovenia for the official ski touring course of the Croatian Mountaineering Association.
Later, as usual after a day on Velebit, we ended up at Cvituša — satisfied, properly hungry, and ready to raise a glass to the day behind us.
Pokljuka, Triglav National Park, Slovenia
The third weekend took us to Pokljuka, in Triglav National Park, Slovenia, for the official ski touring course of the Croatian Mountaineering Association, organized for members of the ski touring section of PD Paklenica Zadar.
Ten of us took part in the five-day course, which is no small thing for a ski touring section from a coastal city.
Over those days, we worked on movement and skiing techniques, navigation, meteorology, avalanche awareness and rescue, the use of avalanche safety equipment, first aid, and hypothermia prevention. It was not only about skiing better, but about moving through winter terrain with more awareness, more confidence, and better judgment.
The course was led by Croatian Mountaineering Association ski touring instructor Ivan Šafradin Šafra. The conditions helped too. Snow kept falling throughout our stay, and for most of us it was a rare chance to train in deep, fresh powder — the kind of conditions we do not often get at home.
A few full days, a lot of learning, and a solid step forward for the rest of the season.
Blidinje / Vran Mountain, Bosnia and Herzegovina
The next stop was Blidinje, where we stayed at the Masna Luka mountain hut. This time, we were joined by a friend, Vei, on a splitboard, which gave the whole weekend an extra dimension. He also put together a short video from the trip.
With avalanche danger running high on the northern side of Čvrsnica and Pločno after heavy snowfall, we left that option alone and headed for Vran Mountain instead. It was the safer choice, and the right one.
On the first day, we started from the parking area at around 1,250 meters and moved toward Veliki Vran, first climbing to Bijela Glava. The plan had been to continue along the ridge, but visibility was poor, the wind was strong, and it quickly became obvious that going higher would bring very little. From the ridge, at around 1,985 meters, we made the transition and started skiing down.
Skiing in the fog was fast, strange, and slightly disorienting. It forced you to rely less on what you saw and more on feel. Lower down, once we dropped below the cloud, everything opened up. The snow was good, the terrain finally visible, and the descent became the kind you wish had started earlier.
The second day looked completely different. The sky had cleared, so we went for Veliki Vran again, this time by a steeper and more direct line. Starting once more from around 1,250 meters, we climbed all the way to the summit at 2,074 meters.
Visibility changed everything. With the surrounding slopes and neighboring mountains finally in view, the whole area opened up in a way it had not the day before. The descent was excellent again — long enough to enjoy properly, short enough to wish for more.
Heavy-legged but recharged, we headed back to Zadar.
Komna, Julian Alps, Slovenia
Not long after Blidinje, the direction shifted north again.
By that point, the pattern was already familiar: leave Zadar in the afternoon, drive north, sleep a few hours, and start moving again the next morning.
The nine of us left on Friday afternoon and, after around six hours on the road, reached Bohinj, where we spent the night in a hostel beneath Vogel.
The next morning, after breakfast, we parked near Koča pri Savici, at around 650 meters, and started the climb toward Koča pod Bogatinom. There was still too little snow lower down, so the skis went on our backpacks and we began counting switchbacks instead.
After about two hours, it was finally time to change out of hiking boots and into ski boots. From there, we stepped onto the skis and continued properly toward the hut. Higher up, the whole landscape changed. We arrived to full winter conditions — plenty of snow, clear skies, and the kind of day that makes the effort up feel immediately worth it.
It was my first time on Komna, and the area made a strong first impression. The terrain is excellent, with more than enough options to keep you busy for days. The whole experience is made even easier by Koča pod Bogatinom itself. The staff were welcoming, and the dorms were fully equipped, clean, tidy, and heated — and for ski touring, that kind of comfort matters more than people sometimes admit, especially because it gives you the luxury of going up with a smaller and lighter backpack.
After settling in, we went out again for an afternoon tour — climbing toward Sedlo pod Bogatinom and skiing back down to the hut. It was a good first lap, both as an introduction to the terrain and as a way to get a better sense of the area before the next day’s climb to Bogatin.
The next morning, after breakfast, we set off toward Bogatin, which we reached without problems. It was one of those days that gives you very little to complain about — sunny, warm enough to look for extra shade rather than extra layers, and with snow that made the descent properly enjoyable. There was a slightly icy section near the summit, but nothing too dangerous. The ski edges were sharp and held really well.
Along the way, we met a friendly Slovenian who first photographed us from a nearby slope before coming over to say hello. A few of the photos from that day are thanks to him, so he deserves another thank you here as well.
By the end of it, one thing felt fairly clear: Komna is a place we will return to.
Čvrsnica, Bosnia and Herzegovina
While the ski touring season kept moving, another winter thread was unfolding in parallel through the Higher Mountaineering School, organized by PD Belveder in cooperation with PD Paklenica.
For me, as a member of the guide station in PD Paklenica and a B Standard trainee (certification for guiding in winter conditions) it was a good chance to build new skills, repeat old ones, and collect the active days needed for going on the exam.
That weekend took us to Blidinje, where the main exercise was bivouacking — digging and spending the night in improvised snow shelters. We left Zadar on Friday afternoon and reached Orlove Stine that evening. The next morning, after breakfast and in full winter gear, we headed up from Masna Luka toward Marenda.
Lower down, there were already hints of spring, but from around 1,500 meters upward it was full winter again. At around 1,720 meters we chose our spots and started digging. A quick check with the avalanche probe showed more than enough snow — the full 230 cm disappeared in.
Some worked solo, some in pairs, and after a few hours the shelters were ready. The next day we continued toward Pločno, moving through serious winter terrain with crampons and ice axe. Higher up, with exposed ground and large cornices ahead, we had to stop and make the call to turn back.
That was probably the most important part of the weekend. The mountain always has the final word, and this time it was clear that the right decision was to return.
On the way down, we used the descent to practice ice axe techniques and other movement skills before returning to the bivouac area to collect the rest of our gear. From there, we descended back to the cars in Masna Luka. The weekend ended the right way — with food, a final exchange of impressions at Restaurant Staza, and then the drive home.
Popova Šapka / Sharr Mountain , North Macedonia
From there, the winter stretched a little further south.
The four of us from the ski touring section of PD Paklenica headed to Popova Šapka, drawn by the wide-open terrain of Šar mountain and the chance to spend a few days properly working on our powder skiing. Part of the plan was also to get to know the area better for future ski touring days, and for that the best starting point was catskiing with the team from Eskimo Freeride.
As for the snow, we arrived at exactly the right time. Fresh snow had fallen just before we got there — it had started the day before, and when we arrived there were still a few flakes in the air.
After breakfast and a quick introduction to the guides, we headed out toward the snowcats and into the first day. The weather still had other ideas. The upper part of the mountain was sitting under cloud and fog, so the planned safari tour toward Titov Vrv was off the table. Instead, we stayed on the other side of the range and in lower terrain.
In the end, it did not matter much. There was snow everywhere, and we got exactly what we had come for. The only clumsy moment of the day came after our lunch break. Heading into the next run, I must have left the zipper on my jacket slightly open, because at some point my phone slipped out while skiing. In those conditions, there was no real chance of finding it again, and since it was on airplane mode, even the usual tracking options were useless. It was the third phone I had managed to leave behind somewhere along the way — if nothing else, each one had at least ended up in a beautiful place: Lastovo, Dugi Otok, and now Sharr mountain. A good reminder to check everything properly, and then check it once more. No rushing, no carelessness. And honestly, a leash is probably the smartest solution 😅.
By the last two runs, the day really came together — deep powder, fresh lines, and that feeling when the whole trip suddenly makes complete sense.
The whole thing was made easier by the team at Eskimo Freeride, who ran it all in a very smooth and professional way.
The next day, we decided to go on a tour instead catskiing. After breakfast, we headed toward Anteni Peak (2531m) , gaining close to 900 vertical meters before reaching our high point. The cloud still lingered from around 2,200 meters upward, so the views opened only in short moments, but even that was enough to get a sense of the space and scale of Šar Planina.
Since the weather still had not cleared, and the forecast had once again promised more than it delivered, we spent the third day mixing things up. The original idea had been a bigger day out, hopefully with a proper safari tour to Titov Vrv and around 1,000 vertical meters of skiing, but the fog in the upper zone still would not let go. So instead, we used the snowcat as high as it would take us, skied one run down, then switched to the lift and kept using the off-piste terrain to continue the real point of the trip: training, adapting, and getting better in deep snow.
Unfortunately, that was also our last day before the long drive home. We were all a little sad that the mountain never gave us a clear enough window to head toward Titov Vrv, but maybe that is not the worst thing. It leaves a reason to come back.
In the end, it was still a very productive few days — good snow, good terrain, and real progress in powder skiing. The drive back took thirteen hours and turned into a small adventure of its own, but even that did not change the feeling that the whole trip had been worth it.
Easter on Velebit, Croatia
Easter brought us back to Velebit once again.
Compared to the last two or three winters, this one had been far more generous with snow, enough that skiing on Velebit at Easter was still possible — even if not that long ago, that would have felt like nothing unusual.
We chose a two-day tour from the Lika side, starting from the village of Medak toward Marasovac and Struge, with the plan to continue to Babin Vrh the following day.
As soon as we passed through the Sveti Rok tunnel and saw the northern side of the Velebit ridge still holding its white cover, we knew we had made the right decision.
We started early. Down low, spring had already taken over, but after a little more than an hour, at around 1,000 meters, we finally reached the point where we could put the skis on, fix the skins, and continue the way we had hoped to from the start.
There was something special about moving through the forest while it was still wrapped in snow. Along the way, we came across bear tracks in the snow — close enough to remind us whose ground we were moving through, though this time we did not meet any of them in person.
When we reached the Marasovac spring, we decided to dig it out and clear it properly so we would not have to waste time melting snow later. After that short work session, we continued toward Struge shelter, where we would spend the night.
Once we had settled in, there were still the usual practical things to take care of. Some of us went back for water from Marasovac, while others gathered and cut wood for the stove. Only after that did the day properly slow down.
Then came the part that always makes places like Struge worth returning to: a warm shelter, dinner, a bit of wine, and that simple kind of comfort that feels earned after a full day outside.
The next morning, after coffee and breakfast, we headed for Babin Vrh (1,738m).
We were met by clear skies and strong sun — the kind that makes you wish you had packed a hat, though we will probably remember that next time. The snow was still in good shape. It had not softened much yet, despite the warmer period already beginning, so we moved upward quickly and without too much sinking or trouble.
Lower down, the temperature had started to do its work. The snow became heavier, wetter, and slower, and it took more effort to keep the skis moving. But that upper part stayed with us — and that was more than enough to be happy with.
Even though all of us had something waiting at home to eat, as it was still Easter weekend, we wanted to round it all off properly. So before heading back to our own tables, we sealed the weekend with a shared lunch at the old reliable “Minja” in Zaton Obrovački.
Čvrsnica / Pločno and Mali Vilinac, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Some places do not let go after just one visit. Čvrsnica was one of them. After our weekend there with the Higher Mountaineering School, when we had to turn back below Pločno, it felt only natural to return. This time, we came back as the ski touring section, with skis, better conditions, and the hope that the mountain might finally let us go a little further.
On Friday afternoon, the four of us headed for Blidinje and the Orlove Stine hut. We arrived just before the end of the day and settled into a space that was already warm, thanks to the people who had lit the stove before we got there. After unpacking and sharing whatever food each of us had brought, we went over the plan for the next morning.
The idea was simple: wake up at five, have breakfast and coffee, and head for Borićevac, where we would start the climb toward Marenda and Mandaruša. That is exactly how it went. By the time we reached Borićevac, the skis were already on our backs, since the lower slopes had melted out. After about an hour and a half of carrying, we finally reached continuous snow at around 1,600 meters and made the first transition.
Not long after, we arrived at Marenda, where winter still held its ground despite the date and the spring warmth below. From there it was already clear that cornices guarded the usual exit line toward Pločno almost everywhere you looked. Even so, we continued toward Mandaruša to get a closer look and make sure there was not some cleaner way through.
There was not. So instead of forcing the obvious line, we shifted toward the eastern side of Pločno. Looking at the map, following the contours, and reading the terrain carefully turned out to be the right call. We reached the foot of the summit, skinned as high as we could, and then put the skis on our backs for the final steep section, finishing it with ice axes.
At the top, we stopped just long enough to eat something, take in the view, and let the moment settle a little. Then we downclimbed onto the eastern ridge, found a good place to click into the skis, and started the descent. By then the snow had softened compared to the morning, but it still held well and made for a really satisfying ski down.
Near the end of the day, on the way back toward Borićevac, we passed the small house that had stood quiet earlier that morning. This time it was no longer empty. Its owners had arrived for the weekend to escape the city, and that unexpected stop turned into the perfect end to a nine-hour tour — a short conversation, a couple of the last beers they had in the house, and another reminder that it is rare to meet people in the mountains who are in a bad mood.
The second day was reserved for Mali Vilinac. Since it was a shorter tour in both distance and vertical gain, we gave ourselves the luxury of waking up an hour later before driving to Risovac, where the tour began.
At the parking area, we met a group of ski tourers from different parts of Bosnia and Herzegovina who were heading for the same summit. They pointed us toward a line that was meant to save time and keep the skis on for longer. The advice was well meant, but lower down, where the snow was already thin, it led us straight into dwarf pine. What followed was less efficient than planned and much more of an adventure.
Eventually we broke free of the pine and reached proper snow again. Once we gained the ridge, the whole mountain opened up, and what stood out most was Pločno — along with the line from the day before, still visible across the slope.
At the summit of Mali Vilinac, the same group we had met in the morning was already there, cutting birthday cake for one of their friends, who was celebrating his fiftieth. It was a good summit scene, and a welcome bit of sugar before the descent.
The slope below was more than enough to make us forget the battle with the pine for a while. What had looked like the shorter and easier day still stretched into seven and a half hours, but that hardly mattered. It was worth it, as it usually is. There was no real reason to hurry back down anyway — the only thing waiting below was the road home and the return to Zadar.
Grossvenediger (3666m), National Park Hohe Tauren, Austria
As a final outing and a fitting way to close the ski touring season, five of us headed for Austria over the extended May Day weekend. It felt like the right last chapter of the winter — a new place for all of us, a proper objective, and a summit big enough to stay in the mind long before we reached it.
We drove to Virgen on Thursday afternoon, spent the night there, and the next morning continued toward Johannishütte. Since the snow had already melted almost all the way to the hut, we used the shuttle and saved our energy for an acclimatization tour and a first look at the terrain ahead.
Spring was already fully awake there. We came across chamois almost immediately, marmots were everywhere, and after about forty-five minutes we found the first continuous snow along the stream and finally stepped onto skis. The higher we went, the more the terrain opened up. A little below Mullwitzaderl, after around 1,000 vertical meters and on 3,100 meters of altitude, we decided that was enough for the day. With Großvenediger (3666m) still ahead, it made more sense to save something for the summit push.
The next morning, after breakfast at five, we set off early with one goal: keep the pace steady and do not waste energy too soon. The early start helped. The temperature was pleasant, the snow still firm, and the first part of the route already familiar from the day before.
After a long but steady climb, we reached the summit at around two in the afternoon. The weather stayed fully on our side, so there was time to enjoy the moment properly before turning to the part that is always waited for with a little extra eagerness — the ski down.
By the time we got back below, it felt like everything had come together just as it should. In the end, it had been more than ten hours on the move, around 1,600 meters of ascent, and roughly 19 kilometers in total. A proper day out, and a fitting way to finish the season. We had spent the winter trying to make the most of every chance we got to go into the mountains, and this felt like a good reward for that effort.
On the way home, we slowed things down a little and stopped at Aljažev dom in Vrata valley for lunch with a beautiful view toward the north face of Triglav, where Loče pointed out some of the alpinist lines he had once climbed.
We got back to Zadar happy, fulfilled, and at the same time a little sad. Summer was already waiting, and the sea was taking over again. But even so, the thought that it would be another eight months before the return of proper snow is not something that leaves anyone completely indifferent. Still, the sea has a powerful way of healing all wounds and making the wait much easier.
Reflections
People who have never tried ski touring often ask the same question: why go uphill on skis when there are easier ways to get up the mountain?
From where I stand, coming into it first as someone who already loved moving through winter terrain, it never felt pointless. It felt more like a natural continuation of something that was already there. Still, I often wondered whether I would ever really be able to try ski touring, because I learned to ski later in life, not as a child. For a long time, I also thought that ski touring demanded a kind of perfect piste skier before anything else. Of course, that helps. But over time I realized it is not the decisive thing.
What matters more is being willing to learn, adapt, and let the mountain speak in its own way. The terrain changes, the snow changes, the weather changes, and with them your movement, judgment, and confidence have to keep changing too. Maybe that is the part I have come to value most. Ski touring is not something you simply figure out once and then own. It is a constant process of learning, refining, enjoying the challenge, and realizing there is always more to improve. It is not about chasing perfection, It is about learning to enjoy everything in between.
Yes, there are easier ways to get uphill. But for me, it was never only about the descent. If there is no joy in the climb as well — in the effort, the silence, the changing snow, the long hours outside, the time shared with the people you are out there with, and the memories that come with it — then the whole thing probably loses its point.
Maybe that is the simplest way to put it. If, after four, five, or six hours of climbing, that moment before the descent makes everything feel worthwhile, and if at the bottom your first thought is that you would gladly turn around and go up again, then it probably makes sense. If not, that is fine too. Not everything has to be for everyone.
Learn more
With winter slowly coming to an end, it is time to put the winter equipment away and turn back toward the sea. If you are still thinking about your next holiday and a Croatia sea kayaking adventure sounds like your kind of plan, the Adriatic still has plenty of space left to explore. And if you are drawn to places that feel quieter and less crowded than Dubrovnik or Hvar, then Dugi Otok and the Kornati Islands might be exactly the right place to look. You can check our upcoming dates for multi-day expeditions, or, if you prefer something simpler and more flexible, take a look at our accommodation-based tours as well.
See you on the sea🌊
Ivan Bajlović/Garma Team