There are some days when you don’t plan an adventure.
You simply stumble upon one.
You follow a path because it looks interesting. You turn a corner because you wonder what’s beyond it. You feel the warm sun on your skin, the wind rushing through your hair and, for a few precious hours, forget about everything waiting for you back home.
That was our last day in Split, Croatia.
And somehow, without even realising it, we saved one of our best days until last.
We didn’t want to venture too far from the city, so we started searching for a beach nearby. A little exploring on the map revealed several beaches tucked away inside Marjan Park.
We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.
- George Bernard Shaw
What we discovered was so much more than a beach.
Marjan Forest felt like a secret world hiding in plain sight.
Nearly 300 hectares of Mediterranean pine forest stretch across the Marjan peninsula, with winding paths, hidden coves, dramatic rocks and impossibly blue water appearing through the trees.
And that sea…
That incredible Dalmatian blue.
If you’ve read my article How the Dream Started, you’ll understand why I keep coming back to that colour. There is something about the Adriatic that doesn’t quite seem real. The blue is so vivid that it almost looks painted.
We parked near the entrance, where the road was gated off to vehicles. Somehow, that made the whole place feel even more peaceful. No traffic. No noise. Just trees, sunshine and the promise of discovering what was beyond the path.
The moment we stepped inside, I couldn’t stop saying:
“How did we not know this was here?”
We followed the path through the trees, the heat building around us. It was 34 degrees and, although I’m certainly not complaining about the sunshine, a ten-minute walk in that temperature can feel like half an hour.
And there it was.
The sea.
Blue, sparkling and stretching endlessly into the distance.
We followed the path down towards the water and came across a little cocktail bar and coffee shop perched above the beach. Sun loungers were available to hire for €20 for the day, but you didn’t need one to enjoy this beautiful little corner of Marjan.
We sat overlooking the sea, cocktails in hand, watching the occasional boat glide past.
For a moment, there was nowhere else we needed to be.
Then reality crept back in.
We were flying home the next day, and we needed one final swim in that beautiful Adriatic water.
So we made our way back to the hotel to collect our beach bag.
On the way, my husband casually asked:
“Shall we hire a bike when we come back?”
Now, that sounds wonderfully adventurous.
Sporty, even.
The reality was much simpler.
Neither of us could face walking back through the heat.
And so, rather than conquering Marjan Forest on foot like the energetic explorers we imagined ourselves to be, we did what any sensible traveller would do.
We hired e-bikes.
And thank goodness we did.
Because Marjan isn’t exactly flat.
There are some serious hills, and while I’d like to tell you that we were embracing the challenge, the electric assistance was very much our friend.
We hadn’t been bike riding together properly for years. We’d ridden with the children when they were younger, but this felt different.
There were no children to keep up with.
No schedules.
No responsibilities.
Just the two of us, two e-bikes and an entire peninsula waiting to be explored.
And suddenly, we were having fun.
Proper, silly, carefree fun.
We raced each other.
We laughed.
We shouted.
We joked.
We flew down the hills with the wind rushing past us.
For the first time in a while, we felt completely alive.
And perhaps that’s why this day stayed with me.
It wasn’t just the scenery.
It was how the scenery made us feel.
Our first stop was back at the beach. We found a shady spot beneath a tree, laid out our towels and headed straight into the sea.
The water was cool, salty and wonderfully clear.
Another sailing boat appeared in the distance, something that seemed to happen constantly throughout our time in Croatia.
We watched as a family anchored their boat offshore before swimming towards the beach.
I remember thinking, How incredible would that life be?
Sailing to your next destination.
Dropping anchor wherever you fancy.
Swimming ashore.
No rushing.
No timetable.
Just following the coastline and seeing where the day takes you.
What a life.
We spent an hour or two enjoying the beach, knowing this would be our last swim for a while. Tomorrow we’d be heading home, back to normality, back to routines and everything we’d temporarily left behind.
If we’d discovered this place earlier in our trip, we would have spent an entire day here. There were picnic tables dotted around, secluded beaches to discover and enough paths to keep you exploring for hours.
But there was still so much more to see.
So we reluctantly left the beach, climbed back onto our bikes and continued deeper into Marjan.
We soon discovered that there were several beaches scattered along the coastline, each one seemingly more beautiful than the last.
Then we decided to take a side road.
It was steep.
Very steep.
But by now I’d mastered the gears on my e-bike, and I was feeling rather pleased with myself.
We were cycling along when suddenly I shouted:
“STOP!”
My husband immediately panicked and slammed on the brakes, convinced something was wrong.
It wasn’t.
I’d spotted something incredible.
Windows.
Not ordinary windows.
Windows carved into the rock face of the mountain.
Hermits are said to have sought this secluded area of Marjan for prayer and reflection
They looked like secret openings hidden inside the cliffs, as though someone had created their own little rooms within the mountainside.
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.
We carried on cycling, still talking about what we’d just seen.
Then, a little further along, my husband suddenly shouted:
“STOP!”
He’d spotted more.
This time we noticed a path leading upwards, so we left our bikes behind and decided to see where it went.
And this is where the day became something completely unexpected.
Because sometimes, the best places are the ones you don’t know are there.
We climbed the steps, surrounded by trees, with no idea what we’d find at the top.
And then we saw it.
A small, ancient church.
Hidden amongst the trees.
High above the sea.
Tucked into the mountainside beside the caves.
It felt almost impossible that we’d stumbled across somewhere so historic simply by following a path.
And then I started wondering about the stories hidden here.
Who had walked these steps before us?
How many people had stood in this exact spot?
What had life been like here centuries ago?
And why had someone chosen this remote, beautiful place to live?
It turns out that St Jerome, the famous religious writer and hermit, is associated with the caves here. He is said to have lived in one of them, while hermits later sought out this secluded corner of Marjan for prayer, reflection and contemplation.
The original church was eventually destroyed, but parts of it remain within today’s Church, which dates back to the 15th century. Over time, renovations changed its appearance, blending Gothic and Renaissance influences.
Church of St. Jerome
15th century stone Church tucked into the cliffs of Marjan Park Forest in Split, Croatia
Standing there, looking out towards the sea, I couldn’t help imagining what life must have been like for those who lived here.
Their world would have been so different from ours.
No cars.
No phones.
No emails.
No constant noise.
Just the sea, the trees, the caves and the changing light across the landscape.
Imagine waking up every morning and looking through one of those windows.
Perhaps that was the whole point.
To escape.
To be still.
To think.
To pray.
To write.
To simply exist.
And even now, centuries later, there was something incredibly peaceful about the place.
By the time we’d finished exploring the church and caves, the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky.
We had to return the e-bikes.
So we climbed back on and continued through Marjan, making one final stop at the Church of Our Lady of Bethlehem. Another Gothic-style church, believed to date back to before the 1500s, it has since been reconstructed after falling into disrepair.
Then came the best part.
The road began to slope downwards.
Finally.
Downhill.
After all those steep climbs, we could relax, pick up some speed and let the bikes carry us through the fading light.
As we cycled, I thought about everything we’d experienced that day.
The sunshine.
The pine forest.
The impossibly blue sea.
The hidden beaches.
The caves.
The ancient churches.
The boats drifting across the horizon.
The laughter.
The freedom.
And the sheer joy of doing something spontaneous together.
It had been one of those rare days when everything just falls into place.
There was only one disappointment.
We hadn’t seen enough.
Marjan was bigger, more beautiful and more intriguing than we’d realised, and by the time we left, I knew we’d barely scratched the surface.
So if you’re visiting Split, don’t make the mistake we nearly made.
Don’t overlook Marjan.
Take a picnic.
Take your swimming things.
Leave the schedule behind.
Follow the paths.
Find the hidden beaches.
Explore the caves.
Stop when something catches your eye.
And if you’re feeling adventurous, hire an e-bike.
You’ll thank me when you’re flying downhill with the wind in your face.
Because Marjan Forest isn’t just somewhere to visit.
It’s somewhere to feel.
And for one unforgettable day, we weren’t thinking about tomorrow, the flight home or everything waiting for us when we returned.
We were simply two people on bikes, chasing the sunshine through the trees.
Laughing.
Racing.
Exploring.
Free.
And maybe that’s what travel is really about — not just discovering new places, but rediscovering a little bit of yourself along the way.
