Croatian cathedrals are usually built of brick and timber, so the first odd thing about St James in Šibenik is that it is made entirely of stone, vaulted and roofed in carefully shaped slabs that lock together without a scrap of wood or mortar in the structure. It took more than a century to finish, from the 1430s into the 1530s, and the work passed through the hands of Juraj Dalmatinac and later Niccolò Fiorentino, which is why Gothic and Renaissance ideas sit in the same building. UNESCO added it to the World Heritage list in 2000.
Walk round the east end and look up at the frieze. Seventy-one carved heads run along the apse, men, women and children, and the story goes that the sculptor used ordinary townspeople as models. Some are grumpy, some look surprised, one or two look faintly drunk. It is the kind of detail that makes you stand in a side street for ten minutes with a neck ache.
Šibenik itself is a proper working town of about thirty-seven thousand people, so it has fuel, supermarkets, and cafes in the old lanes that climb up from the waterfront. It sits where the Krka river reaches the sea through a long, deep channel, and the fortress of St Nicholas guards the entrance. If you are on the day out from Zadar, the coast road, the old Jadranska magistrala, gives you the sea on one side and bare grey karst on the other, with the island-studded Adriatic changing colour with every kilometre. It is a busy road in summer, so patience pays, and the bura wind can blow hard across exposed sections in winter and early spring.
Upstream from town lies Krka National Park, whose travertine waterfalls are a good reason to extend the day, though swimming in the main falls is no longer allowed. Vodice and Brodarica along the shore have beaches and fish restaurants, a decent lunch option if the old town's tourist menus feel too staged. Go early, before the tour groups, and the cathedral square is nearly empty, the stone pale and the pigeons the only crowd.