As a group, we have wanted to go to Croatia for over twenty years. We first heard about it when we were living in England. Back then, it was called Yugoslavia, and sailing there seemed like the next logical step after exploring Greece and Turkey. The 1991 war for separation put an end to all that. It was five years before the country would be at peace, and many more before the tourist industry returned. We settled for making sure that we had thoroughly searched the Caribbean for the best rum punches and conch salad.
Still, the Dalmatian coast seemed like unfinished business, so when it came time to choose a location for our odd-year sailing trip with George and Cathy (and now Alex and Lucy), we all agreed that we needed to finally see Croatia. Older, wiser and more experienced, we were going to charter a bareboat this time, rather than a flotilla as we would’ve years ago. Little did we know that not having local knowledge would mean that we would never be able to find sufficient ice for survival.
One big difference from twenty years ago was that our crew is now two stronger – Alex (12) and Lucy (11). This would be their third sailing trip with us. To say they are energetic is a pretty strong understatement. They are focused entirely on two things: swimming and eating, sometimes at the same time. We actually witnessed Lucy eating popcorn that was floating on the water, and both of them had to be frequently reminded that the Olympic judges tend to mark you down if they see you entering the water with your mouth full. They quickly learned as the trip progressed that anchoring out means swimming, tying up in a harbor does not (usually it’s too dirty and there’s too much boat traffic). “Will there be swimming?” were the most frequent words we heard from them.
We all arrived from various places at various times - I came from Angola the weekend before we were to leave. I had a two-day business trip to Aberdeen and I went directly there from Angola. Arriving somewhere after a month of work and not having knee-knocking jet lag was heavenly. Liz joined me in Aberdeen a day after I arrived. After enjoying the rain in Scotland for a couple of days, both of us flew to London to meet George, Cathy and the kids for a few days being tourists in London.
Our four days in London was pretty much about pubs and the usual haunts – Tower of London, Greenwich, and a few others. We walked a lot and tried to be as frugal as possible. At the best of times London can be shockingly expensive, but now with the dollar exchange rate around two-to-one, you felt like you needed to take out a loan just to buy a cup of coffee.
We caught a charter flight from London on Sunday, and were met at the airport by very helpful and efficient local Sunsail representatives. They put us on a bus with a number of other sailors, all looking like they needed a tan and talking nervously about their upcoming adventure. Some were bareboaters like us, others were bound for another bay for the start of a flotilla. Funny how we now look down our noses at flotilla sailors now – 20 years ago those people would have included us. Flotilla sailors tend to be a little less experienced and a little more prone to be party animals. Humm, come to think of it, that was us!
We drove past Dubrovnik on the way to the marina, the Sunsail representative chatting happily away about Croatia, teaching us a few words (like “beer”, which is the same as Russian, “piva”) in the local language, and pointing out a few sites. The city looked beautiful from the bus, but we would not see it again until the end of our charter. The marina was nice and new, but some of the buildings were clearly very old. Alongside the buildings there were also very old looking grounds and vineyards, now given over to tee shirted sailors carting around their sea bags and looking for a beer. Progress happens. We found out later that the building and grounds were once the summer residence of a wealthy family from Dubrovnik.
The usual skippers briefing was given by a somewhat timid young man standing in front of a canvas map of the sailing area, often mumbling and standing in front of the areas he was trying to describe. Between the grinder in the background and the people occasionally walking down the sidewalk in front of us, I can’t say it was the most complete skippers briefing I’ve ever attended. I took notes on the back of a set of turnover notes from my job. Now that I think about it, a somewhat symbolic act!
After spending a couple of hours shopping for provisions and getting our boat briefing, we headed out the river, passing under a huge bridge, heading for Lupud, a short 1 ½ hour motor and sail. We anchored in sand off a nice looking beach with a small restaurant. Half of the beach appeared to be given over to naturists, which astonished the kids who were fighting for the binoculars and squealing. We had a nice pasta dinner on board, watching the sun go down as we tried to use up our small ice supply on gin and tonics. We were to find out later that getting ice would be one of our biggest challenges. After that, stormy seas and rocky approaches seemed considerably easier than trying to convince a restaurant owner to part with a few cubes of ice.
The next morning established our routine for the rest of the trip: roll out of the bunk, try to make coffee (which we never got right on this trip), have eggs or whatever else there was in the fridge, maybe have a bloody mary, then head off to the next port, usually around noon. This day we went up a long narrow passage to Ston, about a three hour motor. In places he inbound passage was so narrow and shallow that we thought we may not make it in. The guy giving us the boat briefing said the boat was 1.9 meters deep, but in several places the depth sounder showed 1.5. We tied up alongside a small town quay, the only boat there. A local official showed up on a bicycle to get our mooring fee – 100 Kuna (20 dollars}. Nice guy who spoke no English, he was clearly experienced at communicating without the need for language, using notes pre-written on his receipt book. Up the steep hill in front of us was an ancient protective wall that the Croatians told us was second only to the Great Wall of China. Apparently, it was built to protect the local salt flats from invaders, but it almost appeared to be constructed to protect the town from invasion from space – the greatest level of security seemed to be from the direction of the top of the hill. We climbed the steps to a high point and took in the view. Amazing.
The next afternoon we went back our shallow passage and had a four hour motor the to Loka Polace, on the island of Mljet. The entire end of the island was given over to a National Park. Cruising down the passage to the anchorage was magical – about a quarter mile wide and a couple miles long, with steep, green hills on either side. The water was flat and the boat’s wake spread out behind us. Our anchorage was at the end of a beautiful tree lined cove. The nearby town had several restaurants along the quay, many offering stern-to moorings for those who didn’t want to rough it at anchor. We paid 90 Kuna (18 dollars) each to take a bus and a boat to a small island in the middle of a lake, which was itself in the middle of the island. It felt a little strange to be on an island on an island. Alex, Lucy and I swam in cold clear water next to an ancient chapel. We skipped the bus back and walked through the forest back to the main town on very well maintained paths.
We spent two nights at anchor in Mljet, enjoying the onshore restaurants and pubs. Mornings in the tree-lined anchorages were quiet and calm. Beautiful.
The following morning we headed for Orebic, a nice little resort town on the Peljesac peninsula. We moored stern to the quay charging us 160 Kuna (32 dollars) to moor the boat overnight, but they had full water and electricity hookups, so we took the opportunity to fill our tanks and get our fridge nice and cold. We had a nice walk through the town and down the quayside, which turned into a shorefront road. Finally tired of walking, we stopped at a little restaurant, sheltered by thick pines, for a nice seafood dinner. I saw the cook down by the water picking up a net bag that had the muscles that were to be part of my seafood platter, and then watched him put them on a fire just a few feet from our table.
The following day we decided to push on to Hvar, a 30 mile sail away. The cloudy and sometimes rainy weather had finally turned fair, but the wind had died, leaving us with a six-hour motor to look forward to. We made the most of it, playing the stereo loud and cutting up, dancing on the deck as the boat made its way through the water on autopilot. Finally, the wind picked up and we had a nice upwind sail to the Hvar town. The kids flew a kite until it came untied giving us a chance to practice a man overboard exercise to pick it up. The kite survived.
Hvar was a zoo. The tiny harbor was lined with huge power boats along the town quay, and all manner of boats anchored in the middle. I don’t remember when I’ve seen boats anchored so close together. All the yachts had fenders hanging on both sides as if they were waiting for the inevitable collision with another anchored boat. We managed to find a spot that had a little lower density. But as soon as we anchored, several other boats anchored so close we practically could’ve shook their hands.
We dinghied over to the town, which was also packed with people. In the old town square, a huge stage had been erected directly in front of the 1000-year-old cathedral. I appeared that we arrived the day of a huge celebration, complete with talent shows, TV coverage, and, we would find later, a fireworks display. The fireworks kicked off at around 10pm – we found out we were anchored about 50 yards from the fireworks barge, so we felt like we were practically inside the display! The final act finished at 2am, which made sleeping a bit of a problem.
We’d had enough of crowded Hvar, so we the next morning we headed for Vis, just a few hours south. We stayed overnight in a little bay that reminded us of some of the old days in Greece – just a few boats and a single restaurant with tables on the sand. We ordered our dinner two hours in advance – baby goat. It became the centerpiece of our celebration of Alex’s 13th birthday. The restaurant made a cake with layers of crepes and ice cream to top the whole thing off, which even Alex couldn’t finish.
We headed to Komiza next and moored in the harbor stern to a seawall. A nice little village with several outdoor cafes and an ancient stone tower at the end. The tower had been turned into a museum of fishing, run by a pleasant and garrulous old man anxious to show us how the magnetism of a piece of local stone would spin a suspended needle. We immediately decided that depending on the ship’s compass for navigation may not be prudent.
When we arrived in Komiza, there were only a few charter yachts tied to the quay. By late afternoon the quay was completely filled and new arrivals were looking for slots in the busy harbor to anchor.
We discovered why the following day when we dropped our mooring and headed one hour south to Bisevo, the site of a locally famous “Blue Cave”. Our tourist guide instructed us to arrive at the site of the cave between 9:30 and 11:30 to get the maximum effect of the morning light shining into the cave, making the water inside a deep blue. When we arrived at the site of the cave, at least a dozen yachts were milling around the entrance. All were dropping off their dinghy loads of people to row to the entrance of the cave, pay their 20 Kuna to the man waiting in a boat at the entrance, and row inside. With no possibility of anchoring, the yachts were left to mill around while their crews enjoyed the spectacle. Liz slept and I was left driving the boat in circles while George, Cathy and the kids went into the cave with our dinghy.
While planning the route the night before, I asked Alex to choose the next anchorage. His specifications were simple: the shortest sail possible and a spot for anchoring, so that they could swim. He chose a small cove on the west end of Korcula. It turned out to be a great spot – we were the only boat on the anchorage. Alex and Lucy were in the water practically before the anchor was set.
We were awakened in the night by a thunderstorm. George and I got up to close hatches and review our situation. Eventually, I worked up the nerve to brave the cold rain to switch on the engine and go to the bow to let out more anchor chain to help prevent dragging. Everyone was counting the seconds between flash and thunder, hoping our mast didn’t look too attractive to a lightning bolt.
Our grumpy and sleep-deprived crew picked up anchor the next morning and headed for Lastovo, about three hours south. We’d been told of a somewhat hidden harbor on the southern coast. We found it, a nice protected harbor with a single restaurant and a new floating dock where we got water and power.
We hired a taxi to take us to Lastovo town, located not on the coast but perched on a mountaintop on the center of the island. The place looked OLD, the narrow stone streets were worn from hundreds of years of footsteps. We stopped at the church where Cathy, Lucy and Alex lit candles and said a prayer, and got provisions at the town grocery.
George commented the it appeared the town was dying. Clearly, there were numerous buildings that appeared extremely old that were no longer being used and appeared ready to fall down.
The next ay was our longest sail yet – 40 miles to the far eastern end of Mljet. As it was getting close to the end of the charter, we wanted to get within an easy sail of Dubrovnik with possibly a single final stop on the way. Our destination was Saplunara, described in the pilot as a “pleasant sandy beach”, and it turned out to be just that. Everyone was happy that we didn’t have to anchor – the owner of a local restaurant was kind enough to provide floating moorings. Cathy made us jambalaya, something we had all been waiting for.
For our last night we returned to Lopud, this time to Lopud town. We didn’t expect much, the pilot listed it as a town of 4OO people. It turned out to be local tourist destination, complete with topless sunbathing and ferryboats filled with sunburned sun worshipers. I guess by this time our proximity to Dubrovnik was becoming a factor. I was a beautiful town. One somewhat mysterious aspect was a set of stone steps leading to a maze of paths amongst ancient trees and stonework. George pointed out that the long central entrance path, bordered by thin stone pillars and terminated by a carved stone table, appeared to align with the setting sun, and would probably align perfectly with the sunset in the upcoming equinox. Who knows what it would’ve been used for?
We had a short one-hour slog into twenty knot winds to return to Dubrovnik early Saturday morning. We wanted to get there early so that we would have a chance to visit the old town. After a quick and relatively cheap bus ride, found the town overrun with tourists, mainly from the four huge cruise ships we passed on the way back to the marina that morning. Still, the old town was amazing, ancient churches still in use, stone streets worn slick from hundreds of years of footsteps, all surrounded by walls with forts at just about every corner. We stopped for cold drinks at a bar that was literally perched on the cliff outside the wall, about 50 feet above the water. While we sat, a young man jumped off one of the rocks into the sea, and swam to a waiting boat.
George, Alex and I paid the 50 Kuna fee to walk the city wall. Listed as being a one-mile walk, the guidebook neglected to mention that most of the distance was either up or down stairs! We had dinner in nice sidewalk cafe, and as we finished a small jazz band started playing on the steps at the main square. Liz and I danced – somewhat appropriate for the last night in town.
The next day was our last, and after a day just hanging out at the marina pool watching the kids turn into prunes, we headed to the airport and our charter back to London
As these trips come to an end, l always tend to reflect on the things l will miss, and the things l won’t.
I’ll miss: waking up after a deep sleep, going on deck and enjoying the quiet morning. Playful arguments about what day it is. Saying “Good Morning” in the local language and getting a smiling reply. Those moments of bliss when the breeze freshens and the boat surges forward, lines creaking and water rushing by. Endless domino games in small tavernas.
I won’t miss: pump toilets, boat coffee, noisy neighbors, putting the motor on the dinghy, rain, and of course, no one has any ice!
Our general impressions: the food is nothing to write home about – it tends to be a little redundant and without spice. Ajvar was the one saving grace – a red pepper sauce that Liz fell in love with. Unfortunately, the only evidence of this delicacy was taken away from Liz at the airport when she forgot it was in her carry on bag. Ice cream seems to be everywhere, locally call “slado led”, which the kids quickly learned. People are very friendly. Prices seem a bit high – we rarely had a restaurant meal for less than $90 for six people, and more frequently it was more like $120 with drinks. The scenery and the old towns are spectacular. Sailing was great, but we were frequently forced to motor as there wasn’t enough wind to sail. Every harbor we stopped in was excellent, with many having water and electricity available – a real luxury compared to other places we have sailed. We were able to find coves with little or no company, something we had not seen since the early days in Greece and Turkey.
There is no question that Croatia is making the most of its status as the newest sailing and tourist destination. I fear that it is at risk of going the way of other Mediterranean holiday spots – perhaps they will learn that retaining their charm lies in limiting the high rise hotels and the timeshares, and maximizing the incredible beauty.
We certainly intend to return.