GIOVINAZZO, ITALY – Leg Four begins with the skipper’s big birthday weekend in a town that knows how to celebrate, Budva, Montenegro. After a couple of nights of mayhem, the leg takes Geja overnight across the Adriatic for some fun and adventure along Italy’s Puglia coast to Trani. Four-time Geja crewmate Sven unites with three-timer Lukas for the first time.
(Saturday, August 4) Leg Four officially began this evening with the arrival of Lukas from Switzerland. Sven was already around, having spent most of Leg Three aboard Geja. Big Steve, a holdover from Leg Three, is sticking
around for the weekend’s festivities. This was our first night in Budva, and spirits were high. Spirits were also being consumed, combined with enough energy drinks to really get us going, except for Sven, who needed a lengthy mid-pre-party nap due to overindulgence. He did rally eventually, and we finally left the boat at 11pm, a bit late considering that the bars in town close at 1am.
Having been in Budva twice before, I was excited to show the place to the guys. We checked out what I call the “cheesy strip,” a row of really tacky open-air clubs along
the beach promenade. There, turbofolk music blares from all directions, drinks are pricey, and people just stand around and stare at other people. Like much nightlife in these parts, places aren’t really designed for people to interact. Still, it’s worth having a look, as there’s for sure nothing like it back home.
Probably the best place in Budva for those over 25 is the cluster of bars just outside the old town walls. The place can seat well over 1000 people at raised tables and stools, ideal for mingling. We kicked it there until the 1am closing, chatting with a couple of Swedish sisters. Together we comprised some of the few western tourists in Budva, a place otherwise dominated by Serbians, Russians, and Ukrainians.
New in Budva this year is the massive nightclub with the awkward name, Top Hill. It’s built into a hill way above the town, and it holds thousands. I’d never seen anything like it before! It cost a mere five euros to enter, unlike its
counterparts in Ibiza that are rumored to charge a 50-euro entry. In awe of the place, we hung out for a couple of hours, drinking and dancing and reminding ourselves that nothing like this exists where any of us is from.
(Sunday, August 5) It’s tough to get bored in Budva, especially here in the peak of the high season. From the marina, one can walk south along its beaches and shaded tree-lined walking streets. The people-watching is excellent, and
there are seemingly unlimited places to stop for a cold beer, slice of pizza, or an ice cream. Our favorite stop has been a popular gyro shop, where the staff always greets us, recognizing that we sailors aren’t the typical Budva tourists. The Montenegrins are so much friendlier than folks in Croatia, a trait that this American greatly appreciates.
Heading north from the marina takes one to the old town and eventually the excellent beaches at Mogren. Even the beach just outside the old town walls is a treat, with house music thumping and sexy young people taking frequent
freshwater rinses under the public outdoor showers. We spent the afternoon casually strolling around, fully enjoying the Budva vibe.
With gyros in hand we returned to Geja on the eve of my big birthday. The crew surprised me with some really fun gifts as we got the pre-party going. Eager to get out there and mingle, I hurried things along and had us heading into town by 10:30pm. One party spot that we hadn’t seen last night was nestled in the heart of the old town, and by 11pm we had a great table in the middle of it all. The guys started talking the girls, actually cougars, at the adjacent table. Cougars were not part of my birthday plan, and I soon suggested that we relocate to the bars just outside
of the walls. The guys were happy where they were, so I ventured around on my own for a while. Before I knew it, it was last call (1am), and the crowds were starting to dwindle, making their way to the various after-hours clubs. Sven and I checked out one indoor club, but I couldn’t quite handle the smoke and the heat. We called it a night at that point.
(Monday, August 6) Happy (hungover) Birthday to me! Just don’t say the f-word. It’s been a great couple of days in Budva, and we should be getting over to Italy soon. But being comfortably moored in such a well-located marina in the midst of high-season craziness, there doesn’t seem to be any hurry to get going. And anyway, the wind forecast seems to favor starting the overnight voyage on Tuesday.
Lukas, having scoped out a parasailing company yesterday, made a phone call. Soon thereafter we were picked up in the marina by a custom jet boat, and it wasn’t long before Lukas found himself hanging from a parachute 100 meters
above the Adriatic Sea. Sven and I observed from the jet boat, my hangover-induced nausea not enjoying the fast, choppy ride. With Lukas’ return to sea level, I finally accepted the birthday offer from my crew, and was soon ascending to the eerie calm far above Budva. The only other time I’d ever parasailed before was right here in Budva, on my birthday in 2008. Though parasailing is a symbol of the typical charter holiday trip, it is most definitely an awesome experience. Upon landing on the jetboat’s aft deck, Sven made a last-minute decision to head up as well.
We spent the rest of the afternoon at Mogren Beach, conveniently dropped off there by the parasailing boat. The beach is overlooked by shaded cafes, where the beer is cheap and the people-watching is top notch.
By evening, we found ourselves again with vodka and Red Bull on the cockpit table. Under the influence in Budva for the third night in a row, we roamed around
for what should be the final night. Besides running into the Swedish sisters again, we befriended a group of French students. The festivities ended before first light for a change, sometime around 4am.
(Tuesday, August 7) Now it’s really time to get going. Italy is an overnight sail away, and we’re supposed to reach Trani by Saturday, including visits to other towns on the Italian coast. Calm winds are the
summer norm around here, but the forecast calls for 11-16 knots on the beam for the 115-mile crossing, which would be ideal for an engine-free trip.
While the guys stocked up on some groceries and yet another round of gyros, I brought passports and boat documentation to the customs office. The reaction from the Montenegrin officials seems like it’s the first time they’ve handled such a situation. The whole office
heatedly discussed my paperwork in their mother tongue. In the end, passports were stamped, officially clearing us out of the country. Unlike the Croatians in Cavtat, they had no problem that my crew was still wandering around, and they did not require the boat be at their quarantine dock.
72 fun-filled hours after tying up in Budva, we filled the water tanks, yanked the power cord, and motored away from the marina. Before leaving the area, however, one of the crew requested that we visit a nearby island, where a new Ukrainian friend was spending the afternoon. Though eager to get the crossing going, I guided Geja to Sveti Nikola, a stone’s throw from the marina, and took a convenient side tie along the quay. After a quick tour and rendezvous with the Ukrainian, we set our overnight course for Italy.
The crossing began really well, with ideal wind just a few miles out. We were scooting along nicely until around dinnertime, when the wind backed off, forcing us to motorsail. Didn’t take long, however, for the wind to fill in again.
As the sun set, everything was smooth, the lights of Budva lighting up the sky astern, reminding us of the good times these past three nights. It’s a strange contrast that we now find ourselves confined to a small vessel in the middle of the Adriatic Sea.
(Wednesday, August 8) Excellent wind kept with us through the night, with occasional discomfort as the boat charged through the mild chop. As I lie in my bunk, early in the morning but still dark, the wind gods turned it up a notch, and little Geja started being tossed around like a toy boat in a bathtub. Sleeping and eating became difficult, and an increasing amount of water from some unknown source squirted up from the shallow bilge when we heeled too much. I dreaded sunrise, as I didn’t really want to see the sea state. Feeling it was bad enough.
Daylight confirmed that the sea was a raging mess. The wind was only 20 to 25 knots, but the resulting seas had built over a distance of about 300 miles, all the way from Venice.
I was completely disheartened to see that we still had 60 miles to go, and even considered turning back, as Croatia was a slightly shorter distance. But not all was bleak - daybreak brought a pod of dolphins, happily playing and surfing down the steep wave faces. Don’t these creatures usually bring good luck? And despite the discomfort, the engine was off, the sails alone allowing Geja to point to our desired section of the Italian coast. We’d had full sail up through the night, but at first light I summoned Lukas from his leeward bunk, sending him on deck where he admirably helped tuck a double-reef into the main sail. With reduced sail area, we were back in control, but still getting slammed by the occasional cresting wave. The side decks seemed to have a constant stream of saltwater, with an annoying amount finding its way into the cabin. Geja’s deck is by no means leak-proof. And besides what was leaking in from above, the bilge was filling from some source below the water line, though all thru-hulls were sound.
With a whopping 12 hours to go, my spirits were low. Did I misread the forecast? Is my crew frustrated? Is the boat really up for this abuse? Was it really necessary to include Italy in this year’s itinerary? Like staring at a red light waiting for it to turn, the 12 hours went by agonizingly slowly. The wind never let up through the day, though it did back around a bit, allowing for an easier sail for the final few hours.
Very tired and hungry, we neared the Italian coast near Bari. I’d heard bad things about Bari, so we pointed toward a little port just north of it. But when we reached Santo Spirito, there was nobody around to guide us to a dock, and there were no apparent open spots. The stupid Adriatic Pilot book was again annoyingly optimistic about the suitability of a harbor. But there was plenty of light left to roll a few miles down to Bari in the ongoing swell, a rough 130 miles since leaving Montenegro.
Arriving in Bari’s “new” harbor revealed a wonderful
marina where we tide up alongside its floating docks. Thoroughly wiped out, we collapsed onto the dock with beers in hand, Geja providing shade from the setting sun. How fortunate I was to have two great guys aboard, Sven and Lukas, who found some appreciation in the toughness of the voyage. Lukas claimed that he’d prefer the rough conditions to a calm crossing with the motor running.
With a solid
Lonely Planet recommendation, we enjoyed a great pizza dinner near the harbor before touring the old town. And it didn’t take long to come across one of my biggest Italian pet peeves – the seatless toilet. There are bolt holes for attaching a seat to the base, but no seat. Not that I like sitting on public toilets, but it beats the manual flush of the boat toilet. Anyway, despite the horrible reviews of Bari, mostly from folks stuck waiting for ferries in the old harbor, it’s a great little town, buzzing with young people everywhere enjoying the warm August night. By midnight, though, we ran out of steam,
turning in for some badly needed sleep.
(Thursday, August 9) Talk about a solid night of sleep! After three nights out in Buvda, followed by a near-sleepless night at sea, I was out for about 10 hours straight. How nice to be in a peaceful marina, with no music and little activity. But I didn’t expect my body to be so sore – rough overnight sails can be a workout.
The harbor guy had predicted that the strong winds of yesterday would be with us for a couple of more days, but what had been a gusty morning gave way to calm conditions. So after a giving Geja a much needed bath, we got going.
Things went great at first, with 10 knots of breeze to power us over the still present swell. But it didn’t take long for the winds and swell to build, forcing us to deeply reef both sails. With the wind now steadily in the low 20’s, we were close reaching, rising and falling with the oncoming waves. Geja was handling it like a champ, plowing forward with determination.
Occasionally, though, a wave would hit at just the right angle, the splashes reaching all the way back to the cockpit. Unlike yesterday’s sail, we found this to be lots of fun, so much so that we decided to bypass Giovinazzo and keep heading west.
Once abreast of Molfetta, we reluctantly doused sail and entered the small port, a precarious feat considering the steep swell and three-meter deep harbor entrance. Inside, I was not impressed by the surroundings. We were offered space at one pontoon, but the walk to town looked to be about a kilometer. With fond memories of Giovinazzo in 2010, I made the executive decision to backtrack 3.5 miles to its quaintest of harbors. Sven was understandably annoyed, tired of entering harbors only to leave right away.
Pulling into Giovinazzo with a fresh swell running was a treacherous ordeal, as promised by the cruising guide. These shallow approaches are not fun, and too common on Italy’s east coast. Once inside, it took a while to get oriented and find
a spot. It’s one of those rare places in The Med where Geja is the biggest boat in town, and there are no real guest spots. Reviewing photos from 2010, I identified the boat that Geja had rafted to then, a powerboat called Nikee. With no turning room that far into the harbor, I would have to back Geja for 150 meters with a steady breeze from the front quarter trying to control my steering. With much concentration, I nailed the approach, and we were
soon secure in one of my favorite little harbors in The Med.
In 2010, Geja’s arrival coincided with some kind of town celebration, complete with marching band and fireworks. Shortly after tying up tonight, we had just that – a marching band and fireworks! Could our timing be that lucky? Turns out that it was just a rehearsal for next week.
Ready to head into town, there was one problem. The gate to the docks requires a key to both exit and enter. We felt stuck yet certain that a solution would pop up. A local boater eventually popped up and taught us how to pick the lock. Problem solved. A short while later, another local lent us a key, which was great except that the key didn’t actually work when we tried to use it. Good we know how to pick the lock.
This part of Italy is dotted with charming little coastal towns, where the only tourists are Italians. Some towns are bustling in the summer, while others are dead, the reasons for which I’ve yet to figure out. Giovinazzo for sure counts as bustling. The old town is as charming as can be, while the nearby piazza is ground zero for all types of entertainment. After a yummy pizza dinner (and another seatless toilet), Sven, Lukas, and I were giddy to learn that tonight’s program in the piazza was the local Miss World competition. 17 young beauties put on quite a show, complete with a swimsuit competition.
Later in the evening, we couldn’t figure out where the young people of Giovinazzo go to get their party on. Someone finally suggested a beach bar 200 meters down the road. 2km later, we found the place, though not much was happening except another 2km walk to get back to town.
(Friday, August 10) Like yesterday in Bari, the morning started out windy, but turned calm by 11am. After a stop at a most awesome bakery/café near the harbor, Sven, Lukas, and I toured the old town, a wonderfully photogenic part of the old Venetian empire. Trani was just 13 miles away, so there was no rush to get going. But by early afternoon, strengthening winds and seas essentially closed out the entrance to the harbor here, making departure risky. Though I’d really hoped to be in Trani tonight, Geja would be staying put.
Normally, being “trapped” in Giovinazzo wouldn’t be all that bad. But the mooring situation is leading to constant stress. We are half connected to the boat, Nikee,
the other half to the end of the floating dock. What sucks is that the end of the dock has some metal gudgeons sticking out, in perfect position to put some serious gauges in Geja’s hull. Currently a spider web of lines is holding Geja in place, with fenders constantly adjusted to fend off the gudgeons. The big seas outside are trickling in, meaning there is constant motion in the harbor. As much as I love Giovinazzo, I sure wish that we were in a proper marina.
We made the most of being stuck, and Giovinazzo is a fantastic little place. For our final night together, Sven, Lukas, and I made it back to the beach bar outside of town, this time finding the place full of friendly Italians. In terms of international tourism, this part of Italy is well off the beaten path, so we were the only foreigners around. Too bad closing time was 3am.
(Saturday, August 11) I faintly recall Sven leaving at 7am this morning. Wind and seas were quite settled in the morning, though an ominous thunderstorm skirted by to the north. Lukas took off as the sun reappeared, leaving me alone on the boat for the first time this summer. My next crew arrives tomorrow morning.
An off day - what does one do? Boat projects, for example. Fix the broken bathroom latch, mount that new autopilot belt (it’s a bit too small, but has been stretched out by a halyard overnight),
scrub the boat a bit. I played tourist as well, roaming the old town. The sea conditions remained settled during the day, and there was some temptation to take off on my own. But I stayed put, taking advantage of a strong wifi signal from shore to catch up on my digital life.
By evening I was ready to join the masses in the piazza until a nasty little wind picked up, the harbor surging again. The bloody gudgeon required some attention, with frequent fender adjustments. At 10pm I finally left the boat for my nightly gelato. The piazza was packed as
usual. I passed out pretty early, ending a very adventurous leg.
Leg Four was unique in that we visited just three different places. Blame Budva, the overnight sail, and the hazardous seas here in Giovinazzo. But there was no shortage of exciting sailing, the motor remaining silent most of the time. Sven and Lukas, consistent crewmates aboard Geja year after year, were again excellent company.