HVAR, CROATIA – Leg Five takes Geja back to Croatia after a few more days on the Italian side of the Adriatic. Mari, a Swedish San Franciscan, will join Geja for the third time, always in even-numbered years. Taking the place of a French-American couple that had to cancel will be Big Steve, returning to Geja just six days after stepping off of Geja in Montnegro.
(Sunday, August 12)
Another crappy night of sleep. After several days of strong afternoon winds, yesterday’s calm daytime conditions gave way to a rough night, with wind-driven seas penetrating the harbor. Lovely little Giovinazzo really isn’t the place to be in these conditions, especially when haphazardly moored to the end of a floating pontoon, one with hull-piercing extrusions ready to do more than scratch Geja’s paint. Of the seven lines keeping Geja in place, one snapped during the night, which is always a pleasure to deal with when half asleep.
The morning was calm, though, and I did my best to sleep in. Thinking that Mari would arrive at around noon, I got up at around 11am to prepare for her. Poking my head out, whom do I
see but Mari, walking along the quay towards Geja. Big Steve was due at 2:30pm, so Mari and I strolled around town for a while, and of course paid a visit to the awesome bakery near the port, stocking up on enough goodies to get us through the day.
For the past few days, Geja has essentially been stuck in Giovinazzo’s tiny harbor. High winds have sent breaking waves across the tiny mouth of the harbor, making entry and exit impossible. While waiting for Big Steve to arrive, I kept a close eye on the sea, crossing my fingers that waves wouldn’t build again in the afternoon.
With Big Steve’s arrival, we departed immediately for Trani, where this leg would’ve
begun had it not been for the messy seas of the past few days. We covered the 14 miles effortlessly under sail power alone, not dousing the main until inside of Trani’s large harbor. Not too many foreign boats pull in here, but we were assigned a guest slip right away. How nice to be secure in a well-protected port for a change.
Upon returning from the showers, an awesome little birthday surprise awaited me! A string of festive LED lamps encircled the cockpit, making
for a very pleasant ambience. Thanks, crew!
Trani (pronounced “tranny” by my silly crewmates) was really goes off in the summer. Even tonight, a Sunday, people milled around by the thousands along the waterfront. A live girl band was performing, and the gelato shops were scooping away. Such is life in Italy in mid-August.
There’s plenty to see in “Tranny,” and with just one night here we tried to squeeze it all in. The cathedral itself is awesome, towering far above the sea just at the water’s edge. The backstreets are a delight, dating back to Venetian times. But the waterfront is where the action is. Packing some Red Bull and vodka, we indulged a bit on a public bench, which
really wasn’t necessary considering that a bar nearby serves an inexpensive concoction called Rocket Fuel, a potent beverage that must be sipped slowly.
One highlight of Italy is the people watching, particularly the guys. The three of us, longtime San Francisco residents, like to think that our gay-dar is pretty good. Yet we seem to agree that about half of the Italian men must be gay, given their ridiculously feminine clothing and wild hairstyles. Of course, a 50% gay rate is very unlikely. But Italy does in fact have the lowest birth rate in Europe. Hmm…
During the short walk back to the marina, Big Steve and I found ourselves chatting with some local girls. English is not a well-spoken language in Italy, but these girls were quite proficient, and eager to use it. Soon the three girls,
and their token male chaperone, joined Big Steve and I for a lively little after-party in Geja’s cockpit until around 4am. Luckily Mari was a good sport, trying but failing to get some sleep despite being offered the captain’s quarters up front. Sorry, Mari!
(Monday, August 13) Rain this morning?! What’s up with that? With 41 miles, about eight hours, to the next stop, we’d have to get going early, but we certainly weren’t going to sail in the rain, not to mention the possible thunderstorms. Not that we were really prepared to get going. Cupboards
were empty, Geja needed a bath, etc. Though the rain didn’t last long, we decided to stay put for a second night. Sometimes it’s nice to just slow down a bit, Trani being a great place to do so.
Had an easy day, visiting the cathedral, fortress, shopping district, piazza, and the beach. During the evening we explored the shopping district a few streets up from the water, buying clothes and olive oil before sitting down along the piazza for a proper dinner, though the food was slow and mediocre. At the waterfront
later, the buzz from yesterday had greatly diminished, meaning there was some room to walk. At the gelato place, Mari fell asleep sitting up. Poor girl hasn’t slept much the past couple of nights. She retired to Geja early, Big Steve and I sticking around for a caipirinha or two before calling it a night. But not before running into our new friends from last night. Such funny girls. I suppose that foreign guys don’t come through here often.
(Tuesday, August 14) Up at 7:45am! Not only did we have a long way to sail today,
the crew hoped to catch the elusive opening hours of the town cathedral. By 10am we were underway under overcast skies, a welcome break from the sun and heat. I didn’t take long to find some wind, allowing us to kill the motor and sail noise-free. Almost noise-free, anyway. With the rotation of the prop shaft came a funky knocking noise, one that had been noticeable ever since the wild overnight crossing from Montenegro. Poking around everywhere, I just couldn’t figure out the source.
Other than the clunking noise, today’s sail was a dream. The 12 to 15 knot breeze came from the perfect angle, just aft of the beam, and the sea was flat. We reached Vieste in seven hours
with hardly any adjustment to the sails. In the lee of the harbors breakwater, we dropped anchor for a swim, the first since arriving in Italy last week. The east coast of Italy lacks the natural anchorages that Croatia offers, limiting the swimming potential here. Most mooring takes place in manmade harbors where the water isn’t always inviting.
Once settled into the marina in Vieste, we cleaned up and strolled into town. Vieste lies on the “spur” of Italy’s boot, thus providing the shortest sailing distance between
Italy and Croatia. This is my third visit to Vieste with Geja, and it’s definitely a worthy stop. The old town climbs a steep hillside, and the alleyways are packed with shops and restaurants. Being mid-August, there is of course no shortage of people roaming around. We spent quite a bit of time at a cheap clothing store before sitting down for dinner, where the service was awful and slow, a recurring trend in the Italian high season. Shops are open late into the night here, and both Big Steve and Mari visited the Armani store at 1am, splurging on new sunglasses. While waiting outside, I couldn’t help to notice a pair of five-year old children, very awake and waiting around on a bench. Apparently the Italians have a different view of bedtime. This evening, Big Steve was the first to turn in early, while Mari and I checked out a bar. We learned that there were a couple of big open-air nightclubs just outside of town, but Mari wasn’t down.
(Wednesday, August 15) Probably the highlight of Vieste is its daily food market, not far from the marina. The quality and variety of fresh food there is amazing, locally
regarded as the best market in southern Italy. We were up and about early – 8:30am – in order to hit the market before today’s long sail. Probably good that we didn’t go clubbing last night. Can’t wait to eat all of the fresh goodies that we picked up.
By 11:30am we were loaded up and ready to sail. With light winds, we motored closed to shore while rounding the spur of Italy, admiring the packed sandy beaches en route. By 1pm we peeled away from the coast, setting course for Italy’s Tremiti Islands. We again had the most
dreamlike sailing conditions, perfect for enjoying a memorable pasta salad loaded with yummies from the market. By 4pm, with about an hour to go, the wind was aft enough to dig the spinnaker out from under my bunk and hoist it. It was the right call, the big parachute-like sail tugging us along with a noticeable speed boost. Approaching the island, I had to wake Big Steve up to help douse the spinnaker. A finicky sail, it decided to wrap itself around the forestay a few times as we were blown towards the windward shore of the Tremiti Islands. We contained it with some distance to spare.
In the Tremiti’s, there’s no clear way of knowing where visiting boats should tie up. You just grab a vacant mooring buoy and hopes that its owner doesn’t show up. We motored around for a while in frustration, until finally attaching to a buoy. The anchorage offers poor protection, which is often fine in the summer calms. But today, all boats were bobbing around with the incoming waves, making life aboard torturous. We finally managed to launch and board the dinghy, no small feat given the conditions.
We escaped to shore to check out the little hilltop village, where restaurants and even a dance club or two can be found. We approached the biggest restaurant in town, waiting forever to be acknowledged. Once finally seated, the service continued to be horrible. Maybe the tip-based system in the U.S. is better after all. Aside from the frustrating restaurant experience, this small island village has its charm, even providing a little fireworks show at midnight. On the way back down to the water, we crossed our fingers that the seas had calmed during the preceding few hours. Otherwise, sleep would be difficult. Luckily, we indeed found peaceful conditions in the anchorage.
(Thursday, August 16) Today’s activity was a circumnavigation of the island San Domino by dinghy. Its entire coastline features caves, grottos, and other indentations
to explore. By noon we were ready to go, the dinghy full of spare fuel, snorkel gear, sun lotion, and other necessities. For shade, we brought along Geja’s seldom-used beach umbrella, a well-improvised idea! Around the island we sputtered with the little 3.5 horsepower outboard, pulling over frequently to explore and swim. We quickly learned from the Italian coast guard that the grottos are not to be entered with engine power – not a big deal as we carried oars.
The water here, some 13 miles away from the Italian coast, is stunningly clear. At every stop along the way, we hopped in for a swim. One particularly awesome little
cove about half way around the island offered a six-meter cliff jump, one that I repeated several times. How fun is life?!
Coming around full circle, we tied up in the crazily busy harbor at Isola San Nicola. This is the most historic of the Tremiti Islands, most notable for its centuries old fortress built atop its peak. We ventured up and across this beauty of an island, following a trail towards its far end. Oddly, farther along than most tourists venture, we came across a bathtub full of fresh water, seemingly in the
middle of nowhere. Soon I found Big Steve disrobing and taking what must have been the most scenic bath of his life.
Back aboard Geja in the evening after a long day of exploring, we were not thrilled to find that the anchorage was once again a rolling mess. Not as bad as yesterday, but still uncomfortable. Then out of nowhere, a couple of Italian guys pulled up in their dinghy. Geja is always a bit of an attraction, with its crusty looks and U.S. flag. The guys simply wanted to say hi and
welcome us with a bottle of wine. Italian hospitality never ceases to impress.
Soon after we received word that we would have to vacate the mooring buoy. This wasn’t so bad, as we had decided to start the overnight sail back to Croatia tonight. But we weren’t quite ready - still some preparations to do, such as hoisting the dinghy and making dinner. We moved Geja to the mooring field to the northeast and tied off to an empty buoy, which actually worked out better at first as the water was
pretty flat. But soon we were told to move again, repeating the cycle a few more times. We never did find an available buoy, but managed just enough time at each stop to get dinner going and hoist the dinghy onto the deck. We finally began the overnight sail with just a few minutes left of light, at 8:53pm to be exact. Always nice to get away from land before dark.
The overnight voyage began easily enough. Seas were flat, so we were motoring along in complete comfort. There was some wind, but was it enough to keep us going under sails alone? Two hours into the trip, I finally put up the sails - why did I wait so long? The wind was perfect, just on the beam. What a sweet ride it was, and how nice for the crew to enjoy some sleep with the motor off.
I stayed on watch well into the night, thoroughly enjoying the sail and keeping an eye out for shipping traffic, which there was plenty of. When night sailing, one must always keep a lookout for the navigation lights of other ships. It’s a fun little exercise to scan the horizon every few minutes, interpreting faint lights that may or may not indicate a possible collision. As a tiny sailboat that doesn’t show up well on radar, it’s good to be defensive. At one point, a ship came within a mile, its colored lights showing that we would be crossing paths. With only sails up, options for changing course and/or speed are limited. But they make for great light reflectors. Shining a crappy little flashlight on the sails, the ship responded, flashing his own light and adjusting course to our stern. Most of the time, though, I feel that the big guys just plow along completely oblivious. At 3:20am, alone in the cockpit, I finally summoned Mari to her shift and went to bed.
(Friday, August 17) I was up again at 6am, noticing that the wind had lightened and that we were kinda just wallowing along in the now lumpy seas. With the magical
sail over, I got the motor going and pointed Geja towards the Croatia island of Vis, now just a couple of hours away. Big Steve began his shift, with instructions to wake me up when we were a mile from land. From a deep sleep, he woke me at three miles out, from where I navigated Geja to the town of Vis.
Vis is one of many ports of entry where one must stop first when arriving in Croatia from abroad. We tied up to the public quay, then sought out the various officials that would check us in. With less than fond memories of Geja’s exit from Croatia in Cavtat two and a half weeks earlier, I was counting on a smooth entry. The police station was closed, but had instructions to call the free police number from the adjacent pay phone. Three phone calls later, and lots of waiting, a customs official finally showed up. The customs agent seemed really cool at first, even suggesting that my crew get coffee nearby while they wait (take that, Cavtat). Things went slowly but smoothly until the erratic, beer-guzzling customs guy asked me to run around town and photocopy some of my documents for him (he was indeed drinking a half liter of beer while going over my papers). I returned to his office unsuccessful and pissed off. “If you really need copies, I’ll email them to you,” I stated angrily, as I began to snap photos of the documents with my iPhone. He said, “No, no,” but I kept snapping away. He then took my papers and left the room. I asked the policeman in the same office if the customs guy was normal. “Not really,” he said with a confirming smirk. A few minutes later, the customs guy returned with photocopies, likely from his Xerox machine in an upstairs office. I chewed him out a bit before storming off, some two hours after beginning the check-in process with a cruising permit that was still valid from before.
A Croatian bureaucrat was again a source of frustration, which shouldn’t really be a surprise by now. Hopefully Croatia’s 2013 admission into the European Union will help squash some of this nonsense.
Finally at 3pm, after rinsing ourselves off with fresh water on the hot quay, we left Vis for one of my all-time favorite anchorages, Vinogradisce in the Pakleni Islands near Hvar, a perfect little bay to rest up from the overnight journey. The funky little beach bar just ashore was pumping out some pleasant house music, some of its female patrons putting on a nice little dance show for us. Thanks to the helpful little Navionics
navigation app on my iPhone, I was able to track down the phone number to the restaurant just up the hill and make a reservation. We had a great seafood meal before crashing early, deservedly so.
(Saturday, August 18) How nice to wake up in such peaceful paradise! Spent the morning swimming and snorkeling before hoisting anchor for the short hop over to Hvar Town. Just before leaving, a guy came by in his dinghy saying, “I met your grandmother.” This I doubted, as I’d only ever met one
of them, and that was in the 80’s. He went on to explain that 13 years earlier, he and his wife invited the previous owners of Geja aboard their boat for dinner in this very bay. He even produced a note from his scrapbook, written by Shirley Sandys, thanking them in Croatian for dinner. What a chance encounter this was, and an excellent reminder that this boat has some history.
Onto Hvar we went, taking our choice of spots among the popular but empty mooring field. Saturdays in charter boat havens such as Croatia are great, as most rental boats are back in their home bases, turning over their customers. While Mari sorted out her departure plan, I had a look at the propeller
shaft, finally identifying the source of the clunking noise that occurs when under sail. Somehow, some of the six bolts that connect the prop shaft to the transmission had loosened. How this happened is a mystery, but maybe it was during the wild crossing from Montenegro to Italy during Leg Four. Nothing that a couple of wrenches couldn’t fix.
Spent the afternoon doing not much. At 5pm, Big Steve and I escorted Mari to her bus. We returned to Geja with some newly purchased party supplies (such as vodka), intending to take a power nap before hitting Hula Hula for some after-beach action. Meanwhile Maggie is due to arrive for Leg Six at any time.
Big Steve and Mari, both very good friends from back home in San Francisco, were excellent company. Italy again proved to be worth the long journey to reach it, and the winds were as cooperative as they get in The Med, allowing us to complete 72% of the distance with the motor in silent mode (more typical would be 50%).