TROGIR, CROATIA – Just one leg remains, an easy meander among the islands near Split. Two Norwegians, Marte and Inga, will join my Bulgarian friend Maggie, a previous two-time Geja crewmember. Big Steve, a fixture so far after crewing on two of the previous three legs, is still around with no immediate plans to end the Geja fun. Can we somehow sail around comfortably with five aboard?
(Saturday, August 18) Just as Big Steve and I turned in for a late afternoon power nap, Maggie
showed up here in Hvar. It’s quite fun when familiar faces from home just pop up out of nowhere, though we were hoping to get some proper sleep. Soon after her arrival, we poured some drinks, got the swimwear on, and strolled over to Hula Hula Bar for it’s big after-beach party. As always this time of year, the place was just going off, with cheers just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Returned to Geja well after dark to change into proper eveningwear. From shore we heard some shouts from Marte and Inga, already in town but not moving aboard until tomorrow. Some time later we all met on the riva, which was jam-packed with young party people. Carpe Diem, the most “mature” (and expensive) bar in town had a line down the quay. The five of us ended up just kicking it together, downing plain water on the riva. There will be plenty of party opportunities ahead. In fact, we’ll still be in Hvar tomorrow night.
(Sunday, August 19) Hvar is the perfect place to just hang out on a boat and watch the world go by. The quay offers people watching galore, an endless stream of foot
traffic heading to and from the swimming areas west of town. The harbor features nautical chaos, with vessels of all types coming and going. On board was where we remained for most of the day, except for Maggie who took up residence in a nearby hotel lobby with wifi. Big Steve, being displaced tonight by Marte and Inga, grabbed a hotel room just a few steps from shore.
Geja, with her U.S. flag and San Francisco homeport displayed on the stern, is no stranger to attention, and at some point in the afternoon we heard shouts from shore. A San Franciscan was hailing us, and soon she and her friend were sitting in Geja’s cockpit, sharing travel tales. Shortly after Leah and her friend’s departure, we heard another shout from shore. Matthias, a German acquaintance from home, was in the area and tracked us down. It began to feel a bit like Grand Central here in Hvar.
At 7pm, we found ourselves once again at Hula Hula Bar. The whole gang was finally together - Marte and Inga had been sunbathing there all day. Several hours of
the usual Hula Hula craziness ensued before heading back to Geja at 12:30am, Matthias and Leah in tow. Marte and Inga finally brought their luggage on board as drinks were being poured. We all kept things going in town until Carpe Diem’s 3am closing.
(Monday, August 20) As entertaining as Hvar can be, it was time to get going. The master plan today? Motor for about 45 minutes to the island of Marinkovac, home of Carpe Diem’s after-hours beach club. But not before doing a big shopping run
, and borrowing Matthias’ rental car for a mini-tour of the island. After several weeks on a boat, I just love the idea of being driven around in an air-conditioned car, enjoying the surroundings from a different perspective. It ended up being a nice little tour to some tiny inland town with a lovely old church.
At 3pm the girls, Big Steve, Matthias, and I finally detached from Hvar, and soon had the anchor down in Stipanska Bay, just adjacent to Carpe Diem’s well-known beach club. The party gets going here around 1am. We spent the rest of the afternoon swimming and playing in some remarkably clear water. Dinner for six, no small feat in Geja’s tiny galley, was served at 8pm, still five hours until party time. A bit sleep deprived from the past two nights in Hvar, I did my best to powernap
after dinner, which greatly annoyed Maggie, while most of the crew stayed up and socialized. I’m trying to stay on top of my sleep management, as sleep is a precious commodity around here. As skipper, it’s not so easy to tune out during the day while underway.
At 2am, the girls all dolled up and the party ashore picking up, Matthias shuttled them in by dinghy. We hoped that arriving via the “back door” would spare us the 20-euro
entry fee, but a text from the girls stated otherwise. The boys and I had another drink or two on board, reaching shore about 45 minutes after the girls. Our stealth approach was also observed by security, each of us soon 20 euros poorer. The outdoor venue is absolutely awesome, nestled among the trees. It could have been more crowded and often it is, we were told. As the night went on, more and more people decided to swim in the bay from the one suitable platform that the dinghy happened to be tied to. The dinghy ended up being treated as a pool toy, so I spent some time on watch. Big Steve and Matthias, both with rooms back in Hvar, hopped in a water taxi at some point. By 5am,
I rounded up the girls and paddled back out to Geja.
(Tuesday, August 21) At 12:30pm, Big Steve returned to the island to rejoin us. We’ve agreed that he should stick around for as long as he likes, provided that he finds his own accommodations at each stop. Five people just don’t fit aboard Geja overnight.
We all hung out on shore for a while. Something about proper coffee always lures the crew to land (I haven’t yet taken to drinking coffee). We got going at 2:20pm, beating
under sail out the Hvarski Channel. We kept the motor off for a third of the 20-mile sail to Bol on the island of Brac. At some point I trailed a line behind, dragging the overheated crew in the water, a popular activity while motoring downwind at the same speed as the wind. We finally reached Bol at 7pm, a gamble as the port only holds a dozen or so boats. Somehow there was ample room for us to moor, which places one front row center, restaurants and a happening bar just steps away. This doesn’t stop Big Steve and me from grabbing a hose and showering off right on the quay. The girls weren’t quite ready to offer such a show.
Bol is a small but busy place, and we made the rounds before dinner, finally sitting down to eat around 9pm. The restaurant was part of a hotel, and it wasn’t long
before Big Steve booked a room, yet again with a window overlooking Geja. The girls did not let the opportunity for a proper shower go to waste, so we didn’t make it to Varadero until after midnight. Bol, for its size, was going off, but the energy level of the crew wasn’t, understandably given three straight late nights in a row. By 2am we were on our way back to Geja, a 20-second walk from the bar.
(Wednesday, August 22) Such a pleasant night of sleep, until 6:30am anyway when a ferry arrived with its enormous wake. The weather so far on this leg has been as
stable as can be, though a bit hot. Even the frequent nighttime bora winds have been noticeably absent. The long term forecast indicates more of the same hot weather – nice not to have to plan the overnight stops around bad weather.
We took it slow this morning in Bol, not leaving until 1:30pm. We backtracked to the west a bit, dropping anchor at the famous gravel peninsula beach featured in many Croatian tourist brochures. We strolled the entire length of the beach before the crew decided to bury
me under the warm gravel. Just as the afternoon wind picked up, we swam back out to Geja and sailed eastward, new territory for me. We sailed dead downwind under genoa alone for a while, until swapping it for the spinnaker for a little speed boost. And also because it looks really cool with the big, poofy, multi-colored sail dragging us along.
After a few consecutive nights in civilization, I sought out a quiet anchorage for the night. Both guidebooks suggested Rasotica on the eastern tip of Brac, one author calling it her favorite Croatian anchorage. I was sold. Still underway, music from the distant mainland town of Makarska could be heard, but that will be tomorrow’s
stop. I steered Geja deep into the bay at Rasotica, where a few other boats had already settled in. Of course, you’ll never find a desirable anchorage empty in the high season. While Steve paid out the anchor, Marte took the stern line in the dingy to convenient attachment point on shore. It was indeed a cozy little bay with no sign of civilization anywhere. As for Big Steve, he will sleep on board tonight in the one remaining spot, the salon floor.
(Thursday, August 23) How lovely to get a proper night sleep! Strangely, it was cold during the night, dipping down to 19C in the cabin. It hadn’t been lower that 23C
at night in the past few weeks. Our first swim revealed a possible reason why – the water has many cold patches, likely due to fresh underwater springs. Another oddity here is the lack of sea urchins. Maybe they don’t like the lack of salinity.
Any complaints of cold were forgotten in the afternoon, when we all took the dinghy ashore for a long walk on the island under the hot afternoon sun. The sun-scorched terrain eventually gave way to a great view above the turquoise-colored anchorage, Geja peacefully resting between her forward anchor and stern line to shore. We stuck around for most of the afternoon, playing in the water, eventually chatting with a friendly Italian woman passing by in her dinghy.
At 4:30pm we set sail for Makarska, an easy seven-mile voyage that we covered under genoa alone. Makarska is a popular holiday town on the mainland, backed by insanely
tall mountains. On our approach, we skirted the packed beaches to the north of town, sailing just along the buoyed swimming zone. Had to let everyone know that Geja would soon be in the house. A huge party boat full of tourists, its music echoing throughout the harbor, accompanied us as we motored into the port. We actually couldn’t hear each other speak on board. There isn’t much space in Makarska for visiting yachts, nor is there much demand. Like in Bol, we moored just a few steps from the action, a perfect spot from which to people-watch.
With a Norwegian flag hanging from the port spreader, two older Norwegians stopped by to say hi. They quickly recognized me from my recent participation in a Norwegian reality TV show.
It just so happens that, tonight in Makarska, there was a big seafood festival happening on the waterfront. Fresh squid were grilled by the hundreds, and plenty of local wine was served. We indulged right away in the festivities, knocking out our dinner needs before the girls joined Big Steve to his hotel room for
proper showers. Makarska has a party reputation and, refreshed from the peaceful night last night, we were ready to go big. Of course, when three girls share one bathroom, it takes more than three times the time that it takes for one girl to shower. Their two-hour shower made me a bit impatient, but gave me ample time to shower using a hose on the quay to an amused audience of well-dressed tourists.
Marte, Inga, and Maggie, all decked out in party mode, finally joined Big Steve and I in town at around 12:30am. There were several packed outdoor bars on the waterfront,
with a great mix of ages and nationalities. Big Steve and I met some Croatian girls, one of which came in second place in a recent Miss Slavonia (a northern state in Croatia) contest. It was obvious why. By 3am we all ended up in one of Makarska’s after-hours venues, a club tucked into a cave just south of town. Good times!
(Friday, August 24) By day, the Makarska waterfront is like a ghost town. In the summer heat, and today was a hot one, tourists flee to the nearby beaches. We of course decided to subject ourselves to another long midday walk in the scorching weather. At the mouth of the harbor is a wooded area on a hill with walking trails. The views, both
out to sea and back towards town, were worth it. Back on the quay, Big Steve and I relocated Geja closer to a water tap and refilled the tanks while the girls did some grocery shopping. We finally pulled away at 2:30pm, motoring up the mainland shore in dead calm conditions before finally crossing the channel back out to the island of Brac. The north shore of Brac has a number of indentations, one of which became our late-afternoon swim stop.
At 7:30pm, after an easy 16 miles of motoring since Makarska, we were med-moored in the charming little quarry town of Pucisca, known for having supplied stone
material for the construction of the columns of The White House. Pucisca is very cute, and very small, and Geja is the only foreign yacht in town tonight. It wasn’t long until we had a curious young boy on board, the son of an Italian tourist that stopped by for a chat.
Maggie spared Big Steve the trouble of finding a room for the night, electing to grab one herself in the local hotel. Marte and Inga were of course happy to again have access to proper showers, delaying dinner somewhat
longer than the captain would’ve liked. By 10pm we were seated just up the hill at Konoba Lado, enjoying great food and service. After dinner we toured this sleepy town, admiring the old-school stonework on display outside of the stonemasons school. There were few people out and about, aside from a group of older men singing by the waterfront. We were in bed by 1am.
(Saturday, August 25) Another proper night of sleep, how nice! Always difficult to sleep in too much, though, with the sun heating up the boat. Finally during my fifth
summer of doing this, I’m getting smart about covering east-facing windows before going to bed, and putting a shade on the clear horizontal hatch just above my bunk.
As we were just lounging around the boat mid-morning, an older Croatian guy came by for a chat. He’d lived in Australia for many years, so his English was pretty good. Croatians don’t exactly put out the welcome mat for visitors, but this guy was an exception. He’d been a stonemason during his younger
years here in Pucisca, where the quarry still functions today. After chatting for a while, he walked to his home, returning with small but heavy examples of his handiwork as gifts. Such a kind old guy!
For breakfast we returned to Konoba Lado, where the service was again friendly and the food good. Maybe my opinion of Croatians is jaded by the generally poor attitudes found in the larger, more touristy places. After breakfast, we found ourselves yet again wandering around under the hot noon sun. Pucicsa is a typical Croatian settlement, made a bit more special by the nearby quarry. Stone sculptures are found here and there, and it seems that most front yards have a pile of solid stone fabricated
into various shapes, sort of like a carpenter might have a pile of wood in a shed.
At 1pm we took off without a clear destination in mind. Just 45 minutes around the bend from Pucisca, we dropped anchor for a swim. The charts mentioned a military wreck in three-meter deep water at the mouth of the bay. We donned snorkel masks in search of the wreck, finally locating an old jeep in the seabed. A ship or plane would’ve been much more exciting.
Underway again for less than an hour, we pulled into the town of Splitska, still along the north coast of Brac. We borrowed the public quay for an hour to roam around and
grab some ice cream. Like Pucisca, Splitska is a cute little place, worthy of a quiet overnight stop. Back out in the channel between Brac and the mainland, we finally got a good sailing breeze. With sails up and the large town of Split just ahead, I made the executive decision to head to Split for the night. It is Saturday, after all, and the town has a great vibe, not to mention its stunning historic center.
Wind power alone got us into the large harbor, inside which we doused the sails and motored along the bustling waterfront a couple of times. I have special memories
from Split, having spent about a month anchored here at the end of the inaugural 2008 cruise. Since 2010, anchoring is no longer allowed in this massive port, forcing visiting boats to cough up about 65 euros to stay in the town marina. At least there are showers, bathrooms, and easy access to the boat, desirable when there are five people aboard. Unfortunately the marina is a 20 minute walk from the heart of town, which doesn’t sound like much unless you’re used to walking about 20 seconds to the nearest café, bar or bakery.
As we finally left the marina for town, I turned down an offer from a water taxi to shuttle us in for seven euros per person. Really, a three-minute one-way ride in a dinky little
wooden boat costs seven euros each?! I’m a capitalist as well, but I’ve also got legs. But the long walk to town sucked. First stop was Fife, my favorite restaurant in Croatia. They have a more interesting menu than most in Croatia, and prices that make sense, unlike most in Croatia. The staff is really fun, and several remember me from years past. The place is always packed, thanks to a listing in Lonely Planet. But it was another late dinner, 11pm in this case.
While the girls lounged around in the restaurant, Big Steve was a good sport, joining me with all of the kids on the pier for a few Red Bull vokdas. Drinks in Croatia
are annoyingly weak, three centiliters (one ounce) being the standard pour. We reconnected with Marte, Inga, and Maggie, heading into Split’s impressive old palace, always a lively place on a Saturday night. We ended up at Ghetto Bar until closing before hopping into a cab to Hemingway for some late-night action. Hemingway is a chain of supposedly upscale nightclubs, and I’ve had good times there before. But tonight, the average age was certainly under 20, some shockingly younger. The others put up with it for an hour before leaving, while I
stuck around. This is the final night out on this trip, and I had plenty of buzz to keep me going longer. But really we should’ve tried a club called Vanilla to meet folks of more appropriate age.
I finally called it quits and headed out in search of a taxi. In a town this size, you don’t get the luxury of being able to easily walk back to the boat. Taxis were scarce, so I figure on bumming a ride from a local. At the main road, there happened to be a police checkpoint, a convenient place to bug people for a lift. As a nervous driver was fumbling through her papers to show the police, I got an OK from a passenger to hop in. The cop seemed amused. Soon I was delivered to the marina, though not at all ready to call it a night. I found the others still somewhat awake, and apparently I had some energy to burn, as it took me a while to shut up. Eventually I just passed out in the cockpit.
(Sunday, August 26) Ugh, I did not feel good this morning. Absolute crap would be a better description. Not a great way to start the last day of the voyage. I stumbled to
the marina reception area where Maggie was fooling around online. She flies out this afternoon from the Split airport, which happens to be located in Geja’s homeport of Trogir. If we left right away, Maggie could enjoy a few more hours on board before her flight. With the crew still in bed, Maggie and I detached Geja from the dock and got moving. I’m plenty familiar with the Split-Trogir stretch after all of these years, so we squeezed in one last swim break in a cute little bay on the southern shore of Ciovo island. Exactly on time, at
12:45pm, we were tied up to the riva in Trogir, where Maggie stepped ashore with her luggage for the short ride to the airport.
Down one crewmember, we relocated Geja from the riva to the marina across the narrow channel. Instead of anchoring out, we took a pricey slip, orienting Geja upwind so that Big Steve and I could rinse and remove the sails and fold them up on the dock. How routine these summer sailing adventures have become, with winter preparations starting right away with the
crew still around to help a bit. Luckily we got the sails down just in time, with the help of a young Italian sailor from a boat just opposite Geja, as a little weather system suddenly blasted through, sending vicious 40 knot gusts through the harbor. Boats were steadily pulling into the marina for refuge, one with a torn headsail. Meanwhile, the girls got started laundering the running rigging, to the delight of the Italian. Such little Berlusconi’s the Italian men are.
I stuck around Geja for the evening while Big Steve, Marte, and Inga went to town for some sightseeing and dining. They missed a stunning sunset when the weather finally
settled. I caught up later for some pizza and gelato. The juggling bartender put on the usual show in the town square, but otherwise there was no action to speak of. We all turned in early, Big Steve staying at the super-friendly hostel just down the road with Geja in dismantling mode.
(Monday, August 27) Apparently the hostel experience wasn’t a good one for Big Steve. A bunkmate generated such a thunderous snore that Big Steve came back to Geja in the middle of the night. He left for good
early this morning, after being around for three of the last four weeks. Marte and Inga will stay another day, helping out a bit more with winter preparations while also taking in the sights.
Leg Six was as enjoyable as they come. Marte, Inga, Maggie, and Big Steve were excellent crew, with endless laughs and good spirits. The weather was hot and stable, with no nighttime bora winds to complain about. Despite being in familiar cruising grounds, I got to overnight in four new places. This week made for the perfect conclusion to an awesome little five-week, three-country loop in the Adriatic Sea.