BUDVA, MONTENEGRO – Leg Three will be a one-week international escapade as Geja and her crew cross Croatia’s southern border into Montenegro and the spectacular Kotor Fjord, ending up in the hedonistic town of Budva for the skipper’s birthday weekend. The crew will be a hybrid of sorts. Big Steve, returning from the 2011 voyage, will be the official crew. Marikken from Leg Two will stick around for the first few days, while Sven from Leg Four will get an early start, moving aboard already on Tuesday.
(Sunday, July 29) Busy morning. Big Steve was supposed to move aboard today, though in our brief rendezvous last night, he spoke of keeping his rented room for another night. Whitney, an American acquaintance that has been roaming the
area for a while, is in town and expected to pay a visit. And the biggest surprise of all was that my cousin Solveig from Norway was in Dubrovnik, soon to be joining us, along with two friends, for a quick afternoon sail around the old walled town.
In between legs, when connected to shore with easy access to fresh water, it’s time for house cleaning. We’ve been just two on board for a week, and there is a tendency to spread out a bit with the extra space. After some tidying and
scrubbing, Marikken and I were ready for new visitors. Whitney and Big Steve arrived just in time for the next most important task between legs – grocery shopping. We definitely needed all eight arms to carry everything back to the boat, where we found Solveig & Co. having lunch at the yacht club.
With all seven of us on board – one short of tying a Geja record – we left the hospitable Orsan Yacht Club for a quick trip around Dubrovnik’s old town. Dead calm conditions prevented us from raising
sail, but allowed us to motor up close to the famed town walls. Soon most of the crew was in the water swimming, including Marikken and Whitney, who both swam to shore to climb up and jump from the impressive cliffs. Girl Power!
Motoring onwards, we tucked Geja into the sketchy anchorage just south of the old town harbor at Dubrovnik’s south end. In calm weather, this is the spot to be anchored, with close access to the old town. After some frolicking in the sea, I ferried everyone ashore by dinghy in two rounds, leaving Marikken and I to chill out before the evening’s festivities.
Dressed up and ashore for the evening, Marikken and I dined together, careful to pick a place with decent food, ambience, and prices (this place is a bit of a tourist
trap). Managed to find Solveig & Co. eating just a few tables away. Later, down to just the two of us again, we talked our way for free into an indoor nightclub. It was an awesome venue, tucked into the ancient town walls, though somewhat empty on a Sunday night. Marikken was up for some partying, but I was the pooper, being too warm and worn out to have any fun.
(Monday, July 30) Not a great night for sleep. The wind swirled around all night long, and the anchor may have even dragged a bit. Whipped up a nice breakfast of crepe-like Norwegian pancakes before the seas built and had us on a steady roll through the afternoon. Steve and Whitney came out for a swim, blowing up
a couple of air mattresses while Geja rolled horribly from side to side. At least we had a classic view of Dubrovnik from the anchorage.
By early evening we were back in town, ready to take the 2km walk atop Dubrovnik’s town walls. Those taking this self-guided walk should bring plenty of battery power and flash cards, as it’s a photo enthusiast’s wet dream. I can’t believe that I first walked these walls exactly 10 years ago, during my first ever visit to
Croatia. From the walls, I could see Geja rolling at anchor, but not as bad as earlier. If things go our way, the seas will flatten out by the time we return later.
Knowing that the Montenegrins would be fussy about my insurance papers, I had originals mailed to the main marina near Dubrovnik. And of course I waited until the last minute to go and fetch them, requiring a one-hour round trip bus ride. Once at the marina, nicely protected up a long river, I was completely envious of the conditions – flat calm with no wind. Should I have anchored here instead, so far from town? Or maybe even paid for an 85-euro slip? This element of cruising I can do without – worrying about finding safe and comfortable refuge in uncooperative weather.
With insurance papers in hand, I tracked down Marikken, Big Steve, and Whitney back in town, where Marikken was sharing her fondness of
snus with the others. We enjoyed our pleasant remaining hours in this magical place
on our final night. Tomorrow will be a very long sail, so we have to begin early. At midnight, considered early in these parts, Marikken and I returned to Geja by dinghy. Big Steve will finally move aboard in the morning, and I’ve invited Whitney to join us for tomorrow’s sail across the border.
Back on Geja, seas were calm, but the noise level was not. Some music bar just ashore, one we hadn’t noticed before, decided to set up some outdoor speakers, pointed directly at Geja. We could hardly hear each other on board, and might as well have been at the bar, proof that sounds travels easily over water, especially at a distance of 50 meters. Even worse, the forecast offshore bora wind was starting to kick in, sending shuddering gusts through Geja’s rigging. So much for getting any sleep tonight, and I’ve got to pick up the others on shore at 7:30am. Sleep continues to be a precious commodity around here.
(Tuesday, July 31) The music finally stopped, but the bora winds didn’t. I probably managed a bit of sleep before taking the dinghy ashore to pick up Big Steve and Whitney. Looking at the GPS upon our 8am departure, I could see from its tracks that we swung through a perfect 180-degree semicircle around the anchor as the wind battered us around during the night.
We hoisted anchor and sailed south, the land breeze still gusting in spots. An hour south is Cavtat, where most pleasure yachts clear in and out of the country. Sven, flying in from Germany for a head start on Leg Four, awaited us as we pulled into the harbor. There are very few spots on the quay for yachts to moor while they
take care of customs paperwork, and it took plenty of jostling to squeeze into the small customs zone, designated by nothing more than a simple rope railing.
Knowing from experience that it would take up to an hour to check out, I told the crew to enjoy some coffee at a café while they waited. Part way through the three-step checkout process, I was summoned back to Geja to reposition her a bit. While I was onboard, struggling a bit on my own to adjust Geja’s lines, a guy from the port authority asked where my crew was. He was less than thrilled to learn that they were not on the boat.
“Your crew must remain on ship when at the customs dock!” he hollered at me. “This is the rule everywhere in the world! Where did you get skipper’s license?! You can be fined 150 euros per crewmember!” With that, he disconnected my lines. “Go float in the harbor for hour before you come back!”
As I floated 100 feet away, my confused crew returned to the quay. “Oh, the princess is done with her coffee!” the asshole official sneered at Marikken. Despite the crew’s efforts, he would not reduce my one-hour ‘sentence’. Marikken then took matters into her own hands. She swam out to Geja and took over the helm, allowing me to paddle the dinghy back to shore to complete the paperwork and fetch the remaining crew, including Sven.
While in line at the police office waiting for passport exit stamps, other sailors sympathized with me. A charter skipper mentioned that an incoming boat was once fined when one of the crew took a quick dip in the bay while waiting for a spot on the customs quay. Seriously, what country routinely fines its visiting sailors?
With all of the paperwork sorted out, we were happy to leave town immediately. Actually, once you get your exit stamp, you must depart immediately, which is another strict Croatian rule. And don’t even think of stopping for a swim in that little bay 15 miles down the coast.
Because of this one official asshole, some poorly paid guy who gets off by bossing others around, we were fed up with Croatia. Government workers seem slow to shake off the bad habits of the region’s Communist past, casting a poor
light on an otherwise lovely country. Thus my continued love-hate relationship with Croatia.
Finally on our way south in calm conditions, still seething from our experience with Croatia officials, we unfurled the genoa as we crossed the border and entered the Bay of Kotor. Just as I experienced in 2010, the wind inside the bay was a solid 20 knots, sometimes overpowering the full headsail while tugging Geja along at great speeds. Tonight’s destination was the town of Kotor, 15 miles further ahead in the deepest point of the bay.
The final few miles into Kotor take one through the most stunning part of the bay, a fjord-like stretch surrounded by steep 1500-meter peaks. With calm winds,
a hot crew, and a couple of miles to go, I tossed a line off the stern and dragged everyone for a while in the lake-like conditions.
By 7:30pm, we were tied alongside the customs dock in Kotor, wondering what kind of officialdom we would have to deal with. To our most pleasant surprise, especially after the long day underway, the paperwork was completed in 20 minutes by smiling officials (much unlike my 2008 entry down in Budva, where they were none too happy about my lack of insurance). Our late arrival helped - had we
arrived during banking hours, I would’ve had to walk to a bank in town to pay for the cruising permit. After hours, you can pay the harbor guy directly.
Onwards to the yacht harbor, we got a nice spot on the quay just across the road from the walls of Kotor’s old town. The floating pontoons would’ve offered better privacy, but they were full. How nice to pay only 29 euros for the berth, far less than what the Croatians typically charge. We spent the evening in town, a mini-Dubrovnik of sorts, eating out under the stars while tourists, primarily from Eastern Europe, swarmed the place. We turned down the possibility to party, turning in early instead.
(Wednesday, August 1) The dry, offshore bora wind, a frequent overnight occurrence in the Adriatic, arrived as forecast during the night. We were plenty secure, but the powerful gusts of wind made sleep difficult. I seem to be sleep deprived more often that not so far this summer.
We’d hoped to wake up early to climb the famous Kotor stairs before the daytime heat kicked in, but with little sleep, Marikken and I took it slow instead. Sven, Big Steve, and Whitney scaled the stairs, later catching up with us having an
extended brunch in the old town. Annoyed with Southern Europe’s definition of an “ice coffee,” Marikken went to the bar herself to give them the recipe. She was tired of receiving coffee mixed with ice cream.
I was enjoying the slow life in Kotor, including watching two stray cats having sex, but by 4pm we all agreed to move on. The next stop, lovely Perast, was just an hour away. Perast is one of my favorite little gems in The Med, where
one can tie up alongside the quaint quay for free. The problem is that there are only two suitable spots, and as we approached, we found that both were taken. Luckily, the teenager on one of the boats allowed us to raft alongside him. The kid hangs out on this part of the quay every summer, and was amused that I had photos of him on my laptop from when I first discovered this spot in 2008.
After some frolicking in the water, with Big Steve showing off is revealing new white speedos, we cleaned up and dined out on a most romantic terrace built out over the
water with a full moon rising above the mountainous horizon. The girls are both leaving tomorrow morning by taxi to the Dubrovnik airport – at 6am! Over capacity with five on board, several of us took hotel rooms for the night, as some did last night in Kotor. For the first time while underway in five summers, I slept in a real bed, enjoying the air conditioning and a peaceful morning.
(Thursday, August 2) 6am alarm! Big Steve and I escorted Whitney and Marikken to their taxi, exchanging goodbyes after some magical sailing adventures. I returned to the room and dozed in air-conditioned comfort for a few more hours. Sleeping in just doesn’t happen on a boat. Not in The Med.
Just the boys now, we connected later in the morning for brunch. Toured the town, including a trip up the bell tower, for a while. Back on Geja, the one notable problem with mooring here is that there is no protection from incoming
boat wakes. The fjord itself is like a big lake, but the occasional slow-plowing motorboat can generate some horrible waves. Such a set came in, and as we bobbed violently up and down while rafted to the local sailboat, I watched as Geja’s mooring cleat tried to flex out of the deck. Scary!
With a bit of wind blowing us towards shore, we carefully pulled away, hoisted sail, and enjoyed some glorious flat water sailing back and forth within this lobe of the Kotor Fjord. The local teenager was out on a friend’s sailboat, and we hoped to race them, but they doused their sails and began to fish instead.
We made our way back out of the inner fjord, mostly under sail, beating our way upwind to Herceg Novi, a nine-mile trip that turned into 17, both due to the extra laps
near Perast and for crisscrossing upwind. The harbor in Herceg Novi has a horrible crosswind, adding to the challenge of berthing here, but I managed it pretty well (botched it horribly in 2010). In Croatia, a place like this would be full by early afternoon. But here, at 6pm in the high season, there was plenty of space. How nice that there is no big charter fleet nearby.
Before today, I’d been dissing Herceg Novi as not being a worthwhile stop. How wrong I was. It’s a modest size tourist town, with plenty to see and do, at least for the 20 or so hours that we plan to be here. Out on the quay is the music bar
Admiral, which seemed to be the ultimate destination for the night. We of course began with a pre-party on Geja before heading to the main drag and Nautica Caffe Škver, run by a Canadian woman whom we had met earlier. The crowd was great and of appropriate age (unlike many party places in The Med that cater to the very young, like early-20’s and younger). We lost track of time, and discovered too late that Admiral, a more fashionable looking place, had shut down for the night. In fact, everything was shutting down as it was 1am. In this part of the world, it sometimes seems like anything goes. But this town is definitely on top of noise management.
(Friday, August 3) Breakfast as usual - a burek from the bakery consumed at one of many beverage-only cafes around town, in this case at Nautica Caffe Škver with our new friend Jen, its Canadian owner. She sat with us, filling us in with many interesting stories of assimilating into Montenegrin life.
After breakfast we scaled the many stairs up to the old town, “freshly” rebuilt after a major earthquake in the 1970’s. I’d almost forgotten that the old town existed, and it was certainly worth the hike up the hill, especially with the stunning views of the harbor area below.
By 3pm we cast off from the quay, but didn’t make it far before dropping anchor at Zanjice beach. We swam ashore and hung out, grabbing pizza and beer. Not super exciting, and not
the best scenery, we got going again, exiting the mouth of the Bay of Kotor for the open Adriatic. Somewhere along the rugged coast, we pulled up towards shore in calm conditions, where Big Steve and Lukas hopped in and checked out some kind of sea cave while I motored around.
At this point, the cruising guide suggests anchoring at the town of Bigova while heading south. But the Carribean-looking water at Lustica Bay proved more inviting. We dropped anchor with hardly a foot below the keel, surround by
two-meter deep transparent water. Best of all we were the only boat to stay the night. The place was remote and empty, except for an impressive beach complex just ashore. They were hosting a small after-beach party as we pulled up, and I was afraid that the party would continue during the night. This was supposed to be the calm before the storm, a rest stop before plunging into the craziness in Budva.
As the sun set, the music stopped, but I figured that it would resume again later. Dark and quiet settled in, aside from a dog that just wouldn’t stop barking. It barked,
and barked, and barked, until suddenly pow – what seemed to be a shotgun blast echoed through the bay, somehow silencing the dog for the rest of the night. Dinner aboard consisted of Sven’s staple Thai Chicken dish. We crashed at midnight under the most peaceful conditions, the beach club remaining silent.
(Saturday, August 4) No party, no bora, and not even another boat in sight. Finally a peaceful night of sleep, and how amazing to wake up in a shallow, crystal clear turquoise sea! We spent a good part of the morning swimming, taking underwater videos, and checking out the beach complex. Apparently there are grand plans for Lustica Bay, but for now just the beach club
exists.
We raised anchor at 11am for the final approach into Budva, tying up to the outside of the new floating pontoon by 2pm. Prior to the Balkan War, the Budva Riviera was the place to be in Yugoslavia. Now part of Montenegro, it is no longer easily accessible to Western tourists, instead attracting Serbians, Russians, and Ukrainians. When staying in town, the beaches at Mogren are the best, as its precarious path filters out families and overweight folks. It was at Mogren that Big Steve, Sven, and I spent the rest of Leg
Three, drinking Aperol Spritz at the insistence of the Aperol Girls, while admiring some truly amazing scenery.
Yet another fantastic leg has ended. The stretch from Dubrovnik to here is chock full of attractions, including two UNESCO towns and Southern Europe’s deepest fjord. The company was excellent, starting off with two wonderful girls on board; two great buddies remaining in the end.