ZADAR, CROATIA – And we’re off, the first week of sailing in an abbreviated season of Mediterranean adventures! Finally joining for a round of sailing here is my Danish buddy Henrik from back home in San Francisco. Stig and Silvie, my married friends from the Bay Area, will fly in from Germany for the second half of the week. There isn’t been a clear destination in mind, other than heading up the coast from Trogir. Most likely
we’ll reach Zadar, a comfortable week of sailing away.
(Sunday, August 4) Henrik has been in town since Thursday, helping to prepare Geja for this summer’s voyage. We had a crazy busy final morning today shopping for groceries, stowing the bikes, washing away boatyard dust, and several other pre-castoff tasks (never quite finished stowing everything – good thing we’re only two on board right now). Finally at 3pm we cast off, enjoying a fast sail to Drvenik Veli, an island just a few miles offshore.
Its east shore has a bay that the local excursion boats optimistically call The Blue Lagoon, a nice and shallow spot that’s great for swimming. Unlike the murkiness around Trogir, the water there is super clear.
We left the “lagoon” just in time to reach the island’s main town on its western edge. On the way, we checked out a possible remote anchorage in which to spend the night instead, but its depth requires a stern line ashore, something that I’m way to lazy to deal with for just a quick sleepover.
The shores there were crawling with nudists, or at least one seemingly German family out for a walk. We proceeded to the main town, dropping anchor in its shallow bay. The place is small and not at all lively, an intentional choice given that we overindulged during the previous two nights in Trogir. Henrik wasn’t quite ready to part from civilization, but this is how we do it on Geja. You just can’t play hard night after night. We paddled ashore for dinner, waiting forever in one of the few restaurants in town. Though out in the islands now, there is no break
from the recent heat wave, even at night.
(Monday, August 5) Remained on board all morning before hoisting anchor in Drvenik Veli. Motored up the coast with no wind. A luxury of sailing in Croatia is that you can almost always break up a typical 15-20 mile day of sailing with a swim/lunch stop in some nice anchorage. In this case, we borrowed a mooring buoy on the island of Zečevo, not for from Rogoznica. It was there that a horrible problem was discovered – the toilet was clogged. The handle that normally requires a few pumps to flush just wouldn’t budge. Geja’s head had been absolutely problem free for five seasons. Over the winter, I even had its thru-hull valve replaced as a safety precaution.
On Geja, wastewater flushes directly overboard. Hoping that the clog was at the 90-degree bend where the waste exits the boat, I hopped in the water with a stiff wire in hand, snaking them up the waste exit. Some “stuff” came out, but my efforts had no effect on the clog. We began to disassemble parts of the toilet pump, a rather nasty job.
While probing further, a boat from a local hotel stopped by to collect payment for using their buoy for the night. This was our cue to leave, our main destination of Primosten just four miles away.
We anchored in Primosten in the bay just north of town, a suitable anchorage in stable weather. Better yet, the local port guys don’t collect anchoring fees on this side of town, a savings of at least 20 euros. I went right back to work on the toilet, disconnecting more and more parts, carefully collecting the nasty wastewater that would seep out at each point. Probably the worst thing about boating is having to fix things in paradise, especially the day before one’s birthday!
Finally I had the entire seven-foot long waste hose removed, determining that it wasn’t the culprit. With the two-inch hose disconnected, I slowly opened the thru-hull valve. Normally one would expect water to come gushing into the boat - the valve is below sea level after all. But nothing happened. Poking a wire through from the inside revealed the blockage, but why now after all of these years? At least the problem didn’t lie with the toilet itself. Further poking seemed to clear the blockage.
With the long waste hose disconnected, I could see that its insides were lined with a thin but hard material, somewhat shrinking its diameter. I’ve read before how the combination of urine and seawater can calcify, and that a good treatment is to whack the hose on something solid. So off to shore we paddled with the hose. Like wrestling a snake, I took one end of the hose and slammed it to the smooth concrete walkway. The shit literally went flying with people nearby, fortunately just out of range. My next attempts were more controlled, grabbing both ends of the hose and slamming the middle part down. A follow-up dunking in the sea left the hose pretty clean inside, although some of the calcified liner remained. We paddled back on board, reassembling as much as we could before dark.
We cooked dinner on board for the first time this season, then rushed into town to my favorite Croatian “wine bar” before its 11pm closing. Some wacky new European Union rules meant that this long-time family winery could no longer serve outside, ruining part of their business model. Instead we roamed around the bar-lined beach, eventually meeting two Slovakian sisters, with whom we sat for a couple of hours at a very hip lounge.
(Tuesday, August 6) For the sixth time in a row, I’ve woken up aboard Geja on my birthday. Henrik and I spent the morning on board while I put the rest of the
toilet back together and cleaned up the mess. I still wasn’t confident that it would work properly, so I suggested that we only pee in it. At around noon, our new Slovakian friends paddled out for a visit in their own little inflatable toy boat. These landlocked girls had never been on a sailboat before, and were curious about how two guys could live on such a thing. They seemed really impressed, even by Geja’s worn looks and ancient design.
When the girls disembarked, we got just a bit of sailing in as we voyaged for 15 miles up to the party town of Vodice. After two mellow nights, it was time to go big. It is my birthday, after all!
We pulled in at around 6pm, with just enough time to check out the after beach scene. From our spot on the public quay, we walked west to where Blue Bitch Bar hosts a foam party. Well, they do some days, anyway, but not this one. This side of the bay otherwise sucks, at least compared to the action to the east of town where you’ll find more young people and less families.
Cleaned up and with to-go concoctions in hand, we walked into town for Henrik’s first exposure to a Croatian supermodel parade. These are the peak weeks of the Croatian vacation season, and Vodice is one of a few places where Croatians
come to strut their stuff (unlike Hvar, where better-fed Western tourists have completely taken over). We began as most do at Makina, which filled up by midnight. We had a lot of fun, talking to all sorts of people, though Henrik did notice the typical Croatian standoffishness. Just up the hill is Hacienda, one of Croatia’s best outdoor nightclubs. This week, however, Hacienda was closed due to suspected tax evasion – losing a week in the high season must really hurt! We instead checked out the after-hours clubs in town. It was a totally decent, but not amazing, birthday night out.
(Wednesday, August 7) Spent a good part of the morning in town, roaming around in the heat while most people were either still in bed or already at the beach. When we did take off this afternoon, we didn’t
go far at first. Just 600 meters east of the town quay is Vodice’s livelier beach scene. We dropped anchor just outside of the swimming buoys and swam ashore, plopping ourselves down for a beer at a little café in the midst of the action. Beer is an especially good bargain in Croatia, a half liter costing just two euros, even at a well-located beach bar. During our swim back to Geja, we made some friends in the water, Henrik’s three young Bosnian fans following us and hanging from the swim ladder. Had there
been time, we would’ve invited them aboard, but it was getting late and we had to reach Sibenik in time to welcome Stig and Silvie on board.
Henrik steered Geja the six miles to Sibenik while I stayed below, trying to figure out where to stow all of my clothing and gadgets related to unfinished boat projects. Just as we backed up to the quay in Sibenik, Stig and Silvie turned up on schedule, ready to join for the remainder of the week. As we settled in, Silvie didn’t really believe
that the only shower was outside in the cockpit, on full display for passersby on shore. Though reluctant, she eventually gave in and put on a show – since when are Germans prude?
Henrik and I didn’t spend much of the evening with our new crewmates. Our plan had been to go to a nearby music festival and see Prodigy perform. With libations in hand, the two of us walked to the bus station and, after a long and confusing wait with some locals, ended up sharing a cab to the festival, which was held in an old military complex. There were tons of people, the vibe super friendly. When Prodigy took the stage, we were front row, off to the left. Those guys put on an awesome show
as always, maybe one of the best high-energy acts ever. Though tempted to stick around and party more after the performance, we headed back to town around 3am.
(Thursday, August 8) On quite different sleeping schedules, Henrik and I woke up to an empty boat. Stig and Silvie had already gotten up for sightseeing and breakfast. At 1pm, we finally reconvened and cast off from the quay. It was now clear that Zadar would be the destination, allowing two nights to explore the Kornati Islands. Just two miles from Sibenik is an old fortress, one that we might have explored had we started earlier. Just as we passed it, Geja’s diesel motor sputtered to a stop, leaving us adrift without much room between us and the rocky shoreline just downwind. What a horrible feeling!
Luckily, there was a shallow bay a quarter-mile upwind of us, so I immediately unfurled the forward sail and starting tacking, with great help from the crew, into the crowded bay. We got the anchor down fine, but wound up harmlessly bumping into a little Austrian-flagged cabin cruiser as we drifted back. Out came her owner – fully naked - in a hurry to help fend off. I apologized and explained the situation, and he agreed to relocate a bit. His companion - also naked - kept herself down below during the ordeal.
At this point, my first thoughts were of my poor crewmates, here for a week – or even less in this case – and facing a mechanical delay of unknown duration. My next thoughts were about the cause of the
problem. I hadn’t fueled up yet this summer. Was last year’s fuel now overgrown with hose-clogging algae? As diesel fuel leaves Geja’s tank towards the motor, there is a hand squeeze pump in the line, the same kind used to prime small outboard motors. A quick look revealed that the hand pump had compressed into a flattened state, meaning a clog in the direction of the tank. Was the vent clogged? Nope. We tried to take apart the hose assembly where the fuel gets sucked in from the tank, but the metal intake “straw” couldn’t be completely removed due to limited clearance above (the bottom side of the cockpit sole).
I called the mechanic back at Geja’s home base in Trogir for some advice. After a few phone calls, we had a tentative appointment to meet a local mechanic at the fuel
dock back in Sibenik in the evening. How we would get there was still a mystery, as the winds in The Med are fluky, and the channel leading back to town is heavily trafficked. We shared our plight with the naked Austrian, and he agreed to tow us. We had a few hours to kill, so we spent the afternoon swimming, eating, and exploring the fortress.
At 5:30pm, the Austrian came by as planned, soon making six knots under tow back to Sibenik. Once tied off to the fuel dock, I tried to compensate the Austrian with
a bottle of Jägermeister and cash. He refused, though I’m sure he realized how much he saved our day. As we waited for the mechanic to turn up – which depended upon how well is earlier job was going – we started a little happy hour, popping open the enormous bottle of Costco rum that Stig had brought from the U.S. I sure hoped that we wouldn’t have to spend the night at this remote fuel dock, something that seemed more and more likely as the sun neared the horizon.
With a few rum and Cokes consumed, the mechanic showed up and got right to work. The intake straw that I couldn’t remove was out in an instant, requiring a slight bend that
I would not have had the guts to do. The culprit to the clog was immediately revealed: small chunks of floating debris in an otherwise spotlessly clean fuel tank. The gasket for the fuel tank’s inspection port had deteriorated, shredding its rubber-like material. It was just a matter of time before one of these chunks would find the fuel intake. Luckily it happened so close to civilization. Just when you think you know your boat…
Within 45 minutes, the chunks were sucked out, the gasket trimmed, the motor bled and purring again. The mechanic and his partner were efficient and friendly, even entertaining our American-esque small talk. Somehow I must have been billed at locals’ rates, just 30 euros. I tacked on another 50%, so happy to have had the problem
resolved so quickly. Between the toilet and the fuel problem, this has been a mechanically challenging few days!
Still at the fuel dock, we tanked up before repositioning back in the heart of Sibenik for a second night in a row, taking a side tie near the bus depot as the main quay was full. Ended up having a late dinner at a charming family-run spot quite a few steps up from the waterfront in the old town. Sibenik is far from a party place, so Henrik and I had little choice but to turn in early, not that I had the energy for much else.
(Friday, August 9) Staying a second night here in Sibenik did allow us to check out what may be Croatia’s best outdoor food market. Silvie, a mother of two, quickly adjusted to the nuances of preparing food on a boat and picked up all kinds of goodies from the market.
Though the toilet and fuel problems were resolved, there was one more nuisance to deal with – the weather. After endless hot, stable weather, a storm system was on its way. It would be really
nice to reach Zadar by the weekend, and the wind models suggested that we could safely make some progress this afternoon. By noon we were off, motoring with confidence as we passed the fortress into more open seas. Soon we had full sail up, tacking our way in beautiful conditions out towards the Kornati Islands. We pulled into Smokvica for a swim stop, a most charming little settlement where the water is extraordinarily clear.
Though the wind seemed to have built a bit during our swim stop, I wanted to use the remaining three hours of sunlight to make some more progress north. We
detached from the buoy, and the protection of Smokvica’s lovely bay, only to find ourselves motoring along into a nasty headwind. It wasn’t horrible, and we were making decent headway in the flat seas, but I always get somewhat stressed out when the wind blows more than 20 knots past my ears, and these gusts were higher. Should we have just stayed put in Smokvica, enjoying that most lovely and protected spot? After a long-ish 27-mile day, we had the anchor down in an ideal little uninhabited bay in the Kornati Islands, ready to withstand storm winds from nearly every direction. Before bedtime,
some raindrops had fallen, reminding me to batten things down and let some extra anchor chain out.
(Saturday, August 10) Turned out to be a tolerable night, unless I managed to sleep through the horrible conditions that the weather forecasters had promised. It was definitely cooler, a welcome change. The wind did begin to pick up by mid-morning, but we paddled to shore anyway, enjoying a short hike up the adjacent hill. The Kornati Islands offer great hiking as there is little vegetation, thanks to centuries of deforestation by humans.
It wasn’t completely necessary to reach Zadar tonight, though both Big Steve and Mats would arrive there today, sharing a room before moving aboard tomorrow. The weather seemed
to be improving, so we hoisted anchor, unsure of how far we would really make it. We did at first endure some nasty northeasterly gusts on Geja’s beam, but they tapered off, giving way to clear skies and moderate winds. Just before exiting the Kornati Islands, we took a buoy for some lunch and a swim, getting energized for some possibly lively conditions for the remaining 15 miles to Zadar.
After the lunch stop, we poked Geja’s bow out into more open seas. The wind was blowing 20 knots or more, but from an angle that would allow some fun sailing. Henrik
and I hoisted a double-reefed main sail and a bit of Genoa. We moved along really well, and if conditions intensified, we could always bail out and sail downwind into the town of Sali for the night. Instead, the wind ended up dying down, and within an hour the motor was back on with little wind at all.
Looking more and more like we would make it to Zadar, a new concern arose. Did the marina have a spot for us? I called, stating that we were about 90 minutes away. A woman responded that the marina was full. On Saturdays, boatloads of charterers are usually anxious to begin their one-week sailing vacation, leaving ample space for visiting sailboats, which I mentioned to her. “Well, we’re full now, sorry,” was still the best reply that I could get. We proceeded towards Zadar anyway. Once clear of the bridge at Ugljan, I handed the helm to the crew and took a nap for the final hour. I really need to tune out more often, giving the crew more navigational responsibilities.
Upon arrival, we helped ourselves to one of the many available spots in the marina, though there was nobody to assign us one. As for being told earlier,
“we’re full,” that’s Croatia for you! You would think they might be more eager to collect an easy 70 euros from us.
We celebrated our arrival with the remainder of Stig’s rum bottle and a nice happy hour on board. Silvie was particularly happy that the marina offered proper showers. By 9:30 we were seated at the restaurant Bruschetta, a 2011 discovery and one of my favorite spots to dine in Croatia. Big Steve, one of two incoming crew, joined us at the restaurant. It’s become a common occurrence for me here, but I still find it surreal each time a familiar face simply pops up in these random locations.
After dinner we hit the town. Zadar is pretty happening at night, and the whole gang started off together at Kult, a happening place in the heart of town. Through the magic of Facebook and text messaging, a Croatian called Tanja joined us for a bit, someone that I had first met in Mali Losinj two years ago. As the town bars started to shut down, Henrik and I left the old town for the waterfront club called Maraschino, an indoor/outdoor club situated perfectly alongside Zadar’s inner harbor. The place was going off, as it should in the peak of the high season.
(Sunday, August 11) Crew transition day. Stig and Silvie spent the morning packing up. Henrik, sticking around for another week, and I just took it easy, enjoying a well deserved day of doing little to nothing.
Leg One was definitely another enjoyable action packed week. As always, there was the usual variety between
crazy party towns and isolated bays. Henrik, Stig, and Silvie were all first-timers aboard Geja and excellent company, Silvie’s motherly instincts leading to more enjoyable and frequent meals than usual. The rare mechanical glitches were overcome with minimal inconvenience. As familiar as these seas have become to me, it’s still a treat to have such great friends with which to sail around.