ZADAR, CROATIA – This week is going to be interesting, as three of my favorite buddies are joining. Big Steve, Mats, and Henrik, from the U.S., Sweden, and Denmark will be my wingmen. I’m not quite sure of the route yet, but we’ll probably spend half of the week heading further north from Zadar before looping back.
(Sunday, August 11) Henrik and I took it pretty easy in Marina Zadar today, tidying things up as Big Steve and Mats moved aboard. Sometimes it’s just nice to
chill in one spot for consecutive days. Anyway, the funky weather that started on Friday still lingers, sending a horrible chop through the marina causing Geja to buck against her mooring lines. At least the weather has cooled since last week’s scorching conditions. Mats, Henrik, and I spent the later afternoon strolling around Zadar, a much less pretentious place than Croatia’s other large coastal towns. Back at the marina later, in the shower room, we crossed paths with a young Italian sailor that Big Steve and I had met last year in Trogir. The Adriatic can be a small place.
Our first night together in a town with plenty of party potential, our enthusiasm could not have been higher. The onboard pre-party kept us in Geja’s cockpit until
10pm – somehow we could never finish our cocktail glasses at the same time, and someone would always refill. We hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and I often push for earlier dining times. I know it’s The Med, but something about eating dinner at 11pm just doesn’t seem right. Anyway, who wants all of that food to soak up the subsequent drinks?
We were a bit beyond tipsy as we left the boat for the long-ish walk into town. To avoid a 90-minute dining ordeal, we simply grabbed some pizza slices. Zadar was quieter than last night, but
still fun enough. Maraschino near the harbor had a decent crowd, though I got caught up in an anti-American rant by a young Croatian journalism student that initially pegged me as a “typically ignorant” American. Love us or hate us, many Europeans seem to have an opinion about Americans. Here in The East, I hear their rants more often than I’d like.
(Monday, August 12) Grocery shopping, check. Water tanks filled, check. Boat washed, check. It’s time to detach from the comforts of marina living and do some
voyaging. With just six nights remaining before returning to Zadar, we’d have to do a bit of planning. Two days away is Pag Island, and its famous party beach, Zrce, was a no-brainer. Typically, one anchors at the west side of Pag in Novalja and takes a shuttle across the island to Zrce. But I’d had in mind for years to anchor directly off the party beach, a feat that requires a perfect weather window as Zrce is particularly exposed to the dreaded bora winds. Further, reaching Zrce involves a long detour up the Velebit Channel. After
much discussion, we agreed to veer off of the beaten path and aim for Zrce.
We had great sailing today after leaving Zadar. A perfect upwind beat took us to the small island of Vir for a short swim break (just +24C in the sea now - brrr) before continuing around the northwest side of Vir, anchoring between it and Pag in a somewhat exposed channel. There was some civilization on Vir that we could’ve anchored near, but I made the call to drop the hook next to Pag where there was nothing but
a herd of sheep. We need to get going at dawn tomorrow anyway, so a night with no distractions was welcome.
(Tuesday, August 13) Up at 6am! Or that was the plan anyway, a few snoozes later it was 6:45am. Between snoozes I did study the latest weather forecasts, showing some nasty bora winds beginning tomorrow. Still, we persisted with the plan of going up the Velebit Channel, as today’s forecast called for lake-like conditions.
Henrik hoisted the anchor at 6:55am while Big Steve and Mats remained in their bunks below. Motoring along the southeastern “jaw” of Pag was awesome, its lunar
landscape pummeled by fierce bora winds during each offseason. Heading under the bridge and up the Velebit Channel was a grand experience, with 1500-meter peaks dropping down from the mainland. After 17 miles of smooth motoring, we pulled into a little bay at 10am for a quick swim stop.
Continuing up the coast, we really hugged the mainland side, enjoying the close-up view of the rugged terrain. Somehow one particular section of cliffs stood out, inspiring
me to want to jump from them. I quickly taught Big Steve, not being one to leap from high places, how to drive Geja. With zero swell and hardly a puff of wind, we nudged Geja to within a boat length of shore. Henrik, Mats, and I hopped in and crawled up the cliffs from a low point. The initial rock that I’d scoped out turned out to be well over 10 meters in height, so we stuck with the “warm-up” rock, a respectable eight meters. As the three of us reached the launch pad, the drop looked far nastier than we’d imagined. With some encouragement, I jumped first. Landing wasn’t the most pleasant feeling, but thrilling nonetheless. Mats followed, letting out a scream audible across the 4km-wide Velebit Channel. Henrik needed the most coaxing, having more youth and strength than courage. Henrik and I repeated the feat before re-boarding Geja and proceeding north.
Sailors always prefer sailing to motoring, but if one must motor, today’s conditions could not have been more ideal. Under motor, the course can be adjusted with a simple tap of the autopilot controller, and shorelines can be explored at much closer distances. The mainland side of the Velebit Channel is dotted with small settlements, some of which have mooring possibilities for boats. As we passed Karlobag, it seemed inviting with its two large concrete quays jutting out from the town. Karlobag was also the point at which we’d have to commit to anchoring at Zrce, or finding a more protected harbor further north.
Pulling into Karlobag, lovely young mermaids patrolling the approach, we tied alongside the quay. Almost immediately, a young local sailor approached us, advising us of the nasty winds
predicted for the coming days. The bora is a feared wind throughout the Adriatic Sea, but here in the Velebit Channel is where it blows the strongest (over 200kmh in winter). He advised us to either remain in Karlobag for a few days, or be somewhere else safe by tonight. This ruled out Zrce as a possible overnight stop, but there was plenty of time to visit Karlobag before continuing. The town was small but delightful, with plenty of ice cream shops. I could totally imagine spending the night here on a future trip. Having forgotten to add the new
crew to the crew list, I visited the harbormaster, but it was closed. At least I took a photo of the close sign in case anyone questions my blank crew list.
It’s amazing how much one can do in a day when you start early! Just 2:30pm and we’ve already gone 24 miles with three stops, and the fun wasn’t nearly over. Another 14 miles up the coast is one of my all-time favorite anchorages, the fjord-like Zavratnica. Though unsure whether it would be safe to spend the night, we dropped anchor and went for a swim, snorkeling over the sunken ship from World War II. It’s a stunning and intimate place enjoyed mostly by day-trippers. I
asked around about its suitability overnight during bora winds, but there was no consensus. For safety’s sake, I decided to continue another 90 minutes to the town of Rab and its protected harbor.
After a long 47-mile day of motoring, we pulled into Rab just at sunset. Talk about maximizing the day! We skipped the pricey ACI Marina on the right and pulled up alongside an excursion boat on the main quay, just outside a “café bar” called Dock 69. The only catch is that we have to let the boat leave with its load of
tourists at 9:30 tomorrow morning, though we can reattach to the quay immediately after. Just steps from the action in this mellow town, we made quick friends with the trilingual girls responsible for hawking tomorrow’s excursions to the tourists.
Rab isn’t mellow for its lack of trying. After a slow and bland dinner, we were entertained at a nearly empty quayside lounge employing rather sultry dancers to entertain the families strolling by. There is actually a proper club
a few miles down the road called Santos Beach Club. But like Hacienda last week in Vodice, it had been shut down for the week due to suspected tax evasion. We had our own party on Geja with a few of the cigarette-addicted locals, all the while wondering when the bora winds would arrive. Through the night, the weather remained benign. Were the bora alerts overblown, or does Rab’s harbor offer amazing protection? Not that I’m complaining about a calm night, though the onboard party went plenty late anyway.
(Wednesday, August 14) Can’t say it wasn’t painful to wake up 9am to let the excursion boat slip out, its passengers amused by the number of empty liquor bottles in Geja’s
cockpit. Mats, Big Steve, and I spent the morning strolling the town, having seen very little of it last night. Rab is one of Croatia’s prettier island towns, entertaining us for several hours. The weather seemed threatening, so it wasn’t clear that we would depart today at all. With access to fresh water, we gave the boat, our clothes, and ourselves baths. Hungover, sweaty, and tired, I insisted that we sit in air-conditioned comfort for lunch. Sometimes it’s just nice to get out of the elements.
During our morning stroll, a policeman stopped by Geja asking Henrik where the Croatian courtesy flag was. As a foreign-flagged vessel, it is required to fly the flag of the host country from the starboard spreaders, signifying that you have permission to be in the country. He promised a ticket if he returned to find no flag, so I of course hoisted it (he later complained that it was a bit frayed). This was also a reminder to head to the harbormaster office and have the boys officially added to the crew list. To my pleasant surprise, Croatia’s entry into the E.U. has for some reason eliminated the need to maintain a crew list, one less silly element of old-world bureaucracy to deal with here.
Having “done” Rab, we got going at 4:30pm in pleasant weather for one of the remote bays nearby. Just outside of the calm harbor, the winds were blowing pretty well,
allowing us to sail the five miles we needed to go. We pulled into a familiar bay, only to be pestered by wasps. We relocated to the next bay to the east, Cifnata, anchoring in two meters of water and very few wasps.
Henrik was assigned dinner duty, tossing together a Geja-style Greek salad. Soon after adding some canned tuna to the mix, the fish announced very pungently that it was no longer edible. Even Big Steve in the rear of the cockpit could smell it. It was the foulest of smells, ruining an otherwise
complete salad. Not only did we have to dump the salad overboard, the empty tuna had to be dunked as well. Henrik’s second attempt worked out much better.
(Thursday, August 15) This bay is paradise, endless turquoise water thanks to the shallow sandy bottom. And we had it pretty much to ourselves until mid-morning, when hordes of little powerboats zoomed in, many full of German nudist families. Can you say F.K.K? We recovered the rotten tuna can from last night, still stinking
despite the 14-hour saltwater dunk.
We played in the bay all morning, and could have remained longer, but the after-beach party at Zrce Beach starts at 3pm. Yup, we’re heading down the “bora safe” western shore of the island Pag to Novalja, gateway (by bus shuttle) to the infamous party beach, Zrce. To max out the after-beach experience, we started getting ready with still an hour to sail, doing push-ups, applying sun lotion, downing some beers, etc. Once anchored in Novalja, we made a quick transition by dinghy to shore and onto the party bus. Zrce is known for its high male-female ratio, but upon
boarding the bus, I blurted out, “is this the bus to the gay beach?” The very full bus had at most two girls on board.
Zrce is Croatia’s wildest party spot, with excellent after-beach parties and the world’s top DJ’s at night. It is fun to experience, but it is male-heavy and very young. Still, it’s unlike anything I’ve seen in the U.S. We settled into Aquarius, dancing in a shallow saltwater pool as the after-beach crowds swarmed in. Next-door at Papaya was pretty fun, too. By early evening, though, the wind was really howling! The bora was going strong, making me very happy to not be anchored at this bora-exposed beach. I was told that yesterday’s winds were crazy as well, validating the ominous weather forecasts.
Still wearing just swim shorts and flip-flops as darkness fell, we walked all the way back to Novalja, a 30-minute effort. The shuttle buses just can’t keep up with the post-after-beach crowds. We all reconvened aboard Geja, ready for some food and a transition to night party mode. Novalja itself has a decent party scene, mostly centered around Cocomo. We drank a fair amount before hitting the bar, but no amount of booze could overcome the fact that 80% of the crowd was male. Before you ladies get excited about this, keep in mind that we guys
get really stupid when there are so few girls around – a lose-lose situation. My past visits here, always earlier in the season, were never this bad. But we are in the midst of the Italian vacation season, and somehow only the guys showed up. As nice as Italians in Italy can be, hordes of young horny Italian males make for an ugly scene. With the high male ratio and the Italians’ flamboyance, you might mistake for a gay pride event. Still, we made some new friends among the female minority.
(Friday, August 16) Talk about a slow morning! Our first quest was to find a place that would serve us a breakfast omelet at 1pm. We took it super slow, and by the time we brought some
groceries back to the boat, it was already 3:30pm. Too late (and too lazy) to rush off, we stuck around, possibly with some false hope that tonight would go better. Despite some generous portions of Red Bull Vodkas before entering, Mats ordered bottle service at Cocomo. Still, the scene had not improved since yesterday, though despite the odds we did make a few more friends. Our most effective pickup line was, “We’re not Italian.” We’ll be more than ready to get out of here tomorrow.
(Saturday, August 17) Not sad to leave the Italian Sausage Fest, we hoisted anchor by noon, making a pit stop at the quay for some water on the way out. Wasn’t quite sure
at first where we’d end up tonight, as long as we covered about half the distance to Zadar, tomorrow’s destination. Luckily here in Croatia there are anchorages everywhere. I did know that we’d be seeking a quiet spot to detox. We had some super nice sailing conditions, with bearings set roughly on the island of Molat. Air temperatures were slightly cool today – I even put on some long sleeves while sailing. Took a swim break at 4:30 in a great little cove between Molat and Ist before continuing on to some still unknown destination.
Though not quite a secluded anchorage, we ended up taking a berth in Lucina, an adorable little village on the island of Molat, small enough to have zero party temptation. The harbor
area provided a most pleasant spot for us to chill out over a beer while watching the kids (and me) play with the local cats. The little marina even offered showers, an unexpected luxury.
At 8pm or so, the guys wanted to take a walk up the hill to the village. Exhausted, I stayed behind, but offered to have dinner ready for them after 45 minutes. At 8:45, nobody turned up, and the food was just about ready. Kinda miffed, I ate without them, actually
enjoying a bit of solo time, though they did eventually return with a good story. Henrik, who has had the nastiest of coughs lately, was in a shop looking for some medicine. Being a tiny village, the three foreigners were quickly noticed. An older Croatian woman, one that lives near Los Angeles in the non-summer months, invited the boys to her home to supply Henrik with some homemade treatment. The boys obviously couldn’t excuse themselves early from such hospitality.
Still recovering from Zrce, post-dinner energy was low. We all just lounged around on board until the older Italian on the boat next door whipped out his
guitar. It wasn’t exactly appreciated, but who were we to complain at 10pm on a Saturday night? Big Steve and I ended up taking a stroll up to the village up the hill, where some kind of card-playing town festivity was taking place. We didn’t stay long, retreating back to the harbor and falling asleep by midnight.
(Sunday, August 18) What a perfect night of sleep, badly needed after a rather crazy week. We thought we’d splurge on breakfast ashore, but couldn’t find anything but coffee. And a few cats to play with, of course. We got going at 11:30am for the final day of the loop back to Zadar. About an hour into the voyage I made a little surprise stop for the guys. Tucked into the shores of Dugi Otok (Long Island) is an
old submarine bunker, a fun place to moor and explore. Feeling the need to jump from high places again, I scaled the bunker’s concrete entrance and hopped into the cool (+22C), crystal clear seas a couple of times.
We got going again, hoisting the spinnaker for the first time this season. Gentle winds from behind pushed us along nicely as we wiggled between several islands. To reach Zadar, we’d have to sail upwind a bit to get around the island of Ugljan. I regre
t it now, but we motored the short distance to windward instead of unfurling the genoa. Our Viking forefathers would not have approved! Once clear of Ugljan, we hoisted the spinnaker again for the final seven miles down to Zadar.
We took the same exact berth in Marina Zadar as last weekend, this time assisted by the marina staff. Lukas, my Swiss buddy joining Leg Three, popped up shortly thereafter, expanding the wolf pack to five for this final night in
Zadar. We roamed into town for dinner, ending up eating some horrible food in a prime location opposite the bar Kult (my dining choice, Bruschetta, was outvoted due to its quiet location). The party atmosphere has definitely dropped since last Sunday, as vacationing Croatians have mostly returned home to Zagreb and other inland towns. Still, we gave it a shot, starting with some pre-packaged pre-drinks on the quay after dinner. Let’s just say that after just two weeks underway this season, the Red Bull budget has been shattered. Kult wasn’t
really happening, but we did find another excellent bar in the old town that I wished we’d found earlier. It was late, though, and the crowd had dwindled. Still, we befriended some long-legged locals and their dog.
(Monday, August 19) At 10am, a taxi arrived and whisked Henrik and Mats away. Big Steve is sticking around for the final week with Lukas. A parting gift from Mats is his dick towel, sure to provide silly entertainment for many seasons to come.
Though my liver took a toll, it was in most ways one of the best weeks I’ve experienced here, mostly due to my awesome crewmates, all close buddies. Transiting the Velebit Channel
was as stunning as little Lucina was pleasant. We even put the spinnaker to use. Zadar, a town I used to shun for being too “urban” was an excellent place at which to bookend the leg. Just one week to go before this shortened summer cruise winds down.