TROGIR, CROATIA – Third and final leg of this three-week sailing season, and it’s reunion time. Big Steve is sticking around from Leg Two, his third straight season aboard Geja. Lukas is joining from Switzerland for his fifth straight season. These guys were my crew in Leg Six of 2011. We’ve got almost a week to reach Geja’s winter port of Trogir from Zadar, just enough time to experience the highlights of the region.
(Monday, August 19) Took us some time to get going this morning after the departure of two of Leg Two’s crew. Finally, with full cupboards and a clean boat, we sailed
out of Zadar at 2:30pm. Pointing south without a whole lot of wind, we put up the sails and managed to squeeze out some respectable speed. With Lukas around, I always feel guilty when using the motor, sensing the disapproval of this mild-mannered sailor. I got the motor going, though, when we reached the little bridge separating Pasman from Ugljan. The winds and currents are just too squirrely in the busy little channel.
Once back in open water, on a more favorable sailing angle, the sails went right back up for the remaining five miles to the village of Sali. The sailing was blissful – just enough
wind to keep us moving well, yet not enough wind to kick up any chop. Before pulling into town, we took a break at the entrance for the first and only swim of the day. By the time we entered the harbor, its 50 berths were full, the final boat entering while we swam. We hoped to grab an unofficial-looking side tie, but it was for customs purposes only. Too bad we didn’t have any girls on board to charm the young harbor official.
In Croatia, one always needs a backup plan when arriving late in a harbor, part of which requires leaving enough sunlight for that backup plan. I had none, and we had just an hour of light left. Checked out an intimate little cove just 20 minutes away where we could anchor. It would’ve been a tight squeeze requiring a stern
line ashore, something that I’m usually just too lazy to do. Also, the weather forecast calls for some approaching funkiness, and this cove allowed no room for any anchor slippage or easy getaway.
We motored onwards in stunningly calm conditions, the sun setting behind us and a nearly full moon rising ahead. The lighting was surreal as we plowed along for another 40 minutes, reaching a remote and spacious bay, Cucisca, with just enough light to get the anchor down. With the new LED party lights installed in the cockpit and set to warm white, we ate a hearty dinner. Until now, dining out in the cockpit after dark was charming but challenging, with just a lantern and maybe a candle by which to see. But with these LED’s, it was plenty bright without consuming much battery power. After dinner, of course, the lights were turned off to enjoy the tranquil surroundings and rising moon.
(Tuesday, August 20) Was not a pleasant night. Gusty winds along with thunder and lightning woke me often. By morning, a steady light rain developed. As a Californian,
I don’t sail in the rain. Breakfast, a nice egg scramble, was served indoors, a Geja first! Usually it’s too warm to eat below, and the salon table hadn’t been very functional prior to a repair this past winter. It was actually pretty nice to sit inside for a change, out of the elements.
The clouds and rain eventually gave way to clearer skies, thought the bora wind was still a presence. We got going at 1:15pm for some unknown destination in the Kornati Islands, a national park. We killed the motor before too long, riding along conservatively with a portion of the forward sail unfurled. I always like to take a hike in the deforested Kornati’s, so we tried to access a trailhead on Levrnaka. Though the winds were blustery, we sailed into the main bay, one in which is too deep to drop anchor, hoping our midday arrival would yield an available mooring. No such luck. We sailed back out of the little bay (again, I would’ve motored had it not been for Lukas’ presence), rounding the island in order to
anchor in the shallow, picturesque bay on the “outside” of the island. The wind propelled Geja all of the way in, only firing up the motor to get our anchoring position just right.
We launched the dinghy and paddled ashore right away. We climbed the peak to the left, enjoying spectacular views over the 18-mile long national park. A further, somewhat higher peak beckoned, so we climbed it as well. From the top, I could see that Geja wasn’t behaving at anchor. I stopped her just short of a line of swimming buoys, so close that a major
wind shift might push her over the line. Of course, while we were hiking, the northeast bora wind gave way to a more typical northwesterly, straddling Geja near the line.
In the uninhabited Kornati Islands, there are a number of restaurants that operate in the summer, feeding all of the hungry boaters. At the bottom of our trail was one such restaurant, appropriately named Andrija, my Croatian name. Although the place seemed oddly deserted, we eventually were able to order
some beer and palačinke, a crepe-like dessert. Sitting there on the saddle between the island’s two peaks, the wind shifted to northeast again, accelerating through the restaurant’s outdoor seating. I began to worry about Geja, nothing more than a 20kg piece of metal stopping her from a fast solo ride to Italy. Lukas had continued walking to check out the restaurants in a different bay, and I was becoming anxious for him to return. The wind became so strong that Big Steve and I sought shelter behind the lee side of the restaurant building.
Lukas turned up before too long, and we rode the wind back out to Geja, where she swung in place in the blustery winds. I spent a windy night here in 2011, so I know
the anchor holding is quite good. But I did begin to regret that we weren’t situated somewhere with better wind protection, and it was becoming too late, and perhaps too dangerous, to try to relocate. As we were knocked around by the frequent gusts, we cooked up a nice dinner and watched a movie, Meet The Fockers, on the laptop. Not often that a movie is shown aboard Geja, but it was too windy to enjoy being out on deck. And it was a bit chilly, at least enough to warrant long sleeves.
(Wednesday, August 21) Yesterday’s Navtex forecast called for 45-knot winds overnight, and this was probably correct. I didn’t sleep a whole lot as Geja danced through the gusts, the wind howling through the rigging. Unlike a few years ago, I’ve come to trust Geja’s anchor, so it’s no longer my nerves that keep me awake.
As the wind eased up in the morning, the translucent waters of this beautiful little bay became ever so inviting. This is another rare Croatian bay where the water remains
shallow for some distance out, yielding colors often associated with idyllic Caribbean beaches. We played in the water until hoisting anchor at 12:45pm, leaving the anchorage under wind power alone. Great winds made for a fast sail across the channel to Vrulje, the largest settlement in the Kornati’s. As charming as it looked, it was only 1:30pm, and we didn’t really have any reason to stop, even though the mooring spots offered would be in high demand in just a couple of hours.
Retreating from Vrulje and hoisting sail again, I was bummed to find that the northeast bora winds, which would have produced awesome beam-reach sailing southeast
down the island chain, had shifted to a more typical northwest direction. Sailing directly downwind is a slow point of sail, but we persisted. 10 miles and dozens of treeless islands later, we hung a left through a narrow passage, leaving the Kornati Islands for Vodice on the mainland.
Winds were blowing quite a bit stronger out in these more open seas. With Geja’s bow pointed towards Vodice, the relative wind angle made for an amazing spinnaker reach, averaging about seven
knots during the long final sprint, probably pushing the limits of what the old sail can handle. With just the mainsail up, we sailed through the tight gap just outside of Tribunj, coasting comfortably with the motor off all the way to Vodice where we took a pricey spot in the ACI Marina, nailing the approach in its narrow fairways. Aside from our exploratory detour in Vrulje and the final minutes within the marina, we used no engine power to reach Vodice, not even using the motor while hoisting anchor.
After two nights “in the wild” since leaving Zadar, we were ready for some party time. Vodice is a very energetic place, fortunately still undiscovered by the English-speaking
backpacker set that has contaminated the nightlife in Hvar and Split. The convenient but expensive ACI Marina is right in the heart of town, just a few steps from the main bars. After dinner in town, we strolled back on board for a few drinks before stepping into Makina, which anyway doesn’t get hopping until about midnight. During the short walk, we crossed paths with a group of German girls, all carrying plastic to-go bottles with self-mixed Red Bull vodka. We commended their party style, such to-go drinks being a Geja staple.
Like last week at in Novalja, we ordered table service at Makina, just 50 euros for a 0.7l bottle of vodka and several Red Bulls. It seemed like a great idea at the time!
Splitting time between the Germans and other new friends, we roamed Vodice’s harbor area after Makina’s closing. Unusual for Croatia, Vodice has two after-hours clubs right in town, their music echoing through the marina. We bounced around for a while, before hosting a Titanic sunrise after-party with the Germans aboard Geja. Red Bull’s effects are real, and while I didn’t sprout wings, I was plenty energetic and giddy, even after the sun rose.
(Thursday, August 22) Luckily the weather’s been a bit cooler lately, allowing me some badly needed sleep this morning until about noon. Expecting a horrible hangover,
I awoke feeling drowsy but fine. I was probably still drunk. We found some omelets in town, and I was being Mister Social, laughing and joking with the staff and other customers.
Checkout time from any ACI Marina is 2pm, which is exactly when I stumbled into the office to pay up and retrieve Geja’s boat papers. There was a pretty good breeze blowing when we left the marina, so we lazily unfurled the headsail and enjoyed a fast but easy sail down the coast. At the fortress near Sibenik where Geja’s
motor conked out two weeks ago, we hung a left and began our voyage up the Krka River. The plan was to reach Skradin, from where we’ll check out the Krka waterfalls tomorrow. With Lukas aboard, I had to squash any thoughts of firing up the motor, as we persisted under sail further and further upstream. We tacked eight times in short succession, dodging traffic from both ahead and behind. One local excursion boat nearly motored into us, screaming as he passed. Unless there’s a no-sailing rule in this 400-meter wide channel, what a complete dick he was.
Voyaging up the Krka River is awesome! At some points, it’s just 150 meters wide, lined by vertical rock walls. We did have to turn on the motor, as the wind became
too fluky in the deep canyon. But just a mile and half later, we unfurled the genoa again and sailed the remaining three miles into Skradin. Although there is very convenient anchoring in Skradin, we splurged on a spot in the ACI Marina. 10 nautical miles upstream of the Adriatic Sea, this is one of the coziest inland nautical destinations imaginable. In the words of crewmate, Big Steve:
“The river channel leading up to Skradin was peaceful and calm. The hillsides were green and lush and there's nothing as peaceful as laying out on a sailboat slowly winding one's way along the water as the fresh, open air keeps a steady breeze while modern rock hits from the past play on the stereo. We couldn't have timed our arrival better. The sun was just dipping down behind the hills as we pulled into Skradin, its golden rays painting the tiny ancient town in a beautifully rich glow.
“But just as I was taking in this serene moment, a large refugee boat, spewing nauseous diesel fumes and packed with hundreds of distressed victims of some unthinkable atrocity in a neighboring
country, drifts into the harbor, unloading its survivors.
‘What the hell is THAT?!?!?’, I incredulously cried out to our captain.
‘Oh’, he replied with a deadpan tone, ‘that's the tour boat you will be taking tomorrow morning to the Krka waterfalls.’
“I realized then that we are not the only ones who have heard of the lush oasis just upstream from here. These are simply the hordes of tourists that have waited in line for over an hour only to be completely stuffed onto this tour boat to make the 20-minute ride from the waterfalls at Krka National Park back to town.
“I know the irony of me saying this as a tourist myself, but I don't care for tourists and I care for them even less when packed in closed quarters with them. This is not how I will be experiencing the Krka waterfalls.
“‘How far is it to the falls, man, and how else do we get there?’ I ask Andrew.
"’Well, you can always just rent a bicycle in the morning and ride over to the falls on a nice quiet trail, a 30-minute ride’, he says.”
After last night’s party madness, there was no onboard pre-party this evening to delay our journey into town in search of a good meal. Often in Croatian restaurants
I feel underwhelmed and overcharged. Strangely, nearly every menu along the coast is pretty much the same, seldom any variety or creativity in the offerings. As we wandered about, looking for just the right spot, we seemed to be strolling further and further from civilization along one surprisingly long, and increasingly quiet, walking boulevard. But somewhere seemingly at the end of the world, we stumbled upon a gem of a restaurant, Konoba Toni.
We made it just in time for the final seating. We didn’t realize it at first, but they prepare their meals in the traditional local method called Peka, by which an entire
plate of meat, potatoes, and veggies is placed under a piping hot iron bell. For an hour. Knowing that we would be there for a while, we settled in, splurging on appetizers, beer, and wine before the main event was removed from the bell. By Croatian standards, it was an epic meal.
Back in the center of town, we didn’t expect much to be happening. And there wasn’t. A family of stray cats entertained me for a while, but before long we were aboard Geja, crashed out.
(Friday, August 23) What an amazingly peaceful night of sleep, thanks to calm water, no parties, and cool temperatures. Having been up to the waterfalls twice before, Big Steve and Lukas ventured up to the falls on their own, getting an early start as we had to cover some ground later in the day. Big Steve had this to report:
“Not wanting to join the masses on the refugee ship, Lukas and I rented bikes. They were pretty beat up, the biggest size they had was too small, my brakes failed to grip with any real conviction, and shifting was problematic. But there was no better feeling than riding past the line of tourists snaking its way along the dock waiting to board that first boat of the day. ‘So long, suckers!’ I thought to myself as Lukas and I rolled off.
“I love sailing, but I love riding as well, and it felt amazing to stretch my legs on the open road, getting that burn going from pushing hard on the pedals and feeling my legs muscles open up after so many days of lounging on the boat. The paved road soon turned to a dirt trail that started out flat, but quickly took steep descending turns running parallel to the water and before we knew it, we had
arrived at the national park. It paid off to get there bright and early. Walking into the park, my first glimpse was the huge number of empty picnic tables and concession stands that I knew would be packed with those floating their way to us that very moment.
“I bought my obligatory Krka waterfalls postcard and we made the short walk to see it for ourselves. They were amazing and beautiful. The waterfalls cascade out from the hills, the trees, and bushes from all angles to give this wonderfully tiered effect of white water flowing down gracefully from one level to the next until it pours into the pool below where one can wade or swim.
“I could easily have spent the day at the base of the falls, just sipping coffee, taking photos, and listening to the falling of the water. But if we were to make our next port of call that day, Lukas and I had
to get back to the boat in just a few hours time. Andrew had visited before and recommended walking the trail around and over the river behind the falls, so Lukas and I made our way along this wonderful trek. The path that ran along the water turned into a boardwalk that wandered over the river and through the groves of trees and plants that made up the landscape above the waterfalls. The ponds here were shallow and there were many little pockets where fish would hold their positions facing upstream, waiting for something smaller and appetizing to come flowing towards them for their morning treat.
“There is no swimming allowed in this upper region of the falls, but Lukas and I came across a fork in the trail, taking the less popular but possibly more adventurous turn. Just 10 minutes away from
the throngs of people, we were rewarded with the trail dead-ending and opening up to a large lake that feeds the falls. All systems a go for a well-deserved dunk in the drink and having the place all to ourselves!
“As I floated there cooling down looking up at the sky, I felt a great sense of appreciation of the simple things in life. I know, I know, it’s the ultimate cliché, but it's just an amazing feeling when a basic moment such as this strips away all baggage and sets you free for just that one moment in time to just be free and clear.
“Of course, that moment was ruined knowing that captain would get mad if we were late, so my moment of bliss was cut short and we had to return to the boat to sail away to some other awesome and amazing place and I had to find my inner chi and bliss all over again. The trials and tribulations of sailing Geja!”
While the boys were away, I spent the morning just casually strolling around town. Skradin is such a remarkably peaceful and beautiful place, nestled well inland
from the sea. The boys returned, all smiles from their adventure, having more than overcome their initial skepticism about the high-season crowds.
Though we all could easily have spent more time here, this summer’s cruise ends tomorrow in Trogir, a 45-mile voyage from here. We pulled out of Skradin at 1:30pm, motoring back down the Krka River. Near the mouth of the river is the town of Sibenik, where we tied off to the public quay to deal with some boat paperwork issues that require a visit to the police and customs.
Little did I know that this would require a ride in the back of a police car, during which I proudly proclaimed was my first time (in Croatia, anyway). I’ve gotten used to such seemingly simple paperwork taking forever in these parts, and this time was no exception. I did find it hilarious that mounted on one of the personnel lockers in the station was a label in English saying “sheriff.”
Underway again and back in more open seas, we snaked our way south through a few islands until reaching Primosten, where this very same crew had some great fun in 2011.
As usual, the mooring field was crowded, as there are spots for just 15 or so visiting yachts along the town quay. Surprisingly, there was space available on the quay despite our 7pm arrival. Usually such desirable spots are gone by mid-afternoon in the peak season. Except on Fridays, when most charter boats are back at their home ports swapping crew. What didn’t make sense is why the paid anchorage was so full. Anyway, instead of anchoring for free to the north of the isthmus, we again decided to splurge, snagging a spot front and center within serving distance of several restaurants.
With an audience of diners just meters away, Lukas was the first to shower Geja-style in the cockpit. Unlike full service marinas, ports like this rarely offer showers, though
Primosten turned out to be one of them, something we didn’t learn until Lukas was done. I showered on board anyway, both for entertainment value (Geja does have a hippie-vibe to it) and is sometimes just easier than lugging one’s toiletries even 25 meters.
After a pizza dinner we checked out the outdoor wine bar that has served us well socially in the past. But the demographics weren’t for us, so we walked the two minutes back to Geja for a few drinks. I was in a particularly good mood, no doubt thanks to
the ample rest last night. Soon I was making friends with nearby wait staff and the Slovakians on the neighboring power yacht, one whose underwater lights showered Geja’s bottom in a fancy glow.
At around 1am we ventured up the hill to Primosten’s fancy nightclub, Aurora. We were surprised to run into a group of Americans there, but amused that they had just completed The Yacht Week, a 600-sailor one-week party flotilla that recurs all summer long here. They described the carnage, such as a tendon severed
from broken glass (on a boat) and other party injuries. I obviously appreciate a good party, but when it’s geared towards minimal respect for the boats they rent and the art of sailing, I can’t help but despise it somewhat. The rest of the night at Aurora entertained us well enough until nearly 5am.
(Saturday, August 24) Thanks to cooler temperatures I was able to sleep until noon, a luxury on a boat in the Mediterranean heat. We each stumbled about five paces from Geja to the nearest restaurant table for breakfast, where we enjoyed a fun conversation
with an Austrian couple touring the area by bike.
Despite some raindrops, we detached from Primosten at 2pm for the final sail of the season down to Trogir. We made a pit stop at the nearby Kremik Marina to complete the paperwork that I began in Sibenik. Always nervous about encountering government officials here, a cute 28-year old policewoman turned up, apologetic for the 30 minutes we had to wait. With smiles, laughter, and no fuss, my paperwork mission was accomplished. Finally some flirting with results.
We tried sailing a bit, but needed the motor for most of the way to Trogir. On our approach we recreated the self-timer beer pose from two years earlier. We chose again to skip the free anchorage for the convenience of marina life, the main one being the ability to step on and off to shore. I radioed the marina staff announcing my arrival, and was told to wait a bit while they figured out which spots were
available. I could see a number of spots open. After all, new charter groups arrived today, and many had already departed for their one-week cruise. After five minutes I radioed again, but again given the cold shoulder. After five winters in this very marina, I knew which spots I could just take with no problem, but among these surly folks it’s usually best to do it their way. But after waiting even longer, I finally just backed in to a slip. I can only imagine laziness as the marina staff’s excuse, much
like in Zadar two weeks ago.
With some to-go food and to-go drinks, we parked ourselves on a bench on Trogir’s riva. The supermodel parade was in full effect, young tall locals parading around in the tightest of mini-dresses. You just don’t see this back home. Discarding our empty bottles, we joined the more adult scene at Padre, one of the main dance bars on the waterfront. Throughout the night, the locals were friendlier than ever, though still skeptical
of “visitors.” Lukas and Big Steve turned in earlier than me, at which point a 16-year old Napolean Dynamite lookalike befriended me, escorting me into the after-hours club called Monaco. He had some funny unsolicited advice for me regarding the local girls. But the sheer volume of the turbofolk music drove me back outside before long, though I still managed to share some laughs with some hilarious locals on my walk to the marina.
(Sunday, August 25) Removing Geja’s sails for the season is the biggest of the season-ending
tasks. The three of us got to work right away in the morning, the sails down and folded just before Lukas’ 11:30am departure for the airport. Big Steve is sticking around another day.
Again it was an amazing week of Mediterranean adventures here, another great mix of peaceful anchorages and crazy parties, with plenty of motor-free sailing along the way. Lukas and Big Steve were excellent crewmates as always.