TROGIR, CROATIA – As usual around this time of year, I’m back at home base, crewless, the annual winterization ritual beginning. In addition to the usual tasks like rinsing the sails and folding them away down below, I’ll try to knock out a bunch of nagging projects – Geja’s list of deferred maintenance is not short. No need to book a flight out of here quite yet, as I’ll give myself more than the usual four days.
(Saturday, August 30) Anchored out as usual near Trogir’s castle, just where my last crewmate, Marikken, left me this morning. Was eager to get going on some little boat projects.
A couple of years ago I bought some five-conductor electric cable to replace the wiring for the four different lights mounted up the mast. Took care of this project out today, finally allowing me to easily show the proper running lights when sailing at night (which happens seldom).
A new set of harbor guys drove by and knocked on my hull. Trogir is one of the many Croatian ports that charges a fee to anchor, but the usual port guys usually look the other way, having enjoyed
a few cold beers with me in the past. Looked like I’d have to establish some local street-cred all over again. The new guys, though, were more concerned that I’d dropped anchor near a submerged electric line that supports the new marina on the Ciovo side of the channel. I looked ashore and noticed for the first time a shiny new no-anchor sign where the line enters the water. Looked like I was clear of the wire, so the guys let me stay this time (at no charge – dropped as many local names as I could). Anchoring in a more proper location involves a long, potentially wet, dinghy ride to town.
(Sunday, August 31) The original fixed plastic ports, a.k.a windows, along the side of Geja’s cabin are old, brittle, and leak-prone. Managed to bring over a complete set of original
replacement ports during the last two years, and finally mounted the last replacement today. I splurged on the tempered-glass version instead of scratch-able polycarbonate. Should be good for another 20 years.
Remained in place at anchor, with no more word from the port guys.
(Monday, September 1) In continuing the theme for the summer, it rained today. The worst part is that the skylight – a.k.a. hatch – over my bunk leaks, despite numerous attempts by the boatyard to fix it.
At around 6:00pm, the sky took on some shapes and shades of gray that I’d never seen before. Looked like some serious weather was about to hit, and it did. As darkness fell, so did the
buckets of rain along with frequent, and scary, clusters of lightning strikes. I was pretty freaked out, and decided to get away from anything metal and lay down. Should I lose consciousness, I didn’t want to fall too far. In the midst of it all, I texted Skipper Jay, a sailing acquaintance from years back, to ask what happens to humans when boats are struck by lightning. His response was reassuring. The crazy weather persisted for a few hours. At least this anchorage is very secure, my anchor buried well into the sticky mud.
No word again from the port guys about the forbidden anchorage., though I imagine the foul weather kept limited their patrols.
(Wednesday, September 3) Got a little restless just lying at anchor the past few days, so decided to splurge on a spot on the town riva for the night. Not only is it fun to be moored just alongside the action, it’s the perfect spot to rinse the sails and fold them up on the spacious promenade.
Went to retrieve the anchor, but it wasn’t budging. The mud is really thick here, and the recent stormy weather had Geja’s anchor really dug in. Finally got it loosened a bit, but it wasn’t coming
up easily. Had I snagged the electric cable after all? If so, should I be holding this metal chain in my hand? I pulled and pulled, with some help from the Yanmar diesel, and finally found the culprit. I snagged some large, old-school anchor that had just been laying around below (the water here is too murky to have seen this). I proceeded to the riva with the beast dangling from my bow.
Unlike the solitude of being at anchor, the riva is a very social place to be. And with a crusty old U.S.-flagged boat, there’s no shortage of inquiring minds, some wondering
if I had “just now arrived” from Geja’s hailing port of San Francisco. An adjacent boat full of German charterers invited me for lunch after watching me wrestle the sails off of the boat. As for folding the sails, more easily done by two, a higher-up at Ireland’s Royal Cork Yacht Club appeared out of nowhere to lend a hand.
The new port officials that run the riva are much younger and nicer than the previous guys. One helped me untangle my new anchor and found someone to dispose of it. And they were totally fine with me staying the night. Under the previous regime, smaller private boats were seldom welcome on the riva.
(Thursday, September 4) This morning I motored across the channel from the riva to the boatyard. Geja’s Yanmar had been smoking a bit, most noticeably while illuminated
by the stern light during
Leg Six’s overnight passage. With little discussion, Marin and crew had my entire heat exchanger assembly pulled out of the engine. I guess I won’t be motoring back to the anchorage! Luckily we have about 10 months to sort out the engine woes.
Went over to the hostel this evening with some take-out as I often do when darkness ends my day of boat tasks. Nice to sit around and talk to the staff and/or other travelers.
(Friday, September 5) Value Added Tax is a hot topic in the European Union for those with foreign sailboats. If you stay longer than 18 months in a row, you can be forced to cough up 20%+ of the value of your boat. Not so horrible (but horrible enough) for an older boat like Geja, but a big deal for most boat owners. Enforcement is sporadic, handled differently, and unpredictably, in each E.U. country.
My 18-month window expires prior to next summer, so I’d be chancing it. But Ana in the boatyard informed me of a deal in which I could pay V.A.T. of just 1.7%. All I had to do was prove that I owned Geja for at least six years. Still slightly skeptical, a handed several hundred euros, along with copies of various documents, to an agent that Ana recommended. Let’s see if this works out.
With the motor disabled, we moved Geja by hand to the spot at the crane. Welders are coming early in the morning to fix up my bow pulpit, damaged in that little mishap in Leg Five.
(Saturday, September 6) Woke up to my alarm at 7:15am, expecting the welders to arrive at 7:45am. They came at 8:45am to weld the damaged bow pulpit. As the welders wrapped up, I asked the crane guy when I was due to haul out. He said, “now.” Had to hustle to get things ready, with some help from Little Marin to get the dinghy on deck.
Plugged away on various project for the rest of the day. Hoped to make a trip down to Split – it is Satuday night after all – but I just couldn’t wrap things up in time.
Strolled down to the hostel instead, getting stuck watching TV with Marin in the lobby for the rest of the night. During the walk back to the boatyard later, couldn’t help to notice how dead the town was. Just a year or two ago, Big Daddy, Padre, and Monaco would be blasting music across the harbor. Trogir seems to have lost its party vibe.
(Sunday, September 7) Sorted out the bills today with Ana. Bills from the previous winter that they hadn’t manage to sort out at the beginning of this summer.
Needed a second pair of hands to complete a project today, so I recruited a woman that I briefly met at the hostel last night. A rather annoying lady with a boating background, she held some bolts (poorly) above while I tightened them below. Offered her a beer before nudging her away.
Changed a bunch of dollars into Croatian kuna today at a rate of 5.76 kunas per dollar. That’s the best rate I’d gotten in several years.
After moving off of the boat and into my friend Marin’s hostel, I finally made the bus trip down to Split, where I strolled around all evening reminiscing about the month that I “lived”
there at the end of the inaugural 2008 voyage. The old palace in Split really is magical, and has become much more hip then before. A few trendy, open-kitchen restaurants with massive street-level windows have opened up, shedding some of the old-school feel that still dominates. Food service is stubbornly similar up and down the coast, so it’s great to see some creativity. I anyway ate at Fife, a vibrantly old-school spot made famous by Lonely Planet.
Went to sleep in the hostel tonight after watching, strangely, a bit of the 49ers game on TV.
(Monday, September 8) Owning a far-away boat can be frustrating, as you only get to visit your boat once per year. If I only lived closer by, I would pop in during the offseason to knock out the lengthy list of deferred maintenance (and other not-so-critical projects like LED accent lighting in the salon). Today was my last full day here in the boatyard, and somehow, as it often happens, I found myself awake well into the night cleaning, fixing, documenting, planning next year’s improvements, etc. Why this needed to take until 4:00am I will never fully understand.
(Tuesday, September 9) When I left the marina late last night for the hostel, I hadn’t planned on returning today. That plan changed this morning when I couldn’t find my passport. With
no time to spare, I hustled back to Geja looking for it. I keep it in a certain drawer while on board, but it wasn’t there. Ran back to the hostel for another look, and found it hiding inside my hastily thrown together luggage.
Just barely made my flight today, destination Finland. Exciting new adventures await.
For those keeping track, sailing to Venice and back this summer took 790 miles, 40% of which were sailed with the engine off. Ten crewmembers from eight different countries joined me this summer. Geja was underway for 38 out of 50 days, overnighting in 34 different locations, 12 of which were new to me. Due mostly to Croatia’s infamous anchoring fees, we paid overnight fees in all but eight places. It was a fantastic summer, bad weather and all.