Madame Geneva

Leaving Croatia was hard.  Emotionally, and then, actually.  Customs and immigration was right across the harbor in Dubrovnik.  We had stayed over fifteen days in Croatia so the kids would not be subjected to another Covid test prior to entry into Montenegro.  Documentation in hand, kunas depleted, Justin arrived and the rest of us waited on Madame Geneva.  And waited.  And waited.  The first call came asking me for the invoice from the marina in Trogir proving we were there.  Email search unsuccessful.  Another call: Any receipt we have, “the more the better”.  I sent the car rental contract, the service bills, the wire receipts, images of my credit card transactions.  And still no Justin.  After two hours he returned, free to go.  Apparently, the marina never informed the agents that our boat was on the hard with them over the winter and so we were a mystery. 

The emotional element was an odd unnerving that we were leaving the home we found in Croatia. The hospitality received was free flowing.  We encountered so many times of simple and unexpected accommodation.  On our last anchor in the bay outside of Korcula, we dinghied ashore reluctant to go into the town proper as the marina was closed and LOTS of boats were finding their way into the anchorage.  The skills varied greatly and I suspect this is foreshadowing of our upcoming trip to Greece.  We watched as one charter dropped their anchor by hand, nearly severing the fingers of one unlucky crewmate, directly in front of the boat just to our port.  This led to a dragging to dig anchor set across the lines of that yacht and ours.  Another decided to just motor in at full speed, drop his anchor in about 12 feet of water just 50 feet off of the rocks.  A choice, just not one we would make.  Not surprisingly, he found the swing uncomfortable and pulled up anchor.  So to shore for lunch, with eyes on Madame Geneva we went.  Except, everything was opening tomorrow.  We followed a few signs of promise and ended up at a gin and tonic lounge.  Clearly a fit not for our three now “starving” kids.  Justin inquired within, wondering if anyone knew of a place close by.  The man proceeded to walk us to the hotel, set up a table overlooking Madame Geneva, and brought out pastas and goulash. 

The beauty of Croatia is hard to capture with words or even images.  The rugged terrain is met with stunning trees and flowers and seas with as many shades of blue as conditions.  We saw more wind in Croatia than in any other part of the Mediterranean.  We used ALL of our sails.  Perhaps fitting that our final days, the wind laid down and we motored away.

Croatia has cultivated paths and those untread by most because of the mines.  There are ruins from the antiquities and ruins from wars more personally felt and recently lived through.  There are aqueducts half buried and wind farms just visible between the peaks of massive mountains.  There are works of art, carved thousands of years ago, and a work of art modernly woven into an organ sounded by the sea.  There are palaces of grandeur next to communist apartment complexes. 

As Justin worked to document, there are many faces of Croatia and we will miss them all.

Much love and stay tuned. 

We worked for it and now, finally, we are back in the groove. Our first night at anchor, truly anchored not a mooring or touristy marina, marked the start of this leg of our journey. Year 7. Leg 11. Our children have grown up aboard as have Kelly and I in so many ways.

We spent our first week in a 5th floor walk up apartment in Split scurrying back and forth to Trogir (TRO-gurr) and our girl Madame Geneva to perform the ritual of splashing, rigging, cleansing, provisioning….as well as wiring, fixing, hunting for parts in one of many foreign tongues.  Che, having been accepted to a wonderful school of the arts back home, now has a full sized 88 key electric piano as a bunk mate to stay sharp. Che, Gherty and Quinn all finished their last week of school online in Croatia 6 hours ahead.

We’ve got this part pretty well figured out. Once we set off I feel we’ve got the sailing bits mostly dialed in. We’ve tied up to countless moorings, med moored too often to tabulate, and anchored (as well as dragged anchor and reanchored) in most conditions. Not to worry. The weather is still the main concern. The children’s safety and comfort are still paramount. Often at the sacrifice of our own comfort. That’s what we signed up for. Not to worry. We love it.

I see changes in the children that are both predictable and surprising. I can’t tell you what a gift it is to be together so much. Now that we have 2 bona fide teenagers on board and one stretching his wings a year ahead of schedule it’s shifted from, “what will we do today Mommy?” towards “maybe you two should go have a gin and tonic on the Riva so we can read aboard in peace Dad.” They’re independent, resourceful and comfortable in all of these surroundings. I guess that’s what we’ve been working toward so, again, everything here is going well.

We left Trogir after a week headed nowhere in particular. Just happy to get going. The myriad rules for an American yacht with 2 fully vaccinated adults, 2 partially vaccinated teens and one child unvaccinated at 6 months shy of the age minimum is tricky and fluid. Add in the normal bureaucracy of EU rules for a foreign boat and basically we were presented with one option. Enjoy island hopping in Croatian waters for a week prior to heading on.  We need to clear into Montenegro, to clear out of the EU, to reset our temporary import of Madame Geneva for another 18 months. We can’t enter Montenegro without quarantining unless we’ve been in the EU for 15 days continuously. And….only just recently, can we enter Greece at all. Not to mention Albanian waters. We can’t set foot ashore in Albania or the whole house of cards crumbles. Also, they have some piracy issues from time to time. So….we have a plan. And what, you ask, has been our family motto since the day we set off north on our first night sailing? “Make a plan. Then do what happens.” It seems for once we will need to try to stick with the plan so perhaps all this “we got this” bluster is moot. Let’s hope the Bora winds don’t pounce on us from the northeast or the Sirocco from the south right as we are trying to transit the only shore we are forbidden to make landfall on. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s only a 24 jump from beautiful Tivat, Montenegro to Corfu, Greece our port of entry. Just like everything else it’s all about timing….eating the bread before it gets hard, remembering to thaw dinner early enough, checking the house battery voltage, charging the e-readers, making fresh water whenever possible……and so forth.

One quick night on a mooring in Uvala Lucice (OO-Vala LOO-see-chuh) in the island of Brac (BRA-tshh). A peaceful and easy first night to get resorted and in the groove. On morning two Kelly and I congratulated ourselves on all systems working great. Solar energy crackling, kids in high spirits. Lets run the watermaker and make sure she’s ready to do her annual heavy lifting. Perfect start up, pumping out fresh water at 100 liters/hour. Yes!! Wait! Where is the brine it dumps from the outlet into the sink? How is it making so much fresh water without the salty bit being expelled? (Slow motion cinematic) Nooooooo!! The marina had closed the outlet valve I have left open for 6 years since I installed it way back in the states. It’s under the cabin sole in the bilge out of sight. That explosion you heard in your imagination was our fresh water pump literally blown in two under the pressure before we could turn it off. Sooooo. After some research and a few lilting, fairly intelligible phone calls we hit the jackpot and found a new pump just a few harbors away in Milna (a rare instance of no phonetics required). A quick motor and we were med moored to the quay and were were in business. 2 hours and surprisingly no bloody knuckles later and the shattered former pump was swapped for the functioning pump. We paid for the night at the quay and have time to burn, so why not pizza and sightseeing? The food was spectacular and the ancient little town was gorgeous. We made friends for the night with a German sailing family who had much interest and many questions about Madame Geneva and the “plan.” Klaus and his family joined us in the cockpit after dinner to swap stories. These are always fun nights. It’s so fascinating how different cultures approach the same challenges in different ways. I said that’s it’s always been important to us not to scare the children when sailing if possible because that could lead to them not wanting to do this anymore. Klaus responded that he enjoys scaring his wife and children. They all laughed.

Next day we got all set to go. It was Sunday and church bells started ringing at 5 AM so getting up and motivated wasn’t hard. Plus, the Russian crew at the quay next to us were singing in 8 part harmony over their breakfast. It was a lovely way to get moving. Then…..break out the tuba!!!! A catamaran adjacent to us thought it was a good time to stand on the coach roof with a marching sousaphone and a full sized accordion and blast out German beer drinking tunes to the roaring applause of everyone in the harbor including the 14th century church behind them that rang her bells at sixteen past the hour to cheer them on. Wide grins. We’re back in the Med.

After being shot out of Milna harbor by a tuba we unfurled the Genoa and left the mainsail down as we charged down the Hvar canalski (VAR- canal) between Brac and Hvar at 8 knots close reaching in the smallest of chop. A great ride and another short one since we have time, there’s still so much to see and it will be quite a while till we come back this way. Anchored in 35 feet over soft sand we found ourselves in Luka Vrboska (LUKA-Ver-BOSK-uh) surrounded by stunning mountains tucked into a protected bight in a pine forest. In the afternoon we dinghied into shore and followed a path around the headland with stunning views and naked people everywhere. Yep! A Croatian nudist camping destination. Why not? The kids have seen this all before from the French Caribbean to, well, all of Europe. They still have reactions ranging from giggles to fury. All part of the journey. Kelly and I did laugh ourselves silly over the man fishing naked on the rocks realizing we started our day with a tuba concert and ended it with a naked fisherman….we all had a great laugh.

We are back at it. I’m so grateful we all made it. Everyone we know and love made it through this year. We are lucky beyond measure. And we know it. And so we carry on. Because this time with our children is short and precious.

Kelly, “Quinn, wanna jump in the water with me?” Quinn, “Nope”.  Perfect.

Stay tuned. Much love.

Kelly and I have found that there is room for superstition in traveling and sailing these past 6 years. Not so much that our actions are dictated by them but more so a feeling that witch-doctory “can’t hurt and may very well help”. I wear a piece of coral Gherty gave me in key west as a little girl around my neck as my talisman. We have been remarkably lucky since she gave it to me so there it will stay. Kelly warned me that her Irish avoid putting a hat on a bed early on in our relationship. I haven’t since then and we have been safe and fortunate so that is a hard and fast rule at home and onboard.

We always joke and remind each other that the ocean will always keep you aware of your insignificance right when things look to be getting easy. Years ago we had been banging upwind in darkness rounding Cape Canaveral, Florida just waiting to pass its outermost bouy so we could finally crack off and begin reaching south without the spray, pounding and rolling. We rounded the red maker and smugly headed off, easing the sails and shooting down the coast when a rogue wave, well over head high, with a seemingly vertical face slapped us fully broadside knocking us down and sent water over the cockpit halfway up the rig. Right. Just need to round the outer marker, huh? Then it’ll be easy, yes? Cape Lookout, North Carolina, Dashais, Guadeloupe, Nonsuch Bay, Antigua, Buzzards Bay, Rhode Island, Vieques, Spanish Virgin Islands, Andratax, Mallorca, Mahon, Menorca the list goes on. Each a long night. Each it’s own challenge. Each finding us hanging on, usually doing the right things to stay as safe and comfortable as possible, each just waiting….waiting for the early glow on the horizon letting us know that although it may not be over it will get a bit easier with the sun up. 

We have written about the Mediterranean winds. The Bora, the Mistral, the Sirocco all blow hard. Some predictable, others less so. We have also written about motoring through the azure glass. Either way we have been fortunate, made the right calls, usually a bit of both. No drama this year to speak of for Madame and her crew. Short trips with no border crossings or passages virtually assured that. I guess the pandemic made our sailing better due to empty anchorages, empty cities and no cruise ships. As easy as this was I’d trade it all for health and normalcy for everyone. “Make a plan then do what happens”. Same as it ever was.

Omiš (OH-meesh) was our last stop before heading back to Trogir (Tro-gur) to break down the Madame and put her back on the hard. 20 miles down the coast with dramatic mountains flanking a river mouth. A walled medieval city peppered with soviet bloc apartments sits nestled in the valley. Ancient lookout towers with World War II pillboxes added hang above on the cliffs. It is stunning. 

We were the only boat to anchor in 60 feet on pure white sand on an uphill slope. With 10 knots of sea breeze digging us in further we swam and launched our dinghy “Clover” for the last time, her leaks and quirks getting the best of her after 10,000 miles. The afternoon found 5 tired Americans (the only Americans as always this year) picking through Omiš buying souvenirs we hadn’t bought yet for friends back home and grabbing lunch. We were wistful about ending another leg of our journey but also very tired, physically and mentally. Schooling this year wasn’t our typical home school aboard routine. The kids had zoom meetings at all hours since we were 6 ahead and with occasionally spotty internet and conflicting travel schedules and class schedules it got hard. We were ready to head home to regroup. Plus Kelly had promised the children we’d get a puppy and a swimming pool when we returned so that didn’t help either.

We were running on fumes trying to empty our fuel, water and fresh food so we cobbled together a dinner and enjoyed a last peaceful night at anchor.

I was shaken awake by Kelly at precisely midnight. She told me the wind was building and the boat was spinning on her anchor. I washed my face, put on a jacket (yep!) and popped into the cockpit to access the situation. A steady 30 knots was blowing down the mountains occasionally with dead lulls of glassy water then hard 30’s again as if the wind was pouring out of a glass bottle. Blast, blast, deep breath, blast. It was a typical katabatic wind. Cold air tumbling down a mountainside at night. Not something that is often forecast and very localized. It surely wouldn’t be a Bora wind as the only forecast for this was 75 miles up the coast in the notorious Velebit Channel. No worries. Just a sporty night. I told Kelly I’d stay up top and keep an eye open and she should go to sleep. 

Around 2AM I called my friends Sam and Lisa back home since it was 8PM there and I was feeling chatty. The wind had begun to hit 40 by then. Concerning but not time for worry. Besides, we were anchored ideally and the lee shore was a 10′ deep sand bank several hundred yards behind us. (You can see it on the right in the photo above).

Around 3 AM I called Mom and Dad. The wind was now a sustained 40 knots still with the briefest moments of glassy water in between hard solid avalanches of cold wind. It’s funny talking to your parents and hearing Dad telling you what a great thing you’re doing for your children at the exact moment the boat is being hammered by increasingly dangerous winds at night in a foreign country. I believed him about the kids upbringing and I believed we were safe but it was getting heavier incrementally and it was still several hours until the dawn. 

Kelly joined me in the cockpit saying the violent swinging was not helping her sleep in the bow. We stayed up under a blanket in the cockpit and simply observed. 40 knots hit 50 and the gusts increased in frequency and ferocity. Looking at my 3 reference points I had picked out we seemed good. Then the wind abruptly stopped. Madame Geneva, fully tight on her anchor in the blow, shot forward in the lull and spun 90 degrees only to be met broadside with the full fury of 50 knots dead on the beam. She sailed bare poled off at 45 degrees and jerked violently. My reference points had shifted. Checking the depth we now had 20 feet under the keel where 60 had been constant. The anchor had dragged sideways across the underwater hill and was no longer set. Time to go. It was 5:30. The sun would not be up for quite some time with tall mountains blocking and delaying the sunrise. 

Kelly started bringing up the anchor while I struggled to keep the boat head to wind knowing that our 20 feet would drop to under ten in short order if we got sideways and dragged further. The dinghy was trailing behind since we went to bed in a calm. Now I was trying to keep it out from under the transom. When the anchor chain was nearly vertical Kelly signaled for me to reverse because the anchor was not coming up. I reversed, spun a wide arc backwards with half of the dinghy under the boat and the anchor let go. Kelly brought it up the rest of the way while I finished our circle in reverse throttle wide open trying to keep us from sliding onto the bank. Che popped up right at this moment and said that mom was amazing on the bow. I’m proud he recognized that.

We motored offshore and the 50 knots quickly turned to 30, then glass. It was our first night with a Bora at anchor. It was fascinating and exhausting. Quinn and Gherty got up and said we looked tired. We motored to a bay near Split, anchored and passed out.  When we woke up we moseyed to Trogir and tied her up. All that was left was 3 days of derigging, washing, scrubbing, packing, homeschooling, renting a car and moving the kids to an apartment in Split to attend school virtually. We donated our dinghy “Clover” to the marineros as she needed so much love and repair only a local with a long cold winter ahead could help her. We donated our trusty basil plant who had traveled with and fed us to a Kiwi couple headed to Greece. They looked at me a bit funny when I said his name is Lorenzo but it’s true. The plant’s name is Lorenzo and has been for some time. We donated the children’s books to the locals, hauled Madame Geneva out of the water and headed home.

Three flights, one overnight layover at JFK, and 5 negative COVID tests later I am writing this from home. I have a cold beer, I am rested, clean, and getting ready to fall back into what we call “re-entry”. Oh, and we have a new puppy as promised. Ferris. 

It’ll be another long winter but spring will find us aboard again. Hopefully crossing borders and making it to Venice, Athens and Istanbul as we planned before 2020 fell to pieces. 

Please be well. Much love from all of us. Leg 10, year 7 coming up next. Stay tuned!

Perhaps what 2020 has provided us is an opportunity to reset expectation, and to work more closely aligned with anticipation.  Expectation breeds complacency.  Anticipation allows for a delicate dance with knowledge and agility.  An expecting society struggles to see the beauty of each day, the simple appreciation of clean water, the comfort of a warm (or a cool) bed in which to sleep.  When those simplicities are made more difficult through an introduction of the unknown, they become more precious, more valuable.  Shake the rug and we realize how much dust has been masking our world.  2020 has provided the shake.  What now will we do with our knowledge and agility?

We, the captain and crew of Madame Geneva, move about in our home.  We have our comforts about us but we must work for them.  We make our water to drink and to bath and there is a great joy in that.  We do not take these things for granted, simply because that is when they break and we are bloodying ourselves to fix them.  We struggle through what is expected of us (work, school) with the limitations of electricity (what we cannot create by solar, we must ration drastically, leaving laptops uncharged and assignments due) and wifi, while wanting each hour to be filled with the rarity of exploring at this time.  We recognize how incredibly fortunate we are for these struggles. 

Last year, we were unable to get to Hvar town.  The weather was not cooperating, our bow thruster was not working and the only available space was a rocky stern-to mooring.  Uh…no thank you.  This year, we arrived in perfect time.  Surprised but pleased to know that we had secured a “360 buoy”, despite the closeness of every known boat in Croatia, we settled into our day with a fresh tank of water made in Rogoznica (that is one tank because somehow we have two other tanks of water but are without the ability to retrieve said water).   We watched a little nervously as charter boats rafted up to one another at these same buoys and were careful to discourage anyone rafting up to us.  Later in the day, we were approached by one of the marineras and we requested that we ride our mooring alone. We were told that only one boat was allowed per mooring.  He said this while two boats were moored together at the next buoy. 

Secure in our knowledge that we were at the mercy of the fates, we left the boat and went into the town.  As with many of these ports, the streets were relatively deserted.  Over the next couple of days, we hiked up to the fort and through the alleys.  We visited shops of handmade jewelry and leather bags, dockside cafes, and narrow sidewalk restaurants.  The kids had their most expensive gelato in Croatia (18 kuna! 2-3 times more expensive than elsewhere and still about USD$2.70 for a cone).  The people were gracious, and worried for business that did not come this year.  “Not since the war,” said a silver smith at his family’s jewelry shop, “has it been this bad.  I was only 9 years old then.” 

We cast off for the island of Lastova.  This national park at the edge of Croatia, well into the Adriatic, was pocketed with bays, ruins, churches, and beauty.  Our first anchorage had us tied to a tree.  Our next had me swimming for a stern buoy with a long line tethered to Madame Geneva, in about 20 knots of wind.  We walked into the town of Lastova, high above the cliffs overlooking a small port.  The chimneys of Lastova vary from house to house, as symbols of status.  Each also served to reflect the intimate knowledge of the wind in that area, providing ventilation in these old stone homes.  Some were grandiose and proud, some small and delicate.   

We have been traveling in Croatia for about five weeks, and we haven’t even come close to seeing all there is to see.  Last year, I said that Split was not to Dubrovnik, but little did I understand how unexplored we had left Croatia.  Though many towns share similar ruins and rules, each has its character often easier to photograph than to describe.  From a bell to a door to a quay made into an organ, these towns provide an opportunity to remember that our expectation can never be met with quite the pleasure with which our anticipation can.   

Take nothing for granted.  Much love and stay tuned.

When the wind blows from the southeast here it blows for a couple days. The Sirocco was predicted and, as predicted, creeps up slowly and steadily. You know it’s coming, but it’s coming. We shared some thoughts about weather and timing with new friends on S/Y Stella, an American woman new to sailing and her Italian man with a lifetime of passages under his keel while the kids zoomed their schooling in Madame Geneva one afternoon in Murter, Croatia. Our Italian neighbor “G” said it would be a proper Sirocco gusting into the 50’s SE starting 12 hours earlier than we had forecasted. I checked and rechecked all sources. GRIB files, weather 4D, local Croatia, all with similar “it’s gonna blow” predictions, all SE, but with a roughly 24 swing in just when.

Murter (we had a ball talking in our Alfred Hitchcock voices calling ourselves “Murrterrerrs” as new temporary residents) is great. Tiny, medieval rooted, a bit tourist centric with a large charter boat base and lots of ice cream, t shirts and restaurants. It’s a magnificent hidey-hole for weather from all sides. Only issue was that it is small and we saw it in a day and if we were to wait out the Sirocco it could be 2-3 days. “Should I stay or should I go?”.

Predawn had Quinn on deck waiting to photograph the sunrise. This kid surprises me every day. We got up to join him since he was stomping around over our heads. The three of us had a planning meeting. I didn’t want to go because the weather has been tough and often violent of late and the forecasts were so confused on timing. Kelly was up for it…or not, trusting my call and my PTSD from other ugly weather situations with children aboard. Quinn said, “I want to go” with a passion he has that says “there are reasons I feel and I need you to understand”. He was ready, the transit was very short and maybe half of the forecasts said it would be ok. The others called for 50 knots of wind and 3-4 meter seas. Ehhh. What are we doing this for anyhow? Let’s go. Quinn’s call.

The weather was nil as we motored down island. The swell was building from the SW slowly with a red haze on the horizon from the hot Sahara wind on its way. Humidity was building. It’s fascinating watching the earth percolate and feeling things brewing. Just go and get there. It’ll be fun.

We only needed to get back to Šibenik (SHE-bin-ick) and then head 15 miles inland up the Krka river to a huge inland lake that has no vowels and back up the Krka to Skradin (SKRAY-din), one of the oldest towns in all of Croatia, far inland in a gorge with swans, cedar trees and deep blue brackish water. Simply amazing. From here we rode out 2 days of Sirocco gusting into the 40’s here, 50+ at the coast.

We rented 5 mountain bikes for 250 kuna total ($42.50 US) for the day and rode to Krka national park to swim in the iconic falls and get our blood moving. It was great exercise and well needed.

We find that marinas are comfortable and a bit too easy most of the time. Other times they are the only option or we are filthy, exhausted, low on water or pizza. This was all of the above. We have occasionally made great friends and connections with fellow travelers when smashed into these close quarters. I’ve met Russians, Montenegrins, Finns, Belgians, Scots, Maltese, Italians, you name it. We’re all sailors. Some (most) on holiday. Others wild eyed maybe too long at sea. Some cultures extroverted, others not so much but very rarely unfriendly. Often open and sharing so many similar experiences with weather, hardship, joy and beauty.

On our first night in Skradin we set up the children with dinner and a movie onboard as Kelly and I set out for a date night. We eased into a less windy restaurant on the waterfront and were largely alone in the dining room except for a family table in the back of the room with a man strumming a guitar and 3-10 people singing local songs with love and gusto. These folks were drinking but not sloppy. Their singing was from deep in the heart. They were sharing wine, meat, songs and cigarettes. After a few songs Kelly and I could not help ourselves and let loose the applause. We were immediately ushered to their table by their most enthusiastic singer in thick Croat. We wanted to join. There would not have been much choice if we hadn’t. Nico spoke very good English, a few others too, some none. It was awesome. We hummed along with these beautiful melodies as they passed the guitar around. It was nearing the end (although they were still going when we bowed out) of a day of celebrating the birth of the restaurant chief’s daughter. Number 6. This was real. And perfect. Then, they started playing Roy Orbison, Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and we let it fly! The Americans can sing!! They were so pleased that we joined them. I explained that we are travelers not tourists and their kindness was understood and appreciated. When we told Nico our children are 10,12 and 13 he was curious why we wanted to get home to them. After all, they had been singing and drinking all day when the new baby and 6 time mother were home. There are so many ways to do this. I love it all.

A perfect compliment to our night on the town was the next night on board. Still blowing a gale we probably couldn’t have left had we have wanted to. Next to us on the dock were 2 German couples from Munich who were friendly, helpful and generally the neighbors you enjoy speaking with be it over the fence or from the cockpit. We were on different schedules during the days with our kids schooling online and boat chores laid out while they were vacationing on a chartered boat. It was nice when they offered a glass of local rose brandy they had picked up in town around happy hour. We made the plan to meet up after dinner in our cockpit for a sundowner. I dug into our booze locker and pulled the bottle of 2003 Rhum DEPAZ from Martinique that had crossed the Atlantic unopened. It still had Caribbean dust on it. Our new friends in turn broke out the homemade schnapps from Munich. Needless to say we woke up thirsty and ready to sail in the torrential downpour the next morning brought. A fond farewell to Skradin and our new friends found us outbound. 200 yards out we spun a quick 180 to get the boat documents I forgot to pick up at the marina office in a downpour after being repeatedly reminded by Kelly to get them (it was a foggy morning in many ways) followed by a quick refueling in Šibenik.

Today we set off for Hvar (HUH-var). Windy…check. Rainy…check. Waves…check…waterspouts….wait…huh? Yep. 30+ knots at times, 15 knots at times, big rain, 3-4 meter waves. 10.9 knots of boat speed surfing waves when a nasty waterspout kicked up off the starboard beam. Mainsail down, Genoa in, staysail our, hats on tighter. Quinn said repeatedly “this is so exciting !”

He was right. Hvar now for a day or 2. Lots to see and do. We’re on a mooring in the old town harbor and all of the charter boats want to tie up to us for the night. As our English friends say “not bloody likely!”

Stay tuned. Stay healthy. Much love.

I feel lucky. Always do these days but lately so much more so. When we left the fjord to head to an outer island for a safe night’s anchor we were a day ahead of when we expected to get back offshore. The wind had been dead, the heat present and the days long and hot. We have lived through and sailed through the early summer Mistral winds that howl from the French Alps and know all too well that in the Med it’s feast or famine for wind. Famine means motoring or motor sailing. Feast often means seeking a sheltered spot and hunkering down or charging on deeply reefed. Often for days.  

The Bora is famous. So is the Sirocco. Winds that are big and destructive which shape how life is lived get names. Bora is the NE katabatic wind which pours like an avalanche down the Velebit mountains. It’s not at all uncommon to be 50-70 mph in the summer. The islands in the Velebitski channel are barren facing northeast, forested to their lee. In the winter some towns string chain or ropes along sidewalks to help people walk into howling snow hurricanes. Sirocco blows from the Sahara hot and strong and when it rains the rain is red. There are safe harbors and bays (Uvala) aplenty. Getting caught out is an option we are careful to avoid.

We anchored (3 times to avoid the weed and the rock scale bottom) in a bay alone to run our generator for water making and clothes washing.  A calm and productive night in Uvala Zabodarski, Losinj, Croatia. I doubt most locals know what where we were is called.

The next morning we were off to Istria. This is the peninsula on the mainland just south of Slovenia and a mere 75 miles from Venice. We are the farthest north we have ever sailed. Exactly halfway between the equator and the North Pole.
Light wind motor sailing at 9 knots found Madame Geneva spotting dolphin, green and orange giant jellyfish and boats everywhere. No Americans. Just us…and a lot of Germans, Croats, a handful of Dutch, Austrians, Italians and the first Slovenian boat I’ve seen.

We pulled into the marina at Pula because some regrouping and watering/provisioning was in order. We might be accused of thinking we know what we’re doing underway. Occasionally even the blind squirrel finds a nut. Hours after we tied up….Bora! Pretty big summer Bora at that. Definitely gusting 40’s at times in the harbor. 60+ with 9-12 foot seas where we spent the last 2 days alone at anchor. Yep. Feast or famine. Blind squirrel with a full belly. 

Pula is amazing. A giant Roman Colosseum lit at night on the waterfront. Roman ruins abound. Venetian palaces, Austro-Hungarian  empire relics, World War I tunnels under the city, medieval everything and even a Mexican restaurant.  Yep!

Stay tuned. Stay healthy. Much love.