Trying on a new sail for size

   

We’ve covered some distance again this past ten days or so, but with target deadlines almost complete (now all outstanding is to take final possession of contents of the container in Rijeka), it has allowed the pace to slow down a few notches to the leisurely cruiser lifestyle variety. After crossing back from Venice to the Croatian customs clearance port of Umag, we have jaunted in and out of ports including the hip and ready-to-start-pumping holiday village of Porec, the breathtaking peninsular of Rovinj (pronounced Rovin) where centuries old stone and stucco buildings cling to every last available rock. Pulled up alongside Brijuni Islands – once the personal summer island retreat of former Yugoslav leader Tito – where a grumpy (too early in the season for that attitude) harbour official demanded one hundred euro before we drop an anchor (even for a two hour visit). Hence we promptly opted against that idea and sailed off on a solid six-hour square reach to take a direct hit on the island of Cres (pronounced Tres). 

BELOW: overnight anchorages at Rovinj and Porec

First night anchored at Cres was in a rocky bay near Osor under the haunting watch of a crumbling church ruin (BELOW). Dad had initially wanted to anchor a stone’s throw from the ruins. But thankfully (and as always, a lesson learnt) after the wind swung unexpectedly and unfavourably through the night when a thunderstorm brushed by us, the chain swung full circle on its anchor, so we ended up with that front row seat view after all. Had we anchored any closer to shore in the beginning, that would’ve been the boat’s hull dragging on the rocky seabed, not just the chain. 

On the west coast of Cres Island dad, Mike and I took a fun little expedition in the tender through a thirty-metre long blue grotto. On first appearance what looked to be an inaccessible entry to the cave (see small opening on right hand side of first photo below) forced us to lie in the bottom of the boat at times while pulling along the low ceiling to ease our way inside. At the end of the low entrance tunnel it opened out into a high vaulted cavern where we floated in crystal clear water with vivid electric blue daylight at the far end radiating from underwater somewhere along the beach. Yet it was impossible to identify the source later when we exited the cave.

There was more than one occasion that I had asked for us to turn back, and the sheer look of terror on my face in the last photo encapsulates how I was feeling being claustrophobic in the total darkness! I admit afterwards that it was exhilarating and a privilege to see, but in the moment I was a big coward. I don’t know what exact point fearlessness and spontaneity crept out my life – think it was sometime after leaving Whistler, Canada and moving to city life in Sydney – but I hope it returns quick smart!

Mum is thoroughly enjoying her sister’s company. Aunty Robyn’s trip to Croatia is a treat to herself in celebration of her seventieth birthday later this year. The sisters now prefer to split off when we hit a new port and can potter together for hours in shops, markets and gelato bars. Instead of poor mum being dragged around at our break-neck power walking speed to visit another pub, marina, chandlery or nuts and bolts store! 

 

I’m sure I’ll soon tire of taking photos of sunsets (and rising full moons, but those are just better remembered as a photo rarely justifies their magnificence), but we will never tire of watching a spectacular closure to each and every day on the water! Each sunset unique from the last. 

Whilst hitting a few minor delays as the shipping container is cleared through Croatian customs in Rijeka, we were contently anchored in a deep protected harbour at Cres Town on the island of Cres for four nights. The slowed pace has allowed the opportunity to continue with more tweaking and repairs around the boat. The guys have been fine-tuning the pole and pulley system for raising and lowering the tender onto the boat’s bow – as next week the trike will take its place on new custom-made stern davits. Ropes have been end-for-ended to give new life to those that were well-used and worn only on one end. And there was another resourceful use of ropes and halyards to lift Mike up the hoisted foresail in the boson’s chair to attach cattails (indicators that show when wind flow in the sail is at maximum efficiency). 

   

We also recently found an accessible, empty piece of land ashore to layout and analyze the mechanics of the largest sail in our sail wardrobe – a near-new Parasailor.  Whilst looking complicated, it’s actually simple to rig and manage when raised. Once the sail is hauled aloft, its oversized sausage-shaped sailbag opens from the bottom upward via a long lanyard pulled from the fore-deck.  Once free, it immediately balloons to catch a light to moderate winds on a downwind sail. Despite a few minor hitches (and learnings), its first flight was a huge success. There were a few cheers! Next time when we raise the Parasailor, we’ll capture the opening and in-built repacking of the sail on Go Pro as it’s an impressive system. The sail carries the branding of (the previous German owner) Herbert’s softdrink and juice bottling company Refresco – so we’ll continue to fly the flag for his company whilst we cruise around the Med! 

 

At the time of this post we are currently berthed at ACI Marina Icici back on the mainland, near to Rijeka. We’ll spend the next few nights here while custom fabricated items for both the new solar panels and lifting arrangement for dad’s trike are installed (more bright ideas poached from our innovative comrade Frank on DominoS). The system will hold the trike and three brand new 250 watt solar panels which once installed and wired-up, will significantly enhance our power capacity and should avoid the need to run our 11kVA generator on an almost daily basis. But that modification work is worthy of a post all its own – so will leave you here and wish you a brilliant Sunday whatever plans are in your diary... as mum and dad like to say... “it’s five o’clock somewhere!”