Crew: Don & Jane Horton and Mark & Karen Ezratty
July 15. With great anticipation and renewed sense of adventure the Horton & Ezratty crew re-joined at Migration in Zadar, Croatia. What dastardly deeds would this sextuplet of mischief makers commit this go around? Read on...
Captain Mike and his bride knew only too well that it was time to batten down the hatches. The previous cruises of this band of pirates was becoming legend around some of the Greek Isles. What could Croatia handle?
July 16. After strolling the old city of Zadar, enjoying breakfast beers, and humming with the Sea Organ, this band of brothers unleashed Migration and headed north to discover the island's hidden beauties. The winds cooperated allowing both sails to fill and silently deliver us to the harbor town of Malat on the island of Lucina. A well rehearsed harbor captain gave us the lay of the land. A bakery, a restaurant and 150 liters of free water. After a waterfront walk it was decided that the beautiful crystal clear water should be tested. Lying to each other we convinced all but Captain Mike to jump into the heart-stopping, penis-shrinking, 70 degree water. I must admit however if you survived the first 60 seconds, it was a refreshing energetic exercise. Until, that is, an invisible jelly fish attached itself to Karen's left shoulder blade...ouch!! She startled then flailed then announced excitedly that she had been bitten. After this un-proud scribe stopped laughing due to an immediate visualization of the 1st scene in the movie "Jaws," we ascended the ladder and began giving first aid, from fresh water to bite ointment. The group took ownership of this dilemma. Thus the old proverb, "It takes a village to heal a jelly-fish bite," was born. Fifteen minutes into the non-life-threatening medical emergency, it was decided that systematic anesthesia was necessary. So out came the shots of Paddy's doused with beers. It seemed to take effect...but we kept giving regular infusions just to make sure. Kind of like a nautical morphine drip if you will. We all settled in for necessary cocktails only to be bothered by the local bees. So out came the new fancy schmancy shock inducing fly swatter. It was immediately clear that sadistic-masochistic tendencies were just below the surface of our captain. He displayed his ability to swing the racket of death both forehand and backhand with grace and speed while controlling the little death button with his thumb at all times. When queried about his technique, because everyone knows one should use one's index finger, he announced that he was ambi-thumb-nous...now to some that sounded like a Porn Star name, but to captain Mike it was badge of honor. So he now is called Captain Amber Thumbess Mike with great affection.
After a dinner at the only restaurant in town with a waitress named Martha, this colorful crew stumbled back to Migration for a long evening's nap.
July 17. Beautiful blue skies, cerulean waters, semi-hangovers and the best melon ever greeted our gang as we eased into our day with Mike's coffee...some of us eased later than others, Mark, but we were all happy to start our long day's journey into night by noon. Captain Amber Thumbess pointed us to Losing Otuk and the engine did the rest. Beautiful coastline. A pod of dancing porpoise and an occasional village fed our visual appetite. Our destination was a restaurant called Artetore, which received a brilliant review in Sheila's "Where to Eat in the Croatian Islands" book. And it did not disappoint. This band of merry-makers ordered and devoured mussels (looked like clams to me), black risotto, grooper (not our grouper), lamb and the ubiquitous mangold. This crew of 6 and wine consensus gave this eatery 12 thumbs up..-a first and worth the trip! Then it was off to bed but only after discovering where Sheila hides the chocolate!
July 18. Believe it or not, the anchor was up and the crew of Migration was mobile by 10:00am. A true sign of integrity on the sea occured shortly there after when an abandoned dinghy was spotted and the boat-mates all agreed that rather than going through the hassle of dragging this baby to a port to declare salvage, it was more convenient to leave this opportunity behind. Kind of like finding a $100 bill on the ground and allowing the real owner to back-track and find it--yeah right...we moved on anyway!
We lunched at Selba, a village of 300 people and 0 cars. A walk up the hill led us to a beautiful old church and restaurant that had the best octy salad with potatoes in it...nice...and the walk also provided us with a "peek" at a sculpture garden which boasted nothing but statues with boobies...hmmm.
Afternoon turned into evening as we pulled into Pantara, a gorgeous untouched harbor which provided a sunset and evening of comfort food à la Sheila served below-it was quite chilly! On this day new vocabulary was learned by all. The need for a "snatch" block for the sheet led to talk of "genital" well which let to even naughtier vocalizations... too much for this innocent scribe.
July 19. Engine on at 930a and it was adios to Pantara and off to the sandy beach. A short ride down the coast and we pulled into a beautifully portected, white sandy bay with our friends the jelly-fish. A dilemma was born--to swim or wimp out. We watched our fearless swimmer Don jump in, paddle around for 27 seconds and jump out. That was enough for all of us weaklings to nix the swimming and talk about brunch. Se we pushed south and ducked into Bozana and Brbing, 2 lovely quiet anchorages surrounded by nicely built homes (Brbing) and a disco hotel resort kind of thing in Bozana.
We continued south to Sali, a busy seaside town. We parked at the quay in front of the only nightclub called Maritime then walked the quay to a 2nd story restaurant for afternoon beers as we watched the Sali version of nautical rush hour. It was so very interesting to observe all nationalities negotiate the quay. Some were very fast and exact, others needed to back in and out 4 times while others came in bow first. The men of the hour were the dock dudes who kept everybody equal no matter the size of the boat or skill of the captain. Later that evening we had cocktails with "our best boat neighbor" (they had ice), a British couple sailing with their 2 sons: Antony, Susie, Tom and Harry. They also were victims of the "Tempest of '04 in Split" but fortunately did not suffer the damage served to Migration. We discussed politics, music, recipes and favorite Croatian ports before saying good-by and off to dinner. We headed back to our 2nd story restaurant for pizzas and beer and we all enjoyed a medium-loud lullaby provided by our non-best neighbor the nightclub Maritime.
July 20. Departed the quay at 1000a to discover Dugi Otuk. An island waterway past beautiful, hills with greenery, rock out cropings and blissful curves. We went to the very end then circled back to enjoy a swim at the lake over the hill. The park attendants visited immediately and we learned that each island's park charges different amounts of Kuna. Expensive couple hours. We parked too close to headquarters.
That evening we anchored in Landon, a small cove on the West side of Pasmin. It was quiet, gorgeous, free of charge and the perfect respite, except for the boat full with Germans who partied till 400a.
July 21. Anchor up by 900a as we need to make tracks to Zadar before the crowd of weekly charterers return their boats. Lovely breeze, on the nose of course, and great sight-seeing. Lots of small towns, churches at the top of the hills and the hazy distant mountains. We also spotted a large expanse of green-houses or hot-houses on the hill side. Those good tomatoes have to come from somewhere!