Part three of the seven-day logbook of the yacht Bonaca, from Rijeka to Split. After the Osor bridge and the dolphins of Lošinj, today is our longest open-water day so far, and the day I finally catch a fish.
Missed the previous entry? Read Part 2 of the Adriatic Logbook first.
Ship’s Log
- Day: Day 3 of 7
- Leg: Mali Lošinj → Zadar
- Distance: approx. 48 nautical miles
- Wind & weather: Calm until 11:00, then NW maestral 12–16 knots; sunny with high haze, 30 °C, sea slight to moderate
Watches, Sunscreen and Coffee
We slipped our lines at 06:30, because a long passage begins with an early start and a big pot of coffee. Niko set up a simple watch system: two hours on the helm and lookout, then a break, rotating so that nobody was ever alone in the cockpit for long. On a day sail that sounds excessive, but tiredness creeps up slowly on the water. A rota keeps everyone fresh, and it makes sure somebody is always watching for ferries, fishing floats and the occasional sleepy sunbather on a paddleboard.
Insider tip: on long summer passages the sun is the real enemy. We rigged the bimini, hung a wet towel over the companionway, and filled a big bottle with water mixed with a little lemon and salt. Maya made a rule that nobody could have a second coffee until they had finished a full bottle of water. The rule was unpopular and extremely effective.
Islands in a Line
Our route took us southeast past little Ilovik with its gardens of oleander, then along the long chain of low islands that lies off the coast of northern Dalmatia, with Silba, Olib and Molat sliding past one after another like a slideshow of pale stone and dark green pines. Further on, the long back of Ugljan guards the channel in front of Zadar.
For the first few hours there was hardly any wind, so we motored and the sea lay glassy and silver. Then, around eleven, the maestral arrived right on schedule. The maestral is the friendly face of the Adriatic summer: a northwesterly thermal breeze that builds in the late morning, peaks in the afternoon and dies away at sunset. When it blows steadily, it usually means settled weather. When it fails to appear on a hot day, experienced sailors start looking nervously at the sky.
The Fish
I had been trailing a lure behind the boat since morning. Before you ask: yes, recreational fishing at sea in Croatia needs a licence, and yes, I bought one online before the trip. It takes a few minutes and saves a lot of awkward conversations.
At 13:40 the reel screamed. Niko luffed up to slow the boat, Maya grabbed the landing net, and I fought something silver and furious for what felt like an hour and was probably six minutes. When it came aboard it was a beautiful bonito, striped and shining, exactly the right size for dinner for three. I am not ashamed to say I danced. Niko says he has video evidence. I say that the video evidence shows an athletic victory ritual.
Zadar and the Sea Organ
We reached Zadar in the late afternoon and berthed in a marina across the water from the old town. Zadar is a city with layers: Roman paving stones under your feet, the round ninth-century church of St. Donatus rising beside the remains of the Roman forum, Venetian walls and gates, and cafés everywhere in between.
But the real reason sailors love Zadar sits at the western tip of the old town, on the waterfront promenade. Wide white marble steps lead down into the sea, and beneath them is the Sea Organ, an instrument played by the waves. Pipes under the steps turn the movement of the water into long, breathy, unpredictable chords. Every passing boat wake changes the music. Right next to it is the Greeting to the Sun, a large glass circle in the pavement that soaks up solar energy all day and glows in shifting colors after dark.
We sat on the steps at sunset with half of the city, listening to the sea hum while the sun dropped behind the islands. A ferry passed and the organ answered with a deep, rolling sigh. Maya said it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Niko said it sounded like a whale with hiccups. They were both right.
Dinner from the Sea
Back aboard, we cooked the bonito in the cockpit. Maya grilled thick slices on our little stern barbecue with olive oil, garlic and parsley; Niko made a tomato salad with too much onion, which is the correct amount of onion; I warmed bread and opened a chilled bottle of local white. A neighbor from an Austrian yacht leaned over to ask what smelled so good, and ended up joining us with a bowl of cherries for dessert.
Later we walked back into town for a tiny glass of maraschino, the cherry liqueur Zadar has been famous for since long before any of us were born. It tastes like summer concentrated into a thimble.
Evening Log
Three goals were set on night one. One is now complete: the perfect fish. Niko still has no broken gear, and Maya is counting the days until her dive. The wind has dropped, the marina is full of soft voices, and from somewhere across the water, if you listen carefully, the Sea Organ is still playing.
Log closed. Engine hours: 4.6 · Sailing hours: 5.5 · Fish caught: 1 bonito · Water consumed: an unreasonable amount · Tomorrow: across the channel to Dugi Otok and the cliffs and salt lake of Telašćica.
Part 3 of 7. The next logbook entry, Day 4, follows tomorrow.
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