New horizons

A sailing holiday with two small kids? Are you mad? Tim Ecott tries it and finds a week afloat is a huge hit and the perfect way to see Croatia's lesser known islands and bays

Saturday June 11, 2005
The Guardian, Tim Ecott

In Komiza, they grew rich on sardines. For 2,000 years, the wooden fishing boats known as falkusa set off for the deep Adriatic to bring back the glistening fish that the Venetians said were the best in the world. In the old harbour, we moored beside the jetty, a few yards from the stout walls of the town hall, a pale limestone castle built in 1585. Jutting out from the cornerstones are great stone rings, where medieval galleys and merchant vessels would have attached their ropes. At the modern quayside, our skipper, Bane, watched hopefully as I attempted to master the simple knot he had demonstrated at least eight times the previous day.
"Not so tight!" he warned. Too late. I had jammed the free end of the mooring line against the cleat, and watched as Bane strained against the weight of the boat to free it. He made it look easy, and I was determined to get it right next time. Fortunately for me, helping to tie up the boat was all the assistance Bane required, as he piloted Pride, our 42ft yacht around the Dalmatian islands. Bane (pronounced Bar-nay, but short for Slobodan Banasin), made the sailing easy, and quickly allayed my fears that taking our children (Ilona aged nine, and Morgan, almost five) on a yacht was not foolhardy.

Aside from a week on the extremely tranquil Norfolk Broads, our family sailing experience has been limited to a few trips on motor-boats. At Marina Kastela, a mere 20-minute drive from Split airport, we discovered that our yacht was extremely comfortable: four cabins, three with double beds and one with bunks. The saloon (aka kitchen/sitting room) had a decent sized freezer, a two-ring gas cooker and a table big enough for six. There were even two bathrooms (albeit the same size as an aeroplane loo). We would be expected to include the skipper in our family meals, an enforced intimacy that I imagined might potentially be awkward.

According to Luka Grubor, the owner of Sail Croatia, choosing skippers is the secret of a good holiday. "We try to match the boat, the skipper and the client," he reassured me, "so that you get to experience Croatia by yacht, and see unexplored islands and bays that you wouldn't necessarily find if you were travelling on your own. But you need to get on with the guy who's doing the sailing."

Fortunately, Bane proved to be something of a saint. He taught Ilona how to tie knots (in return for learning how to feed a tamagotchi). And, when we moored in sheltered bays, he let Morgan "drive" the rubber dinghy (in return for not touching the buttons on the GPS when we were sailing). Jessica and I were also delighted when he twice insisted on cooking dinner on the boat: fried calamari one night, and for our final meal, a special stew made with incun, an anchovy-like fish dipped in olive oil, garlic and flour. Sailing had taken Bane around the world, on merchant ships, luxury yachts and in small dinghies. Never short of conversation, he is currently director of the Adriatic Skippers Association, and is organising an international regatta specifically for yachts with crew members who are deaf.

Heading offshore, Bane took evident pride in revealing the beauty of Croatia. Each morning we studied the charts and asked him what route he advised to minimise the risk of rough seas. In fact, the entire week was calm with just occasional breezy hours in the afternoons, but nothing to induce seasickness in the children. The rhythm of the creaking sheets (ropes to landlubbers), the pough-pough of a billowing sail and the gentle crunk of the bow cutting through the waves became our constant accompaniment.

For all its tranquil glassy appearance, we learnt that the Adriatic is not the easiest sea to sail. Bane taught us about the unpredictable north-east wind, known as the bora, that can appear without warning and reach high speeds. Even more dangerous is the black bora, of hurricane proportions, and which usually strikes in winter. In August, the hot mistral blows. One night, I awoke to hear the wind singing through the rigging, a gusting burst that echoed through the harbour for several minutes and then vanished as suddenly as it had begun. Generally, the bora would strengthen in the afternoons allowing us to put up the sails, and cooling us as we meandered between the islands.

On the way to Stari Grad on the island of Hvar we met 12 dolphins feeding close to a rocky shore. Resolutely, they tracked the unseen prey, glistening skin arcing above the surface of the deep dark water. For half an hour we followed them at a respectful distance and were pleased to find that our presence was gracefully ignored.

In Stari Grad, I confessed that I had been to the island before, on a hastily arranged package holiday 20 years ago when Croatia was then part of Yugoslavia. The collapse of communism and the war of the early 1990s have intervened, but now tourism is booming again in Croatia, and in many places foreigners are snapping up land to build seaside villas. Mercifully, the islands seem to have remained unspoilt, though thankfully the choice of restaurants and food is greatly improved.

On one of the quiet cobbled streets, we found Antika, a charmingly converted stone townhouse run by Inge and Bosko Racic. We ate black cuttlefish risotto, with rice stained dark by the cephalopod's ink, and fresh tuna steaks in caper sauce. On the open-air roof terrace the aged walls were draped with vines, and from the house across the street two 16th-century gargoyles peered over the wall.

The following morning, living fish were on view at the house of Petar Hektorovic, an epic poet who lived at the beginning of the 16th century. Around a cloistered courtyard, constructed in 1520, a seawater channel replenished a pond where hundreds of grey mullet swirled in billowing clouds. Nearby was a dovecote and there were Latin inscriptions carved into the walls, adding a cerebral element to the tranquil scene. Behind the house was a vineyard, and a walled field where a single white pony grazed. Hektorovic said that he aimed to create a house where the elements of earth, sea and air all played their part, and in so doing he aimed at the creation of a perfect environment in which to live and write. It is hard to imagine anyone doing a better job of it.

High on the limestone slopes of Vis, the most westerly of the Dalmatian islands, we saw the ancient gun emplacements used by Tito's partisans during the second world war. Further along the coast, we found Uvala Smricevica, a tiny bay hidden from the sea by great white stone cliffs riven by a slim gap just big enough for a small boat to pass through. Tucked away on one side of the short beach were two pastel-coloured fishermen's houses complete with drying nets and pairs of battered wooden oars leaning against the walls. At Bobovisce, we swam from a tiny beach below elegant new villas built into the sides of a ravine. Across the harbour, an old convent sat in crumbling elegance in the midday heat.

At Maslinica on the island of Solta, the children were playing on the rocky beach when I overheard English voices. A young couple introduced themselves and the woman told me that she had seen us disembarking from our yacht. "You've cheered me up," she said, unexpectedly. "We love sailing, and since I'm pregnant we thought this would be our last chance for many years to go on this type of holiday. But I see that you are doing it, with two young children."

My own children were indeed content to be on the boat all week, and for Morgan the highlight was seeing the dolphins."Lions used to be my favourite animal", he explained in a serious tone that evening. "But now, I think it's dolphins." Ilona, who is always the first to awaken, said she relished the delights of sitting on deck in the bright morning light and drawing. She also confessed that she had ventured on to the jetty alone several times, and made an inspection of the other boats. "I like seeing the people coming on deck and standing around drinking their morning tea," she explained. "People on boats are friendly. They always say, 'Good Morning'."

Each day passed in a cycle of sailing, mooring in empty bays for swimming and exploring new villages and historic buildings. After dinner, Bane would often leave us to visit friends in port, and Jessica and I would sit on deck enjoying the warm night air.

By the end of our week afloat, I had managed to tie up the boat with all of the mooring lines at the correct angle, and the knots facing in the right direction on at least three, possibly four, occasions. But Bane still came and inspected them.

As we headed back to the mainland the towering slopes of Biokovo, south of Split, rose almost 2,000m above the glimmering Adriatic. Alongside Biokovo lay Mosor, with rugged shadowy flanks bleached pale in the midday sun. The rockface merged with an ice-blue sky as our yacht settled onto her course. Arriving by boat is an organic experience, a naturally paced form of transport somehow removed from the modern world. On many days we slept just a few miles from where we had started, but it felt as though we had been on a genuine journey, each craggy cliff and olive grove etched indelibly into our memory.

Way to go

Getting there: Sail Croatia (020-7751 9988, sailcroatia.net) can arrange tailor-made sailing holidays with English-speaking skippers from £2,342 (in June, rising to £2,984 in August) for a Beneteau Celebration 411 yacht (sleeps up to six adults plus a skipper). Mooring fees in port around £35 per night, including fresh water, use of shower blocks etc. Diesel for the week, £30-£40. Croatia Airlines (020-8563 0022, croatiaairlines.com) flies direct to Split from Gatwick and Heathrow from £153 rtn inc tax.

Where to eat: Antika, Stari Grad, two courses with wine from 140 kuna.

Further information: Croatia Tourist Board (020-8563 7979, croatia.hr).

Flight time London-Split: 2¼hrs.

Country code: 00 385.

Time difference: +1hr.

£1= 10.89 kunas.

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