Dalmatia Islands April 2022

It‘s never too late! 

What a good start to type on my typewriter again. I love typing with my two thumbs, the letters to create words and stories, all into my phones notes app. 

An article in the magazine ERNST #19/20 „Schreibt“ brought me back to the idea, underlined with statement from the clairvoyant Claudia, who said to my wife Carmen that „there is a lost writer“.

The wind Bora is strongly blowing outside again and we had just a few hours sleep this night during the storm over our heads. Milna is a cute peaceful place on the island Brac. 


The weather has cleared up and tomorrow the wind should be moderate to start our sailing trip to the bay where the Blaca hermitage lies up 330m above sea level. 

Together with Michael from South Tyrol we wakened the yacht up from it‘s six months winter pause. It‘s the third time we sail and travel together.

At midday I can finally command to Michael „cast off bow lines“ at perfect weather conditions we leave Milna behind us!


After 15 sea-miles moderate to strong westwind we approached Uvala Blaca, a beautiful small bay where we anchored with aft land lines. 


Our task for the next morning is the Pustinja Blaca Monastery. About 3/4 hour along the valley trail uphill it took us.


The hermitage was originally established in 1551 by two Glagolitic monks and continued by successive generations of monks until 1963.


At our arrival some window shutters where open, by knocking the iron door handle and pulling the bell we waited for a quarter hour. After a while inspecting the hermitage from outside a local came walking up the path from below fields carrying large wood pieces and a heavy rucksack. He open up the side door and we greeted „dobro jutro“ which means good morning. He replied and I asked him if we could visit the hermitage inside.

He nicked, went inside and disappeared for a while. 

Several window shutters opened slightly to let some light in on each floor and then the rusty lock squeacked at the main entrance gate. 

The brown tanned keeper opened the right door wing and welcomed us into his world of centuries behind. First he showed us the wine press in the outside pergola and explained that the monks had planted Plavac Mali grapes in the valley down till to the ocean. A stone floor further up where the remains of bee nests in a row. In the best times they produced 3‘000 kg honey per year. We where not allowed to make pictures, but on hermitage website all impressions can be seen. From three villages children came to school and had to take wood with them the keep the enormous fireplace burning the whole day.

On his small hand written note he guided us through the study room of the recent father with it’s piano, telescope ending with the old chapel.

In the afternoon we released the land lines, lifted up the anchor and headed to SV Clemens island group.

With a perfect afternoon wind breeze we tacked a few times till we reached the Uvala Soline bay shortly after 6pm where we simply dropped our anchor with the essential “anchor beer”.


Michael prepared supper, delicious gorgonzola green pasta with local red wine and the sunset glimming through the window under deck. 


During the night the temperature dropped down to 10 degrees, with two blankets on top it was nice and cosy. The sea and winds where quiet that night and as the sun shone into the bay it was time to get up. 

After a cuppa black & milk tea, porridge and bread with homemade jam from Michael we shortly headed off to island Vis with it’s same named city, as we got short on a few provisions on board.

On way out of the bay the morning breeze quickly picked up and we had moderate sail to Vis. 

On high sea I called the harbour master of Vis to see if he has open for the so called „vignetta“, the cruising permit for Croatian waters. In Milna and Supetar the offices where closed and after a few rings he answered. Yes, I‘m in the office till 2 o’clock! What a relief, as the coast guard makes regular boat controls.

Arriving just after midday, we moored on a buoy in the city’s harbour.


We let the dinghy down into the water and I headed off to the harbour masters office. He asked from where we have been coming from. Milna on Brac is our base since last summer, I replied. With no further questions he issued the document quite quickly with the legal stamp and his signature, like on old days. 


I asked if it’s possible to get a digital copy as if I may loose it and it came unexpectedly the next morning in my email mailbox. 

In the evening Michael found a open Konoba a street behind the promenade. A nicely dressed lady came down the stairs in front of local restaurant and was surprised by our arrival. It turned out that she the cooking chef and didn’t expect any guests anymore for tonight. We got warmly welcomed and the waiter brought us a selection of local snaps.


After the inner warmup with „Orahovica“ a local walnut liqueur, we studied the taverns menu card. She reappeared in the chefs cooking dressing and recommend the black octopus risotto, local pork dish starting with a homemade fish soup, which we kindly accepted. 

The food was excellent and the portions huge for 2 or more people. We strolled back to the boat along the city pier and were up to the top full. On board we took a shot of „Pelinkovac“ a local liquor and good digestive for night rest.

Next day we moored off and left Vis behind us on the way to north of the island Solta. In a well protected bay we dropped the anchor and laid our land lines on each side. 


This was our last evening before we arrived next day back in the marina Milna. 

Quite strong winds where predicted for Saturday till Sunday and they came! Safe in the marina, tied up with four moorings, two at the bow and on the aft, we where good protected against the strong Bora winds. 

Saturday was cleaning day in and outside, also the hull became a rub off.

This was our last evening together, so we decided to eat outside and have one of those delicious pizza’s we good drop of local wine „Brocka Ric, Senjkovic“ made on Brac. 

Since our arrival back, I noticed that the church bells haven’t rung. It has been pleasantly quiet, no ringing in the morning, evening or every hour.


Apparently “the bells fly to Rome for Easter”, an religious custom from the 12th century, Michael tells me as previous catholic altar boy. 

In the late Sunday afternoon he catches the ferry to Split with the night ferry to Ancona from where he takes the train back to Bozen. 

On his travel back home he texted me on Monday many hint’s for the upcoming Peloponnes sail in Greece. With his father he explored as a kid the region on a small sailboat. 

This was my washing day for all dirty clothes and bed linen. The huge washing machine in the marina coped with the washing load and later on the boat railings where the washing lines, still with some wind gusts to check from time to time if all is there. 

At two in the afternoon my phone buzzes „I’m already on the ferry, hurry up“.