Oct 7th, 6:11, 43°2’52,6″N 16°47’12,1″O
When we passed through the narrow channel and entered the large bay between Korčula and Hvar, open to the northwest, quite a strong swell quickly built up, and although the Quetzal is generously powered with 68 HP, we lost a lot of speed. Flo pointed out to me that the engine sounded strange — growling, irregular. The wind was now almost dead ahead, slightly from the port side, and on the starboard side the coast was relatively close. A motor failure here, early in the morning and with a strong swell, would be far from pleasant. Our speed had at times dropped below 2 knots, from the 6.5 knots we had previously reached in calm water. I decided to wake Pascal so he could take a look. After all, he knows his boat. I’m still not sure whether we picked up something in the propeller (seaweed or maybe even a piece of a net), or whether it was simply the combination of wind and waves that slowed us down so much. Pascal briefly reversed the propeller and then put it ahead again to possibly clear any fibers, after which we continued on. Did it help? That’s not clear.
A strange effect at this point: whenever the speed dropped below a certain value (something under 2 knots), the tablet we were using for navigation showed a ground speed of 183.6 knots, and when I now look at the track recorded by the plotter, it shows the speed as “infinite” — the devices were apparently mathematically challenged.
October 7th, 7:09 a.m., 43°2'37″N 18°53'12.2″E Around Cape Loviste, we were able to set sail again and head east. It was one of the most pleasant sailing stretches of the entire trip, and the whole crew felt good. For breakfast we had scrambled eggs and coffee, and we felt as if we were almost at our destination.
October 7th, 8:46 a.m., 43°7'20.8″N 17°12'0.8″E We round Cape Sućuraj with its pretty little lighthouse and run into the headwind again, which whistles around the tip of the land. But before that, we get a beautiful view of the small lighthouse on the end of the island, lying in the early morning light.
The next four hours were tedious — we had to tack, and in the bay between Hvar and Brač there was an unpleasant swell that we immediately got stuck in whenever we sailed against it. Despite having both the mainsail and foresail set, and with the engine running, we managed a maximum speed of 6 knots. We tried to stay close under the coast, and sailing deep into the bays proved helpful, allowing us to slowly work our way into the final bay of the voyage.
October 7th, 13:10, 43.35210 N 16.86620 E
Finally, once around Brač, we entered what was perhaps the strangest wind field of the entire trip. In the last bay, the wind had seemed to come from the northwest — now it seemed more like north. Or northwest. Or west. The double tack shown in the picture below was close-hauled on every leg — the wind just shifted dramatically in between. But it wasn’t only the wind direction that was erratic, the strength was too … interesting. One moment the wind was blowing at 25–30 knots, the next the sails were flapping limply in a light breeze. It was really difficult to sail here under sail alone, but at the same time it was a lot of fun, because it wasn’t easy to keep Quetzal on course and to windward. Constant small (and sometimes larger) corrections — sometimes the leeward side deck was in the water, sometimes we were running on an even keel. But I think we were moving faster than the two charter boats ahead of us.
October 7th, 15:00, 43°23'14.9″N 16°38'2.2″E We still have to clear in at Split, and it’s not yet entirely clear how I’ll be traveling home. The ferry from Split to Ancona runs every two days — today (Tuesday) it would depart at 8:00 p.m.; on Wednesday there’s no connection. I’m still toying with the idea of taking the ferry tonight, so we start the engine and set a direct course for Split. I’m already packing my clothes and getting ready to leave the boat quickly if necessary. However, the thought doesn’t really appeal to me.
October 7th, 16:51, ACI Marina in Split We reach the marina in Split and moor at the berth assigned to us. Med mooring — that is, stern-to the dock with mooring lines at the bow — is new to me, but we manage to get it done fairly quickly.
What doesn’t go quite as quickly are the formalities. The marina officer wants to see a carnet from us — which we don’t have, because we weren’t in Dubrovnik (what do boats actually show if they haven’t left the EU?). He tells us we need to go to the police, then makes a quick phone call and comes back visibly surprised, explaining that he doesn’t know why, but the police will come to us.
Shortly afterward, two friendly police officers came on board to check our papers. They listened to the story about the night-time inspection, asked if a certain colleague had been involved, and then called their superior to clarify whether we would have to pay a fine (this seems to be standard procedure). In the end, it was decided: we have to go to the other side of the harbor and register with customs and the harbor office. Yes, it has to be done in person, and no, we cannot leave the boat here.
So we dropped the mooring lines again and headed to the other side of the harbor, where we moored between two large ferries (one of which was the ferry departing for Ancona in two hours) using large Atlantic fenders — big hard-rubber rollers hanging horizontally from the pier, about 2 m long and 80 cm in diameter. Suitable for the big ferries, but not for a relatively small sailboat like ours. I don’t know how much later, but after some time a customs team came by, took a quick look inside the boat, and then left satisfied. After another administrative step with the harbor office, we were free to return to our berth and conclude the journey there.
