Cruising the Kornati Islands

We booked passage on the Arbiana, well; we booked a daytrip to a few of the Kornati Islands that lay to the west of Zadar aboard this old wooden ship. It was less than half full and had a well stocked bar. We left around 8:30 am and they served breakfast shortly after; a tasty ham and cheese bun served with a small glass of clear fluid. I said to Carol: “Whoa, they are stingy on the water,” but then I tasted it and realized it was Slivovitz. Most of the passengers were German so they called it Schnapps – perfect for breakfast! It certainly got everyone talking to each other.

The Arbiana in Dugi Otok Bay

We sailed away from the coast of Croatia and cruised among the islands. By late morning we’d reached Dugi Otok, a haven for scuba diving, the island furthest from the mainland. We moored in a secluded bay to the south of the island in Telashchica Park. It was time for a beer so we disembarked and walked around the bay to a small restaurant. The servers were overwhelmed with customers from a couple of other boats, so I walked into the bar and ordered a beer. Carol fancied Prosecco – I asked the barman. “Water?” he said, not understanding my English.

Island Ice Cream Man

“No, Prosecco wine,” I said.

“Ah, Prosek?” he responded.

“Yes…” He poured a small glass and I could see that it was dark and not a sparkling wine. I looked skeptical so he made to pour it back in the bottle. “No,” I said, “I’ll take it.”

Carol liked it and I had a tiny sip – it reminded me of sherry. Turns out the Prosek vs Prosecco naming had been a major Eurozone controversy.

We climbed the hill behind the café, and reached a cliff that looked east into the open Adriatic – the sun was blistering despite the breeze. Then we walked along a cool woodland path to the salt Lake Mir, a mecca for sunbathers and swimmers. We had no bathing gear so just relaxed in the warm shade beside the lake.

Adriatic from Dugi Otok clifftop

Back on the boat as it slipped out of the bay we seated ourselves for lunch; fresh fish and coleslaw, with local wine. We were sat with an Indian family, now living in Frankfurt, and as we all struggled with the number of bones in the fish, the father said: “Back in India, we’d eat this with our hands – then the bones wouldn’t be a problem.” I switched to using my fingers and he was right; it was so easy to find and avoid them.

Kukljica Jesus

What we couldn’t avoid were the seagulls. As the smell of fish rose in the air, they descended upon us ducking, weaving and squawking. The diners that had given up on their fish threw it to them increasing the frenzy. And, we had to watch out for the birds depositing missiles on us where we sat – we were literally under attack. Finally, lunch was over and they were gone, as quickly as they’d arrived!

We sailed lazily back through the islands laying back in our chairs taking in the afternoon sun; many fell asleep and regretted it, I’m sure, unless they were slathered with SPF130. As the sun went down we docked at the sleepy fishing port of Kukljica. Before stopping for a glass of wine there, we walked up to the small church above the harbour. I couldn’t help noticing that the statue above the door looked a lot like ‘Buddy Jesus’.

Sadly, it was time for the short hop back to Zadar and to bid Auf Wiedersehen to our newfound friends. For some reason we were exhausted!

Seagulls Attack!