Not such a good day
Some days start well, some less so but not many as bad as this one.
We were just getting off to bed at midnight when the wind started to increase - from the North East. A Bura was coming in unexpectedly, which is what they do.
Cold air suddenly cascades off the high mountains and sets up a fierce katabatic wind. This can happen anytime day or night, most commonly in the winter but can be at any time of year. These winds pour across the Adriatic and don't slow down until the reach Italy.
I did not sleep and got up several times to check all was well with the anchor. We had been at anchor for 48 hours in this spot and it seemed well dug in, although the winds were 25-35knots. I wondered about letting out more scope but we were now on a lee shore and that would take us closer to land.
I must have finally dosed off and woke to an unfamiliar noise of something outside rubbing against the hull. I sprung, as much as I can spring these days, from bed and went to look out. The anchor had dragged and we were rubbing against a buoy from small boat moorings close to shore. There was still 3.5m of depth on the sonar so we were not in immediate danger but we had to move.
I yelled to Margaret who also sprung, kind of, like a gazelle in pyjamas and we got ready to move. At that point I noticed a chap from a neighbouring yacht in his dinghy - he had been on is way over to alert us - a very public spirited thing to do, get in a dinghy in 35knots.
We raised the anchor and decided to motor round to the main town harbour which is much more sheltered from the Bura.
To do this there was a slightly iffy bit of pilotage and rock avoidance to achieve. There were waves breaking over the side as we motored round. An additional complication was that I had forgotten to take the motor off the dinghy and was worried it was going to flip and turn turtle in the wind. However we finally got to shelter, dropped anchor again and collapsed a bit.
The debrief.
1The anchor had been solidly in place for 48 hours however we had sat in opposite directions in at least two cycles so it may have lifted and re-set a couple of times. Perhaps re-digging in an anchor in this situation would be an idea. I considered moving but it was a dark night, the pilotage to the next bay was difficult and the various hazard markers are not lit. We seemed to be safe so I decided to stay put.
2 The pilot book stated that the bay we were in was exposed to the Bura and the holding was reported to be not totally reliable. The anchor came up with a big clod of weed on it, however this is a regularly used and very popular anchorage. There was no Bura in the forecast at all.
3 We were lucky I woke up when I did although our kindly neighbour would probably have saved our bacon.
4 Always take the out board off the dinghy.
5 I had set an anchor alarm on my phone but for some inexplicable reason the volume was off. Maybe I sat on it!
A few hours later we decided to move on. The Bura had finished and we had itchy feet.
The system is that you have to check out of one country's harbour master system, then customs and immigration before going through the reverse process in the second country. So we berthed in the Q berth, a bit of no man's land which is the border of the EU, equipped with flags, tape and a Marinero to take one of your warps and relieve you of £12 for the pleasure.
We visited the harbour master, a somewhat austere figure but this was all straight forward and he lightened towards the end of our visit. We then visited the police and customs office, staffed by the best presented police officer-ess I have met for a while. Again very efficient and effective and off we went.
The Marinero having had his wages had vanished.
We were left with a very similar exit dilemma to that described before in that our stern was right at the outside corner of the stone quay that is the European Frontier. On this occasion I decided to use a stern spring to bring out the nose and then motor forward. It almost worked but at the last minute the prop walk took the stern round the corner and we had some fending off to do to get away safely although there was minor stone/gelcoat contact.
We sailed the 25nm or so in light winds, with a bit of motoring, down to Montenegro. We entered a large fjord, a bit like Milford Haven but larger called the Bay of Kotor, a very pleasant sheltered sailing environment.
The rules about checking into a new country are that you must do so at the nearest Port of Entry. This is said to be Zelenika however there are two further Ports of Entry further up the fjord. I am not sure how this fits with the rules but there we are.
We approached Zelenika, with no obvious Q berth to be seen and only large concrete berths for cruise ships. We tried hailing on all frequencies we could think of and eventually there was a faint whisper, a bit like someone blowing over a beer bottle. I think he said he would come out and show us where to go but we never made contact. In the end we abandoned Zelenika and carried on further inland to Tivat. I suspect he went back to his beer bottle.
Tivat has been transformed in the last 8 years from a small traditional town beside a large Naval yard to a huge up market Marina complex full of super yachts and the fabulously wealthy and their crews. Us hobos were going to fit right in.
Again the customs berth was not terribly obvious but eventually we worked it out. Some friendly Brits who were a bit ahead of us new the score and phoned the office on our behalf.
A nice chap called Ivan came along to meet us and took us with our paperwork to the police office, he then drafted the application for entry and the sailing vignette and took us to the harbour master's office.
You probably have an image of the harbour master as a retired naval type, rolled neck jersey and peaked captains cap, like they have in Padstow. Oh no, not in up market Tivat, the harbour master is the twin sister of the police office in Cavtat.
However appearances can be deceptive. This super sleuth of the marine world spotted that our insurance documents did not have the name of the boat, Summertime, on them. The reason being that we had insured the boat before naming it last year.
Now we have sailed all round Croatia last summer, and the documents had been to the Harbour Master in Split twice, and Cavtat this morning and they were not bothered by this. But she was not having it. I suspect there is a little bit of international competition over regulatory rectitude going on but the bottom line is the boat is impounded and cannot leave the customs dock until I can present an updated document. At 5pm on the Saturday of the Royal Wedding! Fat chance.
So we are here until Monday. There are many worse places to be, although two classes of wine for 16 Euros and 30 Euros to use the swimming pool gives you the measure of it.
I have sent an email to the insurance company, left a message on their answerphone and will get onto them first thing Monday morning. If that does not work what do people think about using the pdf editor?
Anyway we are in good spirits and a few more steps along the pathway to self awareness.
We were just getting off to bed at midnight when the wind started to increase - from the North East. A Bura was coming in unexpectedly, which is what they do.
Cold air suddenly cascades off the high mountains and sets up a fierce katabatic wind. This can happen anytime day or night, most commonly in the winter but can be at any time of year. These winds pour across the Adriatic and don't slow down until the reach Italy.
I did not sleep and got up several times to check all was well with the anchor. We had been at anchor for 48 hours in this spot and it seemed well dug in, although the winds were 25-35knots. I wondered about letting out more scope but we were now on a lee shore and that would take us closer to land.
I must have finally dosed off and woke to an unfamiliar noise of something outside rubbing against the hull. I sprung, as much as I can spring these days, from bed and went to look out. The anchor had dragged and we were rubbing against a buoy from small boat moorings close to shore. There was still 3.5m of depth on the sonar so we were not in immediate danger but we had to move.
I yelled to Margaret who also sprung, kind of, like a gazelle in pyjamas and we got ready to move. At that point I noticed a chap from a neighbouring yacht in his dinghy - he had been on is way over to alert us - a very public spirited thing to do, get in a dinghy in 35knots.
 |
| Isolated hazard marker |
To do this there was a slightly iffy bit of pilotage and rock avoidance to achieve. There were waves breaking over the side as we motored round. An additional complication was that I had forgotten to take the motor off the dinghy and was worried it was going to flip and turn turtle in the wind. However we finally got to shelter, dropped anchor again and collapsed a bit.
The debrief.
1The anchor had been solidly in place for 48 hours however we had sat in opposite directions in at least two cycles so it may have lifted and re-set a couple of times. Perhaps re-digging in an anchor in this situation would be an idea. I considered moving but it was a dark night, the pilotage to the next bay was difficult and the various hazard markers are not lit. We seemed to be safe so I decided to stay put.
2 The pilot book stated that the bay we were in was exposed to the Bura and the holding was reported to be not totally reliable. The anchor came up with a big clod of weed on it, however this is a regularly used and very popular anchorage. There was no Bura in the forecast at all.
3 We were lucky I woke up when I did although our kindly neighbour would probably have saved our bacon.
4 Always take the out board off the dinghy.
5 I had set an anchor alarm on my phone but for some inexplicable reason the volume was off. Maybe I sat on it!
A few hours later we decided to move on. The Bura had finished and we had itchy feet.
The system is that you have to check out of one country's harbour master system, then customs and immigration before going through the reverse process in the second country. So we berthed in the Q berth, a bit of no man's land which is the border of the EU, equipped with flags, tape and a Marinero to take one of your warps and relieve you of £12 for the pleasure.
We visited the harbour master, a somewhat austere figure but this was all straight forward and he lightened towards the end of our visit. We then visited the police and customs office, staffed by the best presented police officer-ess I have met for a while. Again very efficient and effective and off we went.
 |
| The Border Post |
We were left with a very similar exit dilemma to that described before in that our stern was right at the outside corner of the stone quay that is the European Frontier. On this occasion I decided to use a stern spring to bring out the nose and then motor forward. It almost worked but at the last minute the prop walk took the stern round the corner and we had some fending off to do to get away safely although there was minor stone/gelcoat contact.
 |
| Croatian flag down |
 |
| Montenegro up |
We approached Zelenika, with no obvious Q berth to be seen and only large concrete berths for cruise ships. We tried hailing on all frequencies we could think of and eventually there was a faint whisper, a bit like someone blowing over a beer bottle. I think he said he would come out and show us where to go but we never made contact. In the end we abandoned Zelenika and carried on further inland to Tivat. I suspect he went back to his beer bottle.
Tivat has been transformed in the last 8 years from a small traditional town beside a large Naval yard to a huge up market Marina complex full of super yachts and the fabulously wealthy and their crews. Us hobos were going to fit right in.
Again the customs berth was not terribly obvious but eventually we worked it out. Some friendly Brits who were a bit ahead of us new the score and phoned the office on our behalf.
A nice chap called Ivan came along to meet us and took us with our paperwork to the police office, he then drafted the application for entry and the sailing vignette and took us to the harbour master's office.
You probably have an image of the harbour master as a retired naval type, rolled neck jersey and peaked captains cap, like they have in Padstow. Oh no, not in up market Tivat, the harbour master is the twin sister of the police office in Cavtat.
However appearances can be deceptive. This super sleuth of the marine world spotted that our insurance documents did not have the name of the boat, Summertime, on them. The reason being that we had insured the boat before naming it last year.
Now we have sailed all round Croatia last summer, and the documents had been to the Harbour Master in Split twice, and Cavtat this morning and they were not bothered by this. But she was not having it. I suspect there is a little bit of international competition over regulatory rectitude going on but the bottom line is the boat is impounded and cannot leave the customs dock until I can present an updated document. At 5pm on the Saturday of the Royal Wedding! Fat chance.
So we are here until Monday. There are many worse places to be, although two classes of wine for 16 Euros and 30 Euros to use the swimming pool gives you the measure of it.
I have sent an email to the insurance company, left a message on their answerphone and will get onto them first thing Monday morning. If that does not work what do people think about using the pdf editor?
Anyway we are in good spirits and a few more steps along the pathway to self awareness.
Good luck with this then! Sounds a bit scary! X
ReplyDeleteJings, i hope you have worked all this out by the time we join you. I can see us all lingering in a foreign jail for dodgy docs.
ReplyDeleteCan't beat an adventure!! Scary dose of wind though.
ReplyDeleteHow many adventures do you need to get it out of the system.
DeleteHad no idea yachting was such a bureaucratic activity. Don't suppose writing the name of the boat on the insurance document was an option? No doubt she would have locked you up!!!
ReplyDeleteWe are equallly devious, that was the pdf editor option. I had actually prepared one, but as you say a good long rest in a foreign jail is not to be contemplated.
Delete