Sailing south from Lefkas in the Greek Ionian Sea, I found a calm anchorage in a ­deserted cove on the east side of the hilly, wooded island of Ithaca. This was the home of Homer’s hero Odysseus, who was seeking to return home to his wife, Penelope. I, on the other hand, was seeking to get away from home and find a secure anchorage for the night. In deference to Odysseus, I kept the sails up in a desultory 10-knot breeze. I was always a sucker for the appearance of inauthentic antiquity. My Hanse 415 Adagio’s refrigeration, however, remained on with the Greek beer chilled. Odysseus would have been thrilled; the god Poseidon, probably not.

The next morning, I sat down in the cockpit to enjoy a freshly brewed cup of coffee. No sooner had I settled down than I heard the raucous noise of a high-speed powerboat. 

The only vessels that traveled that fast in the Mediterranean, apart from Italian speedboat cowboys, were the coast guard. Sure enough, the Hellenic Coast Guard roared into the bay and, slowing only a little, executed a tight U-turn around my boat. Their wake rocked Adagio violently. Annoyed, I nevertheless waved with what I hoped might be taken as a friendly but not overly familiar gesture. With no acknowledgment, and seemingly assured that there were no illegal migrants or unsanctioned toga parties aboard my ­Italian-flagged vessel, they sped off into the horizon. Paradise, or the illusion thereof, is invariably a fleeting phenomenon.

With no agenda or itinerary other than to get Adagio out of the water and fly home to Southern California in early November, I returned to my coffee and pondered the day. Avoid expectations, be open to what shows up, and let the day unfold, I reminded myself. The thought of calling my office or clients in the States did not even occur to me.

Conventional-cruising narratives had always told me that to genuinely experience a cruising lifestyle in locations such as the Mediterranean, I needed to fully drop out from my domesticated land life. This would include abandoning my ­business and the work I enjoyed, my friends, skiing, my home, and my physical-­fitness routine. For me, however, this posed what I initially saw as an insoluble conundrum: Did I really want to be that liberated?

As much as I was passionate about cruising, I also loved my lifestyle in Ventura, California, and, yes, my joint-custody dog, Murphy, from a recent divorce.

In 2008, at age 60, I came to the stark realization that my biggest enemy in life was time. This awareness led me to the conclusion that if I were going to live the balance of my life to its fullest, then I needed to start doing it now. I did not want to have any regrets, and I dreaded finding myself in a conversation with my orthopedist that began: “Well, Jim, you know you are at an age where you need to start slowing down. Have you considered taking up miniature golf?”

In the fall of that year, I chose to do the Baja Ha-Ha—the fun cruise from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico—with a friend. For the balance of the fall, winter and early spring, I mostly solo-sailed my 41-foot Wauquiez in the amazing Sea of Cortez.

I discovered that I thrived in solitude with total self-reliance, and I loved the ability to get away from it all, if only for two to three weeks at a time. Moving around the sea, I would berth my vessel in a secure marina for several weeks, and fly home to resume my work and land life in Ventura.

By fall 2015, I had spent two seasons in the Pacific Northwest, two seasons in Mexico, and eight months in the Hawaiian Islands following the Transpac race. Commuter cruising, as I came to call it, had become a chosen and well-trodden—albeit still adventuresome—lifestyle. I had become comfortable, if not confident, in my ability to schedule and meld my work, my team, and my cruising life. This skill allowed me to spend at least three to four months a year on the water.

In winter 2015-16, I looked for new commuter-cruising grounds. Cruising to the South Pacific did not appeal to me; where could I park the boat and return home? Nor did I relish long, solitary ocean passages. My limited bareboat experience in the Caribbean had left me with the impression—superficial, to be sure—that there was a repetitive sameness to these admittedly beautiful islands. The Mediterranean, on the other hand, held the allure of a rich history, varied cultures, big cities, quaint villages, and a friendly and engaging people. It also offered an established cruising infrastructure and secure marinas. I rationalized that if I continued working, I could afford to purchase a better boat in the Mediterranean.

I bought the three-year-old Adagio in spring 2016 just outside Genoa, Italy, and began the first of four seasons, each one around five months, in the Mediterranean. My initial goal was to cruise the entire Med in two years. I subsequently modified that to a more realistic four years.

Adapting my flexible itinerary to such constraints as the pesky 90-day EU visa and the reality that there is, at best, a Mediterranean cruising season of six to seven months, I soon developed a lifestyle that had me in the Med in early April and out of the water in early November. I’d return to California in July and August for a five- to six-week working hiatus. My time afloat in the Med became more like two- to three-month mini sabbaticals, and my working life adapted accordingly.

July and August in the Mediterranean were hot, crowded and expensive. Did I really want to be seen in trendy marinas in that heat while paying more than $400 a night for a mooring, if I could even get one? Cruising in the shoulder seasons, however, came with the challenge of more-variable weather. The sailor’s adage that the wind blows either too much or not at all in the Med I found to be especially affirmed in the spring and fall.

One of the pluses of cruising the Med is that it rarely required me as a solo cruiser to do any overnight sailing. And I was almost always within cellular range. Now, with devices such as Starlink and videoconferencing, conducting business afloat in the Mediterranean is no more difficult than doing it remotely in the US, aside from the time difference.

Like any cruising area, the Mediterranean does have its drawbacks and risks. There are some definite no-go areas, such as most of North Africa and the Middle East. And there is the ongoing illegal migrant crisis. 

And then there is the challenge of Med mooring singlehanded—especially in Greek and Turkish waters, where I needed to drop the anchor and back down, all while steering to hit my slot on the quay. It’s a good case for having three hands, or four if you have a bow thruster, which Adagio did not have. As with much of cruising, you adapt, though I would still embarrass myself from time to time.

The Mediterranean also offered an unexpected bonus: the opportunity to engage with a friendly, culturally diverse cruising community at anchor and in the marinas. Singlehanded cruisers are a bit of a rarity in the Med (I met only one other) and a curiosity. I got used to predictable questions of “How do you do it?” and “Don’t you get lonely?” Yes, I would think, that’s why I initiated this conversation with you. Some would speak of having met other solo sailors, invariably prefaced with the word “crazy,” as in, “He was a crazy Swede.” Perhaps I earned the moniker of “that crazy old American who ran and had a rowing machine on his boat.”

My advice to aspiring commuter cruisers is to start with a smaller boat and go for shorter durations. Learn, adapt and, in some cases, endure.

Most of us have multiple passions in life. For me, these became particularly hard to let go of the older I became. Is there a way for each of us to craft a ­cruising lifestyle that allows us to pursue all of these? I believe there is. Leap, as nature essayist John Burroughs put it, and the net will appear. 

Jim Eisenhart is the author of the ­forthcoming book Nomad Sailor: Adventures Commuter Cruising the Mediterranean. He currently owns a Moody DS41 and has been commuter-­cruising the US East Coast and Bahamas. 

The post Part-time Cruising Fits My Lifestyle appeared first on Cruising World.

The mid-May sun was surprisingly hot as we spun into the wind, idled the engines, and hoisted the big roachy main aboard San Fredelo II, the Sunsail 404 catamaran that would be home for the next five days. Next, we rolled out the genoa and bore away to a beam reach, leaving provisioning chores, briefings, crew introductions and the Marina Agana astern. 

Sailing, at last—in Croatia. A longtime entry on the proverbial bucket list was about to be scratched off as my sailing pal and trip organizer, Josie Tucci, vice president of marketing at Sunsail, steered us eastward and out of the narrow bay toward open water dotted with islands. Near the helm, her brother, Jason, and I trimmed in the sheets and tidied up as we began making way. To port, I could see cars on the coastal highway, headed north from the international airport in Split. To starboard, the rocky, brush-covered shoreline rose to meet a sky that was fairy-tale blue. Already, my colleague, photographer and drone junkie Jon Whittle was snapping away. How could he not? The sights were otherworldly in this centuries-old corner of the Adriatic Sea.

Around us that Sunday morning, the crews aboard nine Sunsail monohulls were going through similar drills, as one by one they raised sails and pointed their bows toward Milna, on the island of Brač, the flotilla’s first-night destination, where a gin-and-tonic reception awaited us.

I’d never sailed in a flotilla before, but already, less than a day into it, I was enjoying the concept of exploring a new destination with a helping hand, if you will. Earlier that morning, after a buffet breakfast of eggs, sausages, fruits, and doughnuts at the marina’s restaurant, skippers, and crew gathered in a shady spot to meet Sunsail’s flotilla captain, Samantha “Sam” Algero; hostess Ellie Riccini; and “Drago,” the team engineer. This trio would be on hand to assist and advise 24/7. When it was time to go, they’d be the ones handing us our dock lines. And when we arrived at a new location, their boat, Hvar 1, would already be tied up. They’d be waiting to take stern lines as skippers nervously (at first, anyway) backed in to moor stern-to at each new village.

“Slow is pro,” Sam reminded us frequently the first few landings.

Ellie too dispensed practical info. “Keep the boats tidy,” she urged. “A tidy boat is a safer boat.” And, “Beware the sea urchins.”

At that first briefing, Sam and Ellie outlined the week ahead: daily skipper meetings at 0900, lunch where you like, and each evening a different destination with a suggested time of arrival. At night, there were organized events to attend—or not. Wednesday, we were free to sail wherever we liked, so long as we all regrouped in time for dinner on Thursday.

They went over the fine points of Lateral Navigation System A (red and green buoys are opposite where they would be in the United States), safety issues, and local weather to watch. The bura is a gusty northeast wind that brings clear conditions. The jugo: southeast breezes with rain. The maestral northwesterlies tend to build in the afternoon. 

And these words of caution: “If you didn’t eat it, don’t flush it.” Holding tanks were to be emptied 2 miles offshore, and there was a 100-euro fee to fix a clogged head.

Alrighty, then. Duly warned.

But best of all, their review of the charts greatly ­simplified finding the Croatian place names that were difficult to ­pronounce, tough to understand, and even harder to spell.

Off to the Islands

Josie, Jason and I had spent Saturday afternoon provisioning at the nearby Tommy’s market. For a few coins, you could borrow a shopping cart to deliver groceries to the boat. We stocked up on lunch meat and breakfast fare, Croatian wine, and Ožujsko, a local beer. That evening, we had dinner at the marina and sat on San Fredelo’s tramp watching the moon rise over the opposite shore. The water was still, and the reflection of the square stone tower at the head of the harbor was crystal-clear.

Sunday turned out to be a perfect day to regain our sea legs, with a northerly breeze in the midteens sending us on our way. We stopped for a late lunch and anchored in the pretty little harbor at Stomorska, on Šolta, a point that was about halfway into our 18-nautical-mile sail. The anchorage allowed an imposing view of the towering mountains that rise above metropolitan Split. Ashore, a handful of fishing boats sat idle, and we saw but a few folks moving about amid the distinctive white villas with red-tile roofs.

From there, it was an easy run to Milna and the Marina Vlaška. As Josie backed the cat toward the quay, Jason and I stood on either transom with boat hooks in hand. We handed our stern lines ashore, and the Sunsail team held up bowlines for us to grab and take forward. The ropes are sunk when not in use, and are led from shore to anchors in deeper water. It was an amazingly drama-free operation.

Once we were settled, we grabbed swimsuits and found a nearby rock from which to jump. The seawater was cool but refreshing, making a hot shower at the marina afterward feel all that much better. Then we headed up the hill, past olive trees and stone terraces, to claim our gin-and-tonics, and to chat with other crews as they came and went.

At sunset, we walked a mile or so along the shore road into town. On the way, we passed a street vendor and stopped to buy four garishly colored Croatia ball caps that quickly became our team hats. In the town center, a large, weathered stone church was lit up, along with other ages-old buildings. Behind them, we spotted more steeples draped in light. We found an open table at a small pizzeria and washed down our slices with tasty local wine.

Of course, we posed for photos with the colorful, whimsical ice-cream-cone statue we passed on the way back to the boat.

Relic of War

A look at the charts reveals that along this part of the Croatian coast, long, thin, mountainous islands run roughly west to east from the open Adriatic, as though some ancient creature drew fingers though terra firma, allowing the sea to run in between.

On Monday, we didn’t have a lot of wind as we motored out of Milna and turned southwest to navigate the channel between Šolta and Brač, and turned again southeast to follow the coast. We passed numerous marine farms and inviting anchorages, but we’d already decided that our lunch-stop destination would be a small bay a few miles south, where a submarine base dating back to when the country was part of Yugoslavia is carved into the hillside. Once we’d found the cove and anchored, we launched our inflatable and took a ride inside the long, narrow tunnel once used by naval vessels to avoid detection. Rather than seeing warships, we found cool relief from the sun-splashed bay. Today, fishermen use the rock-lined safe haven to tie up their skiffs. During our visit, there wasn’t a soul around. Instead, small birds darted about, their shrill chirps echoing off the rock walls.

The cove was quite protected. As a few others in the flotilla fleet arrived and dropped anchors, we took turns exploring on the two paddleboards we’d brought along. 

That afternoon, a lazy breeze picked up from the northwest, and San Fredelo ran before it as we headed for the harbor at Jelsa, on the island of Hvar, across a body of water marked on the chart as the Hvarski Kanal. After a morning of motoring, all aboard welcomed the sail, but the dead-downwind heading proved both crash-jibe prone and slow. Eventually, we kicked on the motor again to make the harbor in time for a 1600 tie-up. After all, wine and hors d’oeuvres at a waterside restaurant, organized by Sam and Ellie, awaited us. 

Jelsa lies near the midpoint of Hvar’s north shore. Its harbor is a relatively square body of water, protected by stone jetties. Wide, flat stone walkways around the waterfront give the place an open plaza-like feel. When we arrived, several flotilla boats were already tied stern-to, but Capt. Sam directed us to an open spot, and her crew scrounged up a plank for us to use as a passerelle. 

The restaurant, the iconically spelled Me and mrs Jones, was on the far side of the harbor. Our stroll there took us past palm trees and weathered stone buildings—some white, others a faded pinkish color. Inside the restaurant, the front room had been cleared out to make space for a table covered with wineglasses, carafes of red and white wine, and trays piled with appetizers made with anchovies, shrimp, and assorted meats and cheeses. Soon, the stone-block-lined room was packed. 

After an hour, the crowd thinned and the staff began setting tables for dinner. Jason and I took a half-empty carafe of red and sat at a table outside with a couple from the flotilla who were sailing aboard a Jeanneau 34. Steve was from England, Josephine from Hong Kong. Prior to the pandemic, these longtime friends would meet at various locations around the world for sailing vacations. This was their first time together since the global shutdown. They planned to keep the boat at the end of the week, and sail up and down the coast a bit longer. Like sailors everywhere, we talked about weather, memorable voyages and, of course, our current adventure, which they were finding to be quite social compared with their usual visits to quiet, remote anchorages.

As we were about to leave, a pair of women rode up on bikes and sat at the table next to us. They pointed to the road winding up the towering mountains that form a spine atop Hvar and said that they’d just come over them from the other side of the island. No wonder they were ready to sit down and quench their thirst.

That evening, we strolled up into the hillside town from the waterfront. The stone streets were polished smooth by centuries of foot traffic, the narrow lanes between buildings too tight for cars. The sounds and smells from the open-air Konoba Nono restaurant were irresistible. Its barbecue was excellent, and we topped it off with glasses of rakija travarica for dessert. The strong-tasting liquor, often made of plums and herbs, is a Croatian delicacy and must at least be sampled, in my humble opinion.

I say “sampled” because in abundance, it can lead to unexpected consequences. After dinner, Jason returned to the boat while Jon, Josie and I continued to explore. Our ramblings took us past age-old churches and through tight, twisting alleyways, past homes with laundry left out to dry in rocky courtyards. Eventually, our footsteps led us to a tavern, which led to Croatian beer and then more rakija. We were left spellbound by the sweet folk melodies that a woman named Anna and her male vocalist partner sang as they leaned against the bar, drinks in hand. When the bar closed, we lingered outside, talking with the singers. He had to work in the morning and said goodbye. Anna? Well, we followed her to the small bar she owns and sat talking until dawn, then went with her to watch the sunrise from a beach.

That’s the thing about a sailing trip to Croatia. The people are as warm and friendly as the islands are lovely. It was easy to strike up a conversation with just about anyone. Most Croatians we met spoke English. Every storekeeper had a smile. The owner of an olive shop, recommended by a waiter and contacted by phone one evening, agreed to open early the next morning so that we could buy delicacies to take with us. Strangers couldn’t wait to tell us why we had to visit their favorite spot. Everyone had one. It’s easy to fall for such charms.

Off On Our Own

It’s perhaps not surprising that we were the last boat off the quay Tuesday morning. Not to worry—we had just a 12-nautical-mile hop to the west along Hvar’s north coast to reach the protected bay off Stari Grad, one of the oldest towns in Europe. The little wind we had as we left Jelsa was on the nose, so we chose to motor instead of sail. It was yet another lovely little adventure on the water, complete with dolphins. Across the channel, the mountains on Brač were a patchwork of earth tones and greens, the hues of olive trees and gluhi bor, a black pine that covers the arid landscape. Ferries crisscrossed the channel, and we passed numerous small fishing boats and saw flocks of birds working the water roiled by baitballs off in the distance.

By 1430, we were tied up to yet another stone quay in a snug ­harbor surrounded by a bustling town. We moored just in front of the town’s municipal showers, which were handy. From there, Jon and I walked a half-mile or so along the quay to restock at a Tommy’s market, and then met the rest of our crew for a late lunch.

Back at the boat, we sat under the cockpit Bimini top in a feeble attempt to evade the stifling afternoon sun, and chatted with the crew aboard the flotilla boat moored next to San Fredelo. 

We dined ashore that evening at Nook Stari Grad, a restaurant recommended by a passerby. The woman waiting on us had ­recently returned from living in Rochester, New York, and we met another member of the waitstaff who’d been lured back from California. Both were tickled to be home. The Nook’s chicken curry was spicy, the beer was cold, and the open-air seating under an arbor of trees was absolutely delightful. We walked the long way back to the boat, through more narrow stone streets. On the ­waterfront, there wasn’t a ripple on the harbor, and even in the town center, the quiet was interrupted only by the occasional dog bark.

Wednesday was our free day, and a bura was forecast for the afternoon. After looking at the chart and cruising guide, we decided to sail southeast along the coast of Hvar and across the Pakleni Kanal to the island of Sveti Klement. 

We set sail as we left Stari Grad and tacked upwind around the western tip of Hvar. From there, we were able to bear away and reach down the middle of the channel between the two islands. Early on, the 10- to 12-knot breeze was perfect. But as the morning progressed, the wind clocked and turned gusty so that before long, the sea was covered with whitecaps. At the eastern end of Klement, we turned south and sailed through a marked channel that runs close to the island, and then doused sails as we spun to the west to motor a short way up the island’s south coast to Vinogradišće, a small, protected cove that’s home to Laganini Lounge bar & Fish house and a small mooring field just off its dock. After a swim, we headed ashore for lunch at a table overlooking the water, and watched two self-described influencers shoot photos of one another over glasses of bubbly. As we finished our dishes, a motorboat arrived to whisk them away, shooting selfies all the while.

We spent a lazy afternoon swimming off the boat and, before sunset, walked a short distance across Palmižana, where we caught a water taxi to old-town Hvar. The wind was still gusty, and it was a wet ride back across Pakleni Kanal but well worth the trip.

Hvar is a vibrant city, the largest on the island, with a long history of being a trading and cultural center. The city was part of the Venetian empire from the 13th to the 18th century, and a naval base as well, with an imposing fort above the waterfront.

As in the other towns we’d visited so far, we walked. From the harbor, we hiked up a seemingly endless flight of stairs toward the fort. Shops, hotels, restaurants, and residences lined the steps and stone alleyways that led off to either side from occasional landings. We found a small, rock-walled cafe where we ordered a tableful of appetizers rather than a full dinner: sausages, meats and cheeses, octopus, sardines and the like, along with olives, anchovies and grappa. Afterward, we walked some more. A plaque on a monastery we passed dated the stately white-stone building to 1472. In one shop, we spotted a merchant armed with a knife, standing behind a huge slab of prosciutto held upright on an iron stand. You bet we had him carve off slices to take back to the boat, along with a couple of bottles of cherry grappa. 

At 2130, with minutes to go before the last water taxi ­departed for Palmižana, we hustled back down flights of stairs to the waterfront, arriving at the dock with little time to spare. Over the course of the evening, the winds had died, and we had a lovely ride back to Klement, with the night sky ablaze with stars.

Last-Night Raft-Up

After a swim and coffee Thursday morning—and, how could I forget, spinach-and-tomato omelets—we motorsailed east along Klement’s south coast, winding through Soline Bay and the outcrops of rocks at the end of the island. From there, we reached northwest to Šolta and anchored in the bay at Tatinja—called Uvala Tatinja Lonely Paradise on the chart.

Lonely it was. There were only two other boats anchored there and just a couple of houses onshore. In front of us were centuries-­old stone terraces built into the hillside and groves of trees; ­behind us, nothing but the deep-blue Adriatic Sea and a cloudless, deep-blue sky overhead.

That night, we anchored stern-to on a rocky shore in Šešula, with the entire flotilla rafted together in front of a small restaurant. The bay was quite large, and we went exploring by dinghy, motoring alongside new friends Lawrence and Cathy in theirs. In a distant corner, we found a fish farm before turning back. In the afternoon, Sam and Ellie organized inflatable races, with two-person crews paddling their hearts out for bragging rights. 

Dinner that night was a group affair, and afterward, the party moved back to the boats, where the monohull crews gladly came to visit our big, roomy cat, helping us clinch Best Party Boat honors at the farewell dinner Friday evening.

The next morning, Josie, Jason and I walked along a coastal trail lined with flowering bushes and the occasional modest house, and came to a small village, Maslinica, where we found a working marina, a couple of shops, a spot serving breakfast, and a 20-foot-long yellow-submarine statue with photos of John, Paul, George and Ringo staring out of porthole-like circles on its side. It was a sleepy tourist town, and a sign near its center said that it had received numerous national tourism awards, including one in 2017 for being the best Authentic Coastal Destination.

On our return that morning to Marina Agana, we had the wind on our nose again, so we took our time motoring toward the mainland. We made a detour to visit the long, deep bay at Vinišće; the shore was built up with houses on one side and an industrial-looking pier on the other. Instead of stopping for lunch, we raised the main and sailed across to the open bay off Trogir, anchoring for a spell to eat and swim.

And then, at last, it was time to return to the marina where we had started. On the dock, once the boat was squared away and ­before we took a taxi ride into the hills for one last group ­gathering, I chatted with Bill Truswell, an Irishman in his 70s, who, with his wife and two sons, had enjoyed this week of ­flotilla-style sailing.

“Stress is something I’m no longer needing in life,” he said.

I couldn’t agree more. 

The post Setting Sail: Adriatic Adventures on a Flotilla Charter appeared first on Cruising World.

Did you know that one of the most popular ways to go on a sailing vacation in the Med is to join a flotilla? It’s a relatively novel concept in the North America and Caribbean charter markets, but if you want to expand your sailing horizons, it might be just what you’re looking for—whether you’re a newcomer to sailing or an old salt.

Curious? Let’s look at what a Sunsail flotilla is and what the experience is like by debunking some misconceptions.

What is a Flotilla?

Sunsail pioneered the flotilla charter concept in the 70’s and has since welcomed tens of thousands of sailors from all over the world to this unique social-sailing experience. Celebrating 50 years in business in 2024, Sunsail is the go-to charter provider for bareboat sailing and flotilla vacations. The company’s mantra is that it is run “by Sailors, for Sailors”, and this passion for sailing shines through every part of the customer journey.

 In its most basic form, a flotilla is a group of yachts chartering together with some extra support and a structured itinerary. What does this look like in practice? A Sunsail flotilla typically lasts one or two weeks, and has about eight to 10 participating boats along with a lead boat, which has a skipper, technician (to help with any mechanical issues on the boats) and host. Depending on the route and timing, there might even be an activity coordinator just for kids.

What makes the experience special is all the details—such as sailing routes, moorings and marina stays—are worked out ahead of time, and there is a variety of optional planned activities. Each morning, the flotilla skipper hosts a chart briefing to go over the day’s journey and any weather updates, as well as places of interest to visit. As the boats arrive at the destination, the lead boat crew is there for assistance with tying up at the night’s mooring or dock. The flotilla host plans events, including beach barbecues, punch parties and group dinners, so you can get to know your sailing group. The host can also direct you to the best restaurants, beaches and local attractions.

Sunsail flotillas are primarily available in the Mediterranean at bases in Croatia, Greece and Italy. Each flotilla destination has a unique itinerary, so you can choose something that interests you. Want some action? Try kitesurfing on a Lefkas, Greece, flotilla. Is history your thing? You’ll find an abundance of historical sites to visit on Sunsail’s flotilla route from Dubrovnik, Croatia. For something a little different, Sunsail also offers themed food-and-wine flotillas in Italy.

“Our food-and-wine flotillas have proved incredibly popular,” says Josie Tucci, Sunsail’s vice president of sales and marketing. “We’ve redone our Croatia itineraries to capture even more of the coastline’s natural beauty and architecture, and we recently added another food-and-wine flotilla option in Italy. Our goal is to help Sunsail guests experience the very best of the region, as well as authentic local cuisine, at every stop along these itineraries.”

Still have some questions? Let’s bust some myths about flotilla charters!

Myth 1: I’ll be sharing the boat with strangers

Not true! Each boat on a Sunsail flotilla is booked and sailed individually, just like it would be if you were doing a bareboat charter. Just pick your crew and choose your boat! Alternatively, if you’re new to sailing (or just want to relax more), you can hire a skipper for the duration of the flotilla. Or you can turn the adventure into a real learning experience through the Sunsail Flotilla Hero program, which provides Royal Yachting Association instruction, allowing you to earn certification while on vacation.

Myth 2: We will have to sail in a line from place to place and won’t have any freedom to do what we want.

This is a common misconception about flotilla charters, but nothing could be further from the truth! While there is a set flotilla itinerary, charterers are free to sail as they wish between destinations many itineraries include a free day, allowing crews to set their own agenda. Any planned activities, meals or excursions are optional.

Myth 3: Flotillas are only for beginner sailors.

Flotillas are for sailors of all experience levels. Just like a bareboat charter, however, the skipper of the boat needs to be qualified. If you’re planning on a Sunsail flotilla in the Med, you will need to have certifications through ASA 104 (Bareboat Cruising) or US Sailing Bareboat Cruising. After that, you can apply for an International Proficiency Certificate, which is the US equivalent to the International Certificate of Competence typically issued by the RYA.

Many recently certified sailors enjoy the structure and additional support flotillas offer, which allows them to get a bit steadier on their sea legs before doing a solo bareboat charter. Are you an old salt but new to chartering in the Med? A flotilla is an excellent way to get familiar with a new cruising ground. Cruising with kids? Sunsail flotillas are great for families and provide opportunities for the kids to make some new friends.

Ian Pedersen, Sunsail’s senior marketing manager, offers one piece of advice for someone looking to try their first flotilla: “Keep an open mind, and embrace the social aspect of the flotilla concept,” he says. “People from all over the world and all walks of life come together to celebrate a week on the water, and that is where lifelong acquaintances and friendships can be made. You begin the week as complete strangers, but shared experiences like this really have a way of bringing people together.”

Start booking by visiting sunsail.com or speak to a Sunsail vacation planner directly by calling 800-734-5254.

The post Myth-Busting Flotillas appeared first on Cruising World.

Did you know that one of the most popular ways to go on a sailing vacation in the Med is to join a flotilla? It’s a relatively novel concept in the North America and Caribbean charter markets, but if you want to expand your sailing horizons, it might be just what you’re looking for—whether you’re a newcomer to sailing or an old salt. Curious? Let’s look at what a Sunsail flotilla is and what the experience is like by debunking some misconceptions.

What is a Flotilla?

In its most basic form, a flotilla is a group of yachts chartering together with some extra support and a structured itinerary. What does this look like in practice? A Sunsail flotilla typically lasts one or two weeks, and has about 8-10 participating boats along with a lead boat, which has a skipper, technician (to help with any mechanical issues on the boats) and host. Depending on the route and timing, there might even be an activity coordinator just for kids.

What makes the experience special is all the details such as sailing routes, moorings and marina stays, are worked out ahead of time, and there is a variety of optional planned activities. Each morning, the flotilla skipper hosts a chart briefing to go over the day’s journey and any weather updates, as well as places of interest to visit. As the boats arrive at the destination, the lead boat crew is there for assistance with tying up at the night’s mooring or dock. The flotilla host plans events, like beach barbecues, punch parties and group dinners, so you can get to know your sailing group. The host can also direct you to the best restaurants, beaches and local attractions. 

Sunsail flotillas are primarily available in the Mediterranean at bases in Croatia, Greece and Italy. Each flotilla destination has a unique itinerary, so you can choose something that interests you. Want some action? Try kitesurfing on a Lefkas, Greece, flotilla. Is history your thing? You’ll find an abundance of historical sites to visit on Sunsail’s new flotilla route from Dubrovnik, Croatia, to Montenegro. For something a little different, Sunsail also offers themed food and wine flotillas in Italy. Now that most pandemic-related restrictions have ended for travelers to Europe, it’s the perfect time to book your dream Med sailing vacation.

Still have some questions? Let’s bust some myths about flotilla charters!

Myth 1: I’ll be sharing the boat with strangers

Not true! Each boat on a Sunsail flotilla is booked and sailed individually, just like it would be if you were doing a bareboat charter. Just pick your crew and choose your boat! Alternatively, if you’re new to sailing (or just want to relax more), you can hire a skipper for the duration of the flotilla. Or you can turn the adventure into a real learning experience through the Sunsail Flotilla Hero program, which provides Royal Yachting Association instruction, allowing you to earn certification while on vacation.

Myth 2: We will have to sail in a line from place to place and won’t have any freedom to do what we want.

This is a common misconception about flotilla charters, but nothing could be further from the truth! While there is a set flotilla itinerary, charterers are free to sail as they wish between destinations, and many itineraries include a free day, allowing crews to set their own agenda. Any planned activities, meals or excursions are optional.

Myth 3: Flotillas are only for beginner sailors. 

Flotillas are for sailors of all experience levels. Just like a bareboat charter, however, the skipper of the boat needs to be qualified. If you’re planning on a Sunsail flotilla in the Med, you will need to have certifications through ASA 104 (Bareboat Cruising) or US Sailing Bareboat Cruising. After that, you can apply for an International Proficiency Certificate, which is the US equivalent to the International Certificate of Competence typically issued by the RYA.

Many recently certified sailors enjoy the structure and additional support flotillas offer, which allows them to get a bit steadier on their sea legs before doing a solo bareboat charter. Are you an old salt but new to chartering in the Med? A flotilla is an excellent way to get familiar with a new cruising ground. Cruising with kids? Sunsail flotillas are great for families and provide opportunities for the kids to make some new friends.

Ian Pedersen, Sunsail’s senior marketing manager, offers one piece of advice for someone looking to try their first flotilla: “Keep an open mind, and embrace the social aspect of the flotilla concept,” he says. “People from all over the world and all walks of life come together to celebrate a week on the water, and that is where lifelong acquaintances and friendships can be made. You begin the week as complete strangers, but shared experiences like this really have a way of bringing people together.”

If a flotilla adventure in the Med seems like the perfect remedy to the craziness of the last couple of years, Sunsail suggests booking early because dates for the remainder of 2022 and into 2023 are already filling up. Start booking by visiting www.sunsail.com/flotilla-sailing or speak to a Sunsail vacation planner directly by calling 800-734-5254.

The post Myth-Busting Flotillas appeared first on Cruising World.

There is nothing quite like a sailing vacation. Whether you’re after sunshine and beam reaches, rum drinks and reggae, or quiet anchorages and adventures ashore, a charter with The Moorings can have it all. Now that the world is opening back up, it’s time to ditch the staycation and choose a destination. Let’s take a look at where the hottest destinations are for 2022 and 2023, what’s changed in the world of charter sailing, and what you need to know before your next vacation.

Back to the Bahamas, BVI and USVI

Long the most popular destinations for North American sailors, bases in the Virgin Islands and the Bahamas have had major setbacks from hurricanes and the pandemic. Fortunately, those days are mostly in our wake, and charter sailors can once again easily cruise the storied waters of the Sir Francis Drake Channel, the Sea of Abaco and the Bahama Banks. 

The Moorings base is fully open in Road Town, British Virgin Islands, at Wickhams Cay II, where you will find resort-like amenities to enjoy before casting off. Travelers no longer need to preregister at the travel portal for entry clearance and all Covid entry testing requirements have been lifted as of July 15, 2022. Once aboard your boat, the rest of the BVI is yours to discover—explore the magical Baths on Virgin Gorda, sip a Painkiller at the Soggy Dollar on Jost Van Dyke, and check out the Indians, one of the best snorkeling spots in the area.During the pandemic, the US Virgin Islands surged in popularity as a charter destination due to ease of travel for US residents. Once a well-kept secret, the allure of these islands is now getting the attention it deserves. From The Moorings base at the Marina at Yacht Haven Grande, you can explore all that St. Thomas offers, including abundant shopping and nightlife, then head out to explore beautiful and laid-back St. John, where you can experience the pristine beaches of Cinnamon Bay, excellent snorkeling at Leinster Bay, and even some hiking trails at Virgin Islands National Park.

The Moorings base at the Abaco Beach Resort in Marsh Harbour, Bahamas, reopened at the end of 2021 after recovering from the devastation wrought by Hurricane Dorian in 2019. “While the impact of the storm can still be seen on the main island,” says Ian Pedersen, senior marketing manager for The Moorings, “the cruising ground and outer cays have returned to form and are a spectacular sailing destination once again.” The central location of Marsh Harbour makes it the perfect place to start your exploration of the Abacos—a longtime favorite destination for cruising sailors. Enjoy sailing in the protected waters of the Sea of Abaco to destinations that include quaint villages, such as Hope Town and Green Turtle Cay, and abundant secluded anchorages.

If you’re looking for an Out Islands experience, an Exumas charter might be for you. Departing from The Moorings base at Palm Cay Marina in Nassau, Bahamas, visitors can then cruise down to the Exuma Cays, a string of 365 islands and cays that stretch for 120 miles. Many sailors who have traveled the world agree that the Exumas are their favorite cruising ground. Once you go, you will understand. From exploring the mangrove creeks of Shroud Cay and the incredible Thunderball Grotto, to the friendly settlement of Black Point and colorful Staniel Cay, the Exumas offer a wide variety of experiences—and unforgettable sunsets on the Great Bahama Bank.

Both Bahamas destinations are fully open to vaccinated travelers, while unvaccinated visitors will need to show a negative COVID-19 test at check-in.

The Magical Med

If your dream sailing vacation includes exploring ancient ruins, villages steeped in history, and a variety of sailing conditions, a sailing vacation in the Mediterranean might be just what you’re looking for. “After so many people were unable to sail in Europe during [the pandemic], the Med sailing season is back and as popular as ever,” Pedersen says.

From The Moorings bases in Italy, Greece and Croatia, visitors can choose the Med experience that suits them best. Looking for sun-soaked beaches, quaint tavernas and excellent scuba diving? Try a charter from Corfu in Greece. Does visiting an abundance of islands offering everything from wild, barren landscapes to historic towns and lively nightlife sound ideal? A Croatia and Dalmatian Islands charter is for you. How about a view of mountain peaks, incredible cuisine and soaking in hot springs? Check out a sailing vacation from Sicily.

Whichever you choose, a charter in the Med is an incredible experience. If you are looking to do a bareboat charter in one of these destinations, you will need to have an approved sailing license, such as an International Proficiency Certificate, or have passed ASA 104 (Bareboat Cruising) or US Sailing Bareboat Cruising courses. No certifications? No worries. Crewed charters are available with a captain and a chef.

Ready to Go?

After two-plus years of various lockdowns and travel restrictions around the world, it’s no surprise that stir-crazy sailors are ready to get out there. If you’re considering a charter vacation in the near future, The Moorings strongly suggests booking as soon as possible to ensure you can get the yacht you want. “We are already seeing strong bookings for next summer and even fall of 2023,” Pedersen says.

So, gather up your crew, choose your destination and go sailing.

For more information and to start booking your charter vacation, visit www.moorings.com or speak to a vacation planner directly by calling 800-416-0247.

The post Back to Chartering (and Better than Ever) with The Moorings appeared first on Cruising World.

At a time of year when cruisers might point their bows south to escape winter in North America, or head to cyclone-free regions across the Pacific, instead they are contending with a wide array of restrictions brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic as a new normal has emerged over the summer. § Looking ahead, top health officials expect the pandemic to increase this winter—and that in 2021, the threat of coronavirus will remain. We hope for a vaccine and yet expect that any success will take time to reach far-flung corners of the world. For the cruiser, or hopeful cruiser, is it possible to plan a safe watery adventure?

Despite a world shrunk by globalization, regional and national responses to coronavirus continue to vary dramatically. There is no crystal ball, of course, so to form a view of what cruising might look like in the year ahead, we reached out to sailors around the world to see what might be possible.

North America

If the mainstream traveler rediscovered staycations, American cruisers are reminded that from Penobscot Bay to the Dry Tortugas in the east, and Puget Sound to San Diego in the west—the United States coastline offers extensive cruising for all seasons. The US border never closed to maritime entry, but a number of states had lockdown periods, and several continue to require different degrees of testing or self-quarantine. A pandemic flare-up could limit movement or require isolating. Other cruisers are placing their bets on a new period of slower-paced Caribbean cruising.

Allan and Lavonne Shelton were bound for Panama after several leisurely months in the Bahamas when borders started snapping shut in March. Making a rest stop in Jamaica en route, the crew learned that Panama had closed. They rerouted back to their home waters in Chesapeake Bay. “We were concerned about the possibility of being stranded somewhere with fewer cruising options than we would have by returning to the US, and we didn’t want to be a burden on another country’s health system.” Lavonne says.

Like many, the added risk of the virus put a damper on their 2021 plans. “We want to be able to socialize freely while cruising. We love hosting visitors aboard Vinyasa, and enjoy visiting others too. Realistically for us, cruising freely means waiting until a reliable vaccine is widely available and we’ve both received it.” The Vinyasa crew plans to sail between seasonal bases in Florida and Maryland until they feel safe to voyage abroad again.

Vivian Vuong and her husband, Nathan Zahrt, call the Compass 47 Ultima home. And 2020 was meant to be their breakout year, leading offshore training passages with John Kretschmer Sailing, but closures in the Bahamas and Florida Keys put a pall on plans. “By July we were finally able to do a training passage from Solomons, Maryland, to Newport, Rhode Island, and had an epic sail in nice weather, full of wildlife sightings. We saw whales, sharks, and pods of hundreds of dolphins feeding on schools of fish,” Vivian says. But they postponed further training passages, and instead shifted to working on superyachts to afford planned upgrades for Ultima. Vivian speaks for ­many cruisers when she says, “The ­hardest part of this pandemic is the uncertainty that it causes,” and in their case, it’s not just where this ocean-girdling couple can go, but the future of their work as well. Looking ahead, they anticipate this winter that Caribbean islands will offer opportunities for their own cruising and, hopefully, voyages they can share with others seeking a life afloat.

Mediterranean

At peak uncertainty when borders closed throughout the region, boats transited the breadth of the Mediterranean without options for landfall. The region later swung hard in the other direction, with uncomplicated movement between most European Union countries with just a few extra steps for clearance. But crews from nations outside the Schengen Area have more to juggle than just the stay limits in member states. If cases surged, how might countries respond? Uncertainty around the answer to this has encouraged many cruisers to focus on a safe harbor where they can make longer-term plans, saving active cruising for a post-pandemic environment.

“Most folks we talk to have a sense of being in a surreal film,” Shannon Morrelli reports from the catamaran Sweetie. They were spending their second winter in Tunisia when cases of COVID-19 surged, and the Monastir Marina ­provided a friendly haven. “It was treated as a single-family residence; cruisers could walk the docks and the marina’s headland during lockdown.” The lockdown started days after Monastir denizens, the American crew of the catamaran Grateful, flew back to the US for a brief visit in March; they weren’t able to get back to Tunisia until September. “Our circuitous return depended on the fact that Turkey (a non-EU country) was happy to have us and our tourism dollars,” Niki Elenbaas says.

When European countries began to reopen borders to their citizens, EU-based sailors left Tunisia for summertime cruising grounds closer to home. It was about another month before non-EU crews were able to sail north. To mitigate uncertainty ahead, Shannon and her husband, Tony, purchased a yearlong marina contract for Sweetie in Monastir; Niki and Jamie Elenbaas have done the same for Grateful. For 2021, they plan to cruise between Tunisia and other Mediterranean countries as restrictions (and Schengen rules) allow— and they expect ongoing changes.

Complexity’s crew, Barbara and Jim Cole, hail from Puget Sound. They have similarly doubled down to reduce their risk from instability in the Mediterranean with a long-term contract at a Cyprus marina. Barbara recalled the stressful passages they made across the Indian Ocean and up the Red Sea in the first months of the year. Although overdue for a trip home, they don’t think a flight to the States is viable given the risks of virus exposure coupled with the possibility of being barred from returning to their Hallberg Rassy 36. “Our resources and health could be taken away by careless exposure; it would be terrible to suffer a devastating illness so far from loved ones,” Barbara says. Meanwhile, the couple purchased a car to better travel the island. These experienced cruisers are upbeat; they don’t talk about being stuck but rather about the historic ruins and local delicacies: “As cruisers do, we are all making the best of our situation.”

Friends aboard the Ovni 41 Xamala empathize. “We have not moved much since our arrival in Crete [via the Red Sea] because of the uncertainty with infection clusters and lockdowns,” Anita Farine writes. Fortunately, as holders of Schengen Area passports, they’re able to extend their stay in Greece. “We feel for our international friends who don’t have many places to go to after the three months in Schengen.”

The Griswold family had just returned to Trifecta in Turkey. “From April through June we lived at anchor with very few boats, cruising the Turquoise coast,” Matt says. Family intentions were to continue west in the Med, then cross the Atlantic as the American family’s sabbatical cruise winds down. Then Turkey closed the border with Greece, and they gained empathy for cruisers who had felt trapped by the pandemic. Malta’s decision to open a corridor for EU access was a welcome relief. “In Malta, we filled out an extra check-in paper on arrival for the health department; otherwise no questions were asked. Life returned to ‘cruiser normal’ in an instant.” They’ve since sailed to Italy, Monaco and France, and are organizing an informal rally of boats bound for the Caribbean for the winter.

South Pacific

Island nations and protectorates in the South Pacific were among the first to lock down borders, and most remain closed. With dispersed populations and limited healthcare facilities, they remain conservative about reopening: To date, only Fiji and French Polynesia have a process for yachts to apply for permission to enter. Most cruisers responded by remaining in place; a minority made a move to Fiji when their Blue Lane Initiative—a program offering cruising boats easier entries, although with strict protocols—to enter a country commenced, and a few are choosing extensive passages to more-distant safe havens.

Like many cruisers, the crew of Maple intended to sail west from French Polynesia in 2020 after enjoying over a year in the islands with a long-term visa. With about two years left in their cruising kitty, they planned a winding path of island hops to reach Southeast Asia before wrapping up to go home to Canada. When the coronavirus stymied this plan, they evaluated how best to make the use of their family time left. Given the closed borders (or unpredictable restrictions) in their original plan, they’ve determined that it will be best to sail a loop through the north Pacific back to Canada. They’ll begin in January with a 5,400-nautical-mile passage from Tahiti to Okinawa, Japan.

“This will be our longest single passage, probably will be for the duration of our cruising lives, but we are oddly looking forward to it,” Darryl Lapaire says. The route will carry them close to islands of closed countries: Tuvalu, Kiribati, Federal States of Micronesia, and Guam. “Some of the islands are quite small, so we will need to be watchful and ensure we are zoomed in on our electronic navigation devices for this segment. Cyclonic storms in the equatorial North Pacific breed in the waters around the Marshall Islands and Micronesia, so from this area to Japan will form the area of greatest risk for us.”

Fiji and French Polynesia have created extensive permissions processes to request entry, making those countries possible options for those crossing the Pacific. Kris Adams and David Frost are longtime cruisers aboard the Kaufman 49 Taipan. Moored in Huahine, their attitude models that of many cruisers in French Polynesia: “We are very content here. We were hoping to be home after 19 years,” Kris says, but “the east coast of Australia is still nearly 3,000 nautical miles and then still a Southern Ocean passage away from our hometown in Albany, Western Australia.” This crew has the chops; they’re just choosing, as are most, to appreciate where they are instead. They can migrate to eastern island groups in French Polynesia for relative safety during cyclone season.

These are the difficult options facing cruisers in this region: Either remain in a hurricane zone for the storm season, or sail significant distances like the Maple crew, or hope for the continued generosity of a host country, or go against prevailing conditions to find an open border—all options fraught with uncertainty of future closures.

Southeast Asia and the Indian Ocean

Although most countries in Southeast Asia aren’t welcoming arrivals, those within borders already are largely accommodated. The lack of options for landfall halted Indian Ocean transits early on; these are now easing, allowing cruisers already there a path from the region. But cruisers are challenged by bureaucracy here, as well as a lack of understanding for their situation, in countries that feel particularly far from home. Cruisers sheltering in place must juggle this uncertainty; many who can are sailing on.

The family aboard Dafne has cruised from North America across the Pacific and through Southeast Asia. As cases of COVID-19 surged, they sequestered for months in Indonesia’s Mentawai Islands. But with a teen heading to college and other family tugs to the US, they made plans to cross the Indian Ocean as soon as there were signs of South Africa opening up. “We would have stayed in Asia if we felt positive about being able to move between countries, but that seemed unlikely and now looks even worse,” Lani Bevaqua says. If a family emergency called them home, they’d be stuck: Interisland travel halted, making it impossible to reach a marina where they could safely leave their boat and access an airport, except by sailing Dafne out of the country. “We felt uncomfortable being caught somewhere that we literally couldn’t leave,” she says from their anchorage in Seychelles. They expect to arrive in the Caribbean next spring, and cruise North America in 2021.

In Indonesia, Adamastor’s crew were ­relieved that the state of emergency allowed continued visa extensions in this notoriously bureaucratic destination. But Jess Lloyd-Mostyn was troubled that “once the emergency stay permit amnesty was over, the first thing we were asked was, ‘Why have you not sailed back to England?’ It’s very hard to explain calmly how impossible such a thing (a journey of 13,000 odd miles) would be right now, with three young children, and not feel frustrated.”

Jess, husband James and their little ones intended to leave Indonesia earlier this year to avoid exceeding the three-year cruising permit; with no borders open nearby, they might face a hefty bill to import the boat. Yet Jess remains optimistic as they progress toward a clearance port to demonstrate their intentions to depart when it’s reasonable, and appreciates their relative security. “I think that things are harder for cruisers in Thailand because the immigration laws want foreigners to leave, but the Customs laws state that boats can’t be left unattended. Couple that with all the surrounding borders being closed, and what can you do?”

Interim Models for Cruising

While the options vary by region, there are clear themes. Even under the assumption that 2021 will continue with many countries inaccessible, there will be fluctuating regulations in those that are accessible, and added hurdles for clearance into nearly all locales. Two basic approaches stand out: first, taking longer passages to fewer destinations; second, cruising within a country or region where clearances are easier. More-experienced cruisers are better-prepared for the first, and any can choose the latter.

For most cruisers, the patience born of our adage that plans are made in the sand at low tide is playing out in new approaches. Some are reducing range, or keeping potential passage distances to reach backup-plan harbors in mind when making destination decisions. Others are slowing down, whether forced by quarantine or to enjoy fewer places for longer. And nearly all anticipate more hurdles—for more paperwork, more communications ­requirements and more fees.

What’s gone until the world has a widely available, reliable vaccine is the model for visiting a string of countries in a season or even a year. Bucket listers in search of a circumnavigation can’t count on the access to ports (regulations might change while underway) or access to goods or repairs in a typical fast-track loop.

Starting Under Pandemic

Should those with a long-held dream to go cruising hold off on a 2021 departure? This decision is based on individual circumstances and risk tolerance, just as in any other year. The stakes are just higher now, and the well of patience, perseverance, and skills needed for safe and comfortable cruising tapped further.

On the west coast, the reduced size of a casual rally that annually progresses down the US West Coast highlights this decision. The Coho Ho-Ho is an informal fleet where crews head south from Puget Sound on their own timetable, sharing information and camaraderie along the way. In a typical summer, the fleet is comprised of a few dozen boats; this year, all but two canceled southbound plans. Cruising in Mexico on his Lord Nelson 35 Jean Anne, Steve Olson says: “I was a bit shocked and saddened when I heard that cruisers were opting not to sail down to Mexico due to COVID. Knowing what I now know about Mexico and Mexican cruising, I feel much safer and less at risk of contracting COVID down here than I would in the US.”

Yet for many, the pandemic is motivation to set sail despite the challenges. Yacht brokers report that boat sales are booming. Subscribers to the coaching ­service my husband, Jamie, and I have to help cruisers and potential cruisers ­succeed is running at double pre-­coronavirus levels. One family we’re working with recently flew to Grenada (via a couple of other island hops because there are no direct US flights); they waited out a 14-day quarantine in a beachfront cottage there before moving onto their new-to-them catamaran. Another family flew from the US to Latvia for a 14-day “country cleaning” before heading back across the pond to Martinique to a boat waiting for them. Still others are ­beginning on the US coast, where no international clearance is needed to spread their cruising wings.

While 2021 might not be a good year for new cruisers to strike out across oceans, ranging from a point of ­departure is reasonable. The slower pace and necessity to watch regulations might even facilitate softer landings into the lifestyle, and open experiences missed on a faster track.

Looking Forward

As this issue goes to press, COVID-19 ­cases are rising again in many regions. Lessons from 2020 suggest that advance planning will continue to be difficult, and travel corridors might not emerge. Many common cruising routes—such as exploring the Caribbean chain, sailing coastwise through Latin America, or winding across the South Pacific—include migrations through countries that are more vulnerable to outbreaks, with healthcare systems that sailors might not wish to test. While it is still possible to cruise, it is more complicated.

Cruising now leans on deeper skills and resourcefulness. It requires patience and research, and costs more. But a focus on experiences rather than route schedules can bring fresh perspective into the joys of voyaging. More than ever, cruising will be about sensitivity to the locales hosting our vessels. It will be about taking the time to find empathy for the outlook of the local communities we anchor near.

Aboard Totem, our family’s cruising plans were upended in 2020. Instead of ­departing Mexico to sail to the South Pacific, we self-isolated for months in the Sea of Cortez. As much as we crave a return of passagemaking to faraway places, I expect that 2021 will continue to feature tacos instead of bringing back poisson cru. But for our crew, as for many cruisers, the joy of life afloat stems from experiences within the journey—not chalking up destinations. In the past week, wildlife encounters with a transient pod of orcas, filter-feeding whale sharks, and yipping coyote packs in the moonlight reminded us again that magic exists wherever you choose to seek it, and doesn’t know there’s a pandemic on.

Follow along with Behan Gifford and the rest of the Totem crew at cruisingworld.com/sailing-totem.

New Clearance Requirements

Arriving into a new country just got more complicated. Processes and paperwork vary; this list is based on a common range of requirements among Caribbean islands.

• Have arrival authorization issued prior to departure from a previous port.
• Take a pre-departure COVID-19 test, generally specified to be the RT-PCR (nasal swab).
• Carry proof of health insurance.
• Expect a health check on arrival, including additional COVID-19 testing.
• Expect quarantine days, depending on travel history; some islands credit sea time.
• Carry a supply of approved face masks and a thermometer.
• Use a contact-tracing app while in country.

The post The Outlook for Cruising 2021 appeared first on Cruising World.

Santorini is probably the most photographed island in all of Greece, and it is easy to see why. The ancient and still-active volcano that forms the archipelago rises dramatically from deep sapphire seas with impressive rock and ash sandwiched together in great horizontal bands of black, gray and red. Each compressed layer is evidence of past eruptions, from the Minoan eruption—one of the world’s largest volcanic events in recorded history—blowing away the west side of the island around 1645 B.C., to the most recent burp in the mid-1900s.

These contrasting layers climb the island’s steep cliffs to meet rich fertile soil plateaus 600 feet above sea level. On these green terraces, row upon row of Santorini’s famous grapes catch the Mediterranean sun, and clusters of dazzling whitewashed houses reflect the light, and, from a distance, look like snowcapped mountains.

My wife, Catherine, and I had been sailing in the Mediterranean Sea for only three months, but Greece was unlike any other country we have cruised since we set sail from New York more than 12 years and 40,000 nautical miles ago. In fact, so entirely captivating are these islands, they have already joined the honored ranks of our most memorable cruising regions in the world, rating among the legendary archipelagoes of French Polynesia, New Caledonia, Australia and Indonesia.

RELATED: Sailing into Yialos, Greece

No visit to Greece would really be complete without feasting your eyes on Santorini, an island so striking that it is regularly featured to represent the entire country. We detoured south in favorable northeasterly wind only to find that due to the island’s overwhelming popularity, the one and only marina on the southern shore is now home base to a large fleet of local charter catamarans. A quick call on the VHF confirmed that there was absolutely no room for the likes of Dream Time, our 38-foot Cabo Rico. We arrived as the entire fleet was departing for the evening’s sunset cruise, and watched as a convoy of more than 20 45-foot catamarans, each heavily adorned with tourists, motored full steam along the rugged southern coastline before swinging north to enter one of the world’s largest sunken calderas. Dream Time fell in line but was quickly left behind.

Santorini is truly stunning, but the combination of steep cliffs, a deep rocky seabed, and shorelines exposed to wind and swell makes it less than ideal for mariners and a tad tricky to anchor, especially if you wish to leave your boat unattended. With fading light and uncomfortable southwesterly seas wrapping around the island, there were few options as to where to spend the night, so using a trip line to retrieve our ground tackle if needed, we anchored inside the 5-mile-wide caldera on the edge of a petrified lava plug. As the last of the charter catamarans returned south to the marina, Dream Time was left alone, anchored under a clear canopy of stars off the “burnt islands”—Nea Kameni and Palea Kameni, mountainous heaps of jagged volcanic rock in the center of the caldera.

The next morning, we reclaimed our anchor from the rocky bottom (trip line not required) and set off to find Dream Time a safe berth for the day. We sailed from the lava islands in the middle of the caldera to the village of Oia (pronounced EE-ah), just 3 miles away on the northern rim, where we quickly made friends with Capt. Cosmos, a colorful character and local charter-boat owner, who kindly offered the use of his mooring for the day while he ferried a group of tourists around the caldera and outer shoreline.

During our day ashore, Catherine and I ­discovered that the best part of Santorini, for us at least, was indeed the view. After touring the island in a rented Fiat 500 and stocking up on supplies (which included a few choice bottles of Santorini red), we enjoyed a two-hour lunch perched on a balcony with a panoramic view of the crater, with cruise ships moored in the distance and Dream Time berthed just below. The scene—complete with two Byzantine church domes painted sky-blue and a peach-colored bell tower nestled among a canopy of white roofs overlooking the caldera—is one of the most famous in all of Greece.

We returned to Dream Time just 15 minutes before Capt. Cosmos arrived to reclaim his mooring, and in a light ­westerly wind, we unfurled our genoa to sail the 3 miles south back to the lava ­islands. We hooked a mooring surrounded by a mass of shiny black boulders in a tiny cove on Palea Kameni (Old Burnt Island), and as we settled in for the night, we were surprised to discover an old fisherman living alone among the heaps of volcanic slag.

The fisherman’s house, which appeared not much larger than a garden shed, was built within the side of a lava flow. With its tidy, curved whitewashed roof and chunky stone walls, it expressed all the quirky charm of a Hobbit home. His two fishing boats were tucked in comfortably, moored just a few feet from the rocky shoreline, and each were painted yellow with matching orange accents, providing cheery contrast to the otherwise black surroundings. Scattered around his property were carefully stacked piles of collected debris: sheets of corrugated iron, heaps of old rope, darkened timber, tires, nets and tools. From our cockpit, we watched as the lone fisherman shuffled slowly around the rocks that surround his life, followed closely by his dog, a giant German shepherd, who eyed us with suspicion, anchored so near to his territory.

It was a most peaceful yet surreal setting; just across the caldera, thousands of cruise-ship passengers and tourists packed the island and resorts to capacity while Dream Time lay at rest in a volcanic wasteland, anchored on the edge of a lava island, home to a Greek fisherman.

The next morning, we raised our mainsail with the sun. As we sailed away, we noticed the old fisherman was sprinkling grain on the stony ground, whistling softly to call goats that hopped down from the black rocks above and gathered around him to feed outside his little house, which rests alone in the center of an active volcano, surrounded entirely by the sea.

To read more about Neville and Catherine Hockley’s world voyage, visit: zeroXTE.com.

The post Sailing into Santorini appeared first on Cruising World.

Over the past six years, Scarlet, our 47-foot Warwick cruiser/racer from the mid-’80s, sailed east with a rotating crew from Martinique to the Mediterranean. During that time, Scarlet’s longtime owner, Spencer Smith, and I visited Portugal, Morocco, Spain, France and Italy, which left us wondering, what’s next? Do we turn around now? Had we reached the end of the popular part of the Med?

If we had turned around before we reached the Dalmatian coast, we would have missed what we now consider the best cruising ground in the entire Med. If you want islands, warm water, protected bays with snug harbors, modern marinas, and unfamiliar—even exotic—towns and cities steeped in ancient history, well, Croatia is the place. Small, ancient harbors are everywhere. They have sheltered sailors since earliest maritime history, and here they are, still sheltering cruising sailboats.

And, if you’re like Scarlet’s crew and sail with one eye on the GPS and one eye in a book about the history of your sailing grounds, you’ll be a happy sailor in Croatia.

Croatia’s shoreline forms the long, eastern coast of the Adriatic Sea (along with Montenegro and Albania). The Dalmatian islands lie close to the mainland, and are parallel to the east coast of Italy. The area has a long and complicated history, starting with the legendary Greek tales of Odysseus and Calypso, the oared warships of the Illyrians, the ancient maritime culture of the Roman and Venetian occupations, Ottoman pirates, tribal wars, Nazi occupation and then Soviet domination of Yugoslavia. Followed, of course, by the punishing civil war of the 1990s. Croatians are enjoying peace now, and have optimism for the future and pride in their beautiful landscapes, making it a rich and joyful cruising ground. There are islands galore: large ones with cities and medieval towns to explore, and small agricultural ones still inhabited by sheep, donkeys and, happily, the occasional small waterfront restaurant. The best way to see this maritime nation, with the spectacular mountains as a backdrop and wild islands to explore, is from the deck of a sailboat.

History, Culture and Anchorages Galore

Superb destination cities such as Krk, Split/Trogir, lavish Hvar, and Marco Polo’s birthplace, Korcula, were built to trade by sea, providing a profitable sea lane between Venice and the East. Beset by centuries of marauding pirates and warlike neighbors—right up to the tragic wars of the 1990s—the cities present a fortified face to the sea. Within Croatia’s walled cities, there are cultural sites such as Venetian palaces, Benedictine monasteries, Ottoman mosques and, perhaps the most famous, the Emperor Diocletian’s elegant palace in Split. But the fortress walls are easy to penetrate now, and a sailor ashore has a fine choice of activities and culture to be discovered. The Austrian/Nazi submarine pens carved into the cliff faces are empty now, ripe for exploration by dinghy. Or you could lay your dock lines to a massive marble Roman quay on the sleepy island of Silba, where oared warships tied their lines a thousand years ago, seeking the protection of the same natural harbor.

All along the coast of Croatia you’ll find protected anchorages suitable for private boats, and others large enough for the busy fleets of chartered sailboats. The welcoming protective headlands provide a fresh choice of destinations every day, and even a selection of stops for lunch. In the lee of steep-sided islands, there are so many suitable anchorages that we stopped needing the advice in the otherwise excellent guidebooks—whenever we felt we needed relief from a headwind or sudden bora (the north to northeastern katabatic winds), we could find an anchorage near at hand. For example, we dropped the hook in the lee of the small island of Zut, where we walked to a delightful and good- natured restaurant on a hillside above the harbor. Another time we discovered a private swimming beach at the south end of Otok Lopud. Walking up the road from the wharf in Zlarin, we stopped to watch a family harvest green olives, and next to the ubiquitous olive groves, there was a perfect chapel, where votive bouquets were ­carefully arranged around the windows.

Whenever we needed some culture, we could steer a course for a port city. Hvar, Split (and its close neighbor Trogir), Murter and Krk to the north, are our favorite ports, steeped in beauty as well as history at the base of 3,000- to 9,000-foot rock-faced mountains. Each of these ports offers splendid waterfront establishments, hotels, Airbnbs, taxis and airport connections, plus a full menu of services for the fleets of sailboats sweeping in through the hot days of summer.

Every few days, Spencer and I found that we liked to restock at the farmers markets, often located near the waterfront, or visit one of the modern marina establishments near the bigger cities. The whole coast is studded with welcoming marinas, designed to get sailors out racing, out to the islands, or on to the next port city. Croatia is the home of the largest sailboat charter fleet in the world, with about 4,000 boats, and Adriatic Croatia International is a well-organized chain of 22 marinas along the Croatian coast that are often located right near the most popular harbors and charter centers. These marinas consistently offered well-protected slips, knowledgeable repair staff, and good water and fuel. And they were usually located within walking distance from the restaurants and major museums in town.

When cruising Croatia, be prepared to tie up Med-style, with the boat’s stern-to a stone quay and another vessel snugged right alongside. For the skippers who can steer in reverse gear at high speed and have use of a joystick and bow thruster to straighten out their craft, this looks easy. For the rest of us, with no joystick or bow thruster on the boat and little confidence in how it might steer in hard reverse, well, we just take it slow. The dockhands jump up when they see us approach, and with strong helping hands, take our lines and pass us the long underwater laid lines, which are secured to anchored chains far out in the channel. With many, many fenders, it can be done without mishap. We had better luck nosing in bow-first to the wharf, which protects the Monitor windvane hanging off the stern, and then climbing over the bow pulpit and the anchor roller to the wharf. This also makes the cockpit a little more private while on a busy waterfront, particularly in a popular town like Hvar, where crowds of tourists pass along the polished sidewalks and gaze at the boats.

Our Favorite Places

On the southeastern end of the long, ­narrow Dugi Otok, (otok means “island,” dugi means “long”), which some consider the most beautiful of the Kornati Islands, lies Telascica Nature Park. Two friendly park wardens, who manage the property and extensive anchorage, came by in a small boat and collected a fee, charged per boat; in our case, the fee was 380 Croatian kunas, or about $42, which we were happy to pay in view of the pristine preserve. Although well-protected, this beautiful bay can get crowded with boats anchored in the sailing season. The inner harbor of Luka Telascica has a perfect anchorage 4 miles up the bay, where we were the only boat in our quiet cove. The next morning, we were awakened by donkeys, braying gently as they wandered the steep slopes.

On the rough shoreline of Luka Telascica, the sharp rocks are made of karst, a carbonate rock that characterizes the Croatian coast. Karst is a porous limestone that dissolves over time in flowing water, leaving caves, sinkholes and bonelike surfaces, scoured by the water moving through it. From a small dock, we picked our way across the sharp rocky beach and hiked up to the radio tower at the top of Dugi Otok. There we were surprised to find ourselves on the edge of an unprotected cliff edge, with a shocking 150-meter sheer drop-off into the water and a spectacular view across the aqua blue Adriatic Sea toward Italy.

The next day, on the eastern side of Dugi Otok, in the protected harbor of the town of Luka, we anchored for the day and watched a young woman and her grandfather head out on a small fishing boat; they returned in the afternoon with her catch.

That evening, when we asked the proprietress of the restaurant if they were open for dinner, she said it was their first day of the season and they had one “tooth fish” that she had caught with her grandfather that day. In honor of their opening, we had a free drink and the grilled tooth fish. Her grandfather, the same fisherman we had seen earlier in the day, sat at a table with some friends, and then we all watched the sun set over the harbor and the fishing boat, with Scarlet anchored nearby. That is offseason cruising in Croatia!

The Kornati Archipelago is a chain of water-washed cones of karst. The remarkable white pyramid-shaped moonscapes rise from the deep water of the Adriatic Sea. These white mountains, stunning and wild, are beautiful to see up close from the deck of a boat as the light changes along their smooth angled slopes. Sailing between the islands in Kornati National Park feels like a peaceful cruise on the moon, with spectacular anchorages close by.

The enchanting, southernmost island of Mljet turned out to be our favorite stop. We entered a narrow opening into the long undeveloped bay to the small town of Polace. As we approached, I thought to myself: What is that high smokestack? An industrial ruin? Nope—it was a ruined palace! The walls of a Roman castle, built in the third or fourth century for the Roman Agesilaus and his poet son, tower above the small town. From the main pedestrian lane in the village, you can walk right up to the Roman walls, stare up at the stonework and marvel at the passage of history.

Most of Mljet is still wooded and green—a national park—laid out with manicured hiking trails, a lake and a picture-perfect island monastery. The modest park fee of 250 kunas (less than $40) covers three days of anchoring and hiking.

Some think Mljet may have been the home of the mythical nymph Calypso, who loved and entrapped the wandering sailor Odysseus, and held him captive in one of the caves on the island. After seven years, the immortal nymph was convinced by the goddess Athena to build Odysseus a boat and let him continue his journey homeward, according to Homer in The Odyssey. There is a nice seafood restaurant there named for her—the Calypso—where we sampled the local dish “Octopus Under the Bell.”

We found our own paradise, tied bow-in toward the Calypso’s terrace in Polace, and the stern anchored out on the long mooring lines provided.

Otok Krk is a large, settled island in the north end of the Adriatic, close to the Istria peninsula and Trieste, Italy, and it reflects the influence of the Venetian empire. The ancient town of Krk has a strong sense of history, marked by the obvious ruins of the Roman town of Curicum, where in 49 B.C., Caesar and Pompey fought a great sea battle. We were beyond thrilled to set the anchor outside an intact Roman sea gate—which to us looked like it could have been part of a movie set—where goods were traded through the fortress walls of Krk for the past millennia. We walked through the town and could see Scarlet at anchor, framed by the stone arch of the sea gate.

After a few years of seasonal cruising and visiting countries of the Adriatic Sea, we sailed Scarlet south into Greek waters. But for varied, well-protected harbors of sophistication and deep maritime history, Croatia remains dear to our hearts, and we are planning a return visit. There is a lot more to see there, and it is best seen from the deck of a sailboat.

Queene Hooper Foster sails her Concordia yawl in Maine these days, when not sailing for several months of the year on Scarlet, based in the eastern Mediterranean.

Chartering in Croatia

There is no doubt that Croatia offers a spectacular cruising ground, and that there is an abundant charter fleet available for visiting sailors. But there are a few hoops that American sailors will need to jump through before being allowed to charter a boat.

Croatia, like other European countries, requires ­bareboat-charter captains to produce internationally accepted paperwork demonstrating competency in handling recreational vessels.

What that means for Americans is that an experiential sailing resume and a US Coast Guard-issued captain’s license are of course helpful—yet incomplete—if you’ve set your sights on taking family and friends on a cruise along the Dalmatian coast.

The requirement dates back to the adoption of United Nations Resolution 40, a recreational boating safety initiative proposed by countries seeking to reduce accidents on the water and the corresponding strain on emergency services. The International Certificate of Competence required of sailors is laid out in detail as part of UN 40.

Because the United States isn’t a signatory of UN 40, alternatives recognized by the Croatian government and charter companies include the International Proficiency Certificate.

US Sailing and the American Sailing Association, as well as their extensive network of affiliate schools, offer the IPC as a viable path for Americans to charter abroad. NauticEd, an online-based sailing school, offers the Sailing License and Credentials course, which is also accepted by the Croatian government and charter companies. Other options include obtaining the ICC qualification itself through the Royal Yachting Association of the United Kingdom.

“Countries and charter companies have been accepting the IPC because it so closely aligns with the ICC,” says Rich Jepsen, vice president of the board of directors of US Sailing, the governing body of the sport. “It is the ICC in spirit, if not rule.”

Jepsen, whose background includes decades of certifying sailors with ASA and with US Sailing, is an advocate of ­certification and related requirements that keep vacationing sailors’ skills sharp in foreign waters.

While the cost of the IPC is nominal, it tests on-water practical proficiency and theoretical knowledge with regard to multiple nautical standards. For US Sailing members, the IPC is an extension of the organization’s Keelboat Certification System, which includes completion of the US Sailing Bareboat Cruising course. Experienced sailors can challenge the required prerequisite levels by successfully completing written and practical examinations.

ASA’s certification is similarly prerequisite-based. Member sailors qualified for the IPC are those who have successfully completed ASA basic and bareboat cruising courses 101, 103 and 104. Experienced sailors who want to challenge the course content and gain IPC certification must pass written tests and on-the-water skills assessments.

“Many excellent sailors fail the ASA written and on-the-water tests,” says Elbert “Ash” Ashbaugh III, an ASA affiliate instructor. “A prudent plan would be to study/review the appropriate ASA textbooks and self-analyze your skills before challenging the courses.” Another practical option for experienced sailors who haven’t taken any basic courses, Ashbaugh advises, is to take the 104-level course and arrange to also be tested for the 101 and 103 prerequisite courses.

The IPC issued by ASA and US Sailing is valid for five years from date of issue.

“The IPC is the cheapest and most dependable way to comply with the rules and get to see these sailing wonders,” Jepsen says. “Think of the expense and uncertainty of the average US sailor who wants to charter in Greece or Italy or Croatia. They will have to expand their vacation to include testing at an approved European facility, pay for and perform that test, and hope they pass so they can actually take their $10,000 charter they’ve had reserved for a year. The IPC isn’t perfect, but it’s a brilliant workaround to a large bureaucracy.”

Charter companies operating in Croatia include:

Activity Yachting

Adriatic Sailing

Dream Yacht Charter

Kiriacoulis Mediterranean

The Moorings

Navigare Yacthing

NCP & mare

Sail Croatia

Sunsail

Adriatic Weather

The high season in Croatia is June, July and August, and features mostly easy sailing weather. Light to moderate breezes from the north or south predominate, and they rise in the late morning and decline with the sun. The steep mountains that line the shore of Croatia, however, and the narrow “kanals” between the mainland and islands—and between islands themselves—can cause local weather anomalies that will have you scrambling to shorten sail. If you see a bank of clouds resembling a beard over the mountaintops, particularly the Velebit mountains north and east of Split, be prepared to reef down and find a lee under a nearby island.

In the shoulder seasons of April/May and September/October, the weather might be challenging. The bora can bring high barometric pressure, clear weather and severe winds off the mountains. It might blow steadily for a day—or for three days. The bora’s warm southerly counterpart, the low-pressure jugo, arrives with squalls, rain, thunder and high drama. It also can blow for a couple of days.

Both of these weather systems are predictable, however. Marinas post the weather daily and internet weather sites are useful, but there might not be enough detail to show the local changes. You have to diligently watch the cloud formations over the mountain summits.

We were expecting a strong bora in October—the late sailing season—and from the 5,000-foot mountains to the north and east, the strong winds came. Every morning we would watch for the gray beards, great swirling cumulous clouds, hovering over the rocky summits of the mile-high Velebit mountains. Within a day, the katabatic winds off those slopes would be howling down the narrow Velebit Kanal, at a steady 40 knots. To us it seemed odd that high pressure and bright sunshine often accompanied these strong winds.

Weather info is easy to get in Croatia and Montenegro. Excellent cellular service and Wi-Fi are readily available in marinas and restaurants, and maritime weather forecasts like those available on the Croatian Meteorological and Hydrological Service’s website (meteo.hr) are easy to access, in the local language and in English. Most marinas post forecasts at their office. VHF weather is available, though the schedule can be hard to track. Be wary of nonmarine forecasts, which regularly underestimate the local wind strength.

Valuable Guides and Charts

Adriatic Pilot: Croatia Slovenia, Montenegro, East Coast of Italy and Albania, Eighth Edition By Trevor and Dinah Thompson 2020; Imray Laurie & Wilson Ltd.

The Adlard Coles Book of Mediterranean Cruising, Fourth Edition By Rod Heikell 2018; Adlard Coles Nautical

Imray Chart M23 Adriatic Sea Passage

Imray Chart M24 Trieste to Losinj and Rab

Imray Chart M25 Otok Rab to Sibenik

Imray Chart M26 Split to Dubrovnik

The post Sailing the Coast of Croatia appeared first on Cruising World.

According to legend, during one of Zeus’ myriad extramarital affairs, he impregnated the Titaness Leto whose swelling from their affair caused the notice of Hera — Zeus’ wife and queen of the gods. Hera was so infuriated by her husband’s infidelity that she forbade Leto from giving birth on solid land. After being denied access at every shoreline she encountered, Leto became frantic in her search to find somewhere safe for childbearing, until at last Poseidon (at the request of Zeus) guided her ship to a floating piece of rock not yet rooted to the seabed, called Delos. There she managed to go ashore and through great effort and pain gave birth to twins, Artemis and Apollo — two of the most venerated gods from antiquity.

With such a divine claim, Delos would become one of the most pilgrimaged, important and wealthy islands in the classical world, and upon its shores a bustling and beautiful city full of temples and fueled by commerce grew into great success. Alas, fortunes change and Delos was eventually sacked and robbed by pirates and then all but abandoned for nearly two millennia before being rediscovered by archeologists in the late 19th century.

Today, no one lives on Delos. It operates as a World Heritage Site and one of the best kept open-air archaeological museums in the country. However, visitors from nearby Mykonos come by the ferry load day after day to ramble among the ancient ruins, which are undisputedly impressive. Luckily for those cruising on their own boat in the Greek islands, you can skip the ferry ride and drop your own anchor in the same harbor where ground tackle of all kinds has been laid for well over 3,000 years.

I’ve heard it said that the Aegean Sea is the most-visited cruising ground in the world, and it’s easy to see why. With over 2,000 islands to its claim, not to mention a seemingly endless and richly indented continental coastline, an entire lifetime spent in Greece is still insufficient to explore all of the country’s nooks and crannies. So if you’re like us — visitors from non-EU countries on 90-day tourist visas — then you can forget about “seeing it all.” But even three months is generous when considering that most visiting sailors can only afford to charter for a week or two. Either way, cruising Greece requires narrowing your options — “Do less, achieve more,” as my wife, Clare, would say — but that doesn’t mean missing out.

In our three months of cruising aboard Champagne, our Dufour 35, we touched 24 Greek islands, some for the briefest of nights, others for weeks of languid indulgence. Some islands provide the ideal opportunity for replacing worn boat items, while others offer little more than a delicious meal with a beautiful view. Some islands are inundated with obnoxious tourist infrastructure, while others are desolate, riddled only with idyllic coves and secluded beaches. Not only do anchorages abound, but the prevalence of public seawalls will change your perspective on cruising the Med.

RELATED: Sail the Greek Isles in Style

Although not a secret to anyone who has visited the Greek islands by boat before, we were earnestly surprised to learn that nearly every harbor offers free dockage along the town quay. Granted, this means Med-mooring against a concrete pier that scarcely offers any amenities, but the feeling of welcome and the spirit of public provision is unmistakable.

Evidence of Greece’s nautical heritage is clearly visible in every harbor: A plethora of colorful, well-kept wooden boats tug at their moorings; piles of fishing nets line the quays, either ready for service or being quietly mended by hand; iron rings are anchored into convenient rocks along busy shorelines, providing additional mooring options should the quay be full.

These are a people who have made their living from the sea far longer than anyone can accurately remember, and as such they understand her bounty and her demands. Safe harbors aren’t to be rigidly orchestrated, they’re to be openly shared. As a culture steeped in interisland travel, Greeks appreciate that the end of a difficult passage is best rewarded with a pleasant sleep, preferably after a hearty meal, while safely tied up in a secure harbor.

Historically speaking, the success of an island was linked to its ease of access, and perhaps that same rule applies today. Public seawalls aren’t just a convenience, they’re a necessary lifeline.

Consider the history of Delos: After successfully birthing her divine twins there, Leto promised great wealth to the otherwise harsh and inhospitable speck of rock by insisting that a vast number of pilgrims would flock there to worship such a sacred birthplace. And sure enough, the island found great success not because of vast natural resources or massive military might, but because it welcomed and met the needs of all who arrived by sea. Although perhaps not the birthplace of sailing, the Greek islands nevertheless serve as a worthwhile and hospitable pilgrimage site for any worshiper of wind and waves.

The post On the Hook in Delos, Greece appeared first on Cruising World.

Albania Port Authority, this is sailing vessel Champagne requesting permission to enter harbor.”

Radio silence.

This was now our fourth time trying to hail the local authorities, something we were instructed was necessary prior to arrival.

“Albania Port Authority, this is sailing vessel Champagne. Do you copy?”

More radio silence.

“Champagne, this is your port agent, please proceed into the harbor and to the commercial dock. We have secured a berthing space for you. You will need to enter stern-to alongside the passenger ferry and use your anchor. Someone will be on the dock to catch your lines.”

“Good, copy. Thank you very much; see you soon. Champagne clear.”

Albania was the first ­country we’ve visited that requires the use of a third-­party agent in order to clear in, and although we initially felt miffed about it, we ended up being grateful. The agency we chose, Saranda Summer Tours, is run by a husband-and-wife team, Gazmend Demiri and Jelja Serani. Jelja, who knows English and typically handles communications, called us back on the radio when the local authorities failed to do so and ensured Gazmend would be waiting to help on the dock. Extra hands are always welcome when ­docking, but especially so for us, considering that we had never actually berthed stern-to using our own anchor to keep us off the seawall — so called Med mooring.

Heck, we still weren’t even comfortable maneuvering our boat in reverse. But then I saw a man on the dock vigorously waving his arms at us and indicating where we were to direct the boat. You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. Not only did we need to back in while strategically paying out just the right speed and amount of anchor chain, but our spot was whittled into the deepest hole on the dock, between a massive 150-plus-foot pirate-looking tourist boat and a string of brand-new 50-foot sailing yachts. I felt like closing my eyes and crossing my fingers, but figured that my wife, Clare — on the helm — might want a little more active participation.

Of course, none of the dock-bound onlookers knew that this was our first time Med mooring, and we were so nervous that we couldn’t even yell at each other, which had the effect of making us seem all the more cool and comfortable. Miraculously, beginner’s luck served us without flaw, and before we knew it, our trusty steed was all nestled up in its hole, having not rubbed a single fender among the lot. Wow, did we just do that? No time for celebration though; Gazmend was politely amusing himself by looking off into space as he waited for us to gather our passports and boat documents and step ashore.

RELATED: Learning to Sail in the Mediterranean Sea

In Saranda, the commercial port offered the only berthing space available for visiting private craft. All traffic to and from the dock must invariably pass through the offices of customs and immigration. Tall wrought-iron fences corralled us into the intimidating three-story building, where uniformed officers were milling about, apparently with not much to do. Our agent offered a few words and a wave, and without even breaking stride — forget about showing identification — we were permitted to bypass the checkpoint luggage scanner, climb the inoperable escalator, pass through the glass doors, skirt around the manned vehicle-gate booth and gain the streets, which were bustling with souvenir shops, kabob cafes and packaged-tour outfits.

The booming tourist infrastructure of Saranda sprouted from Soviet bloc-era concrete in the past decade, with Albania now further settling into its reimagined post-communism identity. Although this seaside town has long served as a domestic holiday getaway for mountain-bound Albanians who are able to afford a week at the beach, its proximity to Corfu, Greece — just a handful of nautical miles away — means there is a much larger Western market available, and it’s now plainly evident that Albanians are hungry to capitalize.

RELATED: Hidden Croatia, a Crossroads of European History

We followed Gazmend up the road into his office and took a seat while he went to work behind a computer. He and Jelja noticed the writing on the wall some years ago and started Saranda Summer Tours. Although they offer a variety of services for all foreigners, they specialize in assisting visiting yachts. Not only can they both properly cleat a dock line, but they are familiar with many of the specific concerns of cruising sailors — how to get water and fuel, where to land a dinghy, what VHF channels to monitor — and are quick to go the extra mile with personal assistance.

Everything was sorted within a half-hour, and we departed with a map in hand that was marked with local recommendations. Jelja accompanied us back to the immigration building, met an officer on our behalf and within minutes returned our freshly stamped passports. We were now free to go as we pleased. Geez, that was easy, I thought. Now I almost wish more countries required the use of an agent.

We returned to fully settle the boat and clean ourselves up before heading out for an early evening stroll. As mentioned, the only way from the dock to the street was through the customs and immigration building, and at first we were uncertain of the protocol and whether we needed to show our passports. The staff seemed quite relaxed, however, and usually permitted our passage after looking up from their smartphones to offer a simple nod — easy enough.

In contrast, we were once asked to have our bags X-rayed, but the plan was quickly abandoned when the officer noticed a rainbow assortment of fresh produce spilling out from our day’s shopping. On another occasion, we were stopped by a guard we hadn’t seen yet, but after seeming to catch the word sailboat during our explanation he waved us through.

Before our arrival here, I couldn’t have pointed out Albania on a map. Clare, of course, has already been here before. She’s well-traveled, and it’s a continual struggle to find places she’s yet to visit — she even has an Albanian hip flask to prove it. But if you’re like me and new to Albania, you might be surprised at your good fortune of landing on these shores.

Not only will you save a pocketful of cash while sipping umbrellaed cocktails from a seaside beach chair, but being outside of the European Union also means that time spent in Albania doesn’t count against your tourist-visa allotted time within Schengen Agreement countries. Most surprising and striking to me, however, was the dramatic beauty of the lush and rugged countryside. I never expected Albania to be so naturally stunning.

We hired a car for a day — another task made easy by our new agency friends, who didn’t even require looking at a driver’s license — and drove into the dominating mountains set just behind town. A turnoff onto a gravel road led to the noted Blue Eye, an underground spring that brings crystalline waters up to the surface. Surrounded by lush hillsides and engulfed by the sounds of bubbling water and buzzing insects, it felt as if we had stumbled into a lush jungle sustained by crisp, clean mountain air — a very welcome contrast to the hazy, gray, salt-sticky sea level humidity we were so accustomed to.

The highway continued up, ­switchbacking profusely before gaining a narrow pass and then a long descent down into a fertile river valley, which was undoubtedly the glacial handiwork of a former ice age. Verdant spring-blossoming fields lined either side of a river that tumbled its way to lower ground. Another hour of driving along this river brought us to the ancient town of Gjirokaster.

Worthy of any postcard, the town is composed of an undulating series of humble buildings, clad under slate-stone roofs that climb their way up the hillside. A castle is perched atop, offering stunning views all around. But before you enjoy the vistas, take a tour through the so-called Cold War tunnels, a network of underground offices and passageways that served as the administrative center for the whole region, and were kept secret from both the Soviets and the Yanks, who were each volleying Albania for strategic advantage.

“One tunnel even leads all the way through the mountain to the next village over,” our guide, Eni, said during his tour, “and these underground compounds exist all over the country.”

It’s difficult to imagine such sinister times in a town now well established on the country’s burgeoning tourist ­checklist. Even the prime minister was here for a visit when we pulled up — hence all the sunglasses-adorned business suits and black sedans that ensure no parking spaces are available. No matter — the town is so steep that it is best explored on foot.

On the way home, we took advantage of a big highway supermarket to re-­provision Champagne on the cheap. It’s a long drive back in the dark, but that didn’t stop us from getting up early the next morning to visit the exquisite archeological site of Butrinti. The remains of this ancient village lie on yet another dramatic natural landscape, this one several miles up a coastal estuary amid a vibrant wetlands surrounded by rolling hills. Our next destination, Corfu, was visible across a narrow stretch of sea.

With more time, we would have lazed on the beach at nearby Ksamil, a turquoise-watered enclave that we cheekily motored through on our way up to the port of Saranda prior to our original check-in. In fact, our agent Jelja gave us a surprising reprimand for taking that sneak peek when we met in her office that first day.

“We saw your vessel on AIS stray into Ksamil waters, which is not allowed. You must first proceed directly to Port Saranda!”

Maybe this explained the small but powerfully armed Albanian navy craft we saw hovering discreetly outside the main harbor as we passed by trying to establish contact with the port authority? That patrol boat made a lazy turn and casually trailed our heading until, at last, Jelja called back with further instruction.

We apologized for our misdeed — Clare, not one to readily break rules, was especially embarrassed — but I couldn’t help but feel a bit unnerved because I could have sworn that our AIS transceiver was turned off during that entire voyage.

Certainly a country has every right to track the movements of visiting craft, but maybe this served as a startling example of a lasting legacy. Although Albania has long cast off the cloak of totalitarianism, perhaps Big Brother still manages to hide in the closet? But don’t let any paranoia stop you from visiting this beautiful country. It might be slow to respond, but it’s quick to welcome.

Zachary Krochina is a born-and-raised Alaskan who found his Australian mate in the Florida Keys, where they bought and revitalized an old sailboat with the intention of sailing to the land Down Under. Evidently not in a rush, they crossed the Atlantic, and are currently exploring the Med. You can follow their journey at bottlehalffull.org.

The post Cruising Albania appeared first on Cruising World.