Crews Letter #2004 19
THE
The church bells rang at
After a breakfast of granola and
bananas, Conrad and I walked along the marina waterfront and over the bridge to
town to buy bread for lunch and get 
more
money on VISA at the bank next to the cathedral. The bank didn’t open
until
We motored west out of the marina, around the shipyards, and headed southeast along the coast in very light air, glassy sea and moderate haze, 70F. Wind picked up a bit to 6 knots from the south and we hoisted the main. Wind dropped to 5 knots and we motor-sailed, spotted two dolphin making sleek arcs across the water, then dropped the main. Wind picked up again to 6 knots from the south and up went the main and jib.
Great lunch of our fresh bread, three kinds of hard salami and Pag cheese - like fresh Parmesan - sliced thin. We tacked the narrow strait between Brač and Solta islands, and again the wind dropped. We furled the jib and motor-sailed, the haze lifting as we rounded the northwest end of Hvar.
About
Conrad
and I paddled the dinghy in to Hvar town - a Trogir on steriods. The same honey limestone medieval village,
but this time set on a steep hill with the fort at the top and two fortress
walls reaching down like arms on either side to embrace the town. The cathedral sat at the far end of a long,
rectangular harbor-level plaza, and bell towers at either end of town marked
the remains of a Franciscan and a Benedictine monastery. The first two or three levels of the town,
laid on horizontal cobbled alleys, were commercial - tiny shops, bars,
restaurants. The upper six or eight
levels, ascended by steep, worn stone steps, were residential, with the
occasional tiny church and vest-pocket bistro.
Conrad and I climbed the steps, encouraged by a friendly descending German woman, to the top of town, where the switchback path to the fortress began, threading through arches in the fort’s arm-walls. Near the top we short-cut the corners, taking a faint track straight up the hill. At the top, for 10 kuna each ($1.50), we entered the fortress, climbing twisting stone steps inside, through a maze of inner buildings and walls to the top of the battlements, stitched with narrow shooting slots, to a panoramic view of the harbor dotted with anchored sailboats, red and weathered-gray tile roofs descending the hill and small islands in the distance.
After
a quick glance at the shipwreck-salvaged ancient amphorae and pottery in the
tiny one-room archealogical museum near the top of the fort, we hurried down
the giant-cactus-and-yucca-grown path to the quayside and paddled the dinghy
back to Perception.