Croatia Journal -Day 4 - Saturday, September 18, 2004

Crews Letter #2004 21

THE DALMATIAN COAST

September 15 - 23, 2004

Saturday, September 18, 2004

Conrad and I walked early into Korčula, just as the town was awakening. The farmer’s market stalls were set up, with farm women calling, “Hello, hello,” as we passed. It was surely their only English. The flea market stalls were still empty. After a quick tour of the main alleyway, we walked back around along the harbor-front behind a squat, black-clad babuschka leaning heavily on a cane. She stopped below a stone wall and scattered bread crumbs. The dozens of pigeons lining the top of the wall cooed and shifted nervously until Conrad and I retreated a safe distance, then they descended.

We sat at a caffe-bar table across from the market. Conrad asked for coffee and got a tiny cup of strong espresso. Tables of local men chatted volubly over regular-sized cups of coffee and called their greetings to passersby.

We returned to the boat to find Fred had checked the head tank, left simmering on the dock overnight, and, after consultation with Conrad, decided more vinegar was called for. With the 200 Kn bill Fred pulled from his pocket, I hiked around the harbor to the Konzum grocery for their entire stock (3 bottles) of plain vinegar after a quick purchase of bananas and another kilo of dried figs (80 Kn) from a young market vendor, who told me in broken English that the figs were good for, “problems with stomach . . . with a little schnapps . . . whiskey,” and threw in a free apple.

After dosing the head tank with two of the three bottles of vinegar, Fred pronounced me formally absolved from responsibility for breaking the head.

We had a quick communion breakfast of cereal, bananas and juice and walked back to town, the four of us, to sightsee and give the vinegar time to melt the head tank clog. First stop, a tiny internet access shop, Tino Computers, twenty-five minutes on-line for 10 Kn. Good news from Mark Carroll at the office: nothing to report. We walked the town again, Conrad and I exploring the newer old part of town, outside the fortress walls, and returned to Perception to more good news: head tank clear. After a quick reinstall the head worked perfectly.

Then, I got fitted into the bosun’s chair, with safety strap, and hauled up to the first spreaders on the mast to replace the broken Servo-silencers which keep the halyards from slapping against the mast in the wind.

Quick work, thanks to very precise instructions from Fred.

Then a treat - Fred and Conrad hauled me all the way to the top at my repeated urging, “Keep on going!” as they ground the winch.

After a few pictures and admiring the view awhile, they brought me down, and we cast off for Mljet about 11:30 a.m.

We sailed on a close haul in light air, boat balanced beautifully, partly cloudy, 70F, heading southerly across the channel between Korčula and Mljet, around the east end of Mljet the wind died and we motor-sailed along the south coast of steep, thickly wooded Mljet, past a string of smaller islands and around a rocky point with uplifted layers of rock standing on end, then down a narrow channel between Mljet and its barrier islands to the harbor of the village of Polače.

In the still, steep harbor a string of buildings lined the water on the left, each with its own piece of stone breakwater. As each boat approached, it could be seen that the lower level of half a dozen of the three-story modern, balconied stone waterfront buildings was a restaurant. Each restaurant’s employees rushed to its piece of breakwater holding mooring lines in one hand and the other hand aloft to lure the sailboat to its dock, and, hopefully, to its table for dinner. Fred drove straight to the green-awninged dock of Grega, whose menu for the evening was displayed on chalkboard. On Fred’s recommendation, I followed him and Phyllis in placing an order for “lamb under the bell,” which required a two-hour preparation time, for 8:00 p.m. dinner.

Conrad and I strolled the waterfront street to the ruins of the roman-era palace - a blackened stone arch over the narrow street and tumble-down stone walls, unrestored. We went up the steep street behind the palace ruins to a residential dead-end lined with patches of vegetable gardens. Each house had its patch of kitchen garden - overgrown stalks of kale, a fig tree loaded with green and ripe figs, grape vine, a lime tree or apricot, plus lots of ornamental plants as well, geraniums, hydrangeas, bougainvillea, zinnias and lots of succulents.

After a long happy hour on the deck of the boat, attended by Grega’s striped tom who begged from the dock for bits of our appetizers, we stepped onto the dock to the covered dock-side terrace set for dinner. An appetizer of octopus salad led to “lamb under the bell” which proved to be a stew of big bone-in chunks of tender lamb with quartered potatoes and peppers in white wine and herbs braised over an open fire, covered with a cast-iron dome and buried in ashes until done. With red wine and fresh bread, it was succulent.

After a quick shower, Conrad and I walked up the road, away from the village and past the lights and looked at the brilliant, starry night - summer triangle, Cassiopeia, Milky Way. Then back to the boat and to bed.