Sabbatikos

We awoke with big plans and high hopes for the day. The Blue Cave, a shimmering cerulean grotto carved into the cliffs of Biševo Island, was meant to be a highlight of our trip. We had chartered a private boat for the day, excited to explore this Instagram-worthy work of nature before heading on to the quaint and quiet island of Vis, where my friend’s parents had once lived.

But Neptune, once again, had other plans for us.

At the harbor, we met our captain and his first mate. Although young, he was experienced enough to know both his boat and the sea conditions of the Adriatic. He gently broke the news: the cave was closed. High winds and heavy surf had rendered the narrow entrance too dangerous. Entry is only possible via a rowboat through a low opening, which is risky even in calm weather and impossible in rough seas. He added that the waters around Vis were also rough, making the journey in a small boat both wet and uncomfortable. He proposed an alternative plan: a half-day cruise exploring the nearby Pakleni Islands, with time for swimming and a relaxing lunch.

Our dreams of luminous light refracting in the Blue Cave faded, and we reluctantly agreed. But as we would learn, the day Neptune took from us was replaced with something unforgettable, perhaps a lesson from the gods.

We zipped from Hvar to the Pakleni Islands, a string of mostly uninhabited islets that ripple along the Dalmatian Coast. Each cove we visited felt like a well known secret of a tucked-away aquamarine bay of serenity, with a few scattered tavernas, small modest lodges, and quiet and calm anchorages. The air was warming, the sea still cold at around 64 degrees, but that didn’t stop us from picking our spot. We settled into a tranquil bay off Otok Marinkovac, near Ždrilca Beach. The water was brisk, but once you adjusted (and with the help of a local beer or two for courage), it was refreshing and perfect. We floated, swam, and lounged, letting the late morning drift away.

As noon neared, our captain offered lunch suggestions: a fancy restaurant nearby with a multi-course tasting menu, a grab-and-go beach shack, or a family-run restaurant a bit farther away, known for its grilled catch of the day. We chose the third option, and it proved to be a masterpiece of simplicity and flavor.

He pointed our boat toward Milna Bay on Hvar Island, where we tied to a buoy and waited for a tiny skiff to collect us. A short ride later, we stepped ashore at Moli Onte, a humble family-run gem where mom ran the kitchen, dad manned the charcoal grill, the daughter ran the tables, while the brother or a cousin mixed drinks in the bar. It felt like we had been invited into someone’s home for lunch and reminded us of the many wonderful tavernas we had visited while sailing in Greece.

We ordered mussels in a rich red sauce, fresh bruschetta, Greek salad, and the fresh white fish of the day, sold by the kilo as steaks, grilled over charcoal, and served with vegetables and golden potatoes drizzled with local olive oil that tasted like a first cold press of Croatian sunshine. It may have been the best meal of our trip. It was simple, fresh, and infused with the warmth of genuine Croatian hospitality. This was the life. I envied this family, their amazing restaurant, and the beauty of the small bay it sat beside. They are living the dream.

As we finished, the family poured us glasses of homemade dessert wine and returned us to our boat with warm goodbyes. We still had time left in our charter, so we motored back across the channel to Palmizana Beach, one of the more fashionable destinations among the Pakleni Islands. Yachts bobbed in the calm bay, and the beach was blissfully uncrowded in the shoulder season. We were offered a swim, but full from lunch and mellowed from wine, we declined and pointed the bow back toward Hvar.

Back on dry land, we shifted into full leisure mode upon wobbly sea-legs from bobbing all day on the Adriatic. A stop at aROMA Gelato Boutique, recommended by Phil Rosenthal of Somebody Feed Phil fame, yielded cones of excellent gelato. We licked our way through alleyways and stone steps, stopped for a drink or two, and quietly explored the Franciscan monastery.

For dinner, we found a rooftop restaurant with an incredible view of the bell tower of St. Stephen’s Cathedral, in the golden hour of the day. The pizza was, frankly, forgettable, but after a meal like lunch, anything else was bound to feel like an afterthought.

What began as a day of disappointment turned into one of our favorites of the trip. With a little flexibility, a good local captain, and a healthy dose of PMA (Positive Mediterranean Attitude), we discovered that when Neptune’s sea says no, the gods might be quietly nudging you toward something better.

Tomorrow we catch the high-speed catamaran to Split. But today was its own kind of voyage, one of open waters, and open minds. We love Hvar.