Its last priest died in 1963, but the antiques-filled interior is a riveting homage to its former occupants – including one who had a grand piano transported up the footpath more than a century ago. Limestone cliffs flank a valley of stunted pines on the way up to a hermitage that blends itself into the rocks. Captain Ante anchored in Blaca Bay on the neighbouring island of Brač early so we could be taken by launch to the beach and begin our hike to the 16th-century Blaca monastery. As Stari Grad slowly worked up to a gentle evening buzz, I had a grandstand view from the harbour-side terrace of Craft Beer & Grill and the taste of Dalmatia on my plate (tuna tartare, smoked mussels, olives and anchovies).Įach port, each hike, each swim brought unforgettable delights. Later, we would walk through the Unesco-listed Stari Grad plain, laced with the vineyards and olive groves created by the Greeks in the fourth century BC. The sleepiness suited my post-lunch amble through narrow lanes of stone houses and the Renaissance fortress built for the Croatian poet Petar Hektorović. At its peak is a ruined Habsburg fortress, providing a picturesque backdrop to views of Vela Luka, Hvar and the mainland’s Dinaric Alps – a promise of what was to come.Įach port, each hike, each swim – all brought unforgettable delightsīypassing party-central Hvar town, Emanuel steered us towards quieter, more intimate Stari Grad and a morning swim. We had Korčula to look forward to, and a strenuous hike up to the large hill called Hum at 376 metres above sea level overlooking the town of Vela Luka. Vis whetted my appetite for a longer stay, but I contented myself with a swim at Prirovo beach and an evening on the town’s beautiful Venetian waterfront. It was nearly 30C when we zigzagged up from Vis town, but glorious views kept us distracted from the heat, and there was a mountain hut selling cold beer at the summit. The boat was already on the move when I woke up, cruising to far-flung Vis and a morning hike to the top of 270-metre Sveti Andrija, a hill just outside Vis town.
There was just time for a late-evening dish of squid-ink risotto at Restoran Kamenice in the harbour before a nightcap on deck in the balmy air. It did the trick: after hefty glasses of Dobričić red wine, tapenade and anchovies, we happily trailed back down the hill as the sun set over the Adriatic. Our goal was not only to enjoy a view of the sea from the top of Vela Straža but also a wine-tasting with the Kaštelanac family, surely the most convivial way to bond a disparate group of people ranging from thirtysomethings to septuagenarians. ‘Those special moments were mounting up’ … hiking to Vela Straža on Šolta The climb up its wonky stone staircase is worth it for the views of the town below. Built by the Venetians in the 15th century, the castle is now an open-air concert venue. Trogir’s architecture is exquisite – bijou Renaissance palaces are squeezed in beside medieval stone houses– and I walked towards the western end of the cafe-lined Riva waterfront, drawn by Fortress Kamerlengo at the end. The town’s Romanesque-gothic-Venetian-Renaissance cathedral was a good place to start, its magnificent portal demanding a lingering look at the sculptures’ extraordinary detail. Wandering Trogir’s marble lanes, I could see Croatia’s many layers of history, from the ancient Greeks to the Habsburgs via the Venetians. Rather than join the crowds in Split, I opted to spend time in this Unesco-listed island town, which is connected to the mainland by bridge.
I had a day to spare before boarding the MS Emanuel in nearby Split for Sail Croatia’s seven-night hiking cruise in central Dalmatia. I was about to be bombarded by such special moments. A critical or opportune moment to grasp before the opportunity slips away. Chronos – chronological – is the obvious one, but Kairos signifies a time in between, when something special happens. I n Trogir’s Benedictine monastery, I spotted a sculpture of the Greek god Kairos, one of the two words the ancient Greeks used to define time.
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