Trogir and Solta Island, Saturday, June 13, 2026
Today brought a proper exploration of Trogir…but not before a little shopping. Various sailors needed various bits of gear: flip-flops, hats, sun dresses, etc. So we crossed the bridge to the mainland, where a long string of market stalls lined the shore.
We all went our separate ways; Sue and I strolled with Cindy and Gary through the tiny alleyways. Trogir is a deliriously beautiful town, a view shared by the throngs of our fellow tourists that filled every alleyway, bar, restaurant, and shop. The only comparison that we know is Taormina, Sicily, after the filming of the White Lotus. This isn’t a complaint, simply an indication of Dalmatia’s beauty and popularity. Although this was our third visit, we hadn’t experienced anything like this in the northern Adriatic. Dalmatia is a different animal, though. Tourism counts for 20-25% of Croatia’s economy, and much of that comes from Dalmatia.
Near the center of the island is a nunnery that has been continuously inhabited since the twelfth century. Today there are three sisters and two novices in this lovely old building.
Vladimir led the merry band at noon to a funny little restaurant called Tunaholic. He was eager for us to try the fresh, flash fried smelt…which most of us did.
The little fish were tasty, especially if you didn’t look too closely as you munched everything from eye to tail. We had hoped to see the interior of the cathedral, and slowly made our way through the streets to the lovely cathedral square. Here are Sue and Cindy in front of one of the old city gates.
We all gathered at the hotel mid-afternoon for a cab ride to the charter marina, where we would meet the crew of our sailboat, the Malena. The charter marina is overwhelming, the largest collection of boats any of us had seen. Croatia has the largest charter fleet in the world, with more than 3,500 bareback and crewed vessels.
Our boat wasn’t quite ready, so we had a coffee in the marina’s rather posh bar. I’ll admit that the sight of so much ostentatious wealth gave rise to an irruption of my proletarian subconscious, what David Foster Wallace called the howling fantods. How did I get here?
But the appearance of our captain, Ivo, and his two deckhands, Matteo and Philip, immediately put me at ease: they couldn’t have been friendlier or more gracious. We were soon pulling our spinners down long lines of boats, mostly charter catamarans. I learned from David and Gary, our two experienced captains, that catamarans are popular because they are easy to sail and have an enormous amount of space on board.
Our boat couldn’t be more different.
Our gullet was built in Turkey about twenty years ago; the Malena is made of wood stern to bow, and gleams with loving care. We came on board to find that our chef, Mario, had prepared a “snack” for our arrival.
Left to right: Matteo, Mario, Philip, an interloper, Ivo. The snack consisted of prosciutto sandwiches, tuna bruschetta, brownies, and fruit. What a welcome! This is the covered rear deck.
There was a bit of intercultural confusion right after the snack: the info sheet we had received stipulated that only sunscreen from the gullet could be used, since most sunscreens contain oils that can damage the boat’s teak. But none of the crew could confirm this. It turned out that our crew was new to the vessel: Ivo was pinch hitting for a friend who had just had surgery, while the deckhands were apprentice sailors on their first voyage (both were in maritime school and thus not complete rookies). After a quick call to the owner, Matteo was dispatched to purchase the proper goods.
Ivo explained that were were staying in harbor until a strong mistral abated. This gave us a chance to get to know the boat and our surroundings. Across the harbor we saw this sailing city.
Want to know about a boat? There’s an app for that. And Gary has it. This is a 450 foot luxury yacht belonging to a Chinese billionaire. Built in Germany and commissioned just his year, the boat cost 450 million dollars, plus 45 million a year for maintaining the boat. As Emily C. pointed out in response to my whining about the rich, with people like this and our new trillionaire, the owners of most of the boats in the marina are the new proletariat.
As evening came on, we set sail for the island of Solta.Well, OK, I just revealed myself as the landlubber I am. We actually motored all the way to Solta.
A steady stream of chartered boats was now leaving Trogir harbor.
This boat, with its hefty dose of romance, instills an immediate sense of well being.
Around 8 PM we anchored for the night just off Solta.
Mario and the crew then served us a wonderful dinner: Bronzino, mixed vegetables, salad, and apple strudel. We can hardly waddle and are worried about the days ahead with limited opportunities to exercise and way too much delicious food!
We could get used to this.