Pavlov goes to the Beach

Montenegro shares the four main wind types common to the Adriatic coast. There are the normal off shore and on shore winds that follow a daily cycle, called the mistral and the sirocco. These are pleasant good sailing winds that are generated by local heating and cooling. Then there is the Jugo, a south-easterly wind, and the Bora, a cold north-easter. We'd met the Jugo a few times, a warm humid wind that generally brought storms and rain. Last night, we met the Bora for the first time.

The Kotor Fjord

The narrow entrance connecting upper and lower lobes of the fjord

Mountains flowing down to the fjord

The Bora is a cold wind that whistles down from the high mountain peaks, forming a roll cloud that is symptomatic of its sudden appearance. Because it is an adiabatic wind, it is very gusty and can come from several different directions. It can rapidly reach gale proportions. Its the stuff of sailors nightmares.

Looking north into the fjord

Porto Montenegro from the sea

The town of Tivat

We were anchored in a small secluded bay at the end of the southern-most part of the fjord, in Uvala Krtole. We'd already been there one night, and felt secure with the anchor well bedded into mud, that gold standard of anchoring. The wind started getting up on our second day there, and became increasingly gusty from multiple directions, the boat swinging around like a mad horse-fly.

End of the narrow channel

Looking across to Perast

We went to sleep, but Megan finds sleep elusive in these kinds of conditions. The boat is like a huge drum that amplifies all the sounds from outside; waves banging the hull, halyards slapping the mast and the hundred sympathetic vibrations that ring throughout a tightly rigged sailing machine. The random thumps and bangs keep Megan awake, and so she choose to sleep in the cockpit, partly to keep an anxious eye on things.


Without warning, she looked up and saw trees just next to the cockpit! Pavlov had slowly dragged its anchor through the mud and had come to rest on the soft ground just off the shore. She'd literally taken herself to the beach. Normally, mud is ideal for anchoring because the anchor just works its way in deeper and deeper. However, this was thinner gooey mud and was quite plastic to the anchor. We we safe however, the keel keeping us off the shore-line. Luckily, there was little sea-state or waves that could have lifted us up the shore and made getting off difficult.

Our Lady of the Rock church

Another view

Church on the small island next to Our Lady of the Rock

Another view

We retired to bed, and attempted to get a little rest before first light. At dawn, the wind subsided slightly, and we were able to get off with a combination of full throttle and hauling in on the windlass. We spent the next day recovering and hoping that the Bora would eventually subside. Megan's sleep was fitful the next night, but we stayed put.


This morning, the wind had subsided, at least it was now blowing a relatively gentle 15-20 knots. We motored up through the narrow channel joining the two lobes of the fjord, and pulled up to a wonderfully secure feeling dock in the old village of Morinji.

Small village dock in Morinj

View up the fjord from Morinj dock

Beach cafe next to our dock

The local fishermen tell us that we should be safe from the Bora tonight. Morinji has exceptionally tall mountains on all sides, so it can develop very strong and gusty winds at night. We are hoping however, that this dock will provide us with a gentle nights sleep!

Waterways that powered old mills in Morinj

Neighbourhood obituary board

As it turned out, it was an extremely peaceful night. Morinj is a tiny non-touristy village that used to have waterwheel powered mills. The powerful stream coming down from the mountains behind the village is routed through and under many of the buildings. Water power must have been a feature in the past. There was an interesting board by the roadside that served as a village obituary notice board. We'd noticed this curious feature in other villages in Montenegro.  There was a modern but very tasteful and lovely cafe with its own beach 'built in'. We felt we had come from hell and arrived in heaven. Indeed, something to pique our interest, as Anne said. The boat was so secure, we caught the local bus to Risan and then on to Kotor. But that's another story. Ciao!

Into the Fjord

Oh dear, my last post seems to have given folk the impression that we are terribly unhappy, judging from all the replies. Rather, I was just trying to convey our impressions of the impact of tourism on local environments. Anne Phillips, a knowledgable cruiser and tourism expert, understood my point well, and gave this clarification:

 "Places go through a series of phases when tourism is developing, from excitement at the sight of a visitor (Albania?) to exploitation, to boredom to frustration and negativity.  The best places manage to find a balance which provides the visitor with what he needs while still having a "real" place to visit and live in."

It was just this balance I was commenting on, thanks to Anne for the clarification. We are going great, and already we have found something to again pique our interest.

The small pier at Bigova

Waterfront of the village

Lovely old stone buildings

The stone urn caught my eye

We sailed north from Budva to a delightful anchorage in a little nook called Bigova (the bay is actually called Traste if you're trying to find this on a chart). We knew some weather was coming, so we holed up in this sheltered location for a few days to escape it. We didn't escape the sea-state however, our last night here was pretty rolly.

Entrance to the Kotor Fjord

Small fort on Mamula island in the fjord entrance

Another view of the fort

Into the fjord proper, that's Hercig Nova in the distance

The Admiral and the Fjord

We entered the fjord, which was majestic. Tall mountains falling into the sea. Often there is still snow on the peaks, even in May, but we saw only a few small patches of snow. The fjord is a bit like a heart with four lobes. We sailed along the 'bottom' southern-most lobe, past some quaint villages and a lot of restricted military areas. There were interesting submarine pens and associated navy 'junk' along this coast-line. Remnants from Tito's heyday.

View of fjord and Zelenika

A naval submarine pen.

Mothballed naval hulks

Quaint village of Rose

Rose

We can't afford the very expensive marina's in this part of the world, so we found a great and secure snugglepot (our term for a very secure and contained anchorage) at the end of the south-western lobe.

From here, we were able to hitch into Tivat and the new super-yacht marina at Porto Montenegro. Some of the super yachts there were just stupendous!

Our little anchorage in Uvala Krtole

Small fishing boats sharing the anchorage

The main pier at Porto Montenegro marina

Some of the super yachts berthed at the marina

A rather nice motor sailor.

The lower ranks in the marina.

We wandered around Tivat. Again, although this town was originally host to a naval shipyard (which they converted into a luxury marina under Tito), there was little evidence of the original town. Tourism, especially the big dollars brought in by the super yacht industry, had changed the face of this small town. I'm starting to think that we cruisers (and all our more wealthy brethren) might be a pox on the face of the earth.

Town promenade in Tivat

Shoreline from Tivat and mountains behind

Well, we can always retreat to our little sanctuary of an anchorage. Its delightfully peaceful here, we're sheltered from most winds and there is no traffic and no wash. We're tucked in behind a mussel farm, bird song wakes us each morning. Ah, bliss again!

The mussel farm in front of Pavlov

Dawn in the anchorage

So, us Pavlovians are happy again. We'll spend a few more days exploring the fjord, then its off to Croatia. Pavlov is being a demanding mistress, as usual; she wants new batteries and some fridge maintenance, maybe even a whole new fridge. That's boats for you!

A Case of Jaded Travelitis

Montenegro is unbelievably beautiful. The vegetation is lush, trees growing in abundance. The mountains are imposing, and tumble down into the sea in a dramatic fashion. The people are extraordinarily tall. And so on, and so on. And yesterday, I just couldn't care less.

Old port at Petrovac

Petrovac beach, north of Bar

An interesting cafe on a cliff

Fisherman huts in a small cove

Yes, I'm suffering from jaded travelitis. I feel like I've seen so many gorgeous medieval towns, so many miles of beautiful coastline, so many exotic locations, that I just can't really appreciate any more.

The exotic island of St. Stephan

The buildings are actually an exclusive hotel

The island and its connecting causeway

Pavlov at anchor near St Stephan's.

There is something about Montenegro that exacerbated this feeling. Let me describe some of the causative factors. We sailed up the coast, past the town of Petrovac, which proved not to be a suitable anchorage. We continued to Saint Stephan's, a small islet connected by a causeway to the mainland, about 6 miles south of Budva. The islet is very photogenic and appears to be covered with medieval style buildings, dominated by the church of St. Stephan at the peak. Initially, the fortress on this island helped Serbia to defeat the Turks in the 15th century. Over time, a village of over 400 people inhabited the island. This village was acquired by Tito in the 1960's, the villagers were forcibly removed to the mainland, and the island turned into a luxurious hotel complex. It serves as a playground for political elites, and the rich and famous of the Adriatic. Ironically, one of the four cathedral monasteries on the island was turned into a casino by the communists. Wikipedia states that the island was visited by many famous people, including Orson Welles, Elizabeth Taylor, Sophia Loren, Princess Margaret, Carlo Ponti, Ingemar Stenmark and Kirk Douglas

Causeway entrance to St. Stephans.

Beautiful parks and gardens on the mainland opposite the islet.

The island taken from the mainland.

After we anchored Pavlov in the romantic little cove next to the islet, we tried to visit the islet by crossing the causeway. We were refused entry by security guards. Clearly, we didn't rank with the rich and famous A-list. The coast in this area is littered with boutique hotels. This is an area for the wealthy to holiday. Nothing wrong with that, but it saddens me to see historical sites that become the preserve of the wealthy only. Next, we caught a bus into Budva, famous for its walled medieval city.

God spot on the uninhabited island, St Nicholas, outside Budva

Budva from the sea

A tourist submarine ride

The marina complex in Budva

We checked out the marina in Budva in case the weather turned nasty and we had to retreat from untenable anchorages. Budva is a modern town that is mainly composed of hotels to serve the tourist trade. The gardens and shady plaza's marked it as the polar opposite of Shengjin, a tourist resort in Albania. Everything here was beautiful. Tree's and gardens were manicured and cared for. The shops were exclusive, the people beautiful. We walked and walked, to see if we could find a 'local restaurant'. We try to eschew the fancy eateries that line the promenades in these harbours. They are expensive and tend to have far worse food that humble places that the locals inhabit. We walked as far as we could, and realised that there were no local joints. In fact, we could find very little 'local culture or colour'. We just found the same 'standard tourist fare' that we could find anywhere in the world. Discouraged, we sought out the old walled city, thinking that there would be some unique features of this undoubtably beautiful medieval walled town.

Medieval town walls, strewn with decorations

Town walls fronting the sea

Old church containing a dolphin mosaic.

Buildings in the old town

The walled town is about 2500 years old, making it one of the oldest settlements in the Adriatic. However, Budva is the centre for tourism in Montenegro, and all the buildings in the old town were given over to shops selling all the standard tourist tat. Expensive tat, expensive cafes and restaurants but the same as the world over. I felt repelled and just wanted to get away. We had made a reservation in the marina, thinking we could spend a few days wandering the old town. But after 30 minutes, it no longer held any allure or charm. Jaded travelitis had set in, and it all tasted like ash in my mouth.

Escape mode

We beat a hasty retreat to Pavlov, upped anchor and sailed off to a remote and uninhabited bay called Jaz. Isolation, the only cure for too many tourists. You may feel unsympathetic! but I hope I regain my ability to deal with the impact of tourism on the local cultures of the world. At the moment, it appals me.