Sail Croatia Med Experience: A Diary, Day 4…Hvar Island, A Wild Beast

Ryan:

So Jubilo was already sailing when we got up… just further illustrates our night before. We had fruit for brekky and the news was that we were one lad short – Luke had gone home with a girl to the mainland via a ferry. He was told by our tour louder to chase us to Hvar Island (gotta pay the price for some poon ha) having missed our 6.30am departure time. Out swim spot for the day was a much needed hangover cure, a gorgeous bay with incredible water and whole bunch of naked people on the shore. Ryan had a field day. We had a blissful time on our chain of inflatables and dinghy party with beers in hand singing to the “Wine Song” by the Cat Empire with little restraint.

Once we arrived in Hvar, we were able to eat like Kings thanks to a last minute shopping spree on Kortula, we grabbed some beers and nibbles and made down to the beach near our marina, for what we were told was a “5 minute walk”. The five minute walk down the road seemed to tale an age, although admittedly, there were numerous opportunities for us to get lost on the way. Our spread of chips and pickles (lots and lots of pickles), crowned with pretzels and Nutella, was crowned a new favourite.

Avoiding sea urchins, we had a quick dip, before Stef was stunk by a sea Wasp. We wandered back home and got ready for our rum party and party bags – brought to us by Med Experience and our Skipper Jacksa – which were full of rum, sprite and a sailing hat (which of course we slapped on straight away – no shame). Erin got the party cranking with her rendition of Beyonce’s “Drunken Love”, which was absolutely brilliant (slash hilarious) and a memory that will not escape me for years to come.

We then headed to the water taxis to hit up Hvar Town for the night. Somehow we managed to queue jump a wharf full of people and speed across the inlet, our hair blowing in the wind with our massive grins. After we docked we walked around the harbor toward Hula Hula Bar, only stopping for obligatory jump shots and very necessary pee-breaks. The Steph/s awesomely acquired some large deck chairs and a spot for us all to make out little home at the bar to watch the sunset, cocktails firmly I hand. Stephi wasn’t so quite firm-fisted however, and managed to stack-it off the end of the lounge, basically to the utter amusement of everyone – most of all herself.

Erin and Stephi then, in one of their classier moment, introduced the world to no-staw-ls and Ellie, attempting to bonehead the plot, knocked over her Bahama Mama cocktail. It suddenly became apparent why the loungers were so sticky and that the real purpose of the menus was to scrape off excess spillage. So, so classy.

Our groups then split up (and just at the right time too), and we went to get burgers with some of the other yacht-goers while Stef, Stephi and Erin had a Michelin-starred meal with some of the most boring American blokes known to man. Apparently it was Stef who had instigated the choice of restaurant with her snap decision that all she wanted was… “a f*cking nice sit-down dinner”. The silver lining was that the 350 per person price tag was generously covered by the guys.

Back at the harbor, we were two espresso martinis deep at Nautica Bar, busily catching up with other crews. The girls eventually found us a few doors down at another bar with flaming Jager bombs. The order of events gets incredibly hazy at this point, but definitely involved the following things: numerous Vodka Red Bulls; a bar called Pink Champagne which has a huge, Hollywood Roosevelt type of lift; glow-in-the-dark-faced-party-people; flashy rubber rings; much dancing-drunk hilarity; Erin eating floor Pizza; Stef and Ellie waving goodbye to Stef’s escape sandal sailing away after being dropped off the jetty; and looking up at the stars on the home in the water taxi – at time unknown.