Travel Journal: Just Back From... Croatia
Riviera team member Abbi W. shares her personal reflections from a recent yacht cruise, discovering Croatia’s islands, history and life at a gentler pace.
From drifting between islands to wandering Roman palaces that still feel very much alive, Croatia surprised me at every turn. Here’s what I discovered on my journey along the Dalmatian Coast.
Day 1 - Arrival in Makarska
I managed to score a window seat on the flight to Croatia. Given my lack of navigational skills, the views were mostly wasted on me. I had no idea what I was looking at. I spotted London (thanks to the opening credits of EastEnders), the sea, and noticed distant mountains that may have been the Alps... or possibly just clouds (It was early).
Croatia, however, announced itself unmistakably. Its coastline has over 1,000 islands scattered across the clearest blue waters I’ve ever seen, like stepping stones. I’ve written about the Dalmatian Coast for years, yet the first glimpse of those rugged cliffs and tiny islets still surprised me.
The drive to Makarska wound through mountains and ran along the sea. Stone houses with faded shutters appeared, their balconies clinging to the slopes, adding character to the landscape.
Arriving on board was a cheerful blur of introductions, lunch and trying not to look too sleep-deprived. By evening, I’d unpacked, explored my cabin, and collapsed gratefully into bed.
Day 2 - Vis and Bol
After a breakfast spread that could have fed a small army, I escaped to the Sun Deck with my notebook, watching patches of rain drift across the channel as we sailed into Bol. Bells from a distant church carried across the water – probably calling people to Sunday Mass. The country is predominantly Catholic, so it’s a fair guess.
Toby, our Tour Manager, gave us a very brief overview of Bol. Go left to Zlatni Rat (Golden Horn Beach), or right into the town. The walk to the beach was peaceful – pine trees, quiet coves, the occasional jogger making me feel wildly unfit, and a clowder of feral cats sunbathing as if they owned the place. The beach itself is all pebbles and drama, with 360-degree views that make the wade worthwhile.
In the afternoon, we glided into Vis, a place that feels both modest and quietly enchanting. I wandered to the monastery tucked at the harbour’s edge, its worn frescoes and marbled altar looked both opulent and dilapidated at the same time. It was incredibly atmospheric. The old streets were hushed for a Sunday, but perfect for an aimless stroll past shuttered shops, stone houses and the clink of cutlery from early diners.
I ended the day with gelato. Whoever warned me about ice cream piled too high was wrong – it was delicious. I regret nothing.
Day 3 - Hvar & Korčula
We sailed into Hvar over breakfast, the sunshine bouncing off limestone buildings so brightly it felt like the town was auditioning for a postcard. After docking, our guide Dorothy – a proud Hvar native – delivered her commentary with the energy of someone personally invested in convincing us hers was the best island on the coast. She marched us through narrow streets, pointing out Venetian leftovers. Dorothy spoke about her family’s life here – casually mentioning that the city didn’t get reliable large-scale tap water until 1986. Her mother had to collect water from a well in the centre of St Stephan’s Square. Suddenly, the postcard had a pulse.
Later, on deck, we drifted past vineyards clung to hillsides at angles that defy logic – the sort of scenery that you can’t quite believe until you see it.
In Korčula, our second guide was also a local who grew up inside its fortress walls. He led us through the cobbled lanes, explained history, shared his experiences of the communist era, and pointed out his childhood landmarks. After our tour, during free time, I climbed the bell tower at St. Mark's. The views were spectacular. The stairs were plucked straight out of my nightmares. Five Euros to live my worst dream – excellent value, apparently. I couldn’t responsibly recommend this activity to anyone, but at the bottom, glad to have my feet back on solid ground, I was happy I did it. I rewarded my bravery with food and an early night.
Day 4 - Jesla
By day four, I’d decided I was a natural sailor. Between the comfortable bed, the gentle sway of life at sea, and the clean coastal air, I was sleeping like a baby. After a slow morning on deck, we dropped anchor for a swim stop. Yesterday I’d practically led the charge into the sea, confirming the water was warm before others leapt off the back of the boat with gusto. It’s amazing how quickly a boatful of strangers becomes a cheer squad. Today, the mood was calmer. The water was cooler, with a gentle current that nudged us away from the platform. The bay itself was beautiful: a stretch of beach, a few locals fishing from the pier, and sunlight catching the dark windows of the houses on shore.
In Jesla, our guide, Lea, led us into the cool stone backstreets before a wine tasting under a lemon tree. Southern Hvar wines – a white, a rosé, a surprisingly bold red – were poured alongside bite-size canapés while we sat at a makeshift table of stone slabs. The whole thing felt wonderfully rustic.
That evening, we gathered for the Captain’s Dinner, and everyone had made a little extra effort for the occasion. The menu was excellent: prosciutto, local cheese, and sea bass baked in a parchment ship. However, the real highlight was Captain Damir – “Dado” to his friends – who flitted from table to table like he was hosting a dinner party in his own home. He chatted about life at sea, his tight-knit crew, and how his family joins his crew during the holidays, turning the yacht's manning into a family affair.
The room buzzed with the kind of easy, sun-soaked conversation to bloom only on holiday – travel tales, improbable hobbies and new friendships sealed over good wine and a better sunset.
Day 5 - Milna & Trogir
Unseasonable weather gave me the chance to see Riviera’s amazing operations in action – a calm pivot so we wouldn’t miss a thing. Instead of lingering in Milna, we set off across Brač for the island’s Olive Oil Museum. The drive alone was worth the detour. It was a winding route through quiet countryside dotted with stone cottages, olive groves clinging to rocky slopes, and the occasional farmhouse that looked like it had sprouted straight out of the hillside.
The museum sits in the remains of a 19th-century mill, lovingly restored by the family who once ran it. Inside, enormous presses, worn grinding stones, and old wooden beams told the story of how olive oil was traditionally made on the island. It was simple, rustic, and oddly moving. You could picture generations working together season after season. Some in our group even got to give the ancient stone grinder a go!
It felt like we’d stepped into the island’s quieter, more traditional heart.
Back on board, we reached Trogir in the afternoon. Brooding black clouds were settling over the harbour. Thankfully, the weather held. The old town was a beautiful labyrinth of ivory-coloured stone – busy and atmospheric.
Our guide, Anri, spoke about Trogir with real affection. He wove together its strategic island past, cathedral legends, and the everyday stories of washing lines, old loggias, and tiny monasteries.
After the tour, I grabbed a slice of pizza in the cathedral square and wandered the narrow grid of streets.
The Olive Oil Sommelier Trick
Step 1: Pour oil on a spoon.
Step 2: Put it in your mouth, take two deep breaths through your teeth
Step 3: Swallow and take one more breath.
Why all the huffing and puffing? It aerates the oil and spreads it across your whole palate, helping you to pick up its fruity, peppery notes like a true olive oil connoisseur (or at least look like one). A pinch of salt also works wonders – it boosts those flavours even more.
Day 6 & 7- Split
Strong winds kept us moored in Split a little longer than we’d planned, tucked into a Tetris-like puzzle of yachts and catamarans. With this bonus time in Croatia’s second-largest city, I decided – after the guided tour – to wander on day one and play museum-hopper on day two. The change in schedule gave me a chance to see more of Split than expected.
Diocletian’s Palace is less a solitary sight and more the city’s foundation – Split has grown around it, over it, and straight through it. I’d written about the palace before, but I never fully grasped its scale – gigantic Roman walls now fused with more modern Mediterranean buildings, houses resting almost casually on top of ancient stone, and an entire old town tucked neatly inside a 1,700-year-old fortress. It’s brilliant and bizarre.
Our guide was in his element. He explained how the aqueducts still supply the city today, pointed out the symbolism carved above the cathedral door, and tossed in a few Game of Thrones filming titbits for good measure. He also gave us a glimpse of daily life here, including the cafés along the front, where locals go to comment on everyone walking past.
Later, wandering alone, I stumbled upon a group performing traditional Dalmatian singing in the palace vestibule. The acoustics turned their harmonies into something almost otherworldly – a siren song wafting on the wind, tempting tourists to stop and listen. It worked on me immediately.
When I returned later to sit on the steps, the musicians had been replaced by a husband-and-wife tango-teaching team, and I watched a couple from our boat give it a go from the sidelines.
The next day, I made good on my museum plan, starting with the Baptistery and Cathedral, then the Ethnographic Museum. Towards the end of the afternoon, curiosity lured me to Froggyland, a quirky collection of taxidermy frogs posed in human scenes. Strange? Absolutely. Weirdly compelling? Also yes.
Guests compared notes back on board: the maritime Museum was a hit with anyone interested in sailing, with a well-received VR experience, and Klis Fortress – a short Uber ride away – earned praise for its sweeping views and Game of Thrones credentials.
Two unexpected days in Split turned out to be a gift: part history lesson, part people-watching masterclass, part cultural treasure hunt.
Croatia doesn’t need to shout for your attention – it has a quiet way of drawing you in. Yes, the scenery along the Dalmatian Coast is spectacular, but it’s the rhythm of life that really stays with you: guides who share their hometowns with pride, a friendly crew quietly keeping everything running, and locals lingering in cafés to watch the world go by. Travelling by sea gives you the space to notice those details – where old and new blur, and tradition still hums through everyday life. I explored this part of Croatia by yacht and came back having seen more than I expected. But it’s far from the only route to take to explore this magnificent country – and there’s plenty more that would happily pull me back again. Why not take a look?
