Tuesday, July 21, 2015
This morning's agenda included obtaining a light bulb for the stern running light, cleaning some laundry, and getting a scooter to do a couple hours of sightseeing on the island.
"This is one thing I've wanted to do this entire trip," Terry told me, in reference to exploring an island by scooter.
We didn't go that far, but high enough on Korčula to get a nice view of the landscape below us. We returned the bike by 10:45 A.M. and took a water taxi back to the marina.
Onward to Lastovo! This was a place that isn't typically on sailing agendas because the island has a population of 600 people, but I figured it would be a nice escape from the crowds. Plus, there was some military history, so I figured Terry would enjoy exploring there.
After an hour of motoring, we were in open seas. Sadly, very little wind at 1:00 P.M., but we put up the sails as wishful thinking the wind would improve. With me at the helm, Terry fell asleep in the shade provided by our bimini. This was when I took the video posted on Facebook. The benefit of the Skipper having a Skipper.
Winds had really started to pick up by the time he woke up and we could really start sailing at a solid fifteen knots!
The original plan was to aim for Mali Lago, but since the wind direction didn't favor that plan, I decided to shoot for Skrivena Luka, which literally translates to "Hidden port."
By 7:00 P.M. the winds were still pretty strong, even as we approached the bay. Cell service was out of range by this point, but the iPad charts were still useful.
I was at the bow, anchor locker open, ready for when Terry gave the go-ahead to drop anchor. There's a nifty feature that you can press with your finger or toe to raise or lower the anchor. I looked out in front of me, scoping the area, with my toe ready to press the button for the anchor wench.
Slam!
The anchor locker door fell on the second toe on my right foot. Blood started gushing. I ran below deck to grab a paper towel to wrap around it so I didn't spill blood everywhere on deck.
I made the mistake of not clasping the anchor locker door to the lifeline so that this mishap wouldn't happen. More importantly, I should have heeded Terry's advice to use the handheld control rather than my toes. I quickly learned that lesson.
"Drop the anchor!" Terry yelled.
After a few minutes of letting the boat equilibrate, I came back to the cockpit and showed Terry my injury. It was gushing blood like crazy.
"I'll grab the first aid kit," he told me. "Wait, where is it again?"
Neither of us could remember where it was stowed.
I looked down at my foot. The blood would not stop. My leg started twitching from panic. Four days in and I made a bogus mistake that will keep me from swimming until this heals up, I thought. What if it gets infected? What if the damage is worse than it looks? The hypochondriac in me was going crazy.
Terry finally found the first aid kit.
"There's only three small Band-Aids," he told me.
Great. Some anti-septic solution, gauze and cotton balls were in the there, though. Terry wrapped up my toe, but I could still see blood trying to penetrate through all of the bandage he put on. At least it was covered and I didn't have to deal with Terry's bedside manner, consisting of "Oh, it's not that bad. I've seen worse."
I wanted to slap him so badly.
"Dinner?"
Yes, please.
There was a restaurant a short dinghy ride away. I kept my foot elevated as I sat down. Terry tried starting the dinghy motor, but it wouldn't start up.
"Why do we always have such bad luck with dinghy motors?" He asked, thinking back to the problem we had with the dinghy motor from our Florida trip.
"Grab the oars."
We rowed our way to the restaurant, after the sun had set and twilight had approached.
Five minutes later, we made it to the pier and tied up our dinghy.
This restaurant was hopping! Conversations within families over dinner filled the air.
"Table for two?" Terry asked.
"I'm sorry, there's a waiting list, we work until midnight," she replied.
"Is there another restaurant nearby?"
"Not on this side, but you can go to the other side of the water."
I limped up some more stairs to the restroom, feeling defeated.
No cell service in the bay, an injured toe, and now the lure of a traditional Croatian food without being able to try it.
After using the restroom, we walked back down the stairs, me limping with a look of despair from the evening.
"Excuse me!"
We turned around. It was the woman.
"We can seat you but it has to be inside, that's all we have."
Whether my appearance of looking crippled had anything to do with this, I don't know. All I knew was that I was more than happy to have a nice local Croatian dinner.
We ordered black risotto cuttlefish, salad with cabbage, lobsters, and a dessert which looked like ice cream, but much creamier, with hazelnut and caramel.
We wandered the marina a bit then oared back to the boat. After how thankful I was to have dinner and how much it boosted my spirits, rowing back didn't feel any less than my way of saying thank you to the world.
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