Only one hundred and five miles from Italy to Montenegro, and world’s apart.

It’s so easy to fall in love with Italy and the Italians with their passion for food, fashion, family and the arts. Montenegro, instantly, has a very different vibe that takes a moment to warm to.

Great friends, Andy and Babs, sailing with us from Italy to Montenegro.

“You have vodka? You have cigarettes?”, said the Customs Officer in Bar, Montenegro. I thought it might be a trick question but opted for “no”.  She dismissed us with a wave and a look that said we’re free to go but that we didn’t understand the important things in life.  

We’d just sailed from Italy and had already met with an Immigration Officer, the Harbourmaster, and the tourist tax department at the information centre. Customs was the last hurdle which I felt we barely cleared, but we were in. The whole process was a a rude reintroduction to the days of hole punches and forms in triplicate. The Montenegrins seem to love carbon paper like the Italians love Chianti. 

To explain how we got here we’ll need to go back a week.

Aeolian Islands to Montenegro ~ 500nm in the last week.

In the last post we were leaving the Aeolean Islands just above Sicily to sail through the notoriously windy Messina Strait, scoot along the bottom of the boot of Italy, around the heel and up the other side to Brindisi - some 330 miles. It took three days, with brief stops in Leuca right on the tip of the “heel” and Otranto 30 miles further north, both lovely coastal towns we’d like to get back to, but we made it with a day to spare!

Jo practicing for the Paris Olympics in Ortranto.

Brindisi is a massive industrial port with a nice enough old town in the midst of coal loaders, petrochemical facilities and naval bases. Happily it also boasts an international airport with direct flights from the UK which meant our wonderful friends, Andy and Babs, could fly in and sail with us for a week.

With our guests onboard we worked our way north another 25 miles to the famously beautiful town of Monopoli, wow! We anchored outside the harbour wall just off the original ramparts of the old town and went ashore to explore. Labyrinthine streets laced around the port paved with stones polished to a hard, slippery shine by the sandals of townsfolk and tourists for centuries.

Monopoli, Puglia, a delight at every turn.

The original plan was to sail another 35nm north to Bari to check out of Italy and sail to Montenegro but a quick stop at the Guardia Costiera surprised us. An English-speaking, rugby playing Coast Guard officer informed us that we could check out of Italy at the Maritime Frontier Office at the Monopoli police station. Perfect.

It took us half a day to gather the docs, get to the police station, enlist the help of Bruno, the charming fourth generation Monopolise shipping agent, and get our passports and boat docs stamped. We were suddenly clear to leave and the weather window was perfect.

About to leave Monopoli, Italy for Bar, Montenegro.

In the late afternoon we weighed anchor and set our course NE at 45 degrees for Bar on the southern end of Montenegro’s coastline. We ate pasta, beans, salad and bread as the sunset at 9pm and by 10pm the wind had come in plenty enough to sail on a tight reach all through the night. Andy took the first watch to midnight, I did midnight to 3am and Jo stepped up to skipper from 3am till 6am. She is doing brilliantly managing the boat under full sail at night with her eyes on navigation, radar, AIS and the ship’s biscuits that make cups of tea to help stay awake and extra treat. 

So, yes, we found ourselves leaving Monopoli in the afternoon glow and arriving in Bar mid-morning the next day. The musicality of Italian voices replaced by the curt, clipped and more guttural sounds of Montenegrin.

Vodka? Cigarettes?

To be fair, Bar is a port more than a town. It’s blunt and utilitarian. There’d been attempts to spruce it up a bit here and there but the broken windows and garden beds long ago over run with weeds, suggested they hadn’t panned out. Was this a snapshot of what Montenegro was really like?

The beautiful Sveta Nedelja by at sunset and the next morning.

We motored north from Bar to Petrovacna Moru and the spectacular islet of Sveta Nedelja. Phew! It turns out that the entry port of Bar was a major piece of misdirection in the story of Montenegro, this place is truly stunning. The mountains tower over the coastline collecting intimidating towers of cloud by day and soften in the sunset.  Gulps of swallows gather in murmations over the islets chirping non-stop. We ended the day drinking Russian Rose over mountain cheeses and seafood skewers at a beach side cafe. 

Wait. Russian Rose? In a telltale sign of tourism in Montenegro the menus come in three languages, Montenegrin, Russian and English. As my favourite comedian, Eddie Izzard said, “Europe. That’s where history comes from.” Montenegro is no exception.

We’ll have more to share from the harbour of Kotor further north, on the border with Croatia, next time. 

Until then, smooth sailing all,

Craig and Jo xxx