From Trogir to the Canary Islands: 2100 Nautical Miles on the Way to the Caribbean

Saying Goodbye and the Beginning of a New Adventure

Monday, 19 October.

It's time to say goodbye. My journey takes me to Trogir, where I board a catamaran with a suitcase and a backpack. A new adventure lies ahead. I wouldn't say I'm incredibly excited about it, but it is certainly a new challenge. If I had a choice, I'd rather stay at home or go sailing in our beautiful Adriatic Sea. Five years ago, I set off on a similar journey, although this time it will be a little shorter. We will sail from Croatia towards the Caribbean, from where I will fly back home. I know the route, but the Mediterranean Sea was what concerned me most.

What can we expect? The Sirocco or the Bora in the Adriatic? Strong winds and big waves from France towards Sardinia and Sicily? Perhaps headwinds near Gibraltar? All of these are quite realistic scenarios.

So, how are things going?

The Sirocco Won't Wait. Neither Will We.

The Adriatic welcomes us with a strong Sirocco right from the first day. The harbour authorities in Trogir advise us against leaving, but the final decision is mine. We need to cast off as soon as possible. There is no time for unpacking or other preparations. There are three of us on board the catamaran. All the necessary servicing was completed a few days before departure, the food is already stored in the cupboards and refrigerators, and the tanks are full. There is no reason to wait. Our first goal is to cross the Adriatic and then continue as far south as possible along the Italian coast.

We complete the first part of the journey without major difficulties, and just in time. My decision turns out to be the right one. But don't get me wrong. Unless it is absolutely necessary, never push yourself into bad weather, especially if you are not completely confident in your knowledge, experience and abilities. We sail past Bari and continue south. At night, we stand watch in three-hour shifts. Each day, the schedule moves forward by three hours, meaning that roughly every three days you end up on the same watch again. Is it exhausting? Yes and no. It depends mostly on the weather.

Since we are sailing into the Sirocco, almost directly against the waves, the journey is anything but pleasant. My two crewmates even joke that I'm a beginner because I'm the first one to get seasick. And yes, I admit it, but I only have myself to blame. Everyone has their own cabin and bathroom, which is a real luxury. When I woke up, instead of going straight out onto the deck, I watched the waves through the side window and then went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. It didn't take long before that familiar unpleasant feeling appeared.

Seasickness! You might ask: You? Seasick? You've sailed around the world and spend so much time at sea! But nobody is completely immune. For some people, it is just a mild feeling of instability beneath their feet. For others, like me, it comes with nausea and the urge to throw up. Well, that's how it is. I'll have to put up with it for a while and remember next time that it is probably wise to respect the laws of nature.

5,300 Nautical Miles to Go

We round the heel of the Italian boot without any major difficulties. According to our rough calculations, we still have around 5,300 nautical miles to sail before reaching the Grenadines, our destination. How long is a nautical mile, anyway? I usually explain it quite simply: multiply the number by two and subtract a little. One nautical mile is exactly 1,852 metres, or approximately 1.9 kilometres.

Although I sailed this route five years ago, I know very well that some demanding days are waiting for us. I want to reach the Caribbean as soon as possible, so I estimate that the journey will take somewhere between six and eight weeks. But, as always at sea, the weather will have the final say. Life aboard the catamaran quickly settles into a routine. We share the kitchen and divide the work quite spontaneously. Everyone contributes. One person prepares the food, another washes the dishes, and the third takes care of something else.

It doesn't really matter who does what, as long as everything gets done. Mornings, of course, start with coffee. For me, that's non-negotiable. If I want to avoid getting a headache on top of seasickness and ruining the entire day, my morning coffee is practically essential equipment. We have almost everything aboard the catamaran, except a cook! Electricity comes from the generator, solar panels and engines.

At least one of these sources always provides enough power for the refrigerators, navigation instruments, household appliances, phones and computers. We even have a Starlink antenna, which keeps us connected to high-speed internet. A watermaker takes care of our fresh water supply by turning seawater into fresh water. Besides the usual set of sails, we also have a Code 0 sail, which helps us make progress in lighter winds.

Familiar Coastlines, New Memories

With every mile we sail, memories of previous journeys come flooding back. There are so many that I could never forget them, and I am still proud of everything I have experienced. I could almost say that I know every stretch of this coastline. Come to think of it, I sailed here not that long ago, only in the opposite direction. It was in April 2025, when I delivered a brand-new catamaran from France to Croatia, sailing across the Atlantic and through the Mediterranean.

I remember the names of the towns and the familiar outlines of the coastline. For my two crewmates, however, it is a completely different story. They don't have much experience with this kind of sailing, so every new stretch of coastline is a special experience for them.

One of the next challenges awaiting them is crossing the Strait of Messina, home to one of the strongest sea currents in the Mediterranean, apart from the one near Gibraltar. For a while, we sail against the current, then with it. In between, whirlpools and unusual wave patterns appear. Sometimes the current even turns the catamaran slightly and changes its direction. Nothing unusual for these waters, but quite an experience for someone encountering it for the first time. We make it through Messina.

What's next? The Windy app is showing strong headwinds between Sardinia and Sicily.

Trapani

Once again, I have a decision to make. Should we stop in Palermo, the capital of Sicily, or continue to Trapani, on the western tip of the island? I decide to keep going, and by evening we reach a safe shelter behind the breakwater. I have already visited Palermo, but Trapani is somewhere I have never explored before, so I am looking forward to discovering it. Besides, stopping there will bring us another 50 nautical miles closer to our destination. We drop anchor in seven metres of water over a sandy bottom, an area where, according to reports from other sailors in various sailing apps, there are plenty of fishing nets and other hazards.

Meanwhile, the wind continues to increase. Behind the breakwater, we watch tall, short waves crashing violently against the coastline. Trapani is a large, historic town, and after several days of continuous sailing, I am really looking forward to stretching my legs and walking through its streets. There are quite a few tourist cruise ships moored in the nearby harbour. A high hill, almost a mountain, rises above the town, and there is a cable car that takes you to the top. At night, the whole area is beautifully illuminated. If we had more time, I would definitely go up there.

This time, however, I have to settle for a walk along the waterfront and through the town streets, where plenty of tourists are still enjoying the restaurants.

Our anchor is holding well, and the wind is gradually easing. Before departure, we only need to refuel and buy a little more food. I decide that we should leave before sunset so that we can safely exit the harbour in daylight and set the sails. When we raise the anchor, we discover that the warnings from other sailors were absolutely justified. The anchor itself held perfectly, but we also managed to pull up quite a collection of fishing nets and ropes from the seabed. Apparently, there really is a bit of everything down there. The wind helps us sail away into the night.

The waves are still big, but we know they will gradually settle down.

From Sailing Yacht to Fishing Boat

We sail until sometime in the morning, when the wind completely disappears and the sea slowly becomes calm. The engine starts humming again, and the fishing rod begins to make some noise. We have put out a fishing line because we are hoping to catch something fresh for lunch. I don't know whether this is normal or not, but we catch so many fish that the refrigerator and freezer are almost full, even with all the other food we already have on board. Who would have thought we would be so lucky! Our catamaran has slowly transformed into a proper fishing boat. We are catching fish like there is no tomorrow: tuna, bonito, mahi-mahi and even marlin!

I remember one particular day when dawn broke at around seven in the morning and we put out the fishing line. By noon, we had to put the rod away because the fish kept biting one after another. We simply couldn't clean them quickly enough, and there was already another fish on the line. So, we have more than enough fish, but absolutely no wind. The engine is humming loudly, and sleeping in my cabin is becoming anything but pleasant. The engine compartment is right behind the head of my bed, and sometimes I feel as if the noise is going to make my head explode. So, I come up with my own solution.

I simply turn around in bed and put my head where my feet would normally go. It's not exactly an elegant solution, but it makes things considerably more bearable.

Alicante

Our next destination is the Spanish coast and the city of Alicante. Before departure, we arranged engine servicing because the oil and filters need to be changed after a certain number of operating hours. While the mechanics are taking care of the engines, Blaž and I go for a longer walk around the city. We walk towards the marina and a nearby shop, where we buy some fresh bread. The city is beautifully maintained, although part of the park near the shipyard is full of tents and makeshift shelters where homeless people apparently live.

Unfortunately, I don't really get the chance to explore the city properly, but I do enjoy seeing the main marina. Our goal is not to explore cities but to reach the Caribbean as soon as possible. We can only stretch our legs for a little while before getting back on board, and I already have the feeling that we are falling behind schedule. The sea is full of fishing boats and large commercial ships. It seems there are more and more of them, so we have to stay alert and keep an eye on everything around us.

And what about our schedule? If I don't count the first day, when we only left Trogir towards the evening, we reached Gibraltar on the 14th day. That's a pretty good achievement, especially considering that we completed the journey without any major problems.

Gibraltar – Gateway to the Atlantic

On our way towards Gibraltar, we encounter numerous dolphins, pilot whales and even a giant ocean sunfish (Mola mola), one of the heaviest bony fish in the world. It looks almost as if it were made from one enormous head! If I add all the fish we have caught, I could almost say that we have a proper wildlife park surrounding us. Of course, there are also mosquitoes, flies, butterflies and all kinds of birds. The birds are actually causing us the most trouble.

Apart from leaving their marks on the cushions and practically everywhere else, they fly inside the saloon, crash into the windows and even find their way into the cabins.

We make a short stop in the British part of Gibraltar, without completing an official entry procedure, mainly to take advantage of cheaper fuel. Then we continue westwards, towards the Atlantic. At first, we are sailing against the current, alongside huge commercial ships that are also crossing the strait. Fortunately, roughly halfway through, the current turns in our favour. The catamaran practically takes off! We cross the strait at a good speed and then change course south towards the Canary Islands. Only a few days of sailing remain. At least, that's what you would think.

However, the weather has been rather unusual from the very beginning. There is hardly any wind. A weather front is developing over the Atlantic, bringing first a period of almost no wind, followed by strong headwinds. According to the forecasts, we should be able to reach Marina Rubicón on Lanzarote before the front arrives. I don't exactly have the fondest memories of that marina. Five years ago, I celebrated my birthday there, but that was also where someone stole our brand-new dinghy together with its outboard engine.

Swimming in the Middle of the Ocean and Life Among the Waves

I almost forgot to mention something important. During the journey so far, we have stopped the catamaran several times and jumped into the sea. The water temperature is a pleasant 24°C, and a refreshing swim is always welcome. Despite sailors having a reputation for being dirty and rather neglected, we have actually managed to stay perfectly clean this time!

The passage along the Moroccan coast is calm. There is barely enough wind to fill the sails, and consequently, there are no significant waves either. We are accompanied only by long ocean swells, with more than ten seconds between each wave. The catamaran slowly rises and falls, sometimes by as much as a metre, but this gentle movement is hardly noticeable. Compared with the short, steep waves of the Mediterranean, this is a much more comfortable way of sailing. There are plenty of vessels around us. Large ships overtake us or approach from the opposite direction.

Numerous fishing boats cross our path. Some move very slowly, dragging their fishing nets behind them. The third group consists of recreational and sailing vessels, including us, along with other sailing yachts, catamarans and motor yachts. We all have the same destination: the Canary Islands.

A Night We Didn't Expect

Another successful day is behind us. The sailing is calm, and we even manage to catch two mahi-mahi at once. The freezer and refrigerator are full of fish again. We continue mostly under engine power. We try to make use of the mainsail and our largest light-wind sail, the Code 0, but there simply isn't enough wind to sail under sail alone. A weather front is approaching from the southwestern Atlantic. We are caught by winds of up to 20 knots, and waves of up to three metres are forecast. Our comfort level starts dropping again.

There is nothing else to do but continue against the wind, using the engines as well to help us push through the big waves. Fortunately, the front is expected to pass relatively quickly. According to the forecast, calmer seas should follow all the way to Lanzarote. But marine traffic remains heavy. Large ships are everywhere: ahead of us, behind us, to the left and to the right. Some are overtaking us, while others are approaching from the opposite direction. We cannot afford to lose concentration, not even for a moment. Only one more day separates us from our destination.

Once there, we will finally be able to get some rest, replenish our fuel and food supplies and perhaps even explore the island a little. But things that seem simple rarely turn out exactly as expected.

My night watch finishes at two in the morning. Finally, some time to rest! But not for long. At three in the morning, I am suddenly woken by an urgent call: "Get up! Quickly! Come on deck!"

What's happening?

Apparently, there is a group of migrants somewhere in our vicinity. According to the information we receive, there are 49 people. The coast guard has contacted us and asked us to assist in the search. They have even stopped an approximately 200-metre-long passenger ship as part of the operation. Lights are flashing in every direction. None of us really knows what is happening or what to expect. I admit that finding myself in the middle of a search operation in the middle of the night is not something I particularly enjoy. Situations like this are demanding and unpredictable.

Finally, Lanzarote!

The short night is followed by a beautiful, sunny day with no waves and no wind. The outline of the island is already visible in the distance, and excitement is building. Believe it or not, the water temperature is showing 25.5°C. Perhaps it is a degree lower in reality, but still! We stop the catamaran and jump into the water. A refreshing swim in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean is always a pleasure!

Then, suddenly, my phone starts making a sound. Beep, beep! Oh, finally! Mobile signal! After so many days at sea, I can finally contact home again, catch up on the news and post a few nice photographs or videos. The Canary Islands are finally right in front of us. We have arrived at just the right time. Another weather front is approaching from the Atlantic, bringing strong headwinds and rough seas. This time, however, we will be safe, sheltered behind the island. Shortly before we arrive, a coast guard vessel approaches us at high speed from a distance.

We can see migrants on deck waving at us, while their small boat is being towed behind the coast guard vessel. It looks as though the nighttime search operation has ended successfully. And just when we think the day cannot get any better, one final surprise awaits us. We spot whales! They are swimming peacefully through the ocean, occasionally releasing powerful jets of water through their blowholes. I have no idea what species they are, but that doesn't really matter. Just seeing these magnificent animals in the middle of the ocean is an unforgettable experience.

In eighteen days, we have managed to sail all the way from Croatia to the Canary Islands. More than 2,100 nautical miles behind us, countless waves, several sleepless nights, plenty of fish, a little seasickness and many unforgettable experiences. We still have just over 3,000 nautical miles to go before reaching the Caribbean. The Atlantic is still ahead of us. And our story is only just beginning.