April 25. Boat tour from Split
An “11-hour tour”… and yes, the Gilligan’s Island theme song that was in the back of all of our minds absolutely seemed appropriate as we pushed off from Split aboard what can only be described as a 24-foot Zodiac adventure capsule.
Thirteen of us climbed aboard, straddling saddle-style seats with handholds that hinted this ride could turn “amusement park ride” at any moment. In fairness, the Adriatic behaved—mostly calm seas spared us from a full rodeo—but the setup alone suggested this wouldn’t be your average sightseeing cruise. There wasn’t a life preserver in sight, and just minutes out of the harbor we were flagged down by a police boat for a registration check. That did little to inspire confidence in our fearless crew, Bože and Boris. Still, we’d seen worse—Panama comes to mind—and onward we went. Later we found out that this was in fact Boze's first day on the water, and was unfamiliar with boat skills.
Ironically, the only piece of equipment that seemed unquestionably reliable was the stereo. As we cleared the harbor, our imagined theme song was abruptly replaced by Another One Bites the Dust by Queen—which felt… mildly concerning given the circumstances.
Almost to the Blue Cave, we did hear Three Little Birds by Bob Marley, with the familiar reassurance: “Don’t worry about a thing, ’cause every little thing gonna be all right,” followed shortly thereafter by No Woman, No Cry, where Marley reminds us again that everything’s going to be all right.
Somehow, that felt like the universe trying to settle the nerves just in time.
From Split, it’s roughly 70–75 kilometers (about 40–45 miles) out to the island of Biševo, where the famed Blue Cave awaits. The ride took about an hour and a half, slicing across open water until we reached one of the Adriatic’s most mesmerizing natural wonders.
The Blue Cave is something you don’t quite believe until you see it. The entrance is so narrow and low that our Zodiac couldn’t fit—we transferred into small boats, almost like Venetian gondolas, and ducked our heads as we slipped through the opening. Inside, the cave transforms into an otherworldly chamber glowing with an electric, almost neon blue light. This isn’t artificial—it’s sunlight filtering through an underwater opening, refracting off the white limestone seabed and illuminating the entire cave from below. The water itself glows, while objects beneath the surface appear silver, as if lit from within. It’s surreal, quiet, and almost cathedral-like despite the handful of boats sharing the space.
We were lucky—visiting in shoulder season meant a fraction of the crowds. In peak summer, especially July and August, the cave can see upwards of 2,000 visitors a day. Today, it felt almost intimate. A rare moment where hype and reality align perfectly.
From there, we continued to the island of Vis, long known as a former Yugoslav military stronghold under Josip Broz Tito and often cited as one of the sunniest islands in Croatia. We pulled into the fishing village turned postcard town of Komiža—a charming harbor lined with stone buildings and a relaxed, lived-in feel.
Right on cue, our arrival soundtrack shifted to Mamma Mia by ABBA.Not by accident—much of Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again was filmed on Vis, and the island wears that cinematic charm well.
We explored more caves along the way, including the Green Cave on the nearby islets of the Pakleni Islands—a limestone cavern where sunlight filters through an opening above, casting an emerald glow across the water. During World War II, these hidden coves and caves reportedly served as discreet gathering points for Allied forces, adding a layer of history beneath the natural beauty.
Our final major stop was Hvar, where we spent a couple of relaxed hours in Hvar Town. Towering above the harbor is the imposing Fortica Fortress, standing guard over the marina and red-roofed town below. Lunch was unhurried, the stroll through town easy and scenic, and a quick stop at a small grocery store rounded out the visit.
In one of those classic “small world” moments, I struck up a conversation with a Mass Maritime instructor—sparked by his Diablo Bait and Tackle shirt (a fish taco spot in the Panama Canal, of all places). Turns out he had sailed with Jack Stansel’s dad and also knew Steve Gasecki from Port Canaveral. File that one into the “small world” folder.
The ride back to Split was about an hour—long enough to feel every mile of the day. After nearly 11 hours on and off that Zodiac, it was good to be back on solid ground. But there’s no denying it: the day delivered. From glowing sea caves to historic islands, quiet fishing villages to lively harbor towns, it was a full immersion into the natural beauty and layered history of Croatia’s Adriatic coast.
And somehow, despite the rocky start and questionable seating arrangements, we all made it back—happy, a little sun-soaked, and with a story that definitely earns the title: an 11-hour tour.
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