A Summer Dream on the Adriatic: Sailing Croatia on Bali 4.8 "Manul"

Last summer, I did something I’d been dreaming of for years — I left behind the buzz of city life and set sail along Croatia’s Adriatic coast aboard a luxurious catamaran. My floating home for the week was the brand new Bali 4.8 “Manul” (2024) — a five-cabin beauty with additional crew quarters, panoramic saloon views, and the kind of open layout that blurs the line between inside and out. At the helm was Sandro, our skipper — calm, knowledgeable, and quietly brilliant at making the sea feel like home.

I first saw Manul docked in the marina in Split. Wide, sleek, and almost inviting us aboard with its soft lines and sun-drenched decks, it was love at first sight. We stepped on barefoot, dropped our bags, and let the world fall away.

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Day 1: Split to Milna, Brač
We set sail under a gentle breeze toward Milna, a peaceful harbor town on Brač. With the sails up and the engines silent, the catamaran glided smoothly over the shimmering sea. That first evening was everything I hoped for — a fresh fish dinner grilled onboard, chilled local wine, and a front-row seat to a golden sunset. I remember thinking: this is how life should feel.

Day 2: Milna – Pakleni Islands – Hvar
I woke to the quiet rocking of the boat and the scent of coffee drifting from the flybridge. Skipper Sandro suggested we anchor near Jerolim, one of the Pakleni Islands. We swam in impossibly clear turquoise water, surrounded only by silence and the distant sound of cicadas. By afternoon, we reached Hvar, where we strolled the marble streets, enjoyed a leisurely dinner, and returned to Manul under a sky full of stars. No hotel in the world offers a view like that.

Day 3: Hvar to Komiža, Vis
On day three, we pointed the bow toward Vis. The sea was calm, and Sandro’s stories kept us entertained — from regattas to secret submarine tunnels carved into the cliffs of the old Yugoslav navy. We docked in Komiža, a charming fishing village with the slow rhythm of another time. Dinner was simple and local: grilled octopus, olive oil, homemade bread. As we sat on the harbor wall, watching fishermen untangle nets, I felt completely present — not rushing, not planning — just there.

Day 4: Blue Cave and Biševo
We started early and reached the Blue Cave (Modra špilja) before the crowds. Inside, the light bounced off the sandy bottom and turned the cave into a cathedral of blue. It was surreal. Afterwards, we anchored near Biševo, tucked into a quiet bay with no one else around. We swam, napped, read books, and let the world go quiet. The sea, the sun, the slow rhythm — it felt like being on the edge of the earth.

Day 5: Vis – Šćedro – Korčula
Sailing north again, we stopped at Šćedro, a peaceful island untouched by time. Sandro guided us into Manastir Bay, where the only sound was the splash of fish and the occasional bird. That evening, we had dinner in a hidden konoba accessible only by boat. Freshly caught squid, homegrown herbs, and local wine — it was rustic luxury at its best. We finished the day in Korčula, exploring the old stone alleys under moonlight.

Day 6: Korčula – Proizd – Vela Luka
Next morning, we sailed to Proizd, a small island near Vela Luka. White rocks, emerald sea, and a silence that felt sacred. We spent hours swimming, snorkeling, and soaking in the sun before heading to Vela Luka for the night. There, with a local musician playing guitar and glasses of plavac wine in hand, we watched another perfect sunset.

Day 7: Sailing back to Split
The last leg of the journey was bittersweet. The wind was soft, the coastline familiar. As we approached Split, I found myself already missing the rhythm of the boat, the morning coffees on the bow, the conversations under stars. Manul had become more than a yacht — it was a floating sanctuary, a reminder that there is beauty in slowing down, in letting go, in surrendering to the sea.

And Sandro? He was more than just a skipper — he was our guide, our storyteller, and the quiet force behind every smooth anchorage and every hidden cove. His intuition and ease made all the difference.

That week wasn’t just a holiday. It was a reset. A reconnection with nature, with myself, with the art of doing nothing — or rather, doing only what matters. And if you ask me whether I’d do it all again?

In a heartbeat. With Manul. And with Sandro.

If you’re dreaming of your own Adriatic adventure, I wholeheartedly recommend exploring a Croatia catamaran charter — the sea is calling.