The World Vegan Travel Podcast
The World Vegan Travel Podcast
Vegan Croatia by Superyacht | Our First Yacht Voyage
Join Brighde onboard a vegan superyacht as she takes you behind the scenes of World Vegan Travel’s very first Croatia voyages — from surprise yacht arrivals in Dubrovnik and stormy days with the legendary bura wind, to intimate Captain’s Dinners, animal sanctuary visits, coastal hikes, and emotional goodbyes in Split. You’ll hear how a group of mostly repeat travellers, an incredible crew, and a lot of flexibility turned a brand-new, untested trip into one of the most meaningful experiences WVT has ever run — and why we’re already dreaming about bringing it back in 2027.
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Hear a quick message from Calen, host of The Unruly Podcast, a show all about compassionate, budget-friendly, and offbeat vegan adventures around the world.
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Hi everyone, it’s Brighde here, and welcome back to the World Vegan Travel Podcast!
Today, I’m so excited to finally sit down and tell you all about our Croatia trip — or actually, our second Croatia trip.
I was way too busy during the first one to record a recap, but it went so well that I didn’t want to miss the chance to
tell you about this second one in detail — what we did, what we learned, and why this trip felt so different from
anything we’ve ever done before.
This was our first time ever running a trip that was entirely yacht-based — not a cruise ship, not a hotel stay — but
a luxury superyacht charter where we had one chef, one kitchen, and a small crew for all 7 days. It was
nerve-wracking, honestly, because it was such new territory for us.
We’d planned everything with care, but when you’re designing a trip like this for the first time — and you haven’t
even tasted a single meal until two weeks before departure — there’s a lot of trust involved. Trust in your partners,
your chef, your guides, your weather app... and of course, your travellers.
And that’s where I really have to begin.
A DIFFERENT KIND OF TRUST
Most of the people who joined us for these Croatia departures were repeat travellers — people who’ve travelled
with World Vegan Travel multiple times before and know the kind of care and detail we put into everything.
So when we told them, “We’re doing something totally new — a vegan superyacht trip through the Adriatic — and
we’ve never done anything like this before, we don’t have an exact itinerary yet, and we haven’t even tested the
kitchen setup,” they still said: ‘We’re in.’
That level of trust... honestly, it blows me away. They knew we’d figure it out. They knew it would be special — even
if we didn’t yet know exactly how.
And because they were such seasoned travellers with us, there was this really relaxed, joyful energy onboard right
from the start.
DAY 1: Dubrovnik to Šipan
So, let’s start right at the beginning — Day 1 of the trip, which began in Dubrovnik, one of those cities that’s almost
impossibly beautiful.
You know how sometimes a place feels like it’s been designed for a postcard? That’s Dubrovnik. Terracotta rooftops,
stone fortresses, the Adriatic glittering below — and this was the perfect setting to launch our very first-ever World
Vegan Travel yacht trip.
Now, this was actually the second Croatia trip we’d run back-to-back, but I hadn’t had a chance to talk about the first
one because, honestly, I was just too busy trying to make sure everything ran smoothly. The first trip had gone
incredibly well — far better than we could have hoped — so by the time this second group arrived, we were feeling a
mix of relief, excitement, and, if I’m being honest, a little bit of that nervous energy that comes from knowing anything
can happen when you’re at sea.
That morning, we said goodbye to our first group of travellers as they disembarked from the yacht Ohana at 9 a.m.
The crew had just a few short hours to completely turn the boat around — fresh linens, provisioning, cleaning,
prepping everything — before our new travellers arrived. So, Seb and I relocated to one of our favourite vegan spots
in Dubrovnik, Urban Veggies.
If you haven’t been, Urban Veggies is this hidden gem of a café tucked just outside the old city walls. It’s bright and
welcoming, filled with plants and sunlight, and their food is as beautiful as it is delicious. We set up there as our base
for the morning — catching up on emails, coordinating logistics, and making sure the new group’s luggage tags and
transfers were all sorted.
At 12:30 p.m., the new travellers started to arrive, and it immediately felt like a reunion. Out of the full group, only six
were new to World Vegan Travel — everyone else were repeat travellers who had journeyed with us before. Some
had joined us in Japan, some in Italy, some even in Rwanda. So the hugs and laughter that filled the restaurant felt
more like a family gathering than a formal welcome.
And because this trip was such a new format — our first superyacht voyage — it meant the world to us that so many
people were willing to trust us enough to sign up, knowing we’d never done anything quite like this before. They had
no itinerary in their hands, no idea how meals would work, and yet they just said, “We’re in.”
To welcome them, the amazing team at Urban Veggies had prepared this incredible spread of vegan food —
beautiful sliders, sandwiches, colourful skewers, and freshly baked snacks. It was the kind of food that makes people
instantly smile. Everyone sat together, chatting and eating, getting to know one another. You could feel the energy
building — that special mix of anticipation and curiosity that happens right before a trip begins.
At 1 p.m., we officially kicked off our welcome meeting. We went over what to expect during the week, talked through
safety details, and introduced our wonderful partners from Goolets, who managed the yacht charter. The crew were
preparing everything onboard as we spoke, and meanwhile, two of our travellers, Chris and Chuck, were anxiously
waiting on their checked luggage, which hadn’t arrived yet. It was cutting it very close, but spirits were high.
By 3 p.m., we gathered everyone outside Urban Veggies. The sun was shining, the air was warm but comfortable —
perfect September weather in Dubrovnik. We lined up everyone’s bags, tagged them, and started loading them onto
the tender that would bring them to the yacht. Except, of course, for the missing luggage! Chris and Chuck were still
checking tracking updates every few minutes.
At this point, we had two groups: some travellers — including Donna and Doris — decided to skip the afternoon tour
and head straight to the yacht to settle in. The rest of us — including Seb, Chris, and the rest of the group — joined
our local guide Vesna for a walking tour of Dubrovnik.
We met Vesna at Pile Gate, the grand entrance to the Old Town, and she immediately drew everyone in with her
storytelling. She walked us through the marble-paved streets, explaining how the city had rebuilt itself after the Siege
of Dubrovnik in 1991, and how the Old Town was used as a filming location for Game of Thrones. She pointed out
hidden alleys, the old pharmacy that’s still operating inside the Franciscan Monastery, and the defensive walls that
have protected the city for centuries.
The group was enchanted. The weather was perfect — golden light bouncing off the stone buildings, a gentle sea
breeze weaving through the alleys — one of those “is this real life?” travel days.
And then, as the tour wrapped up, we pulled off one of my favourite World Vegan Travel surprises ever.
We had told everyone that after the tour, we’d be taking the bus back to the marina to board the yacht. But in reality,
we had arranged for the Ohana to sail directly into Dubrovnik’s Old Port — the historic harbour right inside the city
walls — to pick us up in grand style.
So as Vesna and I pretended to realize there’d been a “mix-up” — saying, “Oh no, we’re in the wrong spot, we’ll have
to wait 20 minutes for the bus” — everyone groaned good-naturedly. And right at that moment, our yacht appeared,
gliding majestically into the harbour, white hull gleaming in the late afternoon light.
The look on everyone’s faces was priceless — total surprise and delight. People started cheering, waving, taking
photos. It was pure magic.
We walked down the jetty and boarded Ohana right there in the Old Port, surrounded by ancient city walls and the
sound of church bells echoing across the water. It felt cinematic — the perfect way to start the trip.
Once everyone was aboard, the crew welcomed us with champagne and mocktails, and we set sail toward Šipan,
the largest of the Elaphiti Islands, about an hour north of Dubrovnik. As we left the harbour, the sun was setting
behind the city — orange and pink streaks lighting up the sky, seagulls circling above, and the faint outline of the
fortress fading behind us.
We gathered on the top deck with finger foods, chatting, laughing, and taking it all in. You could feel this beautiful mix
of awe and contentment. Everyone knew they were part of something really special — not just a new trip, but the
start of a new chapter for World Vegan Travel.
When we arrived in Šipan, dinner was served outdoors under a sky full of stars. The meal was simple, delicious, and
full of local flavours — a perfect ending to a perfect first day. And by the time we went to bed, the boat was quiet
except for the sound of water lapping gently against the hull.
That was Day 1 — the moment when everything we’d dreamed of for this trip finally became real.
DAY 2: Šipan → Mljet (Polače)
Rainy sails, Roman ruins, and Colleen’s Captain’s Dinner
Day 2 started peacefully on the island of Šipan, and there was this lovely calm energy in the air. The first morning of
any trip always feels special — everyone’s still finding their rhythm onboard, figuring out where their favourite
breakfast spot is, or how the coffee machine works, or which deck catches the best morning sun.
By seven o’clock, the top deck was already buzzing softly with early risers. Some people were out with their
cameras, capturing the stillness of the bay, while others braved the slightly cool water for a morning swim. The crew
had set out stand-up paddleboards and jet skis, and even though the air had that crisp early-autumn feel, nearly
everyone dipped into the sea at least once.
After a leisurely breakfast on deck, we set sail around eleven for Mljet Island, one of the greenest and most tranquil
islands in the Adriatic. It’s known for its national park, with twin saltwater lakes surrounded by dense pine forests. I’d
been so looking forward to showing everyone this place — it’s the kind of destination that just whispers calm.
But, of course, Mother Nature had other plans.
About halfway through our crossing, the sky began to darken. The wind picked up, and soon enough, rain started
spattering across the deck. At first, it was just a drizzle, and everyone stayed outside wrapped in blankets with mugs
of tea, watching the storm roll in. But then it turned into a proper Adriatic squall — sheets of rain, flashes of lightning
in the distance, waves slapping the hull.
There’s something strangely cozy about being on a yacht during a storm. The sound of rain against the windows, the
hum of the engines below, and everyone huddled together in the lounge with hot drinks, chatting and laughing. It
wasn’t the day we’d planned, but it was one of those spontaneous moments that really bonded the group early on.
We arrived in Polače, the main harbour of Mljet, around two in the afternoon. The rain was still coming down, so we
had to delay our planned hike through the national park. The crew was amazing — they quickly switched gears,
serving lunch onboard and making sure everyone was comfortable.
By about half past three, the skies began to clear. The air felt fresh and clean, and a few of us decided to head
ashore to stretch our legs. I joined René and Andrea, two of our travellers who love geocaching, for a little impromptu
treasure hunt among the Roman ruins that give Polače its name.
The remains of an ancient Roman palace stand right there at the edge of the village — crumbling walls, old stone
arches, and fragments of mosaic that hint at what once was. It’s such a peaceful place, surrounded by olive trees
and birdsong. We also stopped to say hello to Bella, the sweet resident dog who seems to have adopted the whole
town. She greeted every visitor with a wagging tail and happily joined our little walk.
Back onboard, others spent the afternoon playing board games, reading, or watching the film Triangle of Sadness in
our onboard cinema — which, if you’ve seen it, is a hilariously ironic choice when you’re literally on a luxury yacht.
Afterwards, there were lots of laughs as people discussed their interpretations and the social commentary in the
movie.
As evening fell, we gathered in the lounge for a conversation game using a set of reflective question cards — one of
those simple activities that turns into something really meaningful. We talked about things like what our younger
selves would be proud of us for doing or a moment that changed the way we see the world. It got deep in the best
possible way.
And then came one of my favourite evenings of the whole trip — Colleen’s Captain’s Dinner.
Everyone dressed up a little for the occasion — flowy dresses, crisp shirts, lots of smiles. The crew transformed the
dining area with candles and soft lighting, and the chef created a stunning four-course vegan meal, all inspired by
Colleen Patrick-Goudreau’s recipes and philosophy of compassion and joy.
Seb, Colleen, and David sat at the “Captain’s Table” with me, and each course was punctuated by a series of toasts
— four in total. We toasted the crew, who had already made us feel so cared for. We toasted the travellers, for their
trust and openness. We toasted the magic of travel itself. And finally, we toasted to friendship — the kind that forms
so naturally when people share experiences like this.
Dinner flowed into dancing. The rain had stopped completely, so we moved up to the top deck, where music played
softly under the stars. Some people danced, others just leaned on the railings, watching the reflections of the moon
ripple across the water.
It was one of those perfect nights — the kind that doesn’t need big gestures or grand plans. Just good food, good
people, and that feeling of being exactly where you’re meant to be.
That was Day 2 — a reminder that even when the weather doesn’t cooperate, magic still finds its way in.
DAY 3: Mljet → Korčula
The next morning dawned calm and bright — the kind of morning that feels like a clean slate. After the rain and wild
winds of the day before, we woke up to still water, soft sunlight, and that quiet sense of relief you only get after a
storm.
Everyone seemed to move a little slower that morning — sipping coffee a bit longer, lingering over fruit and pastries,
and chatting about how cozy it had been listening to the rain from their cabins.
After breakfast, we raised anchor and began our journey toward Korčula, which would end up being one of the
highlights of the entire week. The crossing took longer than expected — closer to two hours instead of thirty minutes
— but honestly, nobody minded. The sun was shining, and there was something so peaceful about watching the
islands drift past as we lounged on the deck with our books and morning drinks.
By the time the medieval walled town of Korčula appeared on the horizon, everyone had gathered on the top deck,
snapping photos and pointing out the red rooftops clustered against the turquoise water. The excitement was
palpable.
We docked at the ACI Marina Korčula, just a short stroll from the Old Town, where our wonderful local guide Lea was
waiting for us. Lea radiates joy — she’s the kind of guide who makes you instantly feel like you’re exploring with a
friend who just happens to know everything about the place.
She led us on a walking tour through Korčula Town, often called Little Dubrovnik, and I can see why. It has the same
honey-coloured stone, narrow winding alleys, and Venetian-style architecture — but it feels softer, more intimate. Lea
told us about the town’s Venetian roots, how the streets were designed in a fishbone pattern to let in the sea breeze
but block out harsh winds, and how Marco Polo is believed (though somewhat debatably) to have been born here.
The weather that day was absolutely glorious — warm sun, blue skies, and just the faintest hint of salt in the air. After
the tour, everyone had a couple of hours of free time, and it was lovely to see people scatter into cafés and shops —
some wandering up to the lookout points, others lingering over espresso in the square, people-watching as locals
hung their laundry between windows.
At midday, we returned to the yacht for lunch onboard, a light and colourful spread — salads, grilled vegetables,
pasta, and a few of the chef’s creative surprises. Then came one of the day’s biggest decisions: whether to visit a
local winery with Seb or join me for a little island-hopping adventure.
On our first Croatia departure, not everyone had loved the winery experience — some people had wished for a bit
more variety — so this time, we offered a choice. Seb took a small group to the winery, while I led nine travellers to
Badija Island, a tiny islet just across the channel from Korčula.
We went by tender, bouncing over the gentle waves, laughing as sea spray hit our faces. As we rounded the corner,
the sight that greeted us took everyone’s breath away: the Franciscan Monastery of Badija rising from the pines, its
pale stone façade reflecting off the glassy blue water.
It’s hard to describe how grand it looks for such a small, uninhabited island. The monastery, built in the 14th century,
is beautifully preserved and surrounded by gardens, cypress trees, and quiet paths. As we approached the dock, we
were greeted by a few of the local deer that roam freely around the island — which, of course, everyone adored.
We spent a while exploring the monastery and its art gallery, which houses rotating exhibitions from local and
regional artists. Inside, the cool stone hallways echoed with our footsteps, and the windows framed perfect views of
the sea beyond.
Then, we decided to hike up the small hill behind the monastery to visit the ruins of St. Catherine’s Chapel, which
offered panoramic views over the surrounding islands. The climb was gentle but rewarding — at the top, we were
met with the kind of view that makes you stop talking for a moment. Just sea, sky, and silence.
And, of course, because it was hot, we rewarded ourselves with a swim. We slipped into the water from the rocky
shoreline — cool, clear, and so salty that it held you effortlessly. It was one of those perfect moments where time just
seemed to stretch out.
By the time we took the tender back to the yacht, the light had turned golden. The sun dipped low, turning the sea to
liquid silver. Everyone was smiling, sun-warmed, and content. From what I heard later, the winery visit had also gone
beautifully — Seb’s group had a fantastic time tasting local varietals, chatting with the winemaker, and swapping
stories about how each couple had first met.
That evening, we got dressed up for dinner and walked together into the Old Town. Our destination: Cupido
Restaurant, one of the most elegant vegan-friendly restaurants in Korčula. We started with pre-dinner drinks on the
terrace — the lights of the marina twinkling below — before sitting down to a beautifully curated meal.
The menu was exquisite:
A delicate beetroot carpaccio to start, followed by a small bowl of hearty bean-and-pasta stew, then a celeriac steak
with rice and lentils in a peanut sauce, and finally, a crispy chocolate-coated fig dessert that had everyone swooning.
The conversation flowed easily. There was so much laughter that evening — that easy, comfortable kind that comes
when strangers start to feel like friends.
After dinner, we strolled back to the marina under a canopy of stars. The streets were quiet, the air soft and warm.
When we got back onboard, the yacht was gently swaying in the water, and from somewhere nearby, we could hear
faint live music drifting from a bar.
It was one of those nights that felt like everything had aligned perfectly — good company, incredible food, and that
deep contentment that comes from knowing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
That was Day 3, a day that captured the very best of what this trip was all about — connection, beauty, and the joy of
discovering something new together.
DAY 4: Korčula → Hvar (Stari Grad)
We woke up on Day 4 to the kind of morning that makes you instantly grateful to be alive. The air was warm but
gentle, the water perfectly still, and the sunlight had that soft golden shimmer that seems to exist only in the Adriatic.
Breakfast on the yacht had already become one of my favourite daily rituals. People would drift up to the top deck
one by one — some with bed hair, some already wide awake and chatting — and gather around the long wooden
table while the crew served fruit, pastries, and strong Croatian coffee. There was always this low hum of happy
conversation and the occasional burst of laughter echoing over the sea.
We set sail from Korčula at 9 a.m., bound for the island of Hvar, which is often called “the Queen of the Dalmatian
Islands.” I remember standing on the deck as we pulled away from the marina, watching the town’s stone walls
recede into the distance. The sky was a flawless blue, and a light breeze rippled through the sails.
During the crossing, Colleen gave one of her signature onboard talks — a short, heartfelt session on compassion,
mindfulness, and what it means to live aligned with our values, even while travelling. Everyone sat around in the
lounge, listening intently, the gentle sound of the waves in the background. It was quiet, reflective, and perfectly
suited to that mid-morning moment when you’re both relaxed and inspired.
Around noon, we enjoyed another beautiful lunch onboard as we cruised closer to Hvar. There’s something so
surreal about eating lunch while surrounded by nothing but open water and distant islands. It’s like being suspended
between worlds.
Once we arrived, we docked in Hvar Town, where our local guide, Stjepan, was waiting for us. He greeted us with a
huge smile and an infectious enthusiasm that set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.
We began with a 45-minute walking tour through Hvar Town — and it was absolutely stunning. Gleaming marble
streets, lavender shops tucked into alleyways, and the grand St. Stephen’s Square dominated by the Renaissance
cathedral. The Spanish Fortress loomed above the town, and Stjepan explained how it had protected Hvar from
pirates and invaders for centuries. You could feel the weight of history in every stone.
But what stood out most was the atmosphere. Hvar has this beautiful duality — part ancient, part effortlessly chic. As
we wandered, we passed sleek yachts moored beside fishing boats, elegant cafés filled with locals, and courtyards
scented with jasmine.
After the tour, we boarded a bus for the scenic drive to Stari Grad, on the northern side of the island — and honestly,
that drive alone could have been an activity.
The road wound through rolling lavender fields, silvery olive groves, and a patchwork of vineyards and stone
terraces. Stjepan told us about the island’s dry-stone walls, called suhozid, which have been hand-built over the
centuries to divide plots of land and prevent erosion. There are over 60,000 kilometres of them across Croatia — a
UNESCO-protected tradition. It was humbling to think about the generations who had shaped this landscape with
their bare hands.
We stopped briefly at a lookout point high above Stari Grad for photos — the view was breathtaking. You could see
the whole bay stretching out below, the terracotta rooftops of the town nestled between the hills, and the shimmering
line of the sea beyond.
By the time we reached Stari Grad, the light had shifted into that soft, golden afternoon glow. We took a short
walking tour through the old town’s cobbled streets before arriving at the Petar Hektorović House, a 16th-century
poet’s villa turned museum. Inside the courtyard, something truly magical awaited us: a private klapa concert.
For those who haven’t heard of it, klapa is a traditional Dalmatian a cappella singing style — rich harmonies sung
without instruments, often about love, the sea, and the homeland. It’s one of the most beautiful musical traditions I’ve
ever experienced.
A group of six singers, dressed simply in black and white, stood in the stone courtyard beneath a vine-covered
balcony. As they began to sing, their voices rose and intertwined, echoing off the ancient walls. It was haunting and
powerful and deeply moving.
You could see the emotion ripple through the group — eyes glistening, hands pressed to hearts. Some people even
had tears in their eyes. It was one of those rare travel moments that go beyond sightseeing — something that feels
sacred.
After the final note faded into silence, we applauded for what felt like ages. Then we sipped wine and talked quietly,
not wanting to break the spell too quickly.
From there, we made our way to an olive oil tasting at Božić Uje Olive Oil, a small family-run producer nearby. We
learned how they grow, harvest, and press their olives, and we sampled different oils — each with distinct flavours,
from grassy to peppery. Some of us coughed from the intensity of the polyphenols, which, as we learned, is actually
a good sign — it means the oil is high in antioxidants and incredibly fresh.
As the sun began to dip, we returned to the yacht, where our friend Mario, a local sommelier, hosted a wine tasting
on the top deck. He introduced us to Dalmatian varietals like Pošip and Plavac Mali, explaining their histories and
characteristics while we sipped and watched the sky turn orange and pink.
The evening continued ashore at Vintage Hvar, one of the island’s coolest modern restaurants. It had this laid-back,
trendy vibe — open-air tables, fairy lights, and music drifting through the night. The chef had created an amazing
vegan menu for us: bao buns filled with breaded seitan “chicken,” vegan tuna sushi rolls, and small creative plates,
paired with cocktails and laughter.
By dessert time, everyone was glowing — from the sun, from the wine, and from that contented happiness that only
comes after a perfect day. Back onboard, dessert and fresh salads awaited for those who wanted something lighter,
and slowly, people drifted off to bed as the yacht swayed gently in the harbour.
It had been one of those rare travel days where absolutely everything flowed — sunshine, connection, culture, and
just enough sparkle to feel a little magical.
That was Day 4 — a day of music, wine, and sunlight — and for me, one of the most unforgettable of the whole trip.
DAY 5: Hvar → Stari Grad (again)
By the fifth morning, we were all completely settled into yacht life — the rhythm of waking up to gentle waves, having
breakfast under a rising sun, and watching the horizon shift as we sailed from one storybook island to another.
But that morning, things were a little different.
When we woke up, the air had changed. The wind was stronger, and you could feel this charged stillness in the
atmosphere — the kind that tells you the weather is about to turn.
Our captain, who had been so calm and steady all week, gathered Seb and me to explain that a powerful
northeasterly wind, known locally as the bura, had arrived. The bura is a fierce, cold wind that sweeps down from the
mountains toward the Adriatic, and it can come without much warning. It’s famous here in Croatia — respected,
feared, and impossible to predict.
It was clear that our plan to continue further south to Vis Island wasn’t going to be possible. The seas would have
been far too rough, and safety always comes first.
So, we had to pivot — again.
And honestly, this is one of those moments where I was reminded just how wonderful our travellers are. Nobody
complained. Nobody groaned. Everyone just nodded, smiled, and said, “Okay, what’s the new plan?”
Instead of pushing onward, the captain suggested we return to Stari Grad, where we could shelter in the calm bay
and wait out the worst of the wind. It wasn’t what we’d planned, but it ended up being absolutely perfect.
So, around midday, we lifted anchor and made the short, one-hour journey back across the island. The waves were
choppier than usual, but the crew handled everything beautifully. Inside, it was cozy — the kind of day made for long
chats, books, and tea.
By the time we arrived in Stari Grad, the wind was gusting fiercely, rattling the rigging, but the sun was still out. We
spent the afternoon relaxing onboard, reading, journaling, and just enjoying the stillness of being moored in such a
protected, beautiful spot.
And that evening, we hosted another of the trip’s highlights: Colleen’s Captain’s Dinner — part two!
Now, this was actually the second time we’d done this special dinner on the trip (since we had two different sets of
travellers joining across both yacht departures), but each one felt completely unique. The energy was electric, even
with the wind howling outside.
We held the dinner in the indoor dining room instead of on the deck, and it turned out to be incredibly cozy. The crew
set up long tables with flickering candles, the smell of warm food filling the air, and everyone dressed up again for the
occasion.
Seb and I, along with Colleen and David, sat at the “Captain’s Table,” and as each beautifully plated dish came out,
we raised our glasses for another round of heartfelt toasts.
We toasted the crew, who had worked so hard — not just to serve us, but to keep us safe.
We toasted the travellers, for being adaptable and optimistic, even when things didn’t go to plan.
And we toasted the spirit of adventure, for reminding us that the best travel memories often come from the
unexpected.
The food that night was another triumph from our onboard chef — creative, colourful, and full of flavour. You could
tell he was really hitting his stride by this point in the trip.
After dinner, some people lingered over wine and conversation, while others headed up to the lounge to play games
or chat with the crew. Even though the wind was still blowing strong outside, there was this beautiful sense of calm
and contentment inside the yacht.
It was one of those evenings where everything — the laughter, the food, the candlelight — seemed to come together
just right.
And as I finally headed to bed that night, listening to the wind whistle through the masts, I remember thinking: this is
exactly what I hoped this trip would be. Not perfect weather or flawless logistics, but shared moments of connection
— the kind that happen when people embrace whatever the day brings.
That was Day 5 — the day the bura arrived, and everyone proved that flexibility can be just as beautiful as sunshine.
DAY 6: Stari Grad → Brač (Bobovišća)
When we woke up on Day 6, the sound of the wind was still there — a constant, low hum that had become the
soundtrack of the past twenty-four hours. The bura hadn’t let up. It’s such a strange wind — dry and icy-cold even
when the sun is shining, sweeping down from the mountains in fierce gusts and then disappearing again just long
enough to trick you into thinking it’s over.
We had originally planned to travel to Vis Island the day before and then on to Bol, on the island of Brač, to visit its
famous Zlatni Rat beach — that beautiful golden spit of sand that juts out into the sea. But as any sailor in Croatia
will tell you, the bura has the final say.
The captain came to us again that morning, shaking his head and smiling in that calm, professional way that only
captains seem to manage. “Too strong for Bol,” he said. “We go somewhere safer.”
And so, once again, we pivoted.
We decided to head toward the more sheltered side of Brač, to a small, quiet bay near Bobovišća na Moru, not far
from Milna. Before we set off, though, we wanted to make the most of the morning.
We took the tenders ashore for a morning hike around the hills near Stari Grad. The wind was biting, but the sky was
a brilliant, endless blue. Wrapped up in layers, we climbed steadily uphill for about an hour, following rocky trails that
wound through olive groves and low scrub dotted with wild rosemary and sage.
From the top, the view was breathtaking — the bay below glimmering in silver light, the mountains on the mainland
faint in the distance, and the sea stretching endlessly beyond the horizon. The wind whipped through our hair and
rattled the bushes around us, but it felt invigorating — one of those “you’re really alive” moments.
By the time we made it back down to the tenders, everyone’s cheeks were pink from the wind, and we were ready for
something warm and cozy.
We returned to the yacht for lunch onboard, then began the journey northward to Brač. The captain and crew were
absolute pros, navigating the choppy sea with such skill that most of us barely noticed how rough it was. Inside, it
was surprisingly calm — just the gentle sway of the waves and the occasional creak of the wood as we crossed the
channel.
By mid-afternoon, we were safely moored in the quiet bay of Bobovišća, surrounded by rugged hills and stone
cottages that looked like they’d been there for centuries. The wind was still blowing, but it was calmer here — a
welcome break from the gusts that had chased us for two days straight.
That afternoon, we had arranged a visit to something very special — the Brač Animal Sanctuary.
Now, pulling this together had been a little bit of a logistical challenge — everything had to be rearranged last-minute
because of the weather — but somehow, it all came together perfectly.
We bundled up in jackets and took a van along winding island roads to reach the sanctuary, which sits on a peaceful
stretch of land surrounded by olive trees and stone walls. The moment we arrived, we were greeted by the sound of
happy chaos — goats bleating, pigs snuffling in the mud, chickens clucking, and a few dogs running around to say
hello.
The sanctuary is run by a small group of passionate locals who rescue and care for animals that have been
abandoned or mistreated. Hearing their stories — about the animals they’ve saved, the challenges they face, and
their dream of expanding their space — was deeply moving.
Even though the wind was still sharp and cold, the atmosphere there was full of warmth. Our travellers were
completely enchanted — stroking donkeys, feeding goats, and crouching down to let curious pigs sniff their hands.
You could see the joy on everyone’s faces.
For me, it was one of those moments that perfectly captured what World Vegan Travel is all about — not just seeing
beautiful places, but connecting with kind people doing meaningful work for animals.
We headed back to the yacht as the sun began to set, the sea glinting silver and gold under the last light of the day.
That evening, we had planned a barbecue dinner on the top deck — one of those fun, relaxed evenings where
everyone eats together under the stars.
But the bura, of course, had other ideas.
The temperature had dropped, and the wind made eating outside impossible, so the crew quickly transformed the
indoor dining room once again. They fired up the grill in the galley, and soon the smell of smoky vegetables and
sizzling plant-based burgers filled the yacht.
Everyone gathered together, laughing and chatting, passing plates, clinking glasses, and telling stories from the day.
Even though it wasn’t the outdoor barbecue we’d envisioned, it turned into something even more special — intimate,
warm, and filled with gratitude.
The crew joined in too, and it was lovely seeing everyone — travellers and staff — all sharing the same space,
enjoying each other’s company.
As the night wore on, the wind howled outside, but inside there was nothing but laughter, music, and that cozy hum
that comes when people are genuinely content.
That was Day 6 — a day of strong winds, open hearts, and the reminder that sometimes the best memories come
from plans that change.
DAY 7: Brač → Split
A coastal hike, ancient Split, and a perfect farewell
By Day 7, the bura was still lingering, but it had softened — a brisk wind now, rather than a roar. After two days of its
intensity, the calmer breeze felt like a gift.
We woke up moored in the quiet, protected bay of Bobovišća, sunlight filtering gently through the cabin windows.
The sea still shimmered like liquid glass, and the cliffs surrounding us provided a perfect shelter from the open wind.
That morning, David and I led a small group of about ten travellers on a hike around the nearby town of Milna. We
hopped into a van taxi that wound its way along narrow coastal roads, climbing gradually through the hills until we
reached the trailhead.
The route we’d chosen is one of the top-rated walks on AllTrails for this area — a scenic 7-kilometre loop that’s
classified as easy but incredibly rewarding. From the very first step, it was magic.
The path wove through ancient olive groves, where silvery leaves rustled in the breeze, and past low stone walls that
had stood for centuries. The smell of wild herbs — thyme, sage, and rosemary — perfumed the air. At one point, we
passed a group of local women harvesting olives by hand, chatting and laughing as they worked, their baskets filling
slowly with green and purple fruit.
We stopped often to take it all in — two hidden bays along the way, each one more beautiful than the last, where
turquoise water lapped gently against smooth pebbles. Not another person in sight. Just the sound of waves and the
rhythmic crunch of our footsteps.
Every now and then, a group of cyclists would pass us on the trail, calling out cheerful greetings. It felt peaceful and
grounding, the kind of morning that reconnects you to nature and reminds you how simple happiness can be.
After about two hours, we completed the loop, slightly windblown but smiling. Everyone piled back into the van,
chatting animatedly about the views and the quiet beauty of the island.
When we returned to the yacht, the crew had warm drinks and snacks waiting for us. It was one of those thoughtful
touches that had become typical of them by this point. They always seemed to anticipate exactly what we needed,
often before we even knew it ourselves.
Then it was time for the final leg of our journey: sailing to Split, our last stop.
The crossing was smooth, and as we approached the city, we could see its skyline rising ahead — the modern
harbour blending seamlessly into the spires and ancient walls of Diocletian’s Palace, one of the best-preserved
Roman complexes in the world.
We docked near the Ambassador Hotel, where our local guide, Nives, was waiting for us. She handed out our trusty
whisper headsets, and we began our walking tour of Split.
Now, Split is a city unlike any other. It’s built inside a Roman palace — quite literally. The shops, homes, cafés, and
streets all weave through what was once the private residence of Emperor Diocletian, who ruled the Roman Empire
in the 3rd century.
Nives brought it to life beautifully. She led us through the substructures of the palace, explaining how it was
designed, how it survived through the centuries, and how it’s still in use today. You could feel history in the air — the
stones cool beneath your hands, the echoes of footsteps on ancient marble.
We explored the Split City Museum, admired Egyptian sphinxes that had been brought here from Luxor during the
Roman era, and even stopped for a short break at the Luxor Café, which sits right in the middle of the old courtyard.
Sitting there with a cappuccino, surrounded by towering columns and 1,700 years of history, felt surreal.
The city was buzzing with life — street musicians playing violins, children chasing pigeons, locals chatting in the
sunshine. After a week of quiet islands and cozy harbours, the energy of Split was the perfect contrast — vibrant,
dynamic, and full of stories.
That evening, we celebrated our farewell night in style.
We began with a little soirée at Umma, a chic local bar with live music, where we toasted to the week that had been
— to new friendships, shared adventures, and the many moments that had made us laugh. Then we moved on to
dinner at GreenBox Split, one of the city’s most creative vegan restaurants.
And honestly, what a meal.
The chefs had gone all out for us: a juicy marbles vegan steak that could have fooled any carnivore, a beautifully
balanced spaghetti arrabbiata, and a shared tasting platter that was almost too pretty to eat — vibrant green pea
purée, little pearls of balsamic vinegar, roasted vegetables, and edible flowers.
The table was buzzing with conversation and laughter. Even though we were all a little sad that the trip was coming
to an end, the mood was celebratory. You could feel the sense of pride — not just in having travelled together, but in
how everyone had embraced the unexpected.
After dinner, we made a toast to the crew from Goolets Charter Croatia, who had joined us for the evening. They had
been instrumental in making these back-to-back voyages possible, and it was so special to share that final night with
them.
When we returned to the yacht, the city lights reflected off the water, and the air was soft and cool. People lingered
on deck, sipping wine, laughing, and promising to stay in touch.
It had been an extraordinary week — full of sunshine and storms, laughter and flexibility, and moments that none of
us would ever forget.
That was Day 7 — a day of history, celebration, and reflection — the perfect ending to our first-ever Croatia voyage.
DAY 8: Split → Farewell Morning
Goodbyes, gratitude, and calm seas at last
There’s always something a little bittersweet about the final morning of a trip — that quiet mix of contentment and
melancholy that comes when an experience you’ve shared so deeply with others begins to draw to a close.
We woke up in Split to the sound of gentle water lapping against the hull — and, for the first time in days, there was
no wind. The bura had finally gone. The air was still, the sky cloudless, and sunlight shimmered across the marina
like it was blessing our farewell.
Breakfast that morning was slower than usual. People came up on deck one by one, coffee mugs in hand, saying
good morning in soft voices, smiling but a little subdued. There was no rush — just a quiet knowing that this would
be our last meal together on the Ohana.
The crew had gone all out, as always — fresh fruit, pastries, avocado toast, and warm bread filling the air with that
comforting scent that instantly feels like home. A few travellers lingered over second cups of coffee, others took one
last walk along the deck, looking out toward the city walls of Split.
After breakfast, we started packing up. Suitcases appeared one by one in the hallway. There’s always this funny
contrast between the chaos of packing and the calm of knowing the trip has gone so beautifully.
Before anyone left, we gathered together one last time in the lounge — all of us, the travellers, Seb and me, Colleen
and David, and the entire Ohana crew. It was our chance to say a proper thank-you, to express just how grateful we
were for what they’d created for us.
Because truly — the crew had been extraordinary. They had not only navigated the weather challenges with total
professionalism, but they’d done it with warmth and grace. Every single one of them had gone above and beyond,
anticipating our needs before we even voiced them. From the captain who calmly steered us through the roughest
patches of wind, to the servers who greeted us every morning with smiles, to the chef who somehow managed to
turn a tiny galley into a gourmet vegan kitchen — they had made the week what it was.
We presented our thanks — a few heartfelt words, a small token of appreciation — and the travellers joined in with a
round of applause that filled the room. You could tell the crew were genuinely touched.
And then, something really special happened.
The captain stepped forward, and in his quiet, humble way, said something that completely melted me. He told us
that our travellers had been “the best group they’d ever had.”
He explained that, normally, their guests were high-end charter clients — often very demanding, sometimes
dismissive, and not always easy to please. But, he said, our group had been completely different. Everyone had
been kind, considerate, curious, and full of gratitude. They’d loved the energy, the laughter, and how friendly and
down-to-earth everyone was.
It was one of those moments where you could feel the emotion ripple through the room. People were smiling, a few
teary-eyed, and I just remember thinking: this is exactly why we do what we do.
After that, we thanked our travellers. We told them how much it meant that they had trusted us with something so
new — because this really was our first-ever yacht-based trip. We’d been transparent from the beginning that this
was uncharted territory for us — that we hadn’t run a trip like this before, hadn’t even tasted the menu until two
weeks before departure. And yet, they’d all said, “Yes.” They’d believed in us, and in our partners, and in the idea
that something magical could come from trying something different.
And it had.
Those moments of uncertainty, the windy days, the last-minute pivots — they had all become part of the story. Part of
what made the trip real.
After our final farewells, the deck grew quieter. Suitcases were loaded into vans, transfers whisked people off to their
hotels or the airport, and one by one, our travellers disappeared into the bright morning sunlight.
Seb and I stayed behind for a little while, helping with the final details, tidying up, and saying one last goodbye to the
crew. When everything was done, we finally stepped off the Ohana, turned back, and saw her gleaming in the
sunshine, anchored calmly in the water — as if the past week had been a dream.
And maybe, in a way, it was.
That was Day 8, our farewell morning — a quiet, beautiful ending to a week of friendship, flexibility, and firsts. The
sea was calm, the sky was clear, and all that was left was gratitude.
When I look back on this trip now, I still feel a little awe.
It was our first-ever Croatia voyage, and our first-ever superyacht trip — something we’d dreamed about for
years but never dared to fully imagine until now.
And honestly? It was nerve-wracking at first.
This wasn’t a trip where we could fall back on what we already knew.
We weren’t working with a hotel team we’d used a dozen times before, or a cruise company with a fixed schedule.
This was different — it was intimate, high-touch, and deeply collaborative.
We had one chef cooking nearly every meal, one small crew managing everything, and so much that we simply
had to trust would come together.
Two weeks before departure, we still hadn’t even tasted a single dish from the onboard menu.
We were trusting our suppliers, trusting our instincts, and most of all, trusting our travellers.
And that trust — that mutual faith between us and our guests — is what made this trip so special.
Because almost everyone onboard was a repeat traveller.
They’d already travelled with World Vegan Travel before, and they believed in us enough to say,
“Sure — you’ve never done a yacht trip before, you don’t have a finalized itinerary, and you’re still working out the
menu, but we’re in.”
That kind of loyalty and courage humbled me every single day.
What we learned, more than anything, is that you can plan every detail, but the sea has its own agenda.
The weather can change in a heartbeat, routes can shift, and all you can do is adapt — with grace, humor, and a
willingness to see the beauty in the unexpected.
And our travellers did exactly that.
When the bura wind forced us to cancel stops and rewrite the schedule on the fly, no one complained.
They smiled, poured another glass of wine, and said, “So what’s the new adventure?”
That spirit — flexible, open, endlessly kind — turned potential stress into laughter and camaraderie.
The crew of the Ohana also taught us so much.
They’d hosted plenty of luxury charters before, but they told us they’d never had a group like ours — polite,
curious, respectful, and genuinely grateful.
They said most of their guests tend to treat the crew like background scenery.
Our travellers, on the other hand, treated them like family — learning their names, thanking them after every meal,
asking about their lives.
And that right there summed up everything I love about this community.
Vegan travel isn’t just about food or destinations; it’s about connection, compassion, and shared humanity.
By the time we said goodbye in Split, I felt this deep sense of pride — not just in how well the trip went, but in what it
represented.
It proved that World Vegan Travel can keep innovating, keep trying new formats, and still stay rooted in what matters
most: kindness, community, and adventure.
We learned to trust our partners even more — from Goolets, who handled the yacht logistics so professionally, to
the guides, chefs, and local artisans who poured their hearts into every experience.
We learned to let go of perfection and lean into possibility.
And now, looking ahead, we’re already dreaming about what this trip could look like when we bring it back in 2027.
We’ll take everything we learned — the pacing, the weather patterns, the highlights, the surprises — and make it
even better.
But honestly?
Even if we changed nothing, I’d still say it was one of the most meaningful trips we’ve ever done.
Because it wasn’t just about sailing through Croatia’s turquoise waters or eating beautiful vegan meals.
It was about proving that compassion and curiosity can thrive anywhere — even on a superyacht.
So, to everyone who joined us, and to everyone listening who might be dreaming of doing something bold or new —
I hope this story inspires you to take that leap.
Because when you do, you might just find that the detours, the challenges, and the moments of uncertainty become
the most unforgettable parts of all.
We’re already dreaming about bringing this trip back in 2027 — with everything we learned from these first two
departures, I know it’s going to be even more amazing.
If you’d like to be the first to hear when it opens, make sure you’re signed up for our newsletter — you can do that at
worldvegantravel.com.
Thank you so much for listening — and to everyone who was part of this adventure, from our travellers to our crew,
to Colleen and David, and our partners at Goolets — thank you for helping us create something truly unforgettable.
Until next time, I’m Brighde, and this has been the World Vegan Travel Podcast.