🗺️ About Rovinj
Rovinj sits on the western coast of Istria, a small peninsula that was, until the late 1700s, its own island separated from the mainland by a narrow channel. The town’s roots go back to a Roman hill settlement, followed by centuries under Byzantine and Frankish rule, before Rovinj swore allegiance to the Republic of Venice in 1283. Venice held on for more than five hundred years, and that era left its fingerprints on nearly everything you see today: the pastel shuttered houses, the maze of narrow stone streets, and the Baroque bell tower that watches over the rooftops.
The town’s defining landmark is the Church of St. Euphemia, the largest Baroque building in Istria, completed in 1736 and dedicated to the town’s patron saint. Its 61 meter bell tower, modeled after the campanile at St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice, is topped with a copper statue of St. Euphemia that turns with the wind, and visitors who climb the tower’s old wooden staircase are rewarded with sweeping views over the harbor and the islands offshore.
Most visits to the old town begin at Balbi’s Arch, a Baroque gate from 1679 carved with the Lion of St. Mark, once the main entrance to the fortified city. From there, Grisia Street climbs the hill toward St. Euphemia, lined with galleries, artists’ studios, and small shops, and doubles as an open-air art exhibition each August. The rest of the old town rewards aimless wandering: colorful facades, cats asleep in doorways, and staircases that twist down toward the water at nearly every turn.
⛵ Anchored Off Rovinj
We woke to another bright, beautiful day, anchored off the coast of Rovinj, Croatia, with its signature church steeple rising above the old town rooftops on a hill high above the water. Bob and I had been here years ago, but we were anxious to get back, curious to see how much we would remember and eager to make new memories.
🚤 A Different Kind of Excursion
Today we had booked something different from our usual walking tours: a rib boat adventure with swimming, sightseeing, and wine tasting worked in. After a quick breakfast, we headed down to the lounge where the shore excursions met before heading out, signed our waivers, and boarded the tender to go ashore.
Our guide, Gago, was waiting for us on the dock, along with the rib boat for the day. She walked us through how the day would unfold: a ride out around the south point of town and past the south harbor, over to an island just off the coast where we would have about an hour to swim or explore a new upscale hotel, then across the bay and down the Croatian “Fjord,” named for a 1959 film that used the spot to stand in for Norway. At the far end of the fjord, a restaurant would have local meats, cheeses, bread, olive oil, and wine waiting for us, before we headed back for an hour-long tour of Rovinj’s old town.
It sounded like a fun, full day, and Bob and I always love being out on the water. Our group included two women with physical limitations who found it difficult to step down onto the inflatable boat from the dock. Bob and I took the bow, and off we went.
As Gago guided us along the coastline, she shared some of this same history, and it was fun to match her stories to the views of the old town from the water.
🌊 Out to the Island
Seeing the city from the water gave us a completely different sense of how it was built up the hillside. As we motored along, Gago pointed out a swimming area with ladders set into the rocky west edge of town, where locals were swimming laps. I remembered stopping there myself on our first visit years ago.
We continued past the South Port Marina, where locals keep their own boats, then skipped across the water for about ten minutes to reach a small island for our swim stop. Gago pointed out three new five-star resorts built there in recent years, all aimed at drawing higher-end travelers to Rovinj, and all genuinely beautiful. We tied up at a cement dock, and while most of the group climbed out easily, one woman who had recently broken her foot could not manage it and chose to stay aboard, chatting with the young captain while the rest of us went to explore.
Bob and I walked to the north beach for a swim, and quickly discovered our mistake: this was a rocky beach, and we had no water shoes. I gingerly picked my way across smoothed stones of every size, then swam as soon as the water was deep enough. At 81 degrees, it felt wonderful. Bob, tender-footed by nature, opted to relax in a lounge chair instead. After about fifty minutes, we headed back to the boat to regroup.
⛰️ Into the Croatian Fjord
With everyone back aboard, we crossed the bay and entered the fjord for a long, choppy ride of forty-five minutes or so. At one point the captain slowed and fell into a quiet, clipped exchange in Croatian with Gago. I suspected seaweed on the prop. He shifted into reverse and back to forward, and the problem seemed to clear. It hadn’t, not really, but we wouldn’t know that yet.
The fjord itself was striking, with lush green hills rising a thousand feet on either side. I could absolutely see how filmmakers once passed this off as Norway. We passed oyster and mussel farms marked by floats along the shoreline, and about halfway down we spotted a cave with a canopy at its mouth and two small wooden docks, a local rest stop called Captain Morgan’s where tour boats and locals alike stop for a swim and a drink.
🍷 Bread, Wine, and a New Friendship
We reached the end of the fjord at a dock and restaurant often used for weddings and celebrations, glad to step off the boat as the sun climbed higher. A table waited for us on the shaded porch, and we were served the fare that would turn out to be typical of this region: bread, prosciutto, cheeses, olive oil, and wine. We relaxed in the shade, got to know our tablemates, expats from Virginia now living in Lagos, Portugal, and enjoyed the break before the ride back.
⚠️ Trouble on the Water
About ten minutes back into the fjord, a loud noise came from beneath the deck, followed by the smell of something burning. The young captain stopped the boat immediately and asked the passengers on the back cushions to move so he could check the engine. One of the rubber belts had broken. With the afternoon wind picking up, we began drifting back down the fjord, away from where we needed to go.
The captain, clearly just the driver for the day and unsure what to do next, got the boat’s owner on the phone. He said he would send another boat to collect us. I suggested dropping anchor to stop the drifting, but there wasn’t enough line aboard; the fjord ran too deep. As more small pleasure boats appeared around us, the captain flagged one down and asked for a tow to the Captain Morgan dock we had passed earlier. They agreed, and after a few ropes were tied, we were moving again, slowly, toward shelter.
By the time we reached the dock, both the captain and Gago had made call after call to their offices. Gago had another tour starting at 2pm by bus and was in real danger of missing it. The dock itself was crowded: a large tourist boat on one side and several smaller boats clustered on the other. The boat towing us wanted to be on its way, but the dock owner asked us to wait for another arrival before we could tie up. With some prompting from Bob, the young captain restarted the engine long enough to get us alongside and start getting everyone off.
The woman who couldn’t get off earlier had practiced a sit, roll, and stand maneuver back at the restaurant, and it worked, though the unsteady dock left her, and the other woman with a bad shoulder, unhappy about the whole situation. Once everyone was ashore, we spotted the boat’s owner arriving on a much larger, faster skiff to collect us, except the dock owner wanted us off his dock and onto the neighboring one built for smaller boats. That meant climbing over a ledge of slippery, jagged rocks, no easy task for two women already struggling. Somehow, we all made it across.
The rescue boat, a sleek forty-foot skiff, was comfortable and fast, and we covered the rest of the trip in a fraction of the time. The young captain stayed behind with his disabled boat, waiting for a tow back to the marina.
🇭🇷 Back to Old Town
We made it to the tender dock at exactly 2pm, just in time for Gago to make her next tour. We never got the promised city walking segment, but by then everyone was ready to go their own way. A few headed toward the old town and the cathedral, others boarded the tender right away. Bob and I started up the road toward the old town and stopped for a cool drink, but with time running short before the ship’s departure, we decided to save the climb up to the church for a future visit. We picked up a pair of water shoes and a souvenir instead, and headed back to the tender.
Back on the ship, we showered, relaxed on deck, and swapped stories with the rest of the group over dinner. Despite the excitement, it had been a memorable day on the water, and we were ready to wake up and explore Zadar the next morning.
💭 A Day to Remember
This was a day that reminded us things don’t always go as planned. Bob and I weren’t prepared for the rocky beaches, and that one was on us. But the two travelers with physical limitations clearly hadn’t read, or hadn’t understood, that the tour description used the word strenuous and involved a rib boat. Our tip for the day: don’t sign up for an excursion you can’t physically handle. Had the mechanical trouble been worse, it could have turned genuinely dangerous for anyone who couldn’t move easily on the boat or manage themselves in the water.
Next stop: Zadar, Croatia.
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