A log of Mato, Neno and Pinčika's sailing trip (June, 2008.)
14.6.2008. Saturday - A miserable start
Woke up at 4am, picked up my father Neno, stuffed all the gear into car, went away and arrived to Šibenik at 9am. Our general plan was to sail into Kornati archipelago, to the north west from Šibenik, and spend 1 to 2 weeks cruising and experimenting with the boat.
In Šibenik, we installed a pad eye with spring and a block in front of the existing cleat base for fully centered mainsheet system, installed my own newly crafted and very special transom flaps which should keep the boat dry for sleeping but remain usable for emergency draining while at sea. Installed new jib halyard and a drain tube for keeping spinnaker bowsprit free of gear bags... Discovered water inside front section of the boat and discovered an open bung inside. Although we heeled the boat, the water wouldn't get out completely, so we drained the compartment with a sponge, then closed all bungs and hatches. Took the boat to the slipway, prepared it for departure. It was mid afternoon when we paddled out of the harbor against a bit of wind, then hoisted main and genoa and sailed across to the Malpaga 'mandrać' on Zlarin island ('mandrać' = small harbor with stone breakwater walls, for just a couple of small boats). After mooring the boat and settling down, we realized that my fantastic transom flaps are leaking horribly. Fortunately, I had my previous - less sophisticated (also my own master piece) transom opening covers. Took the rear storage box out, then fiddling in light rain and in a couple of inches of cold water, with dark falling, replaced the covers - but assured with last year's experience that these are 100% leakproof. Of course, as soon as the water was bailed out, storage box put back into place, tent erected and some food taken out for dinner, it became obvious that these covers are leaking too. Not as much as the other ones, but enough to make sleeping in the boat impossible. We were wet and very tired, it was dark and I became miserable. What an idiot I am believing that I could sail and sleep in such a small boat. And even worse - pull my father into this catastrophe. What an idiot I was spending such an enormous amount of money on the boat and gear, and having taken so much time away from my family, friends, all other possible activities while all normal people accept the obvious fact - there are 30ft and bigger boats just waiting for anyone to rent them and enjoy all the comfort imaginable. After all, why am I doing this at all. Why should sailing be worth more than staying at home or watching football championship with someone..... We drove for 4 hours, spent several hours preparing the boat, carried all the gear, got wet, tired, cold and hungry, just to sail 2 Nm and to discover that it's all a big mistake.... Then, since there were no other boats in the 'mandrać', my father proposed that we should pull our fenders underneath the transom to lift the boat and reduce leaking. We did it and slept through the night without serious problems, although still in pessimistic atmosphere, feeling that we can not continue as we planned. I kept wondering how is it possible that even these, more primitive covers are leaking. They are so simplestupid that I could not find an answer in my head. 15.6.2008. Sunday - Beating against the ratchet Made breakfast: tea, canned frankfurter sausages, bread and some spread... Took the boat to a more shallow part of the 'mandrać', disassembled the covers and found out that probably due to yesterday's tiredness, nervousness, and dark - they were mounted sloppily. I became very happy because this meant that they were not broken and felt again assured that they will be leakproof after I reinstall them. We also reorganized our gear in the boat so that more weight would go under the foredeck, giving a nicer (almost perfect) front/aft boat trim. Sometime early afternoon, we took off under genoa and full main, wishing to reach the outer side of island Žirje. We had a nice 'maestral' wind, which meant beating to get to Žirje. Soon, I decided to replace the genoa with a jib. We switched places and I went forward to change the sails. When I looked up, another moment of horror emerged: the leeward cross tree wing was swinging loosely. Luckily, this was just a brief hallucination, a distorted image in my nervous mind, related perhaps to a too loose leeward shroud. As soon as I adjusted the tension in the muscle box, everything was fine. For the rest of the afternoon Neno was helming, getting used to 'Pinčika', and I was probably annoying him with too much remarks about watching tell tales, correcting the course and readjusting the mainsheet - all of which he took without a single protest. In short and steep waves, which are a common accompaniment to the summer 'maestral' wind, I had the impression that I could sense a different behavior of the boat. It seemed that the boat climbed the waves more slowly and came down more heavily than before. I associated this with reorganization of weight (more weight forward). Although I didn't like this, I kept thinking that perhaps this is ok since the boat presented a perfect trim in the calm 'mandrać'. After the whole trip was over, my father and I estimated that we had approximately 120kg of gear. Together with our cca. 150kg of combined body weight it is all still bellow the 340 kg max load stated on the boat's plate. But surely, in future I will do my best to reduce this. Our excuse was that we wanted to have enough food and water reserve for a two week cruise, and we carried some more tools for finishing some details on the boat. The newly installed FCMS (fully centered main sheet system - I am sick of writing this so will use 'FCMS' for short) did not seem very good. It was almost impossible to pull the boom closer to boat centerline than just above the corner of the boat. Well, I thought, just another experiment with a poor outcome. But it didn't spoil my attitude much as we installed it in such a way that it wouldn't be a problem to switch back to the transom traveler or bridle once we moored the boat. We arrived to the Vela Stupica cove on Žirje island, tacking between anchored yachts and sailing all the way to the little 'mandrać' at the bottom. I imagined Ralph Roberts would have been pleased to have seen us. In recent history, Žirje island is best known for heavy artillery installations which were built after the World War II, in the period of cold war paranoia. They were meant to serve as a protection from a possible invasion of the 'rotten capitalistic forces' arriving from outer sea. Eventually, in 1991. all the bits of the puzzle came to their places. There was no invasion from the West, the destruction came from Yugoslav army and terrorists, capitalism did not rot, but the moral principles of world forces' political leaders proved to be rotten to the core. The Žirje artillery, was quiet for 50 years, until on 16.9.1991. a group of enthusiast led by general Rahim Ademi, managed to turn it around, towards land, and bring the old machinery into operation. By shelling 63 YU tanks and 45 other military vehicles approaching the Šibenik bridge, they saved the city and it's citizens from a catastrophe. Now, it is planned to make the artillery installations a part of a touristic sightseeing tour. We had some steaks for dinner at the house of the fisherman, listened to the radio forecast and went to sleep. The forecast for the next day was: 'jugo' (SE wind), some rain, wind dropping down in the afternoon. 16.6.2008. Monday - A glimpse of heavy weather sailing What a delight! We slept perfectly this time. The only thing that briefly interrupted our sleep during the night were some fishes (or frogs?) splashing otherwise completely calm water. Morning was cloudy, a bit windy, with some rain. We had breakfast, and started to prepare the boat and ourselves for departure. We thought that if the forecast said that the wind would drop in the afternoon, there could be nothing to worry about. During preparations I found another crazy thing: probably in a haste to leave land on Saturday, I have led the mainsheet through the ratchet block the wrong way! Neno was beating yesterday and fighting against the ratchet all the time! No wonder we were not able to pull the boom closer to centereline. Of course, I corrected this immediately, laughing at my error and restoring fate into the FCMS. Also, I increased purchase from 4:1 to 5:1 which was my brother Saša's prophesy for the minimum usable purchase in FCMS on a Wayfarer. During the rest of our cruise, we never had an opportunity to measure against another Wayfarer, but from our perspective it appeared to work perfectly. As a big motorboat moored in front of the 'mandrać' complicating our possible sail out, we rowed to a nearest buoy. We attached the boat to it temporarily, hoisted a reefed main (W deep reef - 6.4 sq m approx.) and jib, dropped the buoy and started beating out of the cove. The sail combination seemed to work very nicely, much better than previous (standard) 1st or 2nd reef in the main. It took us a little more than 10 minutes to get out of the cove. Outside, it was a different world. I didn't think about it before, but now we noticed that all those yachts in the cove remained put at their buoys instead of continuing their cruise. Waves were very big for my standards, and wind absolutely persuasive. Nevertheless, we lifted the centerboard almost fully up and eased onto a broad reach in order to sail along the outer side of the island towards Kornati. I would bear away gradually, and when the jib would show a slightest tremor, I would luff up a bit in order to keep us well away from an unintentional gybe. I don't mind sailing more miles, if that helps me keep the boat under control. Kneeling by the tiller seemed like the appropriate position for the circumstances, holding onto the gunnwhale with the other hand, concentrated totally on the foresail and steering. As our course was taking us towards Škrovada islet, I decided to gybe. Concentration on sails and steering was so strong, that the idea that gybing might not be the wisest choice didn't even come to the surface of my mind. Or perhaps it did, but it didn't seem much more risky than luffing up and tacking in those waves. As the gybe was completed, a feeling of satisfaction joined the nervousness about the whole situation we were in. After another gybe, I decided to sail on and move away from the rocky coast of Žirje. The course kept bringing us closer to the Blitvenica. This islet has a big stone lighthouse, one of the few that still have permanent crew. It was built in 19th century, under the Austro-Hungarian empire, when traffic increased as a result of the steamship era. Before that, it was just a rock, without any vegetation. The main light is 38m above sea level, and has a range of 24 Nm. I dreamed of sailing there in nice sunny weather, mooring and perhaps meeting the lighthouse keeper, taking a walk around, maybe even climbing the tower... After a little while, with spirits still raised a bit by nice gybing, I thought to myself what a pity it would be to survive this without a single photo, how no one would believe our descriptions. So I focused some courage into detaching the left hand from the gunnwhale, took the camera out, made one haphazard shot and quickly handed the camera over to Neno. He took a couple more photos. Later I was disappointed to see how the images look much less dramatic then the real experience, and even my voice in the video shot seems calm... film is a big lie. The waves seemed to be building up even more. If GPS altitude graph is trustworthy, some of those waves would have been around 6m high from top to trough. I believe this must be quite exaggerated, but for me the situation was very impressive. Perhaps not even so much because of the height of the waves, it was the volume of the moving water, it's speed and the energy which appeared threatening. It certainly changed my perspective on capsizing and righting gadgets. Previously, I was never afraid of it, assured that I would right a inverted boat one way or the other. Now, I am less assured of this. Hopefully I am wrong, but the strength with which the boat and crew would get tossed, seemed such that it would drain their energy very quickly. We approached Blitvenica with an average speed of 6kt. As we came closer to it, my father suggested that we could make a landing on the northern side and wait for the weather to settle down, or that we could sail close to the shore and drop the mainsail whilst being protected from the worst waves and wind. I felt apprehensive about making a landing in those conditions at an unfamilliar place, but silently acknowledged the idea of sailing into that calmer spot of water and taking down the mainsail as a wise thing to do. So I suggested a plan for getting hove to (luff up, tack, leave jib cleated on the wrong side... method), switching our places, me dropping the main sail and then him steering on under jib alone. An encounter with Blitvenica, quite different from what I had wished. It took us exactly 5 minutes to take the mainsail down, tidy it up and sail on. During this short period, the wind and the sea were moving us at around 2 kt, exposing us again to the big waves. Things did seem safer though. Still, there was a new surprise. While hove-to, the boat wouldn't stay with the bow at 45 degrees to the waves. It kept itself at a broader angle onto waves no matter what I did with the centerboard, and if Neno moved the tiller closer to centerline it would only get worse. This was very different from my previous experience with Pinčika. So I rushed to take the main down and tidy it up, while Neno kept the tiller to leeward and balanced the boat by shifting his weight to leeward while the boat climbed the wave, then to windward as the boat slid down into a trough. Later he said that this reminded him of windsurf board... I wouldn't know where to store the boom and the mainsail without it getting into our way or into way of the tiller, so we left it up suspended by the topping lift. After continuing to sail under jib, I added a bridle from one end of the thwart to the boom and to the other end of the thwart, to further reduce it's shaking. Also, I tied the main halyard around the middle of the boom to take a bit of strain from the topping lift block on the top of the mast. This way, we were making around 4kt, then around 3kt as we approached Kurba Vela island a little before 15h. The wind had dropped in strength, the sky cleared, we started taking our clothes off, sun lotion was brought out of the storage bottle and the mood improved significantly. Soon, the mainsail was raised and we had a very pleasurable sail down the Kornati channel, protected from the swell. Arrived to Lavsa island around 17.30. Through the entrance of the Lavsa cove, we had a very light and fluky wind. The constant shifts and periods of calm consumed the remains of our energy and patience. After finally getting through, we were so eager to anchor the boat at the bottom of the cove that we needed a hard knock on the centerplate to remind us of the warning about the walls of the Roman salt-works. It was in operation until 14th century, after which the raise of the sea level submerged it. With the greenhouse trend continuing, perhaps one day some Wayfarers will have to take care not to knock their centerboards on the tops of the Empire State Building or the Eiffel tower. Luckily, neither hull or rudder hit anything and we soon anchored the boat, took a swim, and went to dinner at the local fisherman's place. Happy with the outcome of the day that won't be easily forgotten. 17.6.2008. Tuesday - A clear sky 'jugo' Night passed without problems. We woke up just before dawn and went to prepare breakfast on the beach. It was pasta with tuna-fish, prepared with Trangia I got from Ralph last year. It worked very nicely. The amount of fuel that went into the burner was just enough to prepare a 2-person meal without refueling. The sky was bright, we had 'jugo' wind again, quite strong, within the cove it didn't have enough space to develop waves. I expected that within the Kornati channel, there wouldn't be any significant waves either. We prepared the boat and had to invent a way of getting out without hitting the ancient walls again. Around 9am, we raised the anchor and then it was a bit like river rafting. The wind was pushing the boat strongly, my father worked the oars hard to slow us down (he insisted to try out the oars at that moment) and direct the boat towards what we suspected to be less risky part of the wall. I stood up as a look-out, giving him instructions. After a little while we passed over the walls without touching them and steered the boat with the oars, towards an unoccupied buoy. After successfully grabing the buoy and attaching the boat with a line, we raised only a reefed main. I thought that this would be a proper choice for such a strong wind and our need to manouvre between the yachts at the buoyes and out of the narrow and fluky Lavsa entrance. Neno told me later that as we sailed out, the people on yachts waved and clapped their hands. I didn't notice it, being concentrated on steering and avoiding a collision, all I heard was rattling of halyards on their masts. As we were getting out of the Lavsa entrance, a view of what was expecting us opened up. Waves bigger than I expected but certainly smaller and shorter than yesterday, white crests everywhere, and wind that seemed stronger than yesterday. Feeling a mixture of apprehension and a bit of high spirits thanks to bright blue sky, sun, and the feeling of being relatively protected within the channel (although shoreline is rocky and absolutely unsuitable for beaching the boat). We continued under reefed main only. Centerplate again almost fully up, and onto a broad reach wishing to sail to north-west along the channel. After we cleared the Lavsa entrance, the waves started to play with us. I had to work the tiller against them quite firmly. At one moment the boat almost broached, and I wanted to have more power at the front of the boat to prevent it. Neno opened the jib and we went on with much less needed work on the tiller. Pinčika planed for periods longer than I have ever previously experienced. After about 10 minutes of sailing in these conditions, GPS recorded our whole trip's maximum peek speed: 10.4 kt. Later Neno joked that I must have been secretly throwing the GPS forward in order to boost the measurement. We couldn't continue much longer on this course as it was taking us towards the rocky shore of the Kornat island. We gybed. Nothing special. Except my fear that the rigging can't take the load of a heavily loaded boat in this wind. My fear grew stronger as we approached the part of the channel where the little islands on our port are farther apart opening it to outer sea waves. So before getting into this, we hove to, and dropped the main sail. Again, the boat wanted to be beam onto the waves. This time I experimented with the centerboard for a couple of seconds more than yesterday, but again without success in getting the bow closer to the wind and waves. We continued, Neno steering and myself staring around. On wave tops, the boat planed at about 7kt, for periods of about 15 secs, under jib alone. Situation seemed under control. Until I started to think about what is going to happen when we get into the narrower part of the channel. I didn't know how well we could luff up if we needed to avoid something in front of us, still had doubts about the strains in the rigging, and feared that the wind might be more gusty between the small islets in front of us. Took a good look at the map and strongly suggested to Neno that we should try to round into the Lučice cove and seek shelter there. He wasn't so eager to stop the fun, but accepted the idea. We rounded the headland very closely due to my fear that our leeway could prevent us from reaching the inner corner of the cove where a 'mandrać' is located. To my surprise, once we were in flat water, with centerboard fully down and slightly heeled to leeward, the boat sailed very well on a reach. Perhaps it even pointed a bit higher, but I cannot judge that for certain since the terrain must have influenced the direction of the wind at least a little. A little before half past eleven, we made a landing just below the 'mandrać', on a tiny beach, in front of an Slovenian lady sunbathing between the rocks. I jumped out of the boat taking hold of it, while Neno furled the jib. Even here, the wind was so strong, that it almost pulled the boat and myself into deeper water, which would make the situation very bad. Neno jumped out too, and luckily we managed to pull the boat towards the 'mandrać' stone breakwater. After tying the boat along one of the local fisherman's boats, we thanked the friendly Marino Ježina and his relatives who assisted us. After chatting a little with the old lady, she smiled looking at the white capped sea in the channel and told an old saying: "Kad idri Bog, ne more brod!". In a bit adapted version it would be: "When God goes for a sail, Wayfarers - get out of his way!". The white crests and the thin white clouds rushing from left to right, seemed as a perfect inspiration for such advice. It also reminded me of another old saying: "Čuvaj se škure bure i vedroga juga." This would be: "Beware of a dark sky bura and a clear sky jugo." This sky couldn't have been clearer, and it was certainly 'jugo' blowing. Glad to have sought shelter. At 15.00h we took off again, under jib alone. The wind had eased, the sky got grey, until Telašćica bay our average speed was around 5 kt. The scenery of Telašćica is much greener than the Kornati archipelago, and the bay gives a nice feeling of protection. A little after 17h we moored in 'mandrać' at the bottom of the Mir cove. Light rain was starting so we put up the tent quickly and went to dinner at the nearby restaurant. 18.6.2008. Wednesday - 'Maestral' at last Several times through the night, we heard the centerboard touching the bottom (we left it down a bit to warn us). So we had to move Pinčika towards the deeper part to the entrance of the 'mandrać'. The low water was probably being enhanced by the weather. The morning was still grey and with a few drops of rain, but gradually it cleared and 'maestral' started to blow firmly. I learned that for a few days after a major weather change, it is his custom to blow with a bit more power than in periods of stable weather. When the sun finally broke through, we used it to dry some of the garments that got wet yesterday, and to screw in the remaining bits needed for use of the asymmetric spinnaker. I also cut off some unnecessarily long lines and whipped some of the frayed rope ends, wishing to impress Ralph when he comes next time to sail with me. The whipping turned out very nicely, but unfortunately the hot sun (there was no one else to blame), made me misjudge the proper length, so one of the lines came a little bit short... It seemed that by the end of the cruise I would acquire quite a respectable collection of flops. In the early afternoon we wanted to see at last our new 'heavy weather main' hoisted. So, inspite of it being unnecessary for the current sailing conditions, we took off with it hoisted above the regular main furled along the boom. In those conditions, it didn't seem to offer anything more than our normal mainsail reefed. After taking it down and hoisting the regular mainsail, we moved to 'Kršovica' cove which turned out to be our favorite place of the whole trip. It is owned by Goran Jagić, the Santa Claus of Dugi Otok island. A very friendly man, who welcomed us, and together with his wife prepared a very nice dinner. His grandfather was given this part of land as a least usable among what was being passed to him and his brothers. The only way to get here is on foot (besides from the sea), so growing olive trees and anything else is difficult. The ambient under the trees is peculiarly but very nicely decorated with old fishing nets, tools, boat parts, flowers... there are some cats around and a couple of turtles in a basin. 19.6.2008. Thursday - Boomless trial Maestral again, quite nice. Practiced tacking and gybing. Tried out spinnaker set up. Of course, on first hoisting we got it the wrong way up (it was just my laziness to check while it was in the bag which corner is the tack and which one the clew). I should change the tack line to a green coloured design so that this mistake doesn't happen again. But the set up proved to work very nicely. It was very easy to lower the sail and hoist again, with very little strain on the sailcloth. The bowsprit was running smoothly, protected from the gear bags within the drain tube. After a little swimming break we went to test the 'heavy weather main', but this time without the boom (we left it on the pontoon). This was something different from what we became used to. Spinnaker sheet was used which was not perfect, but sailing was very relaxed. I was able to remain standing most of the time. In light of our 'jugo' experience and this trial, we started to debate how this boomless small main might actually be an excellent choice for family daysailing with kids, rather than kept under foredeck for heavy weather occasions... 20.6.2008. Friday - From Telašćica to Opat We set off from Kršovica at 11.30, which turned out to be too early. Drifted and sweated through Telašćica bay until 13 o'clock when finally 'maestral' woke up and started to blow properly. We had the asymmetric and main hoisted, at first making around 3kt, then speeding up to around 5kt. At 14h we were averaging around 6kt. It was very nice sailing, but the wind kept increasing, and the narrow passage between Šilo Velo and Smokvenjak brought up again my nervousness. A yacht motorsailing blindly into our course within the narrow passage wasn't of much help either, so we lowered the spinnaker avoiding a possible collision and continued under main and genoa. As we were running downwind, after some time decided to relax the situation by switching again to jib only sailing. Before lowering the main completely, I wanted to check something with my reefing procedure. Everything was OK, but I was again angry for two reasons. The first was that I am always worried during reefing that the boom might slip off the goosneck, and the second reason was the reefing cringle's determination to fall off the hook if I don't tension the halyard quickly enough. As we continued relaxed under jib alone, I had a moment of heavenly illumination: there is a small unused block within the boom end around which I can pass a short line and secure the boom to the mast, and as soon as possible I will replace that hook with a twisted shackle or something which will make the sail's cringle securely attached... Inspite of my apprehension, Neno was eager to try rounding into Opat and sailing to the mooring wall under jib alone. He would have actually succeeded if we didn't have a moment of hesitation, caused by two large motorboats (one about 50ft, the other 70ft) which decided to park themselves there at the same time as we were sailing in. Once we lost speed, it was mission impossible. So, we made a series of maneuvers to get out of their way, quickly hoisted the main, came in again tacking like two seasoned sailors making a perfect approach, furled the jib on time, eased the main, slowed down, Neno got prepared on the bow with the mooring line, just one more little speed up with the main sail on my behalf...and then BANG, hit the stone wall with the bowsprit. Neno had exactly this on mind when he installed a wire that suspends the bowsprit's tube rear end. He had led it through a couple of holes in the tube more than necessary so that the bowsprit would hit the wire in a case like this, before being pushed further back towards the mast or the tabernacle. The wire was deformed, but there was no other damage. It seems that I will have to carry a length of spare wire on my next trips... 21.6.2008. Saturday - The Asymmetric Day After an easy morning, which included an uneasy price for two cups of coffee at the bar and a walk to the top of the Opat hill, we set off under genoa only at 13h. The water was smooth and the 'maestral' ideal for full main and genoa, but the idea was to check how well we can sail to windward without main. According to GPS, our average speed was 3kt and we realized (over ground) an angle of 130 deg between our port and starboard leg, which means that our heading was probably around 60 deg off the wind. After clearing Smokvica we hoisted the asymmetric and furled the genoa. For four hours it was a very relaxed sailing towards Prvić island. Once we turned into the channel between Prvić and Tijat, we were surprised by a significant increase in wind strength. The boat sailed at around 6.5 kt. We kept on with asymmetric only, suspecting that it is just a local effect of the channel, which proved to be correct. Within the channel we were used as an excuse for a protest by one of the two yachts involved in some kind of a match race. I don't know much about racing rules but if that boat wasn't loosing anyway (both boats were close hauled, but this one on a less tight course), I doubt they would have steered towards us and blasted their horn... Anyway it was a nice sight to see two boats sailing closely to each other. To end the day in the same style as it started, we sailed into the 'mandrać' under genoa only. 22.6.2008. Sunday - Practices The morning was calm, as it usually is during stable weather in summer. So I walked across the hill to the Zlarin village, and bought a colorfull volleyball. In the early afternoon we used it for 'man overboard' practices. When we got tired of this, we wanted to round a small islet called Lupac. The wind was dying out, and the current between Lupac and Prvić made it slow, but after a lot of sweating we succeeded. On the return to our 'mandrać', the asymmetric saved us from rowing for the last mile. 23.6.2008. Monday - Return to land We wanted to set off early in order to avoid rowing in the hot sun. It was our last experiment on this trip - determining a reasonable average speed on a rowing leg longer than just several hundred meters. During winter I had made another little improvement to my rowing setup which consists of Carlisle three part rafting oars and a modified rowlocks. The latest improvement was installing 'counter-weights' on each oar to balance them better. Now, each oar is about 6kg heavy, making the pair almost as heavy as a small outboard engine. It may seem ridiculous to some, but as long as possible I will try to keep outboards away from my boat. The average speed on this little over 1 Nm long leg was 2.2 kt, rowing without significant strain. Disassembling of the boat and packing, took some time but it seems to become easier with every cruise. Our spirits were high as we hadn't expected such an intense trip, with so many varieties in conditions and so full of different experiences. Gladly, our impression of the whole trip was totally opposite of our start nine days ago. Mato Ilijić, VII.2008. |