Seven

Seven
girls, seven days, one boat and the entire coast of

Montenegro to explore. We set
sail from pretty Herceg Novi, 70 cent gelato dripping down our
wrists – all the more satisfying because of the price. Passing the
bay of Boka Kotorska – a shimmering turquoise abyss – we don’t wait
long for our first swim stop.

Docking by an abandoned WWII submarine cave, creepy and
exhilarating in equal measure, the bravest of us drop from the
mouth of the entrance, like human torpedos that squeal on
resurface. Mission complete. On and on, over and over, we repeat
this dance. At every secret cave we pass, we dare each other to

swim deeper, further, to the coldest, limb-chilling spots.

On land, Montenegro’s medieval fortresses, stone-walled castles
and crumbling facades whisper of the Venetian,

Spanish, Turkish,
Austrian
and Hungarian
conquering sailors that came way before us to discover rocky
mountains that drop suddenly into deep blue Adriatic.

We sweat it out, battling 1,600 weather-eroded steps for sunset
at Kotor’s Castle of San Giovanni, the taste of salt on our lips
and a need to just get to the top. Warm champagne and the sun – now
a searing orange circle – is our reward.

Night descends and the old town twinkles in competition with the
stars above us. Legs dangling high above the ink-coloured bay, we
pick out our yacht in the marina. Our home for seven days. Stuffy,
littered with bikinis, lotions and dresses (none of which make it
further than the floor) and oh so joyous.

Learning to tack, tie rope and moor, we respect our vessel. Too
long is spent on the sun-soaked bow. Our skin tans as deep as our
conversations. Our chatter could go on forever, were it not for the
call of the land.

@ellalouisesullivan | @anastasia_miari