For the past decade, I’ve been talking about going to Vis Island to witness the St. Nicholas feast in Komiža village, but always something else turned out in front, so a few days ago, I called some friends that live there and made a decision to go just a couple of hours before the last ferry to Vis departed, so I picked up everything in haste and hopped on my bike to embark it.
As the ship made its steady progress across the dark sea, I was preparing my gear and contemplating on many things about Vis in my mind – like when I learned how to swim there in the 70s, one of my favourite childhood series called Mikula Mali, or the island’s impressive natural and cultural heritage. Historical references suggest it was once governed by an Illyrian, apparently a Liburnian dynast [It comes from the Greek word “dynastēs” (δυνάστης), which means “ruler” or “lord”] known as Ionius—a name that some believe may even have lent itself to the Ionian Sea. If this connection holds true, it is indeed a fascinating trace of ancient influence woven into the broader maritime narrative.
Known as Issa from the times Dorian Greek colonists from Syracuse inhabited it, their legacy took shape through structured urbanization, the establishment of a coin mint and trade relations with the local indigenous population. From that moment on, the island was not merely a remote outpost but a centre of the so-called Iseian state; so Vis became a Polis – a city-state, a place of organized civic life and economic exchange, setting the foundations for the cultural and economic threads over the Eastern Adriatic that would intertwine through subsequent epochs.

Martvilo locality – Greek necropolis
Later, as the Romans stepped onto its shores, they added baths, a theatre, and other hallmarks of a cosmopolitan lifestyle, evidenced by remains still visible today. In the centuries that followed, the strategic importance of Vis drew the attention of various powers—Austrians, French, and British among them—though it was the Austrians who left the most lasting architectural mark.

Franciscan Monastery in Vis – built on the Roman theatre, visible from this drone footage

Stončica lighthouse – built by the Austrian authorities in the 19th century

Breakwater in Komiža – built in the earlier 20th century, also by Austrian authorities
My purpose in arriving, however, was not historical curiosity. As we do regular historical tours here, thanks to the historians and archaeologists we work with, I am privileged to know more about it than an average resident of the island. The purpose was to come to my favourite place – Komiža, a coastal fisherman’s village on the western side of the island, and be a part of annual celebration feast of St. Nicholas, patron of the village.

St Nicholas – Patron of sailors, travelers and children – so naturally imbedded into the gene structure of this village – a fully blooded sailor village
Above the village stands an eponymus Benedictine monastery, known locally as the Muster, whose origins trace the movement of the Benedictine order across Southern Italy, through the Gargano area, and over to Biševo and Vis before reaching the mainland.

Muster Monastery – Monastery with the village beneath
This order, among the oldest in Europe, played a crucial role in preserving knowledge, literature, and spiritual thought that shaped European and, indirectly, world civilization. By the Early Medieval period, their influence had taken firm root, leaving a mark on local life that still resonates centuries later. Since I admire Benedictine achievement very much, I promise I will write a separate article about them and their endeavours. I just hope not another decade passes till I do that.
On the feast day, the monastery’s quiet stone hallways and the soft candlelight of the church brought together villagers, visitors, and the subtle presence of history. Inside, Ivan, the local organist, coaxed gentle notes from an instrument that seemed to breathe with the rhythms of this old community.

In the 16th century, the single-nave church was expanded with a Gothic nave to the north, followed by a central Baroque nave in the 17th century, and two additional naves to the south, creating the unique five-nave design that makes it the most elaborate church on the island

The organ

Today electric, use to have a bellow that was pumped with feet, usually done by one of the ministrants, but that would make some funny noises at times, says Ivan, so we had to replace them

Altar of St. Nicholas – the altar of St. Nicholas stands in the nave where the old church used to be, while unique craftsmanship in wood by an unknown author testifies

The monk praying at the altar
Outside, fishermen observed a time-honoured ritual, offering disused wooden boats as their great honor. Among them, a friend that I stayed at tells me how old this tradition is (no one really knows 😉) and how they used to drag the boat from the shore a night before with bare hands and ropes, while today a truck brings it up. “Hundreds of people would gather…a lot of traders and salesman would come from the shore and other islands; it was a real feast, not this today”… he says… “there used to be hundreds of children in the village. Today…I don’t know if there are more than 50. Sad but true.”

Old man carrying wood – a local bring wood to contribute to the sacrifice

Young ministrants in Komiža proudly participate in the festive celebration of St. Nicholas, honouring the patron saint of sailors with joy and tradition

Online kids – They are present, but technology took them mentally and spiritually away, like many of us.

The boats – The bottom boat dates from the 1950s, had been shaped by a local “kalafot”—a master boatbuilder named Mijo, while another was built by a local shoemaker Andrija who had a great hand for crafting in wood too. They both were personal skiffs meant for small-scale fishing near the shore. These vessels represented not only livelihoods but the human stories behind them, stitched into the broader maritime tapestry of the Adriatic.

Bonfire start – He has been lighting this bonfire since his childhood, and symbolically – his name is Nicholas

Muster from the distance – Muster with its late-Baroque belltower and Biševo Island in the distance

Procession – the procession start, carrying the statue of the saint around Muster
Over generations, fishing has carried Komiža’s name far beyond its harbor. The Bogdanović and Mardešić families from Komiža, for instance, established one of the largest fishing companies in the United States, integrating local expertise into the global seafood industry. Whoever finds this topic interesting can read an interesting article written earlier this year by Lee Williams from the San Pedro Education Foundation on this link.

Local fisherman – most of them fish alone these days. I caught this one in his zen.

Local fishermen – the catch wasn’t bad at all, and they almost even didn’t move from the harbour
Meanwhile, Mario Puratić (widely known as Puretic in the US)—a Dalmatian inventor with maritime roots though not from Komiža itself, but from the nearby Brač Island, —revolutionized world fisheries with his mechanical power block, an invention so influential it once appeared on Canadian currency. Together, these narratives form part of a wider Croatian maritime heritage, demonstrating how the island’s quiet traditions and crafts radiate outward, leaving their mark on distant shores.

Canada 5 Dollar Bank Note 1972 (In 1975, Puratić was proclaimed the inventor of the year in the US and has entered the top 100 inventors list of the 20th Century)
As the religious ceremonies drew to a close, I drifted down to the waterfront, meeting with friends and discovering a small photography exhibit by Boris Kragić, a retired local photographer associated with the Palagruža society. His images, both documentary and poetic, captured Komiža’s evolving story—its fishermen, their boats, and the persistent hold of the sea. Nearby, the klapa group Gabine entertained the gathering with layered voices that soared gently above the sound of lapping water.

The fort Komuna (Commune)

The exhibit
It was the off-season, and that offered a certain freedom. During daylight hours, I explored Vis by motorcycle, turning down quiet roads and pausing before stone terraces, old olive groves, and empty coves. Without the summer crowds, I enjoyed the solitude and the chance to connect more intimately with the land and its rhythms.

Sunset with Vis in the distance – the cherry on top of the cake