In search of family, I found the light that still waits at the edge of Europe.
The Call from the Southern Cross
Three generations removed from Croatian soil, I board Qatar Airways QR908 from Sydney to Doha, then connect to Zagreb. My baka’s stories echo in the cabin hum: “Naša obitelj je s mora” – our family is from the sea. She spoke of an island lighthouse where her grandfather once worked, before the wars scattered our bloodline across oceans.
The immigration officer in Zagreb stamps my Australian passport, but I feel something deeper stirring – a pull toward waters my DNA remembers but my eyes have never seen.
Following the Adriatic Thread
Zagreb to Split on Croatia Airlines, then the real pilgrimage begins. At Split’s harbor, I board the Jadrolinija ferry to Korčula, watching Croatia’s coastline unfold like pages from baka’s photo album. These limestone cliffs, these red-tiled villages – they’re branded in my cellular memory.
In Korčula town, I found the charter boat company that services Palagruža. Captain Marko looks at my booking confirmation and shakes his head. “Palagruža? You know it is very far, very isolated?”
I showed him the faded photograph baka gave me – a young man in lighthouse keeper’s uniform, standing beside white stone walls. “My great-great-grandfather, Stjepan. 1920s.”
Marko’s weathered face softens. “Ah, tražiš svoje korijene.” You’re searching for your roots.
The Journey to Europe’s Edge
The boat ride to Palagruža takes three hours through increasingly wild Adriatic waters. As Croatian islands fade behind us, I understand why this place shaped my family’s soul – it exists at the edge of everything, where courage meets horizon.
When the lighthouse finally appears, rising 90 meters above churning seas, my breath catches. This white tower has guided Croatian fishermen for 150 years. My ancestor tended this same light, counted these same stars, felt this same wind that now carries salt tears down my cheeks.
Living with the Keeper
The current lighthouse keeper, helps carry my bags up the stone path. Inside the lighthouse building, two tourist apartments share space with his quarters. He’s maintained this light for fifteen years, continuing an unbroken chain of Croatian guardianship.
“Your pradjeda worked here?” he asks, studying baka’s photograph. “Possible. Many families from Vis, from Korčula worked at the lighthouses.”
My apartment is simple: bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room with windows facing endless blue. But as sunset approaches, Ante invites me to climb the lighthouse tower – sixty-three stone steps worn smooth by generations of Croatian hands, possibly including Stjepan’s.
When Heritage Speaks
At the top, the Fresnel lens catches fire in dying light. Ante explains the lighthouse’s rhythm – how it sweeps the darkness, how fishing boats navigate by its pulse, how Croatian families have trusted this beacon for generations.
“Every night, the same light. Every night, someone is watching over our people at sea.”
I touch the lighthouse walls – limestone from Brač Island, the same stone that built Diocletian’s Palace, the same stone forming Dubrovnik’s walls. This tower connects me to a thousand years of Croatian mastery over stone and sea.
In the gathering darkness, I finally understood baka’s stories. This isn’t just family history – it’s the essence of what makes someone Croatian. We are people who build lights in impossible places, who guide others home across treacherous waters, who maintain hope at the edge of the world.
Three Days at the Edge
Each morning, I walk the island’s two trails – to Stara Vlaka beach on the north, to Veli Žal on the south. The island measures just 1,400 meters long, but within this small space lies an entire universe of Croatian spirit.
I find Roman pottery shards on the beaches, evidence that for millennia, people have used this island as refuge, as waypoint, as home. The waters around Palagruža once saw 500 fishing boats during sardine season – Croatian fishermen from Vis and Komiža following traditions passed down through blood and brine.
Ante shares stories over morning coffee. How storms last three days but the light never fails. How dolphins play in the beacon’s reflection. How the island strips away everything unnecessary, leaving only what matters most – family, duty, the endless conversation between human will and Adriatic wilderness.
The Return Home
On my final morning, Ante hands me a small piece of Palagruža stone. “For your baka. Tell her the light still burns.”
As Captain Marko’s boat carries me back toward Korčula, I realize I’m not the same Australian who left Sydney five days ago. Croatia has reclaimed something in me – not just ancestry, but purpose. My great-great-grandfather Stjepan tended light so others could find their way home. Now I understand that every Croatian, wherever we are in the world, carries that same responsibility.
The lighthouse disappears behind morning mist, but its pulse remains in my blood.
Practical Magic: Planning Your Own Roots Journey
Getting There:
- Qatar Airways: Sydney-Doha-Zagreb (QR908/QR215) – approximately 20 hours total
- Croatia Airlines: Zagreb-Split domestic connection
- Jadrolinija Ferry: Split-Korčula (4.5 hours) – https://www.jadrolinija.hr/en
Lighthouse Accommodation:
- Charter from Korčula: 700€ per apartment for boat transfer
- Two apartments available: 4-bed units with kitchen, bathroom, living room
- Minimum stay: 3 nights
- Season: May-September only
- Booking: Contact lighthouse accommodation providers in Korčula town
What to Bring:
- Family photographs and documents
- Croatian phrasebook (lighthouse keeper speaks Croatian)
- Sturdy walking shoes for island trails
- Weather protection (winds can be fierce)
- Patience for the profound
Cost Reality: Budget 2,000-3,000€ total including flights, accommodation, charter boat, and meals. This isn’t budget travel – it’s pilgrimage.
The Croatian Truth
Standing at Croatia’s furthest edge, I learned that heritage isn’t about DNA percentages or passport stamps. It’s about understanding that somewhere in your bloodline, someone chose to tend a light so others could find their way home.
Whether your Croatian story begins in the mountains of Lika, the vineyards of Slavonia, or the islands of Dalmatia, it ultimately leads to the same truth: we are people who guide others through darkness, who build beauty from stone, who never abandon our post.
Palagruža taught me that being Croatian isn’t where you’re born – it’s where your light shines brightest.
Ready to trace your own roots? Explore more heritage experiences at Geni