Tag Archives: engine trouble

Back to the volcano

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I’m in my favourite place again on the sunny side of the boat. The seas are calmer today and beside the gentle slosh of the waves against the sides, there is a gentle throb from the engine, giving the sails a little help to get us round the headland. We’re on our way back to the volcano.

Last year we had a good helping of boat troubles that delayed and slightly derailed our trip at times. This year we set sail with just one issue – the water maker was broken and in need of a part. Thankfully the new part was on its way to a port in Sicily where we hoped to intercept it. Meanwhile, we had to be careful with our water consumption, it wasn’t a game changer. However, with a boat I’ve come to realise that problems seem to come in pairs!

Mount Etna has been in our sights for a few days and it is the first time I’ve sailed beneath a live volcano. We spotted smoke the other night, but no fire thankfully! Our route to collect the water maker part was taking us ever close to Etna and we soon found ourselves anchored below the hill town of Taormina, with the craters of Etna visible through the clouds. Thankfully distant rumbles turned out to be music from the shore, rather than the volcano stirring to life!

As it was a melting hot day, we’d delayed our shopping sortie in the dinghy (tender) till early evening. In any case the Sicilians close up between 3-6pm for siesta. The dinghy’s outboard was being a little tricky, but eventually it was started, however half way to shore it died. And no amount of coxing would persuade it to start. We tried paddling, but a passing speed boat took pity on us and 10 minutes later we were back on board. Supplies must wait!

So, now we had two broken items. The next day after more failed attempts to get the motor into action, which included filtering fuel, removing parts and other “helpful ideas” gleaned from YouTube, we gave up and headed for the marina along the coast where we would pick up our water maker spare parts and hopefully some helpful outboard fixers.

It turned out there’s nothing simple about collecting spares or fixing an outboard, especially when trying to communicate in Italian. Leaving our shipmates to talk through outboard issues with a couple of Italian geezers in their workshop, we strolled through the deserted parts of the town in search of the delivery address for the spare part. Google maps took us to a pair of steel gates with no door bell. We peered through the slats at a deserted boatyard… could google be wrong? There were no signs of an office or anyone moving about. It’s a strange life we now live, resorting to messaging on our phones, rather than calling someone… it seems WhatsApp is easier to translate! Just when we were about to give up, Lo and behold the gates jolted apart and began to creak open. Down the deserted track was a lady waving and speaking Italian! A tired Labrador-cross ambled over and from what I could understand we were being assured he was friendly! Walking back with our box of spares a few minutes later we decided to celebrate with an ice cream, hoping the rear party had faired well too! One problem was half way to being solved… as long as this was the right part!

There were glum looks when we jumped back on board Pura Vida. The engine had gone and so had the dinghy.

“They took it away, I think it’s going to be very expensive,” said the skipper. I looked up at the volcano towering above the town, it seemed to be casting a shadow on our voyage. It had certainly made its presence felt on the dusty streets of Reposto, where grey ash gathered in the corners of the pavements and huge lava boulders lined the beachfront. What can it be like living below a volcano?

That night we wandered Reposto’s scruffy streets and then ate freshly baked pizza on a pebbly beach. We watched a fishing boat arrive back as the sun set and the sky began to turn pink. It’s owner pushed the boat out into the water letting it glide back to join a line of other boats tethered by long ropes onto the shore. This place felt a little sad and forgotten and that night we caught the mood.

Three days later we were further down the coast in Syracuse, when we had the joyous news that the engine had been fixed and we also realised the water maker seemed to be working, so the sweaty work to fit the new pipe had paid off!

All was almost right with the world. However, we wouldn’t be able to collect the engine till after the weekend, so we still needed to row to shore to visit ancient Syracuse.

This proved to be quite amusing as we were the only small boat paddling across the expanse of bay without an engine. Did we look like we were arriving from a far country seeking refuge? Would the customs lookouts speed out to check our credentials? Evidently not, we spent a peaceful day ashore exploring Syracuse’s hidden gems and tasting Sicilian delights until the sun set and it was time for the long paddle back.

Today we are heading back to the dusty streets of “volcano town” where we hope to be reunited with a working outboard engine. From there we will continue our journey towards the renowned straits of Messina, where Sicily meets Italy. I’m hoping our boat problems will be left behind, along with the smoke from Mount Etna.

Update: This morning Etna woke up for real! It may be time to get going?

A night to remember

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“Watch out!” Came the call from the skipper, but it was too late. Seconds later a wave launched over my head and I was completely soaked..

Our night out in Dubrovnik hadn’t gone completely to plan. The idea was to enjoy a balmy evening at a cafe soaking up the atmosphere of the beautiful walled city. We’d dropped anchor in the bay outside and as we lowered the tender into the water the clouds were gathering – there was a possibility of a shower, we thought. As the dinghy set off there was an odd sound from the outboard engine and a few minutes later it stuttered and stopped. The waves were picking up and the catamaran was beginning to disappear from view. I glanced down at the bottom of the boat where two oars lay side by side… it could be a long row back.

There were sighs of relief as the skipper found the fuel connection issue a few minutes later, and we continued our evening expedition into the little harbour.

Dubrovnik has changed a bit since I was last there, 15 plus years ago. The cafes and restaurants had smartened up and everything looked shiny and more sleek than I recalled. But in essence the city is still stunning with its pale smooth cobbled streets and narrow passageways lined with cafes and lights leading up to the walls. If you’re a ‘Game of Thrones’ fan it also feels rather like a film set!

Soaking up Saturday night fun in the busy streets we eventually stopped for a drink at a cafe with a jazz band. The senior saxophonist also provided the vocals – picking out his audience with his laughing eyes and making us clap and smile as he swayed to the music in his jaunty Panama hat.

We’d hardly finished our drinks when the rain began and the band brought their set to an abrupt finish. As it was only a short lived shower we wandered through the back streets weaving our way slowly back to the port, not realising it was almost midnight.

In the harbour we suddenly saw how much the wind had picked up, with white horses rushing in from the bay. Having four of us in the tender turned out to be a good thing as the boat sat a bit lower and we were grateful for our 25 horse power engine, which I was hoping wouldn’t misbehave.

Outside in the bay the waves began to slam against the front of the boat and we all stared hard trying to spot the welcoming light from the top of the yacht’s mast. It was nowhere to be seen – just the ominous black shape of the island it was anchored beside.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea heading into town so late!

The boat was being buffeted by the waves, and occasionally one hit us at the wrong angle and we rocked perilously. It was an inky black night and my fingers gripped tightly round the edge of the dinghy where I was balanced. I was really hoping the boat’s anchor had held and the yacht was still where we’d left her. There was a hush onboard as we were probably all thinking the same thing.

Suddenly we spotted a lone anchor light in the distance and moments later we were drenched by a particularly large wave that broke across us. At least the water was warm – we were laughing, but we were all aware that many more waves like that could capsize the dinghy and at night that would be serious.

As we eased in line with the back of the yacht, we gained a little protection. But with the boat tipping and rolling in the waves, securing the tender and stepping off was not going to be easy – we weren’t quite home and dry yet!

But steady hands and strong arms ensured we did all make it back on board in one piece, although we were completely drenched!

It had been a night to remember and one of the most “white knuckle tender rides” I’ve ever had.