Tag Archives: loss

Runaway yacht

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What would it be like to return to where you’d left your boat and realise it had disappeared? A little bit worse than losing your car in a car park, I think. One lucky set of sailors almost lost their boat the other night off the island of Capri. It turned out to be a busy night for us too…

We’ve been meandering up the Italian coast over the past week, discovering peaceful bays, anchoring beneath towering cliffs and swimming or paddling to explore the beaches, caves and coastal communities.

For two nights we anchored off Salerno, a historic town full of narrow streets with cafes and restaurants spilling out across even the narrowest alleyways. Up above were wrought iron balconies strung with colourful washing and festooned with various lights and elaborate decorations. It felt a very joyous city, pulsing with activity, especially at night.

It was from here we took a bus to the ancient ruins of Pompeii – a place of sombre memorials and silent stories. There’s something eerie about walking on the huge cobble stoned streets, where some 2000 years ago people had shopped, traded, done their washing, cooked up meals, entertained guests, drank wine and dangled their fingers in the many pools and fountains of shaded courtyards. Some of the houses were poor and simple, but others gave us a snapshot of life for the wealthy, with vivid murals and deep red or green walls with the smoothest plaster and mosaic lined floors.

The heat was intense and there was so much to see. I had found a list of top 10 sites online, but switching between a photo of the map on my phone and trying to locate the top 10 ‘must sees’ in a shady spot without the sun’s reflection proved quite a task; meanwhile avoiding falling over the uneven pavings and cobbles of each area. If only we had picked up a paper map!

Pompeii feels vast – it involves a lot of walking; through the forum, the various amphitheatres – big and mini – the villas, and just street after street with similar names and Roman numerals that all began to merge. Unlike England’s meandering villages and historic towns, the remains of this ancient city was set out in regular blocks, which reminded me of New York.

We were nearing the end of our visit and our stamina too, but there was one of the top 10 I still hadn’t spotted. The brothel had been ticked off earlier and most of the others, but not the “house of the fugitives” – well that’s what I was calling it. I really rather wanted to see it and as we weren’t planning on coming back anytime soon, it had to be done.

So, even though it was on the opposite end of the site, as the heat of the afternoon faded we set off and eventually found the place.

It is shocking to see the detailed forms of people from so long ago, some in full flight, others hunched over, another covering their eyes.

This was the human face of the destruction of Pompeii. Never mind ruined buildings, here was an actual family running for their lives, small children among them. It made me think of all the innocents caught up in war and tragedy right now. Each life is precious. It was 2000 years ago and it is now.

Capri was our next island stop and we’d heard mixed reviews about staying there from a sailing perspective. We anchored quite securely, we thought, in front of a little beach and after a trip to the beach and the town, we settled in for the evening.

The wind was strengthening and the swell increasing as we watched the arrival and departure of various boats around us. Suddenly, we noticed a yacht that had been beside us start moving backwards, but there was no one onboard and their anchor was still down. It came within an arms length of us, but we couldn’t reach it or do much as it continued to drift. We called out a warning to the next yacht it was heading towards, which it also narrowly missed. The 40 foot boat was still heading out to sea and we wondered where the owners were. Some minutes later a powerful rib boat launched out from a nearby catamaran and managed to secure the wandering yacht to their boat.

In the midst of this we had begun to drop more chain to make ourselves more secure in the increasing wind and waves. But we, along with other yachts, found we were also sliding backwards. It was getting dark by the time we were anchored again in time to see the runaway yacht reunited with its owners and re-anchored safely a few metres away. There were also ‘thank you goodies’ delivered to the rescue crew, who had saved their bacon! All’s well that ends well!

That was quite enough drama for one evening. The runaway yacht was a salutary reminder of what can happen when you leave your boat at anchor and head for the shore.

I hate seagulls

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I hate seagulls. No, I really hate them. Even more so because I’ve realised they’re just like the coronavirus. You’re walking along in the sunshine enjoying life when all of a sudden you get knocked for six and seconds later you realise you’ve been robbed!

Seagulls have mugged me twice in the last year and almost in the same spot.

The first time I was tucking into a very tasty Cornish (West Country – because it was in Devon) pasty on a bench looking out to sea. Out of the blue something hit me on the head and a large chunk of pasty was being whisked into the air. Yuk! Ouch! I tried covering the rest of it over with my hand as I munched, and then another swooped in for a bite. I retreated to a shelter to finish eating, but I’d lost my appetite and the pasty didn’t taste right after being pecked at by the flying bandits. They’d spoilt the treat entirely and I also felt a little traumatised. 

Yesterday I hadn’t given the gulls a thought, but they must have recognised me. I was enjoying a double ice cream – mint choc chip and Turkish delight – odd combination but I couldn’t decide what to have. As we walked in search of a suitable bench I was relishing my first few licks, anticipating the rest, when suddenly, whack! Something hit me on the head and when I looked down the two balls of ice cream were splattered on the pavement while a seagull pecked at them. I didn’t even know they liked ice cream. They’d struck again… all that was left was a dry empty cone with a trickle of mint ice cream smeared down one side.

Coronavirus has felt a bit like that seagull attack. Much anticipated joyful moments for our family have been thrown into disarray, and special things we were looking forward to have effectively been stolen away, knocked out of our hands. The arrival of our first grandchild was a delight, but couldn’t be celebrated or enjoyed in the way we’d hoped. Our son’s wedding has had to be postponed, with all the emotional trauma, disappointment and uncertainty that involves. And the many precious family times around both these events have also been hijacked.

It’s been hard to put into words how I’ve felt these past few months, but the seagull ambush made me realise that most of us have been robbed by the coronavirus. For me it has been the loss of precious moments with family, for many thousands it will have been far worse as they mourn the death of loved ones, for others lost jobs and for some isolation and spiralling mental health issues.

Now as we try to ease out of lockdown,  it isn’t like turning back the clock. Everything has changed, even walking into a shop is not an enjoyable experience anymore. We’re awkward, anxious to do the right thing, worried about touching and moving around in smaller spaces. We know the seagulls of coronavirus are hovering above waiting to swoop, so it’s hard to relax.

Staring at the seagull pecking at my ice cream was a reminder that it’s easy to let precious things slip through your hands. I want to hold onto the moments I have with my family and treasure times together even in the midst of this uncertainty. We can’t let the seagulls win – the virus has been sucking our joy away, replacing it with fear and anxiety. 

But we need to keep eating ice creams while taking sensible precautions. Next time I visit Dartmouth I will take my umbrella – I think that should do the trick! 

I wish there were such simple solutions for coronavirus.