Tag Archives: problems

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?

Developing patience in Montenegro

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After sailing 183 miles non stop over 24 hours the last thing you want is to get stuck in customs.

We pulled alongside the customs jetty at the little port of Budva in Montenegro, just after lunchtime. We were all a little weary and ready to find a peaceful anchorage, before catching up on sleep. But nothing is simple when crossing borders it seems and this time, not because of Brexit!

Our skipper had carefully lowered the Greek flag and raised the Montenegrin one, along with the yellow flag, that tells them we are asking a question.. “May we enter Montenegro please?”

We thought the paper work might take a little while and the skipper disappeared with our passports and a serious folder of documents… this was the beginning of a very long wait. An hour later there was a problem – we hadn’t had our passports stamped out in Greece… and Montenegro is not in the EU!

The friendly harbour master and customs police were trying to help, but the policeman was agitated that we were waiting a long time on his quay – something about ‘Big Brother’ watching him and boats not being allowed to stay too long. The next issue was that a machine wasn’t working in the customs office so the skipper must walk half a mile to the Post Office to pay and printed off the sailing vignette (permit). Two of us used this as an opportunity to nip into the old walled town and find a local SIM card to get us connected.

Montenegro was a country none of us had visited before and I was intrigued to know more of its history. The little port was busy with colourful water taxis arriving from the beaches with visitors wanting to see the ancient walled town, which was a maze of cool narrow cobbled streets.

When we got back to the boat there was still no sign of the skipper but eventually he returned… but wait for it… someone at the Post Office had filled in one of numbers wrong – the vital paperwork was invalid. He must head back to the Post Office and rejoin the growing queue again! This time he was so long we were getting hungry. We feared he’d been kidnapped or just got disillusioned and gone to find a whisky! Just before we sent for a search party, he appeared.

The sun had set and dusk was approaching by the time we were eventually given permission to leave and could officially find an anchorage. After one aborted attempt, it was dark by the time we dropped anchor between a rocky outcrop and the beach. We fell asleep with twinkling lights from the shore framed by the cabin windows.

Could anything else possibly go wrong?

We were wowed by Montenegro’s famous Bay of Kotor a fjord-like sight in the middle of the Mediterranean. As we sailed up towards the ancient town of Kotor, we spotted what looked like a mini wall of China zigzagging up the mountain side above the port and offering 365 degree protection from attackers. It felt like something from a fantasy film. We enjoyed a few hours meandering through this historic town with its Venetian and Turkish roots offering a new delight at every corner. Its smooth cobbles, tiny passageways and shuttered windows with ironwork balconies, hung with washing, made us feel we had almost arrived in Italy.

The next day we left Kotor to the hundreds of cruise liner guests who arrived in front of us first thing in the morning. The two huge ships almost dwarfed by the surrounding mountains.

As we headed along the bay an issue with our rudders needed sorting, so we hovered as we tried to fix it. But in the process, suddenly we lost our steering altogether…In addition to knots and winds and tides and sails, sailing seems to require a good knowledge of engineering and electronics, which are both a mystery to me!

As the boat bobbed in the middle of the bay, I wondered how we’d stay off the rocks we were slowly drifting towards if we couldn’t fix the problem. I was informed by a reliable source, that with two engines we’d still be able to steer because “it’s just like a tank.” For anyone whose driven one of those…

With some calm and logical thinking, a bit of trial and error, the hydraulics steering problem was eventually solved and we could steer the boat again. I felt very relieved as we motored out of the entrance and turned right towards Croatia…hopefully that was the end of dramas, for today at least!

Not exactly what we’d planned

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How do you deal with disappointments? I’ve been asking myself that question over the past few days. Sometimes things just don’t work out how we’d planned or hoped and it can be a hard pill to swallow…

I’d been looking forward to this Christmas for some months. The whole family was excited to be coming together to celebrate this special time in our own home, where we had just moved to a couple of months earlier. It had felt a long time coming, after Christmas family gatherings ruined by Covid and subsequently re arranging the following year. I was so happy to be welcoming our growing family of children, partners and grandchildren It would be the first time for these little ones to have Christmas at our house and their 95-year-old great grandmother was also joining us.

A few days before the arrivals were due, we’d bought the tree, decorated the house and hosted a pre-Christmas meal for some new local friends. We were in the seasonal mood and looking forward to the week ahead.

The first sign of trouble came in the form of a simple text from our neighbours asking if we had water, as they had lost theirs. Within 24 hours we had no running water and a stack of water bottles had been delivered by South West Water. That day as I stood in the kitchen attempting to wash my hands and clean the sink with a bottle of water, I began to wonder how this was going to work … Christmas dinner for nine adults and three children…was it even possible with no running water?

After lots of phone calls and the failure of the water company to fix all the leaks and reconnect us to the mains, a mini tank of water was eventually delivered to our drive – toilets could now be flushed and showers used sparingly. Christmas wasn’t cancelled, although it wasn’t going to be quite as relaxed as we’d hoped.

As the family arrived in stages and Christmas Eve approached the next seasonal “missile” hit us, when one of the family went down with a bug, followed by another and another… From Christmas Eve to beyond Boxing Day, there was always someone absent, struck down and not eating, while others were in recovery!

However, Christmas 2022 did happen in our house. Santa paid a visit and stockings were opened amid sighs and squeals of delight. Everyone was together, most of the time. We served up delicious meals, for some. At least one or two games were played and a few Christmas films watched beside the fire.

As the first branch of the family attempted to depart, they discovered their car steering had given up. And so the final straw this Christmas came in the form of a breakdown relay truck that transported our son, daughter-in-law and their 15 month old son back to London. Thankfully the youngest member was thrilled about a ride in a truck, even if his parents were less sure!

We all know things don’t always work out how we’d hoped and the danger of looking forward to something so much, is that we can be left feeling disappointed when things don’t live up to our expectations. So, do we look for someone to blame? Do we try to find a positive and be thankful for what we have in comparison to so many others? Maybe easier said than done!

One of the family muttered the essence of this verse during the unfolding daily dramas.. “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope..”

As I swallow down my disappointment and the visible sadness of the rest of the family, I’m trying to remain hopeful for happier family gatherings in the future, because I’ve certainly been enduring something!

On the positive side, there were no arguments or fall outs – we were too busy fighting sickness and refilling water tanks!

Incognito angel to the rescue

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It was the kind of anchor drama I’d been dreading. The man in a snorkel mask treading water by our boat said the words neither of us wanted to hear, “It’s stuck hard, I can’t move it. You’ll need to get professional divers.” A neighbouring skipper had volunteered to dive down and see if he could free our anchor, now stuck six metres down wedged under, what looked like some kind of metal frame.

Less than an hour earlier we’d arrived at the distant marine reserve island after a six hour passage in pretty heavy seas and gusty winds. We were already tired. The waves had mounted steadily during the course of the passage. At their height we were being pushed, tipped and rolled around, with four metre waves breaking onto the boat. We were both completely soaked after an hour or so and I wished I hadn’t bothered with shorts and T-shirt and stayed in a bikini. After we’d put in another reef, we settled into the lurching and rolling motion. I was glad the trip across wasn’t any longer, because although we were making great progress at 7.5 knots, six hours in a rolling sea felt quite a while!

After we’d dropped anchor at the island in a quiet bay, there was yet another semi daunting task to be completed. Due to the location and wind direction we needed to take lines ashore to tie us to the rocks. I was dreading this, as on previous Mediterranean holidays it’s been a task for “the boys” – this time it was down to me to paddle board over with lots of rope, negotiate the spiky rocks and sea urchins, and worst of all tie bowlines to make everything secure. (I’m only good at these 70 per cent of the time!)

Sometime later, after swearing, “I’m never doing this again”, “I hate doing this” and “I can’t do this”, and then the inevitable sea urchin encounter on my left hand… I swam back to what I thought was a secure boat, at last. But a final check of the anchor had almost been the final straw, when we saw, instead of wedged in the sand, it was jammed under some iron debris on the seabed.

Tension was rising. We were in a nature reserve at the north end of the Sporades islands, it was beautifully quiet and remote with no phone signal whatsoever. So, how would we call for divers? And what would it cost to free our anchor? The skipper took the paddle board ashore and climbed a nearby hill in search of phone signal. There were plenty of bleating goats, but still no signal. His face was grim when he returned to the boat. There were various options to consider, none of which we wanted to do, involving leaving the anchor and returning with divers, deploying a kedge anchor and trying to free it ourselves somehow… a few prayers were said.

The answer came quite quickly in the end in the form of a “Greek angel” called Nasos.

Nasos, a skipper on another yacht in the bay, was woken up from an afternoon rest by his crew, who’d been alerted to our dilemma and plea for help. It wasn’t long before he was alongside in his dinghy, snorkel and flippers to the ready.

“Where have you come from?” He asked.

“England,” we said!

“No, today I mean!”

We explained we’d sailed from Halkidiki and he was surprised, as he’d also sailed across from the same port an hour earlier. He said we must be tired, as it has been quite a tiring crossing.

“I will try and help you,” he said. “ Are you with a flotilla?”

“No,” we answered. “We’re on our own, that’s the problem.”

“Don’t worry,” said Nasos.“ You are not alone anymore, Nasos is here. We will solve it together!”

What a lovely thing to hear!

A few minutes later after carefully examining the anchor position through his mask he dived down. Very soon after he reappeared and said the magic words, “It’s free!” He explained the anchor had dragged and been caught in what was actually an old bed frame on the seabed and he had been able to yank it free.

We were so relieved and grateful, but as we’d only just met him and we were all wearing very little, we couldn’t hug and kiss him, instead we gave him a bottle of gin! Nasos, the incognito angel, even helped us re-anchor and re do our lines without too much stress. What a difference it makes when you have a “friend” to tackle a problem together.

After a restful and peaceful night on anchor we went to thank Nasos again and enjoyed real Greek coffee and sweet treats on his boat with his crew. We laughed about being caught by a bed and wondered how it had ever come to be on the bottom of the sea in such a remote place.

I’m not sure what to rename this little bay. It could be ‘Bedframe Bay’ but perhaps ‘Angel Bay’ would be more appropriate? We hope to catch up with Nasos again before he heads back north, if only to find out what other “angel missions” he’s been called to 😉.