Tag Archives: rain

Who believes in sea monsters?

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Of course I don’t believe in sea monsters, but paddling into a dark cave tends to feed your imagination…

After logging more than 1000 nautical miles, sailing from Greece and along the coast of Italy to Corsica, the end of our voyage is almost in sight. Today we are crossing the Straits of Bonifacio between Corsica and Sardinia, pushed along by a welcome cooling breeze.

The weather has been almost entirely hot and sunny, with the exception of Naples, where we got drenched one morning going ashore. Heavy rain and waves had swept across the little dinghy as it bounced through the rollers and we were a very soggy shopping party as we trailed round the local supermarket.

The day before we’d wandered through some of city’s piazza’s and enjoyed the evening buzz of the Spanish quarter. We ate in one of the narrow streets, jumping clear of scooters which wove their way between tables, where diners sipping drinks were forced to shift their chairs to let them through. The streets were full of colourful flags adding an extra dimension to the washing and lights suspended between balconies.

Naples was a pleasant surprise, but I didn’t need more than a night there. Since then we have hopped from one rocky island to another.

On one tiny island, called Procida, we found ourselves exploring an ancient prison on the cliffs. The village was a bit tumble down and that included the steps up from the beach where rusting reinforcement was clearly visible through the crumbling concrete. As we continued up the cliff road towards the towering castle above, it began to feel a little oppressive. We wondered why there were bars on some of the windows, and what were look out towers and barb wire doing on a castle?

A fading poster explained that the castle had once been a notorious prison with a cruel governor. And the story of one of the most unfortunate prisoners had now been made into a film – it was all about a postman who had been unjustly incarcerated there for years. It was a sorry tale and the little town didn’t seem to have ever fully recovered from the shadow of the prison that dominates the cliffs above.

Next stop were the Pontine islands – in particular Ponza island, where we basked in the clear turquoise waters surrounded by volcanic cliffs. We also came across an optical illusion – a giant stone arch, that had looked just like a massive cave from where we were anchored. The next morning as the boat swung round on its anchor we suddenly realised it was an arch as we watched people paddling through it. We read later that the strange arch was likened to a pair of builders pants!

Continuing our island tour we stopped off in yet another delightful bay lined with rocks and a sandy beach. Here there were a number of caves that looked interesting – so after snorkelling to check out a few, we took the paddle board to a more distant one. It was quite huge and I paddled in slowly, because you never know what might be hiding in a cave!

The cave was in two sections and the right hand part was very deep at the far end where the low roof disappeared into a hollow darkness.

“Paddle in there, it looks interesting,” I was encouraged.

“I don’t want to… it looks scary,” I replied.

“No it doesn’t… just paddle in..”

The debate continued. I didn’t want to go in forwards in case there was something unpleasant in there, like Gollum or a sea monster of some sort, but these didn’t seem very solid arguments.

We ended up going in backwards so that I wasn’t the one going in first. The walls were very close and damp and we had to duck our heads because the roof was so low. Just as it was becoming completely dark we both agreed there was nothing of interest and headed quickly out. If there was a sea monster, it must have been having a siesta, along with the rest of Italy!

Before leaving for the crossing to Corsica, the island of Giglio was our final stop. It was here that lives were lost when the Concordia cruise ship hit a rock and sank off the port. The negligent captain, who had been one of the first to leave his sinking ship, was sentenced to 16 years in prison. We realised that the rocks the ship had struck were at the edge of the bay where we were anchored.

This little Island was one of our favourites. After a scramble up cliff steps to the road, we enjoyed coffee at the port and took a local bus up to the ancient hill town above, where we enjoyed views across the island, while sipping cold beer. Later we swam and paddle boarded in a sandy bay until the sun went down.

Now on the final week of our time in Italy, I’m wondering what delights Sardinia will hold and how I’m ever going to get to sleep without the rocking of the boat!

Only in England

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It’s pouring with rain. I’m wearing shorts and craddling a bottle of prosecco as if my life depended on it. Up ahead steam is curling into a grey sky and weaving its way through the thick branches lining the track. A sharp whistle and sure enough the train is in sight… where am I?

Only in England can you expect to shelter at a level crossing with a backpacker and discuss “summer holidays in the UK”. A few hours earlier we’d been watching a family of dolphins playing around our boat in glorious sunshine. Now we were absolutely soaked on terra firma waiting for a steam train in the rain!

England is full of surprises and for the past week, the south coast of Devon has been delivering a kaleidoscope of holiday experiences, that could only happen in the UK.

We’ve been under sail for a week on what I like to call The Diva. She is new to us this summer and has already delivered some fun days shared with friends and family. We’ve been thinking about buying a boat for some time, years in fact, now we actually own one – well a bit of one – 18 per cent to be exact! But when we get to sail her, she’s all ours – all 35 feet of her!

Our kaleidoscope week started with a few hours sail from Dartmouth to Salcombe. After hurriedly stowing the food and kit, we managed to catch the tide and get on our way. Salcombe welcomed us with sunshine and the next day there was a chance to stroll on the beach, swim in the icy clear water and even walk a bit of the stunning South Coast path.

We decided to stay for the Salcombe Regatta fireworks on Thursday night, only to find they’d been postponed due to the weather. We’d woken to mist and rain and a day of bouncing in waves that were being whipped up even in the relative shelter of the estuary. The mist hung around the next morning, making warnings of a heatwave across the UK very hard to believe. We could barely see the boat a few metres away on a neighbouring buoy.

The next night we hoped the splendid fireworks would signal a change in the weather. And it did, gradually. The sun eventually broke through on Monday and we enjoyed some exhilarating sailing with friends and a lunch of Salcombe pasties in one of Devon’s rocky bays. That morning we’d woken up to watch a seal eating his breakfast beside the boat, munching on a huge fish held between his flippers!

Fast forward 24 hours and we were back in Dartmouth. We’d sailed in alongside a family of dolphins after an early morning sail.

We managed to find a quiet place up the river Dart to enjoy lunch with a hint of sunshine. But back at the marina the sky was turning grey and we decided to try out our legs on a walk along the river Dart towards Kingswear. The idea was to see if we could find something to toast the end of our trip. The clouds looked threatening as we headed along the narrow path beside the railway track.

After capturing some steam train footage and soaking up the smell of coal and oil and engines on the platform, we managed to find a decent looking bottle of Prosecco in a corner shop. 

The rain had now started in earnest with no let-up in sight, and I wondered if it would be more pleasant to catch a ferry back to the boat, but it seemed we “needed” the exercise, even if it meant getting drenched. So, I found myself standing in the rain, while a huge green train puffed towards me. I wondered whether to put down the bottle and take a photo or just smile and wave at the driver.

If you’re looking to experience four seasons in one day, Dartmouth is the place to go! It also offers rides on steam trains, ferries and even paddle steamers. And of course there are plenty of boats of all shapes, sizes and ages everywhere you look.

Miraculously the Prosecco made it back in one piece and was enjoyed later that night. Thank you Dartmouth and South Devon for a ‘pick ‘n’ mix’ week of weather, but no shortage of excitement and variety. 

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.

Homeward bound

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My straw hat is squashed in the overhead locker and I’ve wrapped a scarf around my bare legs to keep warm – we’re definitely going home!

After almost two months living in the “med” we will soon be landing back in England, where I may be in need of that jacket I decided not to pack.

Our time onboard yacht Riou came to a close with a rather dramatic storm in the end. On our penultimate night afloat, we watched a red sun sink behind distant blue islands, while we spent a peaceful night as the only boat anchored off one of our favourite uninhabited islands. But it wasn’t long before the rest of Greece woke up and joined us. A morning walk on the deserted beach had been too good to last. By lunchtime we were surrounded by dozens of boats which had anchored around us and flooded the untouched sand and crystal waters with day trippers.

As we headed into port for our final night, we were pleased to find a space on the jetty as the clouds began to gather. Later that night we listened to the wind howling round the rigging and heard the rain pelting against the hatches. It wasn’t long before I felt water dripping on my feet and we discovered a leak above us. We didn’t sleep so well that night, what with balancing bowls to catch the drips, securing extra lines in the dark and pouring rain “just in case”. This was the skipper’s job of course, while I watched from below and called out halfhearted offers of ‘do you need me to help?’ as gangplanks clattered and ropes squeaked on deck. There was lightening and thunder too – it turned out to be a loud and wet farewell to the Sporades. Although we were sad to leave, dragging our luggage through the rain made it a little easier to say goodbye as we headed to the airport.

We’ve now had time to rest and reflect during a week in Cyprus, revisiting favourite spots and renewing friendships, thanks to the hospitality of my sister and brother-in-law. It’s felt odd not checking the wind and forecast each day and swimming out from the beach, we’ve found ourselves looking for “our” boat.

“We’ve become land lubbers!” We said to each other as we strolled by the coast and stared out at white capped waves in the distance.

I’m not sure we like it…

Our return to the “homeland” feels even more sombre as the country is in mourning for our wonderful Queen. We were shocked to hear the news from a Turkish immigration officer, as we re-crossed the border into the south of Cyprus at the end of a day out. After being handed our passports last Thursday evening – the customs man had stared at us and simply said, “Queen dead.” It was hard to understand at first, until it sank in. His face was serious and he repeated the words – suddenly we realised it was our Queen he was talking about. The last time we’d seen a photo of her a couple of days earlier, she was shaking hands with our new prime minister – we couldn’t believe she had suddenly died.

So this week was a big moment in history for the UK and many across the world marking the end of the Elizabethan era and the dawning of a new one with a new King Charles – as he will now be known. Meanwhile, here we are marking the end of something too.

For now it’s ‘back to business’ or ‘busyness’ with work to catch up on, family to hug and help, a house to move into and boxes to unpack.

I’m happy to be heading home. I’m certain there will be many more adventures to come, both on and off the water. Next time though, I will be packing a jumper and rethinking short dungarees as travel wear! Brrr…

saving date night

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A ‘date night’ had seemed like a good way to put a bad day behind us. Last night we decided to catch a late evening film at the cinema and treat ourselves to a meal out on the way… that was the plan.

This morning I set out on a rainy mission to see if I could redeem something small from what turned out to be a less than perfect date.

We all like a bargain and some more than others. I’ve often heard myself say, “and it was in the sale!” or “and we got 20 per cent off” or even “and it was free!” Somehow these special offers make the product even more attractive to us, we feel we’re getting better value for money, or at least we’re saving while we spend.

Meerkat offers have been giving us the perfect excuse to go to the cinema more often lately with their two for one deal on tickets. There is even a two for one on meals out but finding a restaurant that takes them can be tricky. 

Last night we resigned ourselves to a simple two for one pizza, but decided to try out a new village pub on the way. ‘The Sailors Return’ was a delight, with its stone flagged floors, tables in cosy nooks and very friendly staff. The local brewed cider was also delicious. The evening had started well, despite the rain, and we promised ourselves we’d return with friends for a meal out another night.

Half an hour later, with half price cinema tickets in our hands, we headed into a Pizza Express, where a few weeks earlier I’d enjoyed the two for one deal with great success. We would just have time to eat our pizzas before the start of the film. No need to check if they’d take the discount code – it had worked fine last time! It was therefore slightly annoying when we came to pay and the waitress told us they had stopped being part of that deal just three weeks ago and the pizzas were full price. That wasn’t what we wanted to hear.

Settling into our cinema seats, I was thinking ‘Never mind, at least we’ll enjoy the film’. The recently released version of Jane Austen’s ‘Emma’ had been billed as a “hilarious feel good comedy” by one of its stars Bill Nighy. His comments on the radio had persuaded my date it would be funny and the trailer looked quite quirky also. I confess to laughing throughout the film, but apparently it wasn’t funny at all. The opening credits warned about “natural nudity” but only one of us appreciated the lingering shots of Mr Knightly akka Johnny Flynn, having stripped off his riding gear at the start of the film. It was definitely a step up from Colin Firth as Mr Darcy.

After leaving the cinema as quickly as possible, the drive home was not cheerful. The rain had soaked into our jackets and not only had we been robbed by top price pizzas, the film had turned out to be one of the dullest he’d ever seen and the seats weren’t even comfortable for sleeping! I felt the opposite, but that didn’t really help. And there was something else bothering me…

Before leaving the house that night I’d snatched up a favourite Cossack style faux fur headband without putting it on. Somewhere between getting in the car, the pub and the cinema it had disappeared. I was fairly sure I hadn’t had it going to the cinema and I was really hoping I would find it in the car in the morning. That night I didn’t mention the missing item. I feared it could prove the final screw in the coffin for date night.

This morning I drove through the wind and rain and twisting lanes to ‘The Sailor’s Return’ carpark. Climbing out I spent several minutes chasing our military car pass down the road, eventually fishing it out from a hedge. I scoured the beer garden and car park and nearby gardens, trying to be inconspicuous in a yellow waterproof. There was no sign of the sodden headband. My last hope was the pub, which looked shut. A dog was barking inside as I approached and the landlady pulled him away from the door shaking her head. It really was a longshot that anyone might have picked it up in the dark and the rain and handed it into the pub. But I moved closer and calling through the wind I asked if anyone had handed in a head band, making a circle round my head with my hand and feeling a bit silly.

“A furry one? Hang on,” she said.

A minute later she opened the door and handing it over apologised that it was still a bit damp, although she’d put it on the radiator to dry. How kind – I love that pub even more today!

All was not lost and it was a happy ending to the date night disaster for me. After all that would now save me the cost of a new headband.

What about the weather?

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Digging channels and building dams in the sand on the beach has always been a favourite pastime for our boys at the seaside. They also enjoyed tunnelling in a friend’s back garden, until the passage got so deep and long it was turning into a small mine. But the day before the wedding I wasn’t expecting to see them on their knees, plastered in mud, examining the route of a drainage channel diverting water around a marquee in the Shropshire hills…

If oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure, then our son and his new wife have made a fine start to married life. Just five days before their wedding on Saturday they heard torrential rain had turned the field where the marquee would be pitched into mud. Their Festival style wedding reception was sounding more like Glastonbury every hour.

After an emergency journey from London to a very wet Shropshire to assess the damage they decided to go ahead in the hope the location could be salvaged. Two days before the wedding we arrived at the farm to help hoist the marquee and bang in pegs. The view of the Long Mynd hills was spectacular as the sun appeared at last. Although the forecast was mixed, there was hope.

Like every wedding there were a mountain of tasks to be tackled from arranging tables to cleaning toilets and stringing up lights. Later that night as we sat enjoying a home cooked meal we listened to the rain on the conservatory roof. Everyone was picturing the field and the marquee.

On Friday the sun came out and it was all hands on deck cleaning chairs, laying out plates and pouring water into jugs of flowers. The attention to detail and eco-friendly planning was evident in everything from the bamboo plates, each with a guest’s named soldered into it, to waxed wood cutlery bound with handmade pottery medallions with an initial on. The only thing we needed was for the weather to be kind. As forecast, the clouds gathered after lunch and the boys decided digging a trench around the marquee was essential to save it from being flooded. It wasn’t long before the ‘highly engineered’ trench was a fast flowing stream as the rain descended. The bride-to-be could be seen gazing out through a flap in the tent as water bounced off the canvas sides and ran in rivulets across the field. Everyone was praying for sun. But could it possibly dry out by the next day?

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It was time to leave for the church rehearsal. The digging brothers, who were the groom-to-be and a best man, were caked in mud from head to toe. All around their posse of digging friends leaning on spades began to laugh.
“I better wash my hands,” said one. His brother looked uncertainly down at his now brown jeans.
“Are we Ok going like this?”
Even if your father is the vicar, the answer is ‘No’.
Fresh clothes were borrowed from a faithful friend and they arrived at the church in slightly unconventional and ill fitting outfits, which included climbing trousers and board shorts.

We do believe in miracles. The morning of the wedding the sun was shining and the field had dried out enough to be transformed. A band of willing friends, along with the groom, his best men and ushers, charged around tossing grass clippings and hay in the air and generally having fun (without mud).

The field that was brown turned green and within a couple of hours it looked like the most wonderful country wedding reception venue.  Hay bales and fire pits were scattered around and pots of flowers and pretty lanterns lining paths of straw completed the scene.

Some hours later when the flower power Morris Minor chugged up beside the marquee and the new Mr & Mrs Farmer stepped out there were cheers and tears of joy as the bride saw the transformed scene for the first time.

 ‘Real love’ may be about weathering storms together, but sometimes that’s easier to see after the clouds have parted and the sun has broken through.

car flowers

Footnote: This blog isn’t aimed to thank everyone who helped make the day a success and there were so many of you! Neither can I cover all the highlights from moving and hilarious speeches to the service, the sermon and the flowers, but I must mention the members of Popup Opera who gave an amazing performance in the church – it was funny, it was beautiful and it was epic. Please do support this very special team and go to a performance soon https://www.popupopera.co.uk

 

 

 

 

colours of spring in March

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Driving across the island this morning – I’ve decided this is Cyprus at its most beautiful.

It was just after 7am, warm and sunny with blue skies. The air was fresh like an English summer morning, with the scent of grass and flowers and the promise of a bright day ahead. The grass was glistening with dew and along the roadside there were bright yellow flowers everywhere. At one bend in the road a perfect picture of yellow flowers in the tall green grass sprinkled with scarlet poppies shouted to be noticed. I wanted to stop and take a photograph but airport check in time was calling and you never know what delays could be ahead, so I didn’t risk it.

This is a Middle Eastern spring and very beautiful it is too. We hardly experienced it last year, as the winter had been little more than a blip of cold snap with very little rain. Then almost without warning February and March had slipped into summer. But today the fields are lush and green, the trees are bristling with new leaves and wild flowers of yellow, red and blue lace the roadside at every turn. I’m worried that while I’m away the sun will burn up these colourful blooms and dry out the grass – returning the fields to parched mustard plains of scrub and dust. Please stay spring-like a little longer, just till I get back.

Cyprus has had one of longest and wettest winters for a long time, with piles of snow in the mountains too. Now just as the rain has done its magic and it looks like brightening up properly – I’m off to the UK.

A few hours in the air and this afternoon England feels a lot more brown, but beautiful in its own way. Here the trees are still bare, the sun is hiding behind some clouds, but there are patches of blue sky visible from the windows of the train. It seems like winter hasn’t hung up its coat yet.

I wonder why colours affect us so much? What is it about a blue sky early in the morning that makes us smile and happy to jump out of bed and start the day? Why are green fields more peaceful and relaxing on the eye than sand or desert? We love blue seas, but grey or brown waters look uninviting. There is no denying I like to live my life in colour and it definitely has an affect on how I feel.

Although England won’t offer as many ‘blue sky’ mornings as Cyprus, there are compensations. The sunsets are often spectacular with amazing cloud formations that are simply heavenly. There’s a soft light across the countryside here that we don’t get abroad – the difference between the gentle strokes of a water colour and the deep vivid shimmer of an oil painting. I was touched by nature’s beauty early this morning now I’m being wowed again from the train as the sun gilds a rippling cloud with gold and pink edges and spills its copper beams across the sky.

It really is true – ‘The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.’

Fact: Whether you’re in Cyprus or the UK.

below: spring flowers and blue sky at Salamis on Sunday

photo salamis