Tag Archives: sailing

Who believes in sea monsters?

Posted on by
Reply

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!

Runaway yacht

Posted on by
Reply

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.

The sea is our home

Posted on by
2

Sailing voyages are completely different to anything else… perhaps with the exception of space travel.

We see the world from a new perspective. Surrounded by blue, I’m enjoying the wide open seas and broad horizons. When land emerges, the coast isn’t a beach or a sea front or even a harbour. It’s a line on the horizon. As we come closer we bob past tiny houses in a variety of colours clustering round a hilltop, the trees and bushes appearing like a miniature railway set.

Then eventually we step ashore and everything comes into perspective again. The houses zoom into focus and begin to assume normal proportions, the roads and streets emerge and we breathe in the smell of land.

Yesterday we braved the heat to call in on some of the family holidaying nearby. Following instructions we trudged up a narrow track from the harbour. I inhaled the scent of pine needles and enjoyed the sweet aroma of jasmine as we passed a garden.

Looking for a padlocked gate, we wound our way up an increasingly steep path, eventually coming to a dead end at a gate into a large house. We must have gone wrong… of course there was no phone signal to call and check. We were sure we were close and started to call out, before retracing our steps. Getting lost has been a favourite pastime of mine, but this time it wasn’t long before I heard a shout from lower down the track.

“You’ve gone too far!”

With a guide to follow we began a steep climb up the hillside, through the “unlocked” gate, plodding up a line of steps reaching as far as we could see.

“There’s a pool at the top,” our son encouraged us, as drops of sweat raced down my cheeks like rain.

“It’s not much further… honestly!”

I paused on one of the many terraces lined with olive trees – it was beautiful. Behind us I glimpsed the shimmering blue of the sea twinkling between the trees.

At the top the view was spectacular and there was iced coffee to enjoy. Through the gaps in the trees we looked down on a lone Pura Vida, bobbing happily in the bay. Perhaps she was enjoying the space from her passengers!

The climb up was worth its weight in gold, as we enjoyed a refreshing swim and great company in the setting of an authentic Italian villa, complete with a long table on the terrace overlooking the sea. It was strange to be on land for so long, but before we had time to get used to it, we were back on board ready for the next leg of the journey.

Departure was slightly delayed by a little engine trouble. A few hours was spent rolling in the bay, while oil was pumped out and then replaced… I’ll spare the technical details!

So, late afternoon we waved goodbye to familiar faces and the hillside villa to move around the next headline in search of a quiet bay, where we hoped for a peaceful night.

For now our world is on the sea again. Land, towns and villages seem like alien places. The sea and the waves are our windows and our garden. The wind is our road taking us on to the next destination and it’s our comfortable place.

The sleeping dragon of Stromboli

Posted on by
Reply

There was a low rumble high above us and moments later plumes of sandy coloured smoke began pumping out from the top of the volcano – we were certainly back in volcano land, although many miles from Mount Etna…

Volcanoes have been dominating our sailing voyage this past week, as we left the smoking shores of Sicily and Mount Etna, to head through the straits of Messina towards the Aeolian Islands, we spotted another sleeping dragon as Stromboli Island emerged on the horizon.

Our minds hadn’t been on volcanoes as we sailed through the straits into the Tyrrhenian Sea. We’d been focused on other dangers like the currents, hidden whirlpools, and more critically swordfish fishing boats! These strange craft were moving about erratically at the entrance to the straits and moving at high speed in pursuit of these enormous fish.

We’d already tasted swordfish bought fresh at the fish market where they chopped up the red flesh from gigantic carcasses proudly on display, dwarfing the trays of clams, prawns and anchovies. The swordfish boats, called Feluccas, are a sight to be seen; with their huge bowsprit extending 50 feet out from the bows, they are steered by a fearless fisherman who sits at the top of the 100 foot mast watching for the swordfish to appear and then taking chase.

It reminded me of ‘Jaws’ as we watched the extraordinary boats turn and swerve and gather speed as the fish swam away. We learned some sad things too. Swordfish mate for life and if the female is caught her mate remains loyal and won’t leave the area, so inevitably ends up being caught. That tale was going to play on my mind if we had swordfish again.

Leaving the Feluccas behind, the Aeolian islands were coming into closer view and soon we spotted the stream of white smoke from the distant island of Stromboli. I wasn’t sure how close we’d feel like going to this very active volcano, which apparently erupts every 20 minutes! There were stories of boats getting covered in ash and sailors struggling with the sulphur smells.

We had a taste of bad smells on the first island we anchored off called Vulcano, where sulphur mud baths beside the port gave off a smell like bad eggs. None of us were tempted to take a dip in the stinky creamy pools, or climb to the rim of the extinct volcano crater in the rising temperatures. Instead we enjoyed swimming in the clear waters below and bought freshly caught fish from a passing fishing boat, who called out “fishy! fishy!” as they wove between the anchored visitors.

Stromboli was our last island stop before the journey towards the Italian coast and we decided to sail on the north of the island to take a closer look at the eruptions. Sure enough every 20 minutes an eruption started. As we drew closer we even spotted red flames spouting up and lava rocks bouncing down the sides and plopping into the sea below. We let the boat drift, not too close, while we watched for another eruption. I hoped there would be no engine trouble if we needed it suddenly. You never really know when it’s going to blow big, as we’d seen a few days earlier on Mt Etna. The rumbles were quite loud and regular, but eventually we sailed on to find an anchorage at a slightly safer distance.

Anchoring took some time, as the beaches shelved very steeply and with black sand it was hard to see the bottom. Eventually we were set, due to some fearless snorkelling to ensure our anchor had dug into the sand. This was even more heroic as jelly fish had been spotted floating by!

I’d been quite happy to stay onboard and sunbathe a safe distance from the volcano, but was persuaded to go ashore on the paddle board – because apparently, “we have to have a walk on the beach!”

Heading towards the shore, I stopped paddling for a moment and glanced back at the yacht anchored a couple of hundred metres away. How long would it take to get back if there was a really big eruption? At that moment we both heard a loud rumble and more smoke frothed out from the chocolate coloured top of Stromboli.

On our approach to the island the streams of lava had made the top of the volcano look like a chocolate cake with ganache icing dripping down the sides, or even a “drippy castle” you make with wet sand at the beach.

The flowers and grass on this side of the island, were in contrast to the ash grey slopes we had just sailed past. The little yellow church and tatty white buildings nestled together in defiance of what might be. A whole community live here at the base of this very active volcano – one of the most active in the world apparently. I wondered why they had made a home here with such danger lurking in their backyard.

As we wandered down the main street, there were many derelict buildings, abandoned properties and overgrown gardens, yet there were signs that they had once been cared for. We spotted a number of signs for Tsunami warnings and evacuation routes. In 2002 a Tsunami destroyed some of the village when a violent eruption caused a major landslide. That wasn’t so long ago. I glanced up at the smoking volcano… please behave, at least while we have a drink!

I wasn’t too sorry to head back along the black sand beach, where I collected a few little lava pebbles as a keepsake from Stromboli.

This morning I spotted a black dragon, caught in silhouette on a rocky lighthouse island facing Stromboli. It seemed to be waiting for the real dragon to appear from inside the volcano. As we watched Stromboli and “volcano-land” disappear into the haze, I was quite happy to leave the rumbles and the smoke behind.

Meanwhile, today we are dodging oil tankers and fish farms as we make the crossing to mainland Italy…

Back to the volcano

Posted on by
2

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?

Bees on board

Posted on by
Reply

We set sail a week ago with just four of us on board … now we are six!

Two fluffy, loving shipmates, who we couldn’t bear to send overboard joined us today.

It feels good to be back on board Pura Vida – a very sleek catamaran – that will be our home for the next few weeks as we meander around the coast of Italy.

The sun was hot when we pulled the anchor up in Preveveza, Greece, last Monday. Our first anchorage was on Antipaxos and later that afternoon we settled in for the night in a turquoise bay off the island of Paxos. The water was fresh, not English fresh, at 19 degrees of course!

We headed to the north of Corfu, after a brief stay below the old town, where we had to meet the agent who would help us “clear out” of Greece officially. It seemed odd as we’d only arrived a couple of days earlier and now we were leaving! Our destination is Italy, possibly ending in Sardinia and there are many miles ahead!

Last year we found ourselves in Corfu in the midst of a parade and got rather trapped. This year it turned out to be the same date and police cars were already gathering to block the roads. We wouldn’t get caught out this time! However, it did mean shopping was limited with many places shut for the festivities. We made do with coffee and croissants while we watched a marching band assemble in the rain. Someone noted that the marching wasn’t up to scratch, but who likes marching in the rain?

We’ve had a mix of weathers en route, but our first little drama was on an island north of Corfu, from where we planned the main hop across to the coast of Italy.

Tired and eager to cook up some supper, the anchor was dropped in a bay, where we could see sand between the rocks. A lot of creaking and dragging sounds over the next few hours made us all wonder if the anchor was on or between one of those rocks.

We watched an orange sun slipping into the sea on the horizon and hoped we were wrong.

The next morning, pulling up the anchor took us an hour instead of five minutes. The captain, who volunteered to go in the water to review the situation, had to sink his pirate hook down to help shift the anchor from between two rocks. Forty five minutes later, after much signalling and repositioning the boat, the anchor eventually came free. The skipper then spent the next hour or so attempting to regain feeling in his arms and legs under a duvet! Cold water swimming isn’t for everyone!

We’ve been testing out our sails in a variety of wind conditions from full on surfing yesterday, with waves flowing onto the boat at the back, to being battered by the waves side on this morning.

That was when the visitors arrived – one bumble bee at first, blown in by a gust. We were so worried he’d be blown away, we helped him crawl into a box for safety. I wasn’t sure he liked it and a few minutes later, his mate arrived and nestled into the cockpit canopy hiding from the wind. I decided they should face the wind together and helped the first bee out onto the canopy near his fellow traveller. Seconds later they were neatly cuddled up together under a strap. Then we were six!

The wind has calmed again now and we thought our pair of bee companions had flown on, but they keep reappearing, so I think they’re here for the long haul!

It’s also time to re-set the sails and look for a safe anchorage or harbour for tonight. Meanwhile the first batch of scones is in the oven, so a little touch of Devon is on the way!

Only in England

Posted on by
Reply

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. 

Lost in Venice?

Posted on by
Reply

I’d be hopeless in Race Across the World… much as I love the idea of charging from city to city on public transport with only a map and some cash, I don’t think I’d last long without my phone and google maps!

A few nights ago in Venice it was our faithful guide through the network of streets on the north of the city, which would lead us back to our boat.

We’d enjoyed a day of meanderings, jumping on and off boats ferrying us up and around the grand canal. When we tired of browsing or became too hot, we collapsed in cafes and finally ended up at a canal side restaurant enjoying good food topped off with a few glasses of lemoncello.

After leaving the restaurant, the hunt for an ice cream delayed us slightly and we realised there wasn’t that much time to find our way to the “boat stop” for the 5.2 that would take us ‘home’ to where the catamaran was moored on an island across from the city.

If you’re going to get lost, Venice is the place to be. Around each corner there’s a new delight to greet you or yet another ancient bridge to step over. Impossibly narrow streets open up into secret piazzas with buzzing cafes and towering churches bumping up against shuttered windows and balconies hung with washing.

Finding it hard to hold an ice cream and follow the blue dot on the map up the right street (maybe partly related to the extra glass of lemoncello), I handed navigation over to the “first mate” who marched ahead at speed holding my phone.

It’s easy to get distracted in Venice, looking at Murano glass trinkets, strangely painted masks and that hat I was sure would suit me… Stumbling up another bridge, I spotted a gondolier in a striped top and obligatory boater pushing off from the side and almost colliding with another gondola. There were shouts and laughter and bit of splashing. It looked a pleasant way to explore Venice at night – if a bit busy.

I hurried down the other side of the bridge just in time to see the navigator turning the corner into a narrow alleyway…

“Are you sure this this the way?” I shouted after him, but he was hunched over the phone striding forwards and my words sunk into the walls beside us.

Running to catch up, with my ice cream trickling down my hand, I finally got nearer. Up above, I could only just glimpse the night sky between the towering houses hemming us in. As we turned down the tiniest alleyway where I could put out my arms and touch the walls on either side, I hoped google had it hand and there were no Venetian bandits ready to pounce. I clutched my bag a little tighter.

Earlier, before we had resorted to google maps, the phone’s compass was in use to help us head north… but it wasn’t Dartmoor and google maps, although sometimes a bit slow to catch up with our pace, turned out to be the best option. We had to double back a few times as the blue dot jumped suddenly to another location, but finally, after the darkest, narrowest passageway swallowed us up, there was light ahead and the sound of boats chugging and water splashing.

We reached the cafe-lined quay, only to discover our 10pm boat had ‘sailed’, so there would be time for yet another coffee while we waited.

When the boat did arrive an hour later, we asked them to stop at Certosa island (a request stop only!) and hoped the driver remembered, and that we’d pronounced it correctly. Speeding round the edge of Venice at night turned out to be quite exhilarating. We bumped up against the jetty for the A&E of Venice hospital – where speed boat ambulances waited in line!

Little boats raced beside us on the inky black water and sometimes suddenly cut in front only just missing our bows. With the wind rushing past us and waves splashing below in the dark it felt like an appropriate end to our sailing journey. And the next night after visiting some local islands we did it all again. There were a few less delays through the network of passageways, but we still managed to miss the 10pm boat!

Welcome to Italy

Posted on by
Reply

It had been a long day, but Italy was in sight at last. I weaved across the deck to start securing the fenders, ready for our final approach into the harbour of Chioggia. I could see the first green light marking the outer harbour wall, and a pale pink was starting to spread across the blue clouds on the horizon.

As I gazed around the line of breakwaters ahead, I noticed a fast launch speeding out through the entrance and turning in our direction. I bent my head to tie the fender, and glanced up again, expecting the boat to have turned to pass us. It hadn’t and it was speeding fast directly towards us, pounding the waves at it gathered speed. I glanced back at the helm. Hadn’t they seen us? We were hard to miss!

“Is it a police boat?” came the call from the helm. It didn’t look like one to me, I stared harder and saw grey and yellow, but no blue flashing lights, so I shook my head.

“Looks ordinary to me!”

A minute later, as we started to turn a little out of its path, it was even closer and suddenly there were blue lights flashing and shouts and gestures from the approaching boat. They were motioning us to move across away from the harbour entrance. I hurried to attach more fenders as the boat swung alongside us. The crew had ropes ready and obviously intended to come onboard or something. What had we done wrong? We’d only sailed 10 hours straight from Croatia, and it’s also in the EU… what was their problem?

Thankfully there were no guns being thrown around and after a rather bumpy hurried procedure, as the police launch attached itself to us, we became a floating raft, while they ‘politely demanded’ passports and papers and asked where we had come from. 

Then after the skipper handed over the documents, we waited and watched them flick through passports, scan them into their onboard computers and scrutinise papers… We all wondered what was next – would they need to search the boat for drugs or illegal immigrants? It seemed to be taking a long time and through the tinted glass of their cabin we could see them holding up passports and tapping in numbers on screens… all while we bumped and bobbed beside them in the waves.

One of the police crew members left to supervise the fenders and ropes and stop us all drifting onto the rocks beside the harbour wall, made conversation with the skipper, who luckily spoke a little Italian. Meanwhile, our crew members attempted to take surreptitious photos of the situation without getting arrested!

Half an hour later, the chief appeared from below and said all was in order and we could go. One of his crew looked up at the pink sky and said, “It’s beautiful!” I agreed, but thought, “Yes it is, but now please let us find the marina and get sorted before it’s dark!”

One positive from the surprise customs ‘check-in’ was that the police (who became friendly once they saw we weren’t smugglers) could point out exactly where to go to tie up in Chioggia and told us we didn’t need to go anywhere else to report our presence, it was all sorted and we were legally allowed to enter Italy.

At last, Venice was just around the corner…

 

The long and winding sail

Posted on by
Reply

The trouble with sailing is the sails. They’re always causing a problem – you can’t do without them but there’s always an issue. It would be much simpler to fold them away and just switch on the engine, but that wouldn’t be sailing!

The other day several hours were spent at anchor without wind attempting to “prepare” a new sail on the deck. We’d dutiful watched YouTube videos to see how it should all be done – but the hardest part (actually packing it, like a parachute into a huge wizard’s hat called a ‘snubber’) no one showed… a long, long time later, after much hoisting, pulling and twisting the paper thin sail and ropes, it seemed to be in.

And as my patience is in need of work, I even disappeared in the midst of all this to go paddle boarding for half an hour… when I came back, after exploring an old submarine tunnel in the next bay, they still hadn’t quite finished!

Stowing the paddle board, I rejoined the ‘A’ team as they attempted to hoist the 18 metre long wizard’s hat up the mast. But more rope twists were found inside, so it had to be partly pulled out yet again. Eventually, it was ready. We all breathed a sigh of relief… But we would now have to wait for the right wind strength and direction to test it out… would it unfurl like the YouTube videos… or would it be a disaster? Only time would tell… patience, patience!

While I was waiting I made a list of essentials to bring on a sailing trip:

1. Nail varnish – it’s bound to get chipped when you trip over hatches, ropes and steps, so have some ready to touch up!

2. Instant coffee – surprise item on a ‘real coffee’ addict’s list. But when the sun is out, every day is a “Frappe Day” on board ! You could also do with the mini electric whizzer for these!

3. Strawberry jam – for the scones you’ll be baking, of course. We are having to do without Devon clotted cream, but we’ve had two ‘afternoon cream teas’ so far with delicious home baked scones! Thank you Simon!

4. Strong stomach – not because of sea sickness, but essential when you make a sandwich with two week old cold chicken by mistake! We survived to tell the tale.

5. Sunglasses with a strap – you know you’re going to forget you’ve got them on when you bend over to check the anchor!

Back to our beautiful parasail. The wind was light and coming from behind so at last we could try it.. There was a little glitch on the first attempt, but considering it was a new system, it was flying proudly quite quickly.

We all raced to take photos before it collapsed and then sat back to enjoy the display… but as usual in sailing it wasn’t long before a wind change forced us to lower the ‘hat’ and choose another sail to suit the wind… never a dull moment. Our ‘Harry Potter’ sail would have to wait for another day again!