Tag Archives: voyage

The sleeping dragon of Stromboli

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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

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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?

Bees on board

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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!

Sailing into the night… after escaping the parade

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Last night I watched the sun setting across Corfu and this morning saw the first wisps of grey night cloud being ushered out by the dawn. It’s been a long night sail heading up the coast of Albania.. but at least we’re sailing.

After waiting almost a week to get on board, there were a few more delays to endure, as we bobbed on the water in sight of the boatyard, while engineers fixed bits and pieces and checked an engine issue.

We all breathed a sigh of relief when we set sail and an anchorage on the island of Paxos was not a disappointment. Swimming was a must. And the crystal clear water was a refreshing temperature!

Another engine issue and the need for some medical advice for one of us, took us to a little marina tucked below the walls of the fortress at Corfu town. Our boat had a great view of the marine traffic in and out of the port and all the antics of boats attempting to slide into moorings. Our one night stay turned into two, but by now we’d become accustomed to delays…

The route up to the town took us through a tunnel in the fortress wall and through the ancient cobbled routes to the moat and gatehouse. There was just one route in and out, and this became a bit of an issue the next day when the carnival arrived in town.

Two of us had headed out into the town and been told by the woman at the gatehouse it would be closed from 13.30… we were a bit bemused, but we made sure we headed back by 12.30. The streets were packed and the road we needed to cross was lined with police and roped off. We could hear the sound of a marching band and flashes of uniformed red and gold jackets passing by – it seemed the parade had already started. Squeezing through the throng lining the road, I ducked under the rope and was glared at by a policeman.

“We need to cross the road,” I said.

“Get behind the rope,” he said sternly.

“But we have to get to our boat,” I said. He was not amused.

“Behind the rope!” He insisted, and I imagined him reaching for his gun.

I ducked back under and pushed through the crowd and back to the path behind, but now my crew-mate was nowhere to be seen. I tried calling and sending a message – no answer! What else could go wrong? Suddenly, to my relief, she appeared and we decided to try to cross the road further up.. We had no idea how long the marching bands and colourfully dressed paraders would continue. Finding a way to the edge of the road which wasn’t roped off, we spotted a gap in the parade and with no police nearby we ran across to the other side, fearing a shout from a policeman at any moment! Now we just had to get through the gate into the fortress. Two smartly dressed men standing in front of the gate told us the castle was closed.

“But we have to get to our boat,” we pleaded. They just shrugged. Through the bars of the closed gates two or three people were watching the parade from the other side and taking pictures.

“They told us one o’clock I said and it’s only 12.30!” Suddenly the woman who had let us out spotted us and the gate opened an inch.. she nodded and let us in. The parade must have started earlier than she’d expected. We crossed the moat, relieved to be reunited with our boat, which was waiting patiently as usual!

Our engine finally fixed, we decided to make up for lost time by sailing all the way to Montenegro in one hop – a 23 hour journey if we stayed on course.

Night sails can be wonderful and peaceful and we settled into our midnight watch in the light of the moon. But it wasn’t long before clouds appeared and an electric storm flickered in the distance.

The wind picked up, switched direction and suddenly it was raining and we needed to drop our sail! It’s amazing how quickly things can change on a boat from complete serenity to frantic activity. The next few hours we stared at lights from yachts, fishing boats and cruise ships, working out their direction and taking care to avoid them, while keeping ourselves on course. In between we made tea and hunted out cookies and crisps – it turns out night watches make you hungry! And there’s never a dull moment, even with an auto pilot.

As dawn broke the other watch woke and I fell into bed. We were still some hours from our destination before the ragged mountains of Albania, would give way to the tree-lined bays of Montenegro. Thankfully, I had no idea how much our patience would be tested again later that day…

Waiting for adventure

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It turns out sailing a catamaran is all about waiting..

Two weeks ago we flew out to Greece to join another couple on their yacht to sail with them on a voyage to Venice. We were excited about the trip and all the new places we’d visit and very much looking forward to sailing a catamaran for the first time. We knew it would be very different from a monohull.

Unfortunately things haven’t gone quite to plan and the trip has turned into a bit of a saga. But as one of my colleagues told me – “There’s always a story!”

We planned to spend a few days exploring the island of Lefkas before setting sail. After a couple of days soaking up some sunshine, in between rain showers, we took a break from gazing at the azure blue sea, and headed inland to find a waterfall. The dry river bed en route didn’t look promising, but as we climbed we began to hear the sound of water and before long a tumbling stream appeared, visible at point between the arching trees and ferns and bushes sprouting from the banks and rocky outcrops. The path wound up beneath a steep ravine and huge boulders.

At the end of the path was a beautiful green pool, where water was streaming down a moss lined cliff. It wasn’t much of a waterfall, but it was fresh and tranquil and the sound was calming. I couldn’t resist a dip, so quickly slid into the water, staring around for ducks. I could hear them quacking, but couldn’t I spot them. It was then I spied two bright green things on the rocks beside me. Frogs basking in the sun and making a very loud sound just like ducks!

On returning from the frog pool we had some bad news as we heard the new propeller for the catamaran was stuck in customs at Athens airport.

However, the extra night on the island gave us the pleasure of meeting a most joyful Greek host – Costas – “call me Gas” – who served us coffee and homemade cake on arrival and made us feel welcome in his home on the cliffs with spectacular sea views. Breakfast was a lavish spread laid out in his rustic kitchen with everything from strawberries to croissants and cheese!

Further delays with customs meant we had to extend our road trip for a few days up the coast of Greece while we waited for the propeller to arrive. But we enjoyed visiting Parga, a pretty Italianesque coastal town.

The down or the upside of the delays, depending on your perspective, was that there was plenty of time to meander in the local shops and buy nice things! I managed to add a few more kilos to my rather full bag! Our BnB host in Parga was Kara (which she told us means ‘joy’ in Greek) and she lived up to her name with her enthusiasm for life and her warm welcome.

She was busy whitewashing a tree trunk when arrived, her clothes paint splattered and a smile spreading across her face. After throwing open the shutters to our room with its panoramic sea view, she sprang onto her motorbike and whizzed off.

The next day as clouds hovered we headed inland to explore a renowned river called the “Springs of Acheron”. Sounding like something out of a Tolkien novel, it lived up to its name. And although we weren’t venturing on the high seas we did find ourselves wading and sometimes swimming through the clear icy waters rushing through a narrow canyon.

An hour upstream we began to lose the feeling in our hands and toes and had to turn back. The river of Acheron features in Greek mythology as the gate to Hades… Despite the sunshine when we got back to the car we turned up the heaters and put on everything we had to warm up. Those icy waters would have put out the fires of hell!

When we arrived back at the boatyard the beautiful catamaran was at last ready for launch and we held our breath as she was lifted and then very slowly lowered into the water – all 19 tons of her!

So the adventure could begin.. after a bit more waiting as it turned out!