Tag Archives: wind

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!

The sea is our home

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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.

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!

Land’s End and finally whales

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I knew something was happening when I heard the collective gasp from fellow passengers seated around me on the little boat ferrying us to shore. I jumped up, just in time to see a huge grey mound emerge beside us in the water, and then disappear just a quickly. The whales had arrived!

Captain’s Log – Cunard Ship Queen Anne – this is now the 24th day of our voyage…

It’s been an exiting day in Mexico and it’s our first time on what locals describe as “the fun side of Trump’s wall”!

We’re at anchor in a charming location alongside the jagged rocks of Land’s End in the buzzing little port of Cabo San Lucas. It was also our first time to take a “tender” ashore, clambering out of the side of the ship onto a little motor launch. Adding to this small thrill was our first whale sighting when one popped up right beside the boat as we motored from the ship towards the pontoon. Sadly, I didn’t get to look it in the eye, but I did see it’s back slide slowly under the water.

The bay of Carbo San Lucas and the California sea beside it, is fertile ground for hump back whales coming down from the arctic to breed. The captain had told us we are in the midst of whale season. This was great news, at last the long wait was over.

The sighting of a whale’s back at close quarters was a great start to the day and left us scouring the waters for more.

Ashore in Cabo, we dodged a stream of locals offering boat trips and tours. But eventually bartered one down and jumped on with Adrian, who took us to see Land’s End, the line of craggy rocks and archways, that included a tiny window through to the Pacific.

I thought Adrian had got distracted as he sped towards a rock face urging us to be ready for a photo. Suddenly a tiny arched window was visible low down in the water and I understood what he was doing.

Whales weren’t the only wildlife treats that morning as we spotted sea lions, pelicans and some jumping manta rays. Plus the Scooby Doo rock, if you can spot it!

After a coffee at Tequila Beach cafe and a swim in the sea, Adrian returned to drop us back on the quay. There was more marine life fun here as we watched a man filleting a fish and giving the carcass to a sea lion, while a cheeky pelican sneaked behind him and raided his catch of fish.

That evening, as Queen Anne began to up anchor for the last leg of her journey, we hung from the railings, spotting multiple whale water spouts all around us and managing to see some emerge and wave their tales for the departing guests. We spent so long up there, reluctant to leave incase they came closer, but by the time the sun had sunk the strengthening wind left us shivering and in need of long hot showers.

Mexico had delivered the whales in the end, but it’s made me want to see more. Now I’m busy googling the best locations for whale spotting. Maybe this will be the next adventure…

Meanwhile San Francisco beckons.

Waiting for whales

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I’ve been waiting for whales but all I’ve spotted are flying fish. According to Captain Inga this part of the Pacific is rich in wildlife. But the sun is slowly slipping into the sea, so the chance of spotting whales today is sinking with it.

Captain’s Log – Cunard Ship Queen Anne – this is now the 18th day of our voyage…

Although we’re not crossing galaxies, we’ve made it over the Atlantic – just – and I’ve finally got to blogging again.

The trouble with going on a cruise with a sailor is you get to see the wind and weather apps, which seem to tell a slightly different story to announcements from the bridge. I knew we were trying to avoid a big Atlantic storm, but it turns out you can run but you can’t hide!

As the wind and waves gathered it was in sharp contrast to our gentle departure from Southampton. When I say ‘gentle’, for us ‘last minute’ passengers, it was always going to be a frantic dash from Devon. It took us several days to believe we were actually on board.

We feel very privileged to be joining Queen Anne on her maiden transatlantic voyage, as she sets out on her first world cruise. We’re not going all the way, but just enjoying the “ride” until San Francisco.

Back in the Atlantic the waves were getting higher and objects started sliding around our cabin. There was quite a lot of movement on board and it was becoming tricky to walk in a straight line to fetch a cup of tea. The swimming pools were awash with their own waves and it really was a bit like swimming in the waves while crossing the Atlantic, but with much warmer water!

One afternoon we’d been trying to judge the heights of waves from the safety of the restaurant – apparently they were 20 foot rollers. The next moment we heard a loud bang and something large seemed to be clattering along the glass roof above. Thankfully it wasn’t our job to risk life and limb scrambling after it as this was someone else’s boat! We later heard balcony chairs and dividers had been swept away in the storm, but thankfully no passengers!

As I gaze across a glassy Pacific Ocean that stormy weather feels a long time ago… and the whales are still in hiding.

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…

Letting yourself go

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Do you ever let yourself go? I don’t mean not washing your hair and wearing old clothes, but really ‘letting go’. I’m not precisely sure what this kind of ‘letting go’ looks like, but I know I’ve been on the edge of it and I’ve certainly had dreams about it…

I did a parachute jump quite a few years ago. It was BC*. I’d spent a whole weekend sitting in a classroom, then practising jumping, landing and rolling off a little platform a few feet up. We were all ready to go by mid afternoon on the Saturday… but the weather wasn’t. Apparently it was too windy. There was a chance it would be too windy the next day too and as our ‘training’ only lasted a few days, if we didn’t make the jump soon we’d have to train all over again. It does actually make sense. Practising to jump from a great height is a good idea, so that when it comes to taking that leap of faith you do it almost automatically. There’s a drill you know and the drill will make you safe.

During the early hours of Sunday morning the person I still share a bed with was woken with me shouting, “One thousand, two thousand… check parachute!” with most of the duvet pulled over my head. I thought I was ready!

The wind was still a touch too strong the next morning and us would-be parachutists lazed around in the sunshine, looking up at a blue, blue sky and intermittently watching a wind sock. This isn’t a sock hanging in the wind on the edge of the runway– it’s more of a traffic cone made from kite material that fills with wind and flutters or flops. We were hoping for more of a flop as the day progressed. The wind was a problem for parachutists because it could easily blow us off course and we could end up in the river Trent or a up a tree or in a silage tank… yuk! ..rather than the intended cornfield.

Eventually we were called to order and told we were going up in a plane that we wouldn’t be landing in. The little practise jumps and rolls were repeated and hugging our black parachute packs to our chest we walked towards the runway. I remember glancing back and waving and hoping everything was going to work out OK. There were a number of possible scenarios.
1. The parachute didn’t open
2. The parachute tangled
3. I broke my leg on landing or worse
4. The emergency chute failed or I forgot where the pull thing was (where is it again?)

Hopefully the person who had packed my parachute had done a good job and all would be well. But I said a little prayer anyway. A parachutist had died a week earlier at the same airfield when both his parachutes had failed, but statistically didn’t this make my chances of survival better?

It was amazing looking out of the door of the plane and inching myself along with my feet dangling over the edge of the sky. A guy in goggles gave me the thumbs up and I really had nowhere else to go except out. I let go of the handle I was gripping with one hand and leapt. A few seconds later I was looking up at a perfectly circular canopy above me and had that beautiful experience of floating to earth like a spaceman/woman. The landing was a little bumpier than expected… but all in all it had worked. I lived to tell the tale and write up the story in the local newspaper.

Somehow jumping out of a plane was easier than some of the other leaps I’ve been called on to take in life. But experience is telling me taking a risk, doing something that doesn’t make complete sense, is more fulfilling than watching from the safety of the ground. So… what leaps are you taking today?

*Before Children

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