Having got too far south, we had a slow passage across from
Sardinia to the Pontine Islands but managed to sail most of the way. We arrived at the anchorage to the north of
Ponza at 1700 on the 1st, managing to find a good spot amongst 20 or so boats
already there. June 2nd is a
big holiday in Italy and the over the following days many more arrived so that
there were about 50 by the time we left.
Ponza itself is a pretty town with a great deal of history back to when
Roman emperors used to exile inconvenient relatives there. We dinghied ashore
on Thursday for a look round, lunch and shopping. Slight misunderstanding on opening hours left
us waiting outside the butchers for an hour until 1700 but good, if expensive,
provisions were got. Halfway back, the
outboard conked out, so rowed the rest of the way. On arrival, it started first pull. Possibly a bit of dirt in the fuel again
although I am now religious about filtering it.
Pontines and Bay of Naples
There was very little wind on Friday morning but by midday
it was picking up so we set off on the 25 miles to Ventotene and anchored just
outside the old harbour, which was carved out of solid rock by the Romans to
shelter their galleys. It was packed to bursting this holiday weekend, as was
the new harbour to the north. The
inevitable open air disco was, this time, 80’s themed so we had the fun of
remembering the artists’ names as we screwed the earplugs in tighter. Dinghy ashore in the morning to see the
harbour and a few provisions and then another midday start to cross to Ischia,
at the north-west end of the Bay of Naples.
Here we anchored under a spectacular castle, built on an island just off
the main town. We were well sheltered
from the swell but once the ferries and motor yachts woke up it was quite
rolly. This was Sunday morning on a
holiday weekend. If you live in Naples,
it would be a shame not to have a boat and the locals obviously agree. They don’t seem to think much of sailing so
it is motor boats. Thousands of them
from small RIBs to 100 ft yachts, all fitted with maximum sized engines. And they were all out with throttles fully
forward. With less than 10 knots of
wind, we didn’t even think of hoisting sail, just proceeded towards Naples,
trying to keep out of the way of the ferries and letting the rest go round
us. We made our way up to Baia, on the
Western edge of the bay, parking in a not-so-scenic spot between a wrecked
freighter and the Fiart (motor yacht) factory.
At least it was calm, until the hoards of boats returned to the marina
from their day out.
Castello de Ischia
We waited for wind on Monday, picking up anchor at mid-day
and sailing gently across the bay to see Naples and Vesuvius. When we reckoned that we could just make
Capri on a close reach, we headed south and had a fine sail down to, and round,
that island, choosing to anchor under the cliffs on the eastern side. The chart warns of inaccuracies and is right
to do so. The 10 metre line tied up with
reality but the coast did not. Instead
of 200 metres space there was less than 100. We dropped the hook and took a
line ashore to keep us stable. A quiet
night, the peace being broken at 0830 by the first tourist boat. They were on a schedule, which included travelling
at 20 knots until they got to a point of interest, one of which was 50 metres
beyond us, slamming on the brakes, giving a PA commentary and zooming off
again. The same applied to all the
others at 5 minute intervals so we had a hasty coffee and pushed off.
Capri
We were getting short of water, so phoned the main
marina: would it be possible to come in
and take some? Yes. So we motored round,
called on the radio and were allocated a berth.
The harbour entrance was the most manic we have ever seen. As well as the round the island trip boats,
there are those doing the Blue Grotto, ferries and private boats. We made sure that we were fully ready, chose
our moment and dashed in tying up, unusually, without assistance. While Elsie went to get some provisions, I
tried for water. Taps controlled by
pre-paid cards and not forthcoming.
Round to marina office. No. No water without an overnight stay. But you can get it from the fuel
station. While waiting for Elsie’s
return, I fiddled with lots of taps, found one with credit left on it and….
On the way out, there was a diver, inspecting moorings, with just a small RIB for company amongst the mellee. Must have nerves of steel. We motored back to the mainland, anchoring just
to the east of Positano, on the Amalfi coast.
It is a spectacular village, clinging to the hillside. We dinghied ashore and climbed through a
warren of steep, narrow alleys and then back down a winding road to the
shore. Touristy, but very chic. If we had been dressed for shore rather than
the dinghy ride, we might have wandered into some of the attractive art
galleries, but settled for a gelato instead.
The coast is characterised by many small, inaccessible, beaches which
are served by water taxies: open boats with outboards, driven by young machos
who stand in the stern and see how close they can get to anchored yachts. They
continue, unlit, until well after dark.
Positano
The following day, we motored along this spectacular coast
to Amalfi itself. From the sea, at
least, it did not compare to Positano.
We were now a little low on fuel so went in for 50, expensive, litres
before heading south and had a pleasant sail down to Agropoli, where we were
keen to visit the nearby ruins of Paestum.
We soon learned that ‘marina touristico’ does not mean that they cater
for tourists. Elsie was sent on a wild
goose chase looking for the laundrette in town, which turned out to be a dry
cleaners, only to discover the real laundrette 100 metres from the boat in the
opposite direction. While she did a
wash, I searched for information on how to get to Paestum but could only
discover that we could go by bus, train or taxi, with no reliable information
on the first two, so the next morning we bit the bullet and took a taxi.
Paestum
Paestum was indeed spectacular with two almost complete
Greek temples, and many ruins from the Roman era. Unfortunately, before preservation of ancient
monuments was considered important, a road had been driven through some of the
latter but enough remained to be worthwhile.
There is also a good museum. The
tourist office provided a bus timetable and we discovered that if we hurried,
we could catch the first of two busses from the train station, about half a
mile away. We hurried. No first bus.
No second bus. Train timetables
on line and in the station gave conflicting ideas as to when we could expect to
return that way. A bus! Climbed on board, only to discover that
tickets must be purchased in advance and we were thrown off. Bit another bullet and took taxi back to
town. On our way in, saw a Vodafone
sign. Elsie bought an Italian SIM back
in Sardinia. This worked for 3 days and
then stopped without explanation. After
going through the same checks that we had, the shop owner revealed that he
wasn’t the official Vodafone store; that was 100 metres up the road. Up to there: closed for the next hour, which
Elsie partly filled by finally finding shoes she had been looking for. Vodafone store, on re-opening, went through
usual checks, used all the battery on my phone to call the helpline, announced
that the anti-fraud department had closed the SIM and refused to give any
further help.
The fuel in Agroplolis was more reasonable, so we topped up
before departing the following morning and sailing, gently, then motoring down
the coast to anchor just north of the port of Piscotia, laying 2 anchors on the
gentle slope to keep our head into the swell.
There was just a small hotel with rows of deckchairs and we joked that
at least there wouldn’t be an all-night disco.
20 minutes later, the Zumba class started at 120 dB. Another 2 days of mostly motoring took us
down to Isla di Dino, finding a patch of sand to the NE of the island then Isla
di Cirella.
Regular readers may recall that last March we vowed to read
the pilot book more carefully. On the 13th
the wind picked up in the afternoon and, to avoid an uncomfortable night, we
looked for a marina. Armantea looked OK
‘for smaller yachts’. We could see masts
inside and only draw 1.6 metres so proceeded in, only to see 1.7 on the echo
sounder as we approached the only available berth, alongside a rough pier. The masts belonged to local yachts half our
size, stern to pontoons in even shallower water. Time to look at tides. They are small in this part of the world but
do exist and I discovered that we had entered 30 minutes after High Water (30
Cms). As the swell was now building,
there was no option to leave today.
Ashore to a truckstop for an excellent (and huge) pizza. With beers + appetiser and pud E15.
In the morning, a closer look at the tide table and a
careful sounding round the harbour and entrance from the dinghy and decided to
leave on a rising tide which meant a late departure, so cast off at 1630 and
felt our way out, We touched, gently,
just off the berth but otherwise no problem apart from raised pulses. We had 20 miles to go to Vibo Valentia (where
we should have gone the night before) so motored on until the wind picked up to
give us a great beam reach right into the lee of the harbour wall, where we
anchored for a comfortable night. In the
morning, dinghied in for provisions. A
noticeable feature in Italy, as opposed to Spain, is that although marinas are
expensive, there is perfect acceptance of those that choose to anchor for free
and just use the dinghy to come ashore.
A strong easterly wind was forecast so, on the 15th, we
motored in light airs the 12 miles to Tropea, where we stayed 2 nights,
enjoying a walk up to the old town on the hill.
Blow over, on the 17th we headed for the Aeolian
Islands. This is an archipelago off the
north coast of Sicily. Odysseus’ men
released the bag of dangerous winds here and the area still has a reputation
for sudden storms and squalls. Following
2 days of strong easterlies, we planned to go to an anchorage on the west side
of Vulcano but, strangely, the swell was from the west so instead we headed for
the nearer side, Levanto. A beam F2-3 gave us a smooth and rapid passage and we
anchored, among half-a dozen others at 1720.
More arrived, including a French yacht which insisted on squeezing
between us and our neighbour, despite protests from us both. We could, and should, have moved 10-15
metres for comforts sake. The bay has
thermal vents and I went for a swim to sample the delights which were chiefly
comprised of a rotten egg smell, and then severe pain as I encountered a
jellyfish which stung me on my face and back.
Pain greatly reduced by application of vinegar externally and medicinal
alcohol internally. We continued the
thermal spring investigation the following day with a visit to the mud baths,
next to the anchorage. A bit
disappointing as they are really only dirty, smelly water with a smear of mud
in the bottom. Greatest entertainment
were the open-air showers. We had bought
2 tokens and used one for a rinse off and lather-up. When it came to rinse this off, the second
token didn’t work. Elsie managed to get
replacement tokens and exactly the same happened.
Aeolian Islands
The anchorage became progressively more crowded through the
day and then, after sunset, the wind completely died. Usually, provided everyone has roughly
similar lengths of anchor cable out, a change of wind moves the whole fleet and
you remain separated. Now we drifted in
random circles. We put out fenders and
shortened our chain to keep, as far as possible from our French neighbour. Others, further away, started bumping into
each other and tempers flared: shouting, barking of dogs and playing of loud music.
In the mud pool
On Sunday, 19th, we headed up towards Stromboli,
a constantly active volcano, in company with Carousel, who had arrived the
previous day. We were showing them a
fine, straight, wake when the genoa collapsed.
The top shackle had parted (obviously not well enough moused). Fortunately we were close to a good anchorage
on Panarea and we motored in for me to go up and send the top rotator of the
furling system down. Having, by this
time, missed the chance of sailing round Stromboli by day we elected to wait
until 1800 and do a night sail instead.
This turned out to be an excellent decision. To the west, the sky was clear and we saw The
Green Flash at sunset (a first for Elsie).
We arrived at Stromboli at Dusk.
There was a cloud on the summit which obscured the caldera but at 2100,
just as the tour boats departed, it evaporated and we had our own private
pyrotechnic display, with sound effects.
We hove to for 45 minutes to watch before sailing back to Panarea. Elsie commented that she could smell sulphur
just before every eruption. I
pooh-poohed this as we were to windward but twice, on the way back, she was
able to say ‘here comes another one’ 10 seconds before it occurred. I have no explanation.
We arrived back at our previous anchorage at midnight and
had a late start the following day, intending to sail down to the Sicilian
coast. The wind failed to materialise
and stopped on the east coast of Salinas to buy bread etc. The anchorage was remarkably comfortable and,
rather than continuing to motor, we stayed for a swim. This time, it was Elsie’s turn to be attacked
by a jellyfish. She reacts badly to any
bite or sting and this time came out in a welt that looked like a 2nd
degree burn and went into a state of shock, causing great concern for an hour
or so. She had recovered by Tuesday
morning (though still in pain) and we had pleasant sail down to Sant
Agata. This is a large harbour, designed
for ferries which never arrived, and we were able to anchor inside. Unfortunately, it is open to the NE, which is
where the wind, and swell was coming from but we laid a second anchor to keep
our head into this and had a comfortable night.
We continued our 'virtual voyage' back from the Caribbean, plotting daily updates of position and looking at the wind forecasts for the next week to plan the best route. We even did a 'what if' by looking at what would happen if we left a week later. Again, we elected to delay by a day, to let strong winds pass and 'set off' on the 9th. Voyage 1 took us south of track but progressed well for the first 12 days, when we ran into an area of light airs. We were only 400 miles from our destination and I suspect that we would have motored on in real life but we chose to sail, covering 50 miles a day for 3 days until we had a wind to take us to Flores, arriving on the 17th.
The second voyage progressed better although, again, we came south of track after a week to avoid strong winds and we 'arrived' on the 22nd after 13 days at sea. On neither trip did we see winds in excess of 25 knots, and that was well behind the beam so I, at least, am convinced that we should be able to make the passage safely.
Ashore in the morning by dinghy firstly to a hardware store
to replace a couple of hand tools and then to a supermarket for a good
shop. If we had paid attention to the
directions given in the former, we would have saved quite a walk to the latter
but we were well provisioned and alternately sailed and motored our way along
to Cefalu. There had been thunderstorms inland
through the night and they continued for the next 2 days, at times giving
almost constant thunder and lightning. We
passed through some very heavy showers, but never experienced any strong wind
gusts, although we put out extra anchor chain each evening, just in case. At Cefalu, we elected to anchor in the bay off
the old town (very scenic) rather than go into the marina on the other side of
the headland. Reasonably quiet night
followed by a dinghy ashore for a sight-see in the morning. We were not entirely sure we were allowed to
land where we did and there were a number of local youths paying attention to
our dinghy, so we made it a short visit but did walk round the magnificent 12th
Century cathedral. I was particularly
taken with the glazing: My theory
(probably bunk) is that the original stained glass windows were damaged (war?)
and the fragments were re-arranged in abstract patterns. Whatever they gave an
interesting counter point to the medieval paintings and mosaics. Being a bit low on water, we called the
marina to see if we could come in to take some and yes, we could go to the fuel
berth for this. A charge of E10 was made
and we thought this a bargain until we tasted it!
Cefalu Cathedral
It was another day of motoring and sailing along to Palermo,
where we anchored between two marinas.
Nowhere near as scenic as the previous night but quiet and
convenient. Passing Mondello, the
following morning, we saw where we should have stayed: scenic and
sheltered. We continued along the coast
to Capo San Vito with multiple plans for the night as the wind changed. We eventually decided to continue to the
Egadi Islands intending to pick up a mooring in Cala Fredda. As we approached, two yachts were heading
north. It seemed a little late in the
day and we were worried that all the moorings were taken (anchoring is forbidden). We discovered, on arrival, that the moorings
were missing but several yachts were at anchor.
We managed to find a good spot between them (at least, until we looked
down through the clear water and saw the ground tackle of last year’s moorings
and regretted not using a tripping line on the anchor). Fortunately, we didn’t
foul anything and picked up cleanly in the morning. We stopped, briefly, off Levanzo for
provisions then continued west, intending to circumnavigate Maretimo but the
wind didn’t co-operate so we turned off the north coast and sailed back to the
south of Favignana and into what looked like a perfectly sheltered bay to the
west of Punta Longa. This time there
were mooring buoys and we complied with regulations and picked one up. This was not without incident as we managed
to lose the head of a patent implement marketed for this purpose and in
manoeuvring for a second attempt ran over our own line. This proved conclusively that the rope cutter
on the propeller works but left us a rope short! Despite appearances, swell worked its way in
and, to add insult to injury, those several yachts that ignored the rules and
anchored in the western corner seemed to be much more comfortable.
Western Sicily
A prompt start on the 26th and we sailed back
towards the south coast of Sicily. A
slow sail through the morning but just as we arrived at our on-off destination
of Mazara del Vallo, the wind picked up and we elected to continue on to Porto
Pallo de Menfi. As we approached, the
wind veered to blow parallel to the coast and the temperature rose by 10
degrees. We were concerned that the
increasingly strong wind would cause a swell to disturb our anchorage in the
lee of the harbour but this time it was very calm apart from the local speed
boats exercising their right to convert petrol into noise and waves. Once they had gone to bed, a pleasant
evening. We had left ourselves only
about 8 miles to go to Sciacca, which had good write-ups. We needed laundry, provisions and a change of
water so sailed gently round on the morning of the 27th to tie up at
the Lega Navale Marina. We achieved our
primary objectives but, as the evening heat was oppressive, put off a climb to
the old town until the morning.
In the morning – horror.
Elsie’s jellyfish sting of the week before had flared up. It was oozing serum and there was a large red
area surrounding it. A doctor was found,
having his morning coffee in the yacht club.
He examined Elsie’s leg and wrote prescriptions on a scrap of
paper. These were filled by a local
pharmacy and we abandoned all onward plans until the problem area showed signs
of improvement. After a further 48 hours
we believed that, although the sting was still bad, it had improved a little
so, on the 30th, we left and had an interesting day’s sail 28 miles along
the coast to San Leone. The bottom is
very flat here and we anchored the required 300 metres off the beach in 5
metres of water. The swell was slight
and we saved ourselves 5 minutes of effort by just laying a single anchor.
Monthly stats.
Logged: 758
Over ground: 760
Monthly stats.
Logged: 758
Over ground: 760
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