tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21514678209760266412024-02-08T10:23:56.740+00:00Duffett'sChronicles the Adventures and Misadventures of the crew of 'Dreamcatcher'Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-76345166592587245092008-06-20T22:30:00.000+01:002008-06-20T09:41:13.551+01:00Where we were, and where we areDate Location<br /><br />08/06/2008 Msedia Creek, Malta<br />04/06/2008 Mgarr, Gozo<br />01/06/2008 Lampedusa, Again<br />29/05/2008 Isola Congelia, Lampedusa<br />18/05/2008 Monastir, Tunisia<br />10/06/2007 El Kantaoui, Tunisia<br />03/06/2007 Scauri, Sicily<br />01/05/2007 Sciacca, Sicily<br />08/11/2006 El Kantaoui, Tunisia<br />05/11/2006 Monastir, Tunisia<br />30/08/2006 El Kantaoui, Tunisia<br />17/08/2006 Yasmine Hammamet, Tunisia<br />15/08/2006 Kalibia, Tunisia<br />13/08/2006 Marsala Sicily<br />09/08/2006 Capo Sant Vito Sicily<br />08/08/2006 Castellmare Sicily<br />07/08/2006 Baia Di mondello Sicily<br />03/08/2006 Cefalu Sicily<br />01/08/2006 Capo D Orlando Sicily<br />27/07/2006 Salina, Aeolian Islands, Sicily<br />25/07/2006 Volcano, Aeolian Islands, Sicily<br />20/07/2006 Salina, Aeolian Islands, Sicily<br />18/07/2006 Salerno Italy<br />16/07/2006 Isola Ischia Italy<br />14/07/2006 Isola Ventotene Italy<br />12/07/2006 Isola Ponza Italy<br />11/07/2006 Anzio Italy<br />14/06/2006 England <br />22/05/2006 Fiumicino, Italy<br />21/05/2006 Civitavecchia Italy<br />20/05/2006 Porto Ercole Italy<br />17/05/2006 Isola del Giglio, Italy<br />14/05/2006 Talamone, Italy<br />12/05/2006 Spiagge Barbarossa, Elba<br />10/05/2006 Cavo ,Elba<br />08/05/2006 Portoferraio, Elba<br />07/05/2006 Campoloro Taverna, Corsica<br />06/05/2006 Solenzara, Corsica<br />02/05/2006 Porto Vecchio, Corsica<br />27/04/2006 Maddalena, Sardinia<br />23/04/2006 Olbia, Sardinia<br />22/04/2006 Baia Caddinas, Sardinia<br />20/04/2006 Porto Rotunda, Sardinia<br />18/04/2006 Maddalena, Sardinia<br />17/04/2006 Isola Razzoli, Sardiniia<br />13/04/2006 Santa Teresa di Gallura, Sardinia<br />09/04/2006 Propriano, Corsica<br />02/04/2006 Ajaccio, Corsica<br />01/04/2006 Cargese, Corsica<br />27/03/2006 Girolata, Corsica<br />25/03/2006 Porquerolles, France<br />23/03/2006 Port Frioul , France<br />15/03/2006 Marseille Vieux Port, France<br />16/12/2005 Port Saint Louis (Sea side), France<br />15/12/2005 Port Saint Louis (River side), France<br />14/12/2005 Ecluse Saint Louis, France<br />12/12/2005 Aiges-Mor, France<br />09/12/2005 Sete, France<br />08/12/2005 Pavlov des Flots, France<br />07/12/2005 Arles, France<br />28/11/2005 Avignon, France<br />27/11/2005 Saint Etienne desSortes, France<br />26/11/2005 Viviers, France<br />24/11/2005 Valence, France<br />22/11/2005 Tournon, France<br />19/11/2005 Condrieu, France<br />18/11/2005 Trevoux, France<br />16/11/2005 Macon, France<br />12/11/2005 Tournus, France<br />06/11/2005 Challon Sur Soanne ( Soanne Side), France<br />04/11/2005 Challon Sur Soanne ( Canal Side), France<br />02/11/2005 Montreau Les Mines, France<br />28/10/2005 Paray Le Monial, France<br />27/10/2005 Digoin, France<br />25/10/2005 Ganney Sur Loire, France<br />22/10/2005 Decize, France<br />21/10/2005 Chevenon, France<br />18/10/2005 Chatillon sur Loire, France<br />16/10/2005 Chatillon-Caligny, France<br />14/10/2005 Montargis, France<br />12/10/2005 St Mammes, The start of the Canals, France<br />11/10/2005 Samours Sur Seine, France<br />10/10/2005 Somewhere Pretty, France<br />30/09/2005 The Arsenal Paris, France<br />29/09/2005 Port Van Gogh, Paris, France<br />28/09/2005 Somewhere horrible, France<br />27/09/2005 Mericourt, France<br />24/09/2005 Vernon, France<br />23/09/2005 Amfreville Ecluse, France<br />18/09/2005 Rouen, France<br />15/09/2005 Honfleur, France<br />10/09/2005 Le Havre, France<br />08/09/2005 Haslar Marina, Portsmouth<br />28/08/2005 Shamrock Quay, Southampton<br />11/07/2005 Wicor Marine, Portchester<br />09/07/2005 Cherbourg France<br />07/07/2005 Braye Harbour Alderney<br />05/07/2005 St Peter Port Guernsey<br />03/07/2005 Cherbourg France<br />09/06/2005 Wicor Marine, Portchester<br />29/05/2005 Chichester Marina, Chichester Harbour<br />23/03/2005 Wicor Marine, Portchester<br />26/12/2004 Haslar Marina, PortsmouthDreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-64095750176315837042008-02-14T22:40:00.000+00:002008-02-14T22:39:36.056+00:00http://picasaweb.google.com/Dreamcatchersjourney- or click on the box below for our photo albums<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/dreamcatchersjourney"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/dreamcatchersjourney" border="0" alt="" /></a>Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-23830030895067837812006-11-13T23:52:00.000+00:002008-07-27T23:53:44.406+01:00To TunisiaSicily 2006<br /><br />01 August 2006. Picking out Capo Orlando through the background haze had been rather difficult. We had picked up the headland of Capo Orlando, and therefore had a rough idea where the harbour should be. The GPS and chart plotter told us where it should be, but we couldn’t find it, the huge concrete breakwater wall round the outside, blended with the background and the usual tell tale signs of masts were missing. As we got closer we finally started picking out what looked like masts, which then revealed what looked like the entrance. We had been warned of a sandbank in the entrance from the pilot book and by Eva and Hokan, so we approached with caution. Finally we picked out what looked like a navigation bouy in the open entrance to the harbour, binoculars confirmed it as a green cone shaped starboard marker. We hadn’t seen one of these since entering the river Seine at Honfleur. Sara had been dispatched to the chart table to find out which side we should pass, before we applied logic and remembered which side to pass starboard marks on, our confusion had been caused by how far back from the harbour wall the marker was. The entrance was about two hundred meters wide, and the bouy was indicating that over half of the entrance was not navigable. As we came past the outer breakwater we realised why it had been so hard to pick up masts, apart from the fact that most of the boats were either motorboats or small sailing boats, the breakwater wall was approximately 5 meters high, and because of the sandbank most of the boats were moored along way from the wall. Eva and Hokan were easy to find, there was a boat with a Swedish flag, with two people waving their arms about, and blasting an airhorn, fortunately there were no other people living on their boats.<br /><br />Sara did the deck work of getting the fenders and mooring warps ready and I looked for suitable mooring spots, while keeping an eye on the depth. Our intentions must have been confusing to onlookers as a man appeared and waved us into the spot where Eva and Hokan were moored, then proceeded to start untying them. We eventually got it all sorted and headed off to the beach for a swim and rounded off the day at the local pizzeria.<br /><br />Well that’s not entirely true, we got round to discussing where we were going next, had some beers, looked at charts, had some more beers, Africa seemed very close, has some more beers, discussed the possibility of sailing to Africa, then went to bed. In the morning while off buying some bread, I discovered that the romance adventure of sailing to Africa had got hold, we arrived back at our boat with plans forming. When we informed Hokan that we were off to Africa, he signed up to the idea, and we were doing a cruise in company to Africa!<br /><br />Two days later at 10:30 on 3rd of August we motored out towards Cefalu. Eva and Hokan were worried that we would go to fast, we spent the day watching them disappear ahead of us in the light winds of the Med. We arrived at the new Harbour to the east of Cefalu, to find the marina full, some boats had anchored in the harbour and taken long lines ashore, we managed to find a spot moored bows to the quay, close to the hydrofoil landing stage. There was a swell which came into the harbour, which got exacerbated by the hydrofoil coming in and out, which caused Dreamcatcher to continually surge backwards and forwards, even with the rubber damper on the lines. <br />Getting on and off was a bit of a struggle, not always helped by the children deciding to be awkward. We found ourselves holed up for four days while weather systems blew in from the West. The day before we left the surging got so bad that it snapped the rubber spring on the bow line, and ripped off both starboard bow cleats. We were not the only boats holed up because of the winds, most people heading west were taking shelter, however some boats were still heading towards us out of the east. We watched one of these boats make slow progress towards Cefalu and finally they made it in, we helped the three chaps on board tie up, and exchanged greetings, about an hour later we noticed that the chaps had been joined by three women, it transpired that the women had always been on board, but for what ever reasons did not deem it necessary to help out in the tying up, cleaning down or stowing of the sails. The next day the behaviour was slightly more bizarre. <br /><br />I was up on deck checking fenders and things, when I noticed that one of the female crew on was perched on their coachroof facing our boat, I was separated from this lady by the distance of half of our combined side decks and a fender, while she sat in a pair of shorts using a lady shave on her legs, this was not a problem, however when she janked her leg up and started doing her bikini line, I retreated hastily to our cockpit, where I found Sara trying hard to stifle her laughter.<br /><br /> The town of Cefalu is very nice, medieval town, approached by a walk of about a mile round the headland. It has some newer bits largely sprawling off along the beach. The roads were narrow and cobbled, with occasional glimpses of the sea. The town has suffered earthquakes in the past, most noticeably to us in the church, where the old bits are few surrounded by new repairs. The church has a lovely setting, set between high cliffs on one side, stone buildings on the other, and a large piazza in front, apparently the tomb of the legendry Diane is located to the top of the cliff. <br />The town still has a medieval laundry, set down some steps, where the tubs have been carved into the gently sloping rock floor. The spring water enters at the top, then flows into successive tubs until finally making its way out through the rocks to the sea, occasionally the water from a larger than normal wave would push its way back into the laundry. The children were not slow in removing their shoes and socks to go paddling in the tubs, but I beat them to it, the water was lovely and cool, quite refreshing after the walk into town. <br /><br />While making our way back to the Piazza, we encountered the local Brass band, which had been doing a concert in the Piazza the day before, marching round the town. The children wanted to join the followers, and we did, following the band round the old town as we all headed back to the Piazza in front of the church.<br /> <br />The day before our departure we did an expedition to the new bit of town to find a supermarket. We found Eva and Hokan, in a Café across the road from the supermarket, and we joined them for a coffee and ice cream. I went into the shop to help the children choose their ice creams and ordered two little ones, the assistant kept heaping ice cream into the cups, after the third spoon I realised my Italian had let me down, once more I expressed my wish for small ice creams, where I was told in English that they only did one size, I had visions of another national debt clearing bill similar to the one in Rome, the bill for two ice creams bigger than the kids heads, two coffees and two beers was a bit over E10-00. No wonder the place was full of locals.<br />On the way back to the boat after shopping we saw a plane coming down to scoop up water from the sea to fight the bush fire on the hill behind us. Anxious locals who gathered in a piazza to watch the progress of the fire as it moved towards houses on the hill. Then that evening I saw a Search and Rescue Helicopter practicing outside the harbour. It was getting far to hectic, time to move.<br /><br />7 August 2006 We left the harbour at 10:00 into light winds and proceeded to motor sail towards Capo Gallo. An hour and a half later, we were all getting fractious, it was hot and the light winds meant the engine had been on continuously which wears down, there followed a discussion about my choice of sails and the course we had chosen, as Ingalan was disappearing in front of us. <br />Lunch time was a relief, melon followed by cheese, followed by a cheese being introduced to peoples thighs and faces, and giggling children.<br />To break up the monotony of motoring, Nick helmed for twenty minutes, then so did Phoebe. However Phoebe found it hard to helm and eat her melon. We then had a MOB, Melon Over Board, which improved her helming.<br />By 17:10 we were had made progress of 25 miles, and were passing Capo Mongerbino, about 6 mile east of Palermo, I was down below cooking supper, when were joined by four dolphins, 3 Common and 1 Rossou’s. The kids and I went forward to the Dolphin nose while Sara helmed and watched them play in our bow wake. <br />17:23 I returned to the galley, leaving the kids on the foredeck with the dolphins to find that supper is now burnt, but we didn’t mind. Phoebe who had spent the day missing her friends in Salina and at home, had been bending our ears about how horrible it was living on a boat, and how she wanted to go home, but when I put the question to her during supper and post dolphin encounter, I was informed that a girl is allowed to change her mind.<br />19:33 Arrived at a marina, and tied up to the pontoon at Baia D Mondello. We all dived into the warm sea, and swam round watching the sun set. Later that evening we were joined by Eva and Hokan as we walked into the town, there was a permanent fair ground with dodgems, we let the kids go on by themselves, which they loved, Nick was so excited when the ride ended, that he jumped out of his dodgem with his ‘seatbelt’ still on, got it caught round his feet and ended up in a heap, with a grin so wide I thought his head was going to come off. Eva and Hokan spoilt the kids by buying them more tokens, saying that as they didn’t have any kids with them they would treat our instead, a tired and happy crew found their way back to the boat, a lovely end to what had started out as a horrible day.<br /><br />08/08/06 A slow start to the day saw us leaving at 12:15 after being charged an extortionate amount of E50:00 for one night mooring, determined that we will try anchoring more. Eva and Hokan do not anchor, they are not confident in their ground tackle, and are not sure about things like scope, so we feel obliged to tie up with them, tying up has its advantages, easy access to shore and shops, possibly water and electricity, but with the amount of motoring we are doing, batteries going flat is not an issue. But we will stay tying up, but if the charges continue at this rate or get higher, we will anchor.<br />The passage round to Castellamare was beautiful rugged rock headlands full of cliffs and crags off set from the sea by dry scrub land. Again it was motoring most of the day, but the log reads 16:27 Course 213T Speed 6.3knots, Main and Jib only A GOOD SAIL AT LAST!!!<br />16:46 Who turned the wind off?<br />We persevered and got a good wind as we approached the harbour, for a change we were in front on INGALAN, and I was enjoying the sail, I could see the harbour was large and clear, with ample room to drop the sails in the shelter inside, so we sailed kept he sails up as we sailed into the harbour, it felt fantastic, gave me a sense of pride and achievement, helped even more b the radio message from Ingalan, saying how good it looked to see us sailing into the harbour.<br />While dropping the sails, the radio crackled back into life, for us to hear a worried Hokan asking for assistance as he had got a rope on his prop that had stopped him, we acknowledged, and said we were on our way as soon as we had got the sails stowed. Shortly afterwards the radio started again, it was a very relieved sounding Hokan, he had put his engine into reverse, and the line had fallen clear. <br />We managed to squeeze ourselves into yet another impossibly tight berth, and watched the moon rise over a beautiful stone town, before retiring to bed, while Eva and Hokan went into town.<br /><br />09/08/06 Up early, unable to get the weather forecast off Channel 68, and rely on the forecast from the day before.<br />07:15 Oil topped up, Stern gland loosened, Tea made, flasks filled<br />07:47 Engine on lines dropped, as we exit our berth using warps and springs, it feels good. We are going slowly, slower than we should be going. <br />07:55 Having untangled the lazy line that had got tangled round our fender we could now continue with our departure.<br />It was a cool cloudy morning, the tops of the mountains were trying to tear holes in the grey clouds as they scudded past. Still to much interference to get a weather forecast, there is some wind, up goes the main and mizzen. We leave the motor, as we watch the weather, I want to get the main up but Sara wouldn’t let me. We start picking up gust of wind coming down off the mountains, we decided to see what the wind is like once we clear Capo Sant Vito before we raise any more sail. We clear Capo San Vito, the next piece of land to the west of us is Spain, the wind has got stronger, the waves have got bigger, and we are going like a train smashing through the waves, unfortunately it is like a train towards Sardinia not Marsala. WE get on the radio to Ingalan to advise them to have their sails reefed before they clear the headland, to be informed that they have no sail up and are thinking of putting in at Capo Sant Vito. We have a discussion, we are fine, but the crew in Ingalan will have a horrible time if they continue, we go about to head back. Dreamcatcher did not like the change of course, and protested by blowing out the mizzen below the first reef. With the jib reduced and the mizzen reefed we were soon in the shelter of Capo San Vito. We were waved to a berth, which took us two attempts to get into. After tying up I went below to tighten up the stern gland. My adrenaline levels shot up as I found engine room flooded with oily water, we had a leak! I quickly found the problem was the stern gland that had not been lock off, had come loose, I could feel the cold water pouring in, it was soon back on and tightened up.<br />We were in a mess, the water was up to the floorboards, the gearbox was under water, which meant it had probably filled with water, and the water was oily, there was no way we could pump it out with our bilge pump without polluting the whole harbour. I went and found the marina staff and tried to explain the problem asking if some one had a large pump. I was told they would find someone. A bit later a bloke turned up a small hand pump for emptying the residual amounts of water out a motorboat. The problem got explained properly once I had dragged the chap from the marina into the boat and showed him the engine room. He set off saying he would go find a man. About half and hour later he returned saying he had found an mechanic who would come that afternoon to have a look, when I asked how much this would cost, I was informed he would come have a look for E100-00.<br /><br />If I had been having a bad time up until then ,things got worse, I lost it, E100-00 just to come have look, I started shouting about them all being Mafiosi, and waving my arms around, this was probably not a good thing to say only 40 mile away from Palermo. Sara was trying to get me to calm down and be quiet, but I was not in the mood, I was being extorted. Hokan in the boat next door was laughing away and talking to me. Finally he managed to get through the argument and explain that the E100-00 was the estimate for pumping out the boat. The chap from the marina left with a bemused expression on his face saying the mechanic would be here at 15:00, undoubtedly quite convinced that the English are mad.<br />I spent the rest of that afternoon thinking about, the implications and how we were going to deal with this problem. Three o’clock came, no mechanic, a marina hand appeared came and said the mechanic would be there at five o’clock, and go I go to the office and pay. I walked up to the office to find something resembling a scene from the Soprano’s, their were four Uncle Juniors sat round a table in nylon tracksuits bottoms and mismatched shirts, playing cards, one bloke trying to relay the wooden floor boards while being given instructions from the Uncle Ju’s and four other assorted mismatched blokes who were hanging around. I was beginning to regret my Mafiosi comment, however there were no concrete slippers or sleeping with the fishes for me. <br /><br />The mechanic duly arrived at 5 o’clock, however he could not get his truck with the pump down the jetty, so we had to move the boat across the harbour to the fuel berth. With an engine and gearbox underwater, I did not want to use the engine. The solution, Marina chap #1 offered to tow me using his motor boat. We duly rigged fenders and got lines ready, as he came between the moored boats. IT had been a tight squeeze going in, it was going to be tighter getting out. I was expecting him to tie up alongside our quarter, from where he could push and pull, and turn, but instead he took lines to both stern cleats. Good idea there was not going to be enough room to turn us both, so he was going to pull us out, then come alongside. No I got that wrong as I discovered as he pulled us out, it was his intention to tow us backwards, down the length of the pontoon, and then across the harbour. We had people running up and down our deck, and the decks of the other boats as we went past, fending off like demons, as I was fending us off a nice shiny new boat flying a British ensign, the bloke who was stretched out in his hammock from the mast to the forestay, lifted his head in mild curiosity from his book, but did not bother to offer assistance, or even fend us off from his boat, I couldn’t resist the temptation and called that this is what happens if you don’t pay your fees. Finally we were out from the pontoon and in the empty harbour, then the tow stopped , ten tons of boat did not, more fenders, more shouting, if I hadn’t been my boat involved I probably would have enjoyed watching the spectacle.<br /><br />Then I discovered that we were not going alongside the fuel berth as I thought we were, they were going to try a Med, Stern to, mooring, the anchor was dropped , and we managed to get a line ashore, with Sara on the foredeck doing the anchor, I was left to pull us in. My back was giving me a lot of pain and I couldn’t do it, Sara was summoned to assist. We were soon moving towards the fuel berth, where a group of Italian males were stood, one of whom had been yelling at me in English to pull the boat in, once I passed the pulling over to Sara, he stood there muttering away to his mates while pointing at me. I pointed at Sara and said ‘She’s good isn’t she? I can tell you where to get one.’<br />That got him muttering that he didn’t need one, he could do his own pulling.<br />Once again I had opened up the first impressions with the locals score at minus.<br />Finally we got moored up, and a huge industrial drain clearing sucker got moved into place, 1000 litres later, we were dry. I could now do a preliminary inspection of the engine and gearbox. The gearbox was full of water, but on the plus side the engine was still okay and started first time.<br />We retired below, other yachts entering the harbour, seeing us on the fuel pontoon, tied up, and soon there was a collection of four other boats tied to the fuel pontoon.<br />We got woken by a lot of shouting, a fishing boat had come in and this was his spot, we all had to move and go to the marina, we tried to explain about the engine and gearbox, but all this did was make him shout some more, finally an angler who had been there when we first moored up managed to explain to the trawler man, and he went off muttering, and collapsed back into bed.<br />I was woken at 1 o’clock by Sara, she was convinced something was wrong, she went up and had a look, another trawler had tied up to the first and his bow was directly above our deck on the Starboard side, and he was moored on our port side, his bow passing through the triangle created by the forestay and the main mast. We got another line and were trying to decided how to get ashore to pass it back to the jetty, when Trawler man #1 appeared, on the deck of the trawler on our starboard side, that was just what we needed. But he was a changed man, he understood our circumstance, he took our line and made fast it fast, told us not to worry about a thing, and if we had any problems to call him and he would come help.<br /><br />The following morning, Fuel Berth, was back, he had learnt his English while living in America, so I was surprised to find him telling us we had to go to the marina. Once again I explained about the gearbox and engine, he was not having it, we had to move as he had a big boat coming in for fuel, and he was going to need the whole jetty, even though we were tied up right at the end. His suggested we get our friends to move us, I explained that we had no friends with a b oat capable of towing us into a marina spot.<br />He could ask the harbour master to tow us. Great could he do it, well yes he could but it would cost E1000-00.<br />This was beginning to get stupid. Sara and I discussed our plan, we would cast of the lines and shorten the scope of the anchor, moving us into the middle of the harbour, while I continued to flush and replace the gearbox oil. As we were doing this, Fuel Berth appeared again, to ask what we were doing, so once more we told him, to be asked in an incredulous voice, ‘Your engine does not work?’ <br /><br />We rode at anchor in the harbour, while I continued to sort the gearbox, and Sara dealt with all the enraged small boat fisherman, who now had to make a slight turn to get round us, I now know ‘Machinca Non Funczione’, while not strictly the correct Italian it would have communicated the problem. At last a bit of wind came up, and we put plan ‘B’ in to operation, we unfurled the jib got it drawing while we pulled up the anchor and sailed out of the harbour to anchor up in the anchorage outside. Sailing off the hook is a skill to learn, but doing it for the first time in small harbour, with a uncertain auxiliary propulsion unit, is incredibly satisfying. If it started going wrong we were prepared to either drop the hook wherever we were pr sail back to Castellamare, where we knew we could anchor in the harbour.<br /><br />We spent the next three days at anchor, going ashore in Bob, trying to find ATF for the gearbox and swimming in the sea. We hired a car and drove to Trapani, on a quest for a Tunisian courtesy flag, and took the cable car up to the village of Erice, a World Heritage site, built on top of a hill. The village had fantastic views across Sicily and towards the Egadi islands, but the cable car ride was worth every penny. The cable car is lit at night and must be a really good aid to navigation, as during our crossing to Tunisia it was visible a good thirty five miles off.<br /><br />13/08/06 I was happy to give leave, the engine seemed okay, the forecast was good, at 09:15 we raised the anchor and headed towards Marsala, making sure we got lots of sea room as the coast there has teeth, lots of them made of red jagged rocks, it was not an area we wanted things to go wrong on. Sara went below and called a course to steer, it was not right, it had us heading for rocks. I went to check what was wrong, the course appeared to be right, cross checking to paper charts, it still seemed correct. Going back into the cockpit to check the compass, and remove any metal objects from near the compass, we found the problem, Nick’s Geo-Mags were found next to the compass, we watched the compass correct itself by twenty degrees. Once this was sorted we were off having a cracking sail under main, jib and reefed torn mizzen. We saw a squall heading our way and started reducing sail, when we were nearly T-Boned by an overtaking French Catamaran, we yelled and waved then took evading action, to greeted by a shrug and a point at his burgee, obviously different collision regs apply in the Med.<br />After this little incident we had a lovely nearly event free sail, running before the wind to Marsala. Ingalan had motor sailed off into the distance while we continued with our sailing, when we got a call over the VHF, Ingalan had a steering failure, we set course to rendezvous, and once there stood by ready to offer assistance. Their steering cables had come loose, but it they resolved it, and we carried on tying up at 18:20. That evening Dreamcatchers crew took walk round Marsala, it felt like we had arrived in Africa, weathered sandstone walls and palm trees. We returned via a Gelateria, and fell happily asleep.<br /><br />14/06/06. We took the opportunity, while we were close to some shops to reprovision. We found Marsala as an uninspiring town, with unusual if not plain weird statues. While Sara and Eva sat in their cockpits completing home made Tunisian courtesy flags, I prepared and cooked Calamari for lunch then got some sleep ready for our night passage. <br />At 18:15 we dropped our lines and under main and jib we set off towards Africa. During our last night passage Nick had stayed in the cockpit, so Phoebe was determined to do a night watch, when she woke up at about 22:30, I told her that she had been entered up as being on watch, and she went below to her bunk. During the crossing we stayed close to Ingalan, and it was strangely comforting to have anther boats lights keeping you company. At 01:30 while keeping our plot up to date, I noticed a strange luminance coming from the galley, it was the waste from the Calamari which we had been keeping for Nick to use as bait for fishing. It was duly disposed off over the side, and the bowl left on deck to be washed up once the smell had dissipated.<br />06:00 The light at Cap Bon was sighted and identified, and half an hour later we had our first sunrise in Africa. At about 10:00 we got caught in a bit of a blow, we hove to and rode it out, arriving at Kelibia at 13:00. Customs formalities we quickly dealt with, no doubt speeded up by Sara choosing that moment to wash up the calamari bowl.<br />Kelibia is a fishing harbour, full of the smells of diesel and fish, where big wooden fishing boats are built and repaired. The harbourmaster changed some money for us, at a favourable rate, and we took a taxi into the town. While in a shop getting more provisions, the shop owners young son, gave Phoebe and big hug and then proceeded to help carry the shopping basket round the shop. I went across to a British flagged vessel, and started talking to the owners, Brian and Christine. They had done a slow circumnavigation, and had settled in Sicily, spending their summers cruising to round Tunisia, Malta and Sicily. <br />We found the Tunisians to be friendly and they all seem to love children, not thinking twice about picking up our kids and hugging or kissing them. <br /><br /> !7/08/06 We set off towards Yasmine Hammamet, we encountered an uncomfortable swell in the shallow waters outside the harbour, and headed offshore to find some deeper water and easier swells. WE then had a pleasant sail towards Hammamet, rounding Beni Khiar at 15:45, to see what looked like a pirate ship heading towards us. As we passed by each other, we could hear the music blaring, as the crew danced away doing their best to give the tourists a good time. Shortly afterwards we got a call for Ingalan, saying they were nearly at the harbour, which surprised us as we had not seen them go past us. Half an hour later as we were preparing to enter the harbour at Jasmine Hammamet, we got another call, Ingalan could not find the harbour, it turned out that the co-ordinates in the Med Almanac were incorrect, and Ingalan was trying to sail into the Medina at Hammamet three miles behind us.<br /><br />The error was attributable to the wrong co-ordinates in the Med Almanac, we settled in the kids were more than happy, there were bouncy castles being set up about 50 meters from our berth. During our stay here we hired a car to check out El Kantaoui as a possible winter mooring, as we had heard stories about the atrocious winter conditions at Yasmine Hammamet, and took in El Jem, an incongruous place to find an almost intact Roman amphitheatre, it seems to rise, as does the small town surrounding it from the very earth itself, with no logical reason for it to be there, it is the last Roman Amphitheatre built, it is an amazing building, used for concerts in summer, but still with access to its underground gladiator cells. We had told Nick that they were there, and he ran round trying to find the entrance, which we knew when he had found it, by the great shout of joy, which would have been heard over the baying crowds of 30,000 which El Jem would have held in its heyday. We got the kids imaginations going by pointing out marks on the walls and telling them they were made by the lions before going up into the arena, what a great place to play at being lions and gladiators, the smell of the hot dust, and the sight of the tiers enclosing you, gave an almost tangible feel to its history.<br /><br />On our return we told Eva and Hokan that we were going to be moving on to El Jem, as they had a place for us to over winter, finally the wind eased and we took got ready to leave, sail covers off, electricity unplugged, engine started, or it should have done, all we got was a click. Kill switch was checked, battery charge was checked, everything was okay. We had not escaped from our flooding after all, the started motor had seized, it had been fitted new in England before we set off. I set to removing it, I undid the studs that held it in, it would not move. I retightened the studs holding the cover on, and found the correct studs, swore a bit to myself, at both their location, and the fact that I did not have an Allen key big enough. I spent most of the day trying to fashion a key out of what I had on board, as there did not appear to be anyone locally who could supply one, my efforts were futile, I went to the harbourmasters office to see if they could tell me where to get one, and they let me the one they just happened to have in their draw, this made the job a lot easier.<br />The starter was dully removed, the water poured out of it, stripped cleaned, and then I tried to reassemble it. This seemingly simple job was complicated by having nothing to depress the springs on the bushes, I would get three depressed only to have them spring free before I could get the new ones in. Pop rivets came to the rescue, and so it was on the afternoon of the second day I found myself in the engine room, with temps outside of 35C, trying to align a heavy motor suspended by ropes from a pole, with so much sweat soaking through my trousers, they could be wrung out by the time I had finished. After about an hour of struggling I discovered that a couple of screwdrivers through the back of the holes the studs went in lined it up perfectly. At last it was refitted, wires connected, engine start button pushed, nothing. Note to self, when fixing a starter motor don’t forget to clean the solenoid. Remove starter clean solenoid, refit, job time now down to one and half hours, and improvement over one and a half days. Try again, the engine started, I was to tired to get excited it was now 11 o’clock at night, as I backed out of the engine room, I bashed into a shelf knocking items off it, fortunately all tied on with bits of string, and among all these items was an Allen key, of exactly the right size to remove the starter motor.<br /><br />The next day the weather had changed and it took us another week before we finally got to El Kantaoui, but not before on checking out of Hammamet, we discovered we did not have the right papers, when we left Kelibia, we had been giving Ingalans duplicate documents, it required a fax from Kelibia to allow us to continue. Getting a fax required finding the official with the keys to the cupboard where the fax machine was kept, then three people to plug it in and get it working, although this was amusing, it brought home the relevant affluence of Europe, where fax machines are in every office, and receiving and sending fax’s are parts of peoples daily routines. <br /><br />.El Kantaoui is a purpose built resort, surrounding the marina. Fresh fish and vegetables can be purchased from the medina at Sousse, and bread cost 3p/loaf. I found it necessary to make two trips back to England whilst in El Kantaoui, trying to sort out the insurance claim ,and visiting doctors. We also managed a sail to Monastir, with my mum and Dad who had come out to visit us for Nicks birthday. On the way back from Monastir with the cruising chute up for the first time, my father who was helming fell asleep whilst stood up, it says a lot for the balance of Dreamcatcher under the cruising chute, that we continued to track straight and true, until the kids woke him up with their shouts.<br />Whilst in Monastir we went to the Rabat, the one used in ‘The Life of Brian’ and other films, to discover they were making a documentary dealing with the evolvement of writing, and it had been set up as a town at about the time of Christ, with the actors all in appropriate costumes, it was the only time we didn’t have to get Phoebe and Nick to use their imaginations. <br />Shortly after our trip to Monastir, we all returned to England, in order for me to start some new treatment for my arthritis. So we left Dreamcatcher hoping to return in three months time and continue our adventures, we were away for nearly six months, and on our return we were no longer as free as we had been when we set off.Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-80455812841263859342006-07-31T19:54:00.000+01:002008-06-23T19:58:10.194+01:00Ripped sails and flooded boatsSicily 2006<br /><br />01 August 2006. Picking out Capo Orlando through the background haze had been rather difficult. We had picked up the headland of Capo Olando, and therefore had a rough idea where the harbour should be. The GPS and chartplotter told us where it should be, but we couldn’t find it, the huge concrete breakwater wall round the outside, blended with the background and the usual tell tale signs of masts were missing. As we got closer we finally started picking out what looked like masts, which then revealed what looked like the entrance. We had been warned of a sandbank in the entrance from the pilot book and by Eva and Hakan, so we approached with caution. Finally we picked out what looked like a navigation bouy in the open entrance to the harbour, binoculars confirmed it as a green cone shaped starboard marker. We hadn’t seen one of these since entering the river Seinne at Honfleur. Sara had been dispatched to the chart table to find out which side we should pass, before we applied logic and remembered which side to pass starboard marks on, our confusion had been caused by how far back from the harbour wall the marker was. The entrance was about two hundred meters wide, and the bouy was indicating that over half of the entrance was not navigable. As we came past the outer breakwater we realised why it had been so hard to pick up masts, apart from the fact that most of the boats were either motorboats or small sailing boats, the breakwater wall was approximately 5 meters high, and because of the sandbank most of the boats were moored along way from the wall. Eva and Hakan were easy to find, there was a boat with a Swedish flag, with two people waving their arms about, and blasting an airhorn, fortunately there were no other people living on their boats.<br /><br />Sara did the deck work of getting the fenders and mooring warps ready and I looked for suitable mooring spots, while keeping an eye on the depth. Our intentions must have been confusing to onlookers as a man appeared and waved us into the spot where Eva and Hokan were moored, then proceeded to start untying them. We eventually got it all sorted and headed off to the beach for a swim and rounded off the day at the local pizzeria.<br /><br />Well that’s not entirely true, we got round to discussing where we were going next, had some beers, looked at charts, had some more beers, Africa seemed very close, has some more beers, discussed the possibility of sailing to Africa, then went to bed. In the morning while off buying some bread, I discovered that the romance adventure of sailing to Africa had got hold, we arrived back at our boat with plans forming. When we informed Hokan that we were off to Africa, he signed up to the idea, and we were doing a cruise in company to Africa!<br /><br />Two days later at 10:30 on 3rd of August we motored out towards Cefalu. Eva and Hokan were worried that we would go to fast, we spent the day watching them disappear ahead of us in the light winds of the Med. We arrived at the new Harbour to the east of Cefalu, to find the marina full, some boats had anchored in the harbour and taken long lines ashore, we managed to find a spot moored bows to the quay, close to the hydrofoil landing stage. There was a swell which came into the harbour, which got exacerbated by the hydrofoil coming in and out, which caused Dreamcatcher to continually surge backwards and forwards, even with the rubber damper on the lines. <br />Getting on and off was a bit of a struggle, not always helped by the children deciding to be awkward. We found ourselves holed up for four days while weather systems blew in from the West. The day before we left the surging got so bad that it snapped the rubber spring on the bow line, and ripped off both starboard bow cleats. We were not the only boats holed up because of the winds, most people heading west were taking shelter, however some boats were still heading towards us out of the east. We watched one of these boats make slow progress towards Cefalu and finally they made it in, we helped the three chaps on board tie up, and exchanged greetings, about an hour later we noticed that the chaps had been joined by three women, it transpired that the women hadalways been on board, but for what ever reasons did not deem it necessary to help out in the tying up, cleaning down or stowing of the sails. The next day the behaviour was slightly more bizarre. <br /><br />I was up on deck checking fenders and things, when I noticed that one of the female crew on was perched on their coachroof facing our boat, I was separated from this lady by the distance of half of our combined side decks and a fender, while she sat in a pair of shorts using a lady shave on her legs, this was not a problem, however when she janked her leg up and started doing her bikini line, I retreated hastily to our cockpit, where I found Sara trying hard to stifle her laughter.<br /><br /> The town of Cefalu is very nice, medieval town, approached by a walk of about a mile round the headland. It has some newer bits largely sprawling off along the beach. The roads were narrow and cobbled, with occasional glimpses of the sea. The town has suffered earthquakes in the past, most noticeably to us in the church, where the old bits are few surrounded by new repairs. The church has a lovely setting, set between high cliffs on one side, stone buildings on the other, and a large piazza in front, apparently the tomb of the legendry Diane is located to the top of the cliff. <br />The town still has a medieval laundry, set down some steps, where the tubs have been carved into the gently sloping rock floor. The spring water enters at the top, then flows into successive tubs until finally making its way out through the rocks to the sea, occasionally the water from a larger than normal wave would push its way back into the laundry. The children were not slow in removing their shoes and socks to go paddling in the tubs, but I beat them to it, the water was lovely and cool, quite refreshing after the walk into town. <br /><br />While making our way back to the Piazza, we encountered the local Brass band, which had been doing a concert in the Piazza the day before, marching round the town. The children wanted to join the followers, and we did, following the band round the old town as we all headed back to the Piazza in front of the church.<br /> <br />The day before our departure we did an expedition to the new bit of town to find a supermarket. We found Eva and Hokan, in a Café across the road from the supermarket, and we joined them for a coffee and icecream. I went into the shop to help the children choose their icecreams and ordered two little ones, the assistant kept heaping icecream into the cups, after the third spoon I realised my Italian had let me down, once more I expressed my wish for small icecreams, where I was told in English that they only did one size, I had visions of another national debt clearing bill similar to the one in Rome, the bill for two icecreams bigger than the kids heads, two coffees and two beers was a bit over E10-00. No wonder the place was full of locals.<br />On the way back to the boat after shopping we saw a plane coming down to scoop up water from the sea to fight the bush fire on the hill behind us. Anxious locals who gathered in a piazza to watch the progress of the fire as it moved towards houses on the hill. Then that evening I saw a Search and Rescue Helicopter practicing outside the harbour. It was getting far to hectic, time to move.<br /><br />7 August 2006 We left the harbour at 10:00 into light winds and proceeded to motor sail towards Capo Gallo. An hour and a half later, we were all getting fractious, it was hot and the light winds meant the engine had been on continuously which wears down, there followe a discussion about my choice of sails and the course we had chosen, as Ingalan was disappearing in front of us. <br />Lunch time was a relief, melon followed by cheese, followed by a cheese being introduced to peoples thighs and faces, and giggling children.<br />To break up the monotony of motoring, Nick helmed for twenty minutes, then so did Phoebe. However Phoebe found it hard to helm and eat her melon. We then had a mOB, melon Over Board, which improved her helming.<br />By 17:10 we were had made progress of 25 miles, and were passing Capo Mongerbino, about 6 mile east of Palermo, I was down below cooking supper, when were joined by four dolphins, 3 Common and 1 Rossou’s. The kids and I went forward to the Dolphin nose while Sara helmed and watched them play in our bow wake. <br />17:23 I returned to the galley, leaving the kids on the foredeck with the dolphins to find that supper is now burnt, but we didn’t mind. Phoebe who had spent the day missing her friends in Salina and at home, had been bending our ears about how horrible it was living on a boat, and how she wanted to go home, but when I put the question to her during supper and post dolphin encounter, I was informed that a girl is allowed to change her mind.<br />19:33 Arrived at a marina, and tied up to the pontoon at Baia D Mondello. We all dived into the warm sea, and swam round watching the sun set. Later that evening we were joined by Eva and Hokan as we walked into the town, there was a permanent fair ground with dodgems, we let the kids go on by themselves, which they loved, Nick was so excited when the ride ended, that he jumped out of his dodgem with his ‘seatbelt’ still on, got it caught round his feet and ended up in a heap, with a grin so wide I thought his head was going to come off. Eva and Hokan spoilt the kids by buying them more tokens, saying that as they didn’t have any kids with them they would treat our instead, a tired and happy crew found their way back to the boat, a lovely end to what had started out as a horrible day.<br /><br />08/08/06 A slow start to the day saw us leaving at 12:15 after being charged an extortionate amount of E50:00 for one night mooring, determined that we will try anchoring more. Eva and Hokan do not anchor, they are not confident in their ground tackle, and are not sure about things like scope, so we feel obliged to tie up with them, tying up has its advantages, easy access to shore and shops, possibly water and electricity, but with the amount of motoring we are doing, batteries going flat is not an issue. But we will stay tying up, but if the charges continue at this rate or get higher, we will anchor.<br />The passage round to Castellamare was beautiful rugged rock headlands full of cliffs and crags off set from the sea by dry scrub land. Again it was motoring most of the day, but the log reads 16:27 Course 213T Speed 6.3knots, Main and Jib only A GOOD SAIL AT LAST!!!<br />16:46 Who turned the wind off?<br />We persevered and got a good wind as we approached the harbour, for a change we were in front on INGALAN, and I was enjoying the sail, I could see the harbour was large and clear, with ample room to drop the sails in the shelter inside, so we sailed kept he sails up as we sailed into the harbour, it felt fanatastic, gave me a sense of pride and achievement, helped even more b the radio message from Ingalan, saying how good it looked to see us sailing into the harbour.<br />While dropping the sails, the radio crackled back into life, for us to hear a wooried Hokan asking for assistance as he had got a rope on his prop that had stopped him, we aknowledge, and said we were on our way as soon as we had got the sails stowed. Shortly afterwards the radio started again, it was a very relieved sounding Hokan, he had put his engine into reverse, and the line had fallen clear. <br />We managed to squeeze ourselves into yet another impossibly tight berth, and watched the moon rise over a beautiful stone town, before retiring to bed, while Eva and Hokan went into town.<br /><br />09/08/06 Up early, unable to get the weather forecast off Channel 68, and rely on the forecast from the day before.<br />07:15 Oil topped up, Stern gland loosened, Tea made, flasks filled<br />07:47 Engine on lines dropped, as we exit our berth using warps and springs, it feels good. We are going slowly, slower than we should be going. <br />07:55 Having untangled the lazy line that had got tangled round our fender we could now continue with our departure.<br />It was a cool cloudy morning, the tops of the mountains were trying to tear holes in the grey clouds as they scudded past. Still to much interference to get a weather forecast, there is some wind, up goes the main and mizzen. We leave the motor, as we watch the weather, I want ot et the main up but Sara wouldn’t let me. We start picking up gust of wind coming down off the mountains, we decided to see what the wind is like once we clear Capo Sant Vito before we raise any more sail. We clear Capo San Vito, the next piece of land to the west of us is Spain, the wind has got stronger, the waves have got bigger, and we are going like a train smashing through the waves, unfortunately it is like a train towards Sardinia not Marsala. WE get on the radio to Ingalan to advise them to have their sails reefed before they clear the headland, to be informed that they have no sail up and are thinking of putting in at Capo Sant Vito..We have a discussion, we are fine, but the crew in Ingalan will have a horrible time if they continue, we go about to head back. Dreamcatcher did not like the change of course, and protested by blowing out the mizzen below the first reef. With the jib reduced and the mizzen reefed we were soon in the shelter of Capo San Vito. We were waved to a berth, which took us two attempts to get into. After tying up I went below to tighten up the stern gland. My adrenaline levels shot up as I found engine room flooded with oily water, we had a leak! I quickly found the problem was the stern gland that had not been lock off, had come loose, I could feel the cold water pouring in, it was soon back on and tightened up.<br />We were in a mess, the water was up to the floorboards, the gearbox was under water, which meant it had probably filled with water, and the water was oily, there was no way we could pump it out with our bilge pump without polluting the whole harbour. I went and found the marina staff and tried to explain the problem asking if some one had a large pump. I was told they would find someone. A bit later a bloke turned up a small hand pump for emptying the residual amounts of water out a motorboat. The problem got explained properly once I had dragged the chap from the marina into the boat and showed him the engine room. He set off saying he would go find a man. About half and hour later he returned saying he had found an mechanic who would come that afternoon to have a look, when I asked how much this would cost, I was informed he would come have a look for E100-00.<br /><br />If I had been having a bad time up until then ,things got worse, I lost it, E100-00 just to come have look, I started shouting about them all being Mafiosi, and waving my arms around, this was probably not a good thing to say only 40 mile away from Palermo. Sara was trying to get me to calm down and be quiet, but I was not in the mood, I was being extorted. Hokan in the boat next door was laughing away and talking to me. Finally he managed to get through the argument and explain that the E100-00 was the estimate for pumping out the boat. The chap from the marina left with a bemused expression on his face saying the mechanic would be here at 15:00, undoubtedly quite convinced that the English are mad.<br />I spent the rest of that afternoon thinking about, the implications and how we were going to deal with this problem. Three o’clock came, no mechanic, a marina hand appeared came and said the mechanic would be there at five o’clock, and go I go to the office and pay. I walked up to the office to find something resembling a scene from the Soprano’s, their were four Uncle Juniors sat round a table in nylon tracksuits bottoms and mismatched shirts, playing cards, one bloke trying to relay the wooden floor boards while being given instructions from the Uncle Ju’s and four other assorted mismatched blokes who were hanging around. I was beginning to regret my Mafiosi comment, however there were no concrete slippers or sleeping with the fishes for me. <br /><br />The mechanic duly arrived at 5 o’clock, however he could not get his truck with the pump down the jetty, so we had to move the boat across the harbour to the fuel berth. With an engine and gearbox underwater, I did not want to use the engine. The solution, Marina chap #1 offered to tow me using his motor boat. We duly riggd fenders and got lines ready, as he came between the moored boats. IT had been a tight squeeze going in, it was going to be tighter getting out. I was expecting him to tie up alongside our quarter, from where he could push and pull, and turn, but instead he took lines to both stern cleats. Good idea there was not going to be enough room to turn us both, so he was going to pull us out, then come alongside. No I got that wrong as I discovered as he pulled us out, it was his intention to tow us backwards, down the length of the pontoon, and then across the harbour. We had people running up and down our deck, and the decks of the other boats as we went past, fending off like demons, as I was fending us off a nice shiny new boat flying a British ensign, the bloke who was stretched out in his hammock from the mast to the forestay, lifted his head in mild curiousity from his book, but did not bother to offer assistance, or even fend us off from his boat, I couldn’t resist the temptation and called that this is what happens if you don’t pay your fees. Finally we were out from the pontoon and in the empty harbour, then the tow stopped , ten tons of boat did not, more fenders, more shouting, if I hadn’t been my boat involved I probably would have enjoyed watching the spectacle.<br /><br />Then I discovered that we were not going alongside the fuel berth as I thought we were, they were going to try a Med, Stern to, mooring, the anchor was dropped , and we managed to get a line ashore, with Sara on the foredeck doing the anchor, I was left to pull us in. My back was giving me a lot of pain and I couldn’t do it, Sara was summoned to assist. We were soon moving towards the fuel berth, where a group of Italian males were stood, one of whom had been yelling at me in English to pull the boat in, once I passed the pulling over to Sara, he stood there muttering away to his mates while pointing at me. I pointed at Sara and said ‘She’s good isn’t she? Ican tell you where to get one.’<br />That got him muttering that he didn’t need one, he could do his own pulling.<br />Once again I had opened up the first impressions with the locals score at minus.<br />Finally we got moored up, and a huge industrial drain clearing sucker got moved into place, 1000 litres later, we were dry. I could now do a preliminary inspection of the engine and gearbox. The gearbox was full of water, but on the plus side the engine was still okay and started first time.<br />We retired below, other yachts entering the harbour, seeing us on the fuel pontoon, tied up, and soon there was a collection of four other boats tied to the fuel pontoon.<br />We got woken by a lot of shouting, a fishing boat had come in and this was his spot, we all had to move and go to the marina, we tried to explain about the engine and gearbox, but ll this did was make him shout some more, finally an angler who had been there when we first moored up managed to explain to the trawler man, and he went off muttering, and collapsed back into bed.<br />I was woken at 1 o’clock by Sara, she was convinced something was wrong, she went up and had a look, another trawler had tied up to the first and his bow was directly above our deck on the Starboard side, and he was moored on our port side, his bow passing through the triangle created by the forestay and the main mast. We got another line and were trying to decided how to get ashore to pass it back to the jetty, when Trawler man #1 appeared, on the deck of the trawler on our starboard side, that was just what we needed. But he was a changed man, he understood our circumstance, he took our line and made fast it fast, told us not to worry about a thing, and if we had any problems to call him and he would come help.<br /><br />The following morning, Fuel Berth, was back, he had learnt his English while living in America, so I was surprised to find him telling us we had to go to the marina. Once again I explained about the gearbox and engine, he was not having it, we had to move as he had a big boat coming in for fuel, and he was going to need the whole jetty, even though we were tied up right at the end. His suggested we get our friends to move us, I explained that we had no friends with a b oat capable of towing us into a marina spot.<br />He could ask the harbour master to tow us. Great could he do it, well yes he could but it would cost E1000-00.<br />This was beginning to get stupid. Sara and I discussed our plan, we would cast of the lines and shorten the scope of the anchor, moving us into the middle of the harbour, while I continued to flush and replace the gearbox oil. As we were doing this, Fuel Berth appeared again, to ask what we were doing, so once more we told him, to be asked in an incredulous voice, ‘Your engine does not work?’ <br /><br />We rode at anchor in the harbour, while I continued to sort the gearbox, and Sara dealt with all the enraged small boat fisherman, who now had to make a slight turn to get round us, I now know ‘Machinca Non Funczione’, while not strictly the correct Italian it would have communicated the problem. At last a bit of wind came up, and we put plan ‘B’ in to operation, we unfurled the jib got it drawing while we pulled up the anchor and sailed out of the harbour to anchor up in the anchorage outside. Sailing off the hook is a skill to learn, but doing it for the first time in small harbour, with a uncertain auxiliary propulsion unit, is incredibly satisfying. If it started going wrong we were prepared to either drop the hook wherever we were pr sail back to Castellamare, where we knew we could anchor in the harbour.<br /><br />We spent the next three days at anchor, going ashore in Bob, trying to find ATF for the gearbox and swimming in the sea. We hired a car and drove to Trapani, on a quest for a Tunisian courtesy flag, and took the cable car up to the village of Erice, a World Heritage site, built on top of a hill. The village had fantastic views across Sicily and towards the Egadi islands, but the cable car ride was worth every penny. The cable car is lit at night and must be a really good aid to navigation, as during our crossing to Tunisia it was visible a good thirty five miles off.<br /><br />13/08/06 I was happy to give leave, the engine seemed okay, the forecast was good, at 09:15 we raised the anchor and headed towards Marsala, making sure we got lots of sea room as the coast there has teeth, lots of them made of red jagged rocks, it was not an area we wanted things to go wrong on. Sara went below and called a course to steer, it was not right, it had us heading for rocks. I went to check what was wrong, the course appeared to be right, cross checking to paper charts, it still seemed correct. Going back into the cockpit to check the compass, and remove any metal objects from near the compass, we found the problem, Nick’s Geo-Mags were found next ot the compass, we watched the compass correct itself by twenty degrees. Once this was sorted we were off having a cracking sail under main, jib and reefed torn mizzen. We saw a squall heading our way and started reducing sail, when we were nearly T-Boned by an overtaking French Catermaran, we yelled and waved then took evading action, to greeted by a shrug and a point at his burgee, obviously different collision regs apply in the Med.<br />After this little incident we had a lovely nearly event free sail, running before the wind to Marsala. Ingalan had motor sailed off into the distance while we continued with our sailing, when we got a call over the VHF, Ingalan had a steering failure, we set course to rendezvous, and once there stood by ready to offer assistance. Their steering cables had come loose, but it they resolved it, and we carried on tying up at 18:20. That evening Dreamcatchers crew took walk round Marsala, it felt like we had arrived in Africa, weathered sandstone walls and palm trees. We returned via a Gelataria, and fell happily asleep.<br /><br />14/06/06. We took the opportunity, while we were close to some shops to reprovision. We found Marsala as an uninspiring town, with unusual if not plain weird statues. While Sara and Eva sat in their cockpits completing home made Tunisian courtesy flags, I prepared and cooked Calamari for lunch then got some sleep ready for our night passage. <br />At 18:15 we dropped our lines and under main and jib we set off towards Africa. During our last night passage Nick had stayed in the cockpit, so Phoebe was determined to do a night watch, when she woke up at about 22:30, I told her that she had been entered up as being on watch, and she went below to her bunk. During the crossing we stayed close to Ingalan, and it was strangely comforting to have anther boats lights keeping you company. At 01:30 while keeping our plot up to date, I noticed a strange luminance coming from the galley, it was the waste from the Calamari which we had been keeping for Nick to use as bait for fishing. It was dult disposed off over the side, and the bowl left on deck to be washed up once the smell had dissipated.<br />06:00 The light at Cap Bon was sighted and identified, and half an hour later we had our first sunrise in Africa. At about 10:00 we got caught in a bit of a blow, we hove to and rode it out, arriving at Kalibia at 13:00. Customs formalities we quickly dealt with, no doubt speeded up by Sara choosing that moment to wash up the calamari bowl.<br />Kalibia is a fishing harbour, full of the smells of diesel and fish, where big wooden fishing boats are built and repaired. The harbourmaster changed some money for us, at a favourable rate, and we took a taxi into the town. While in a shop getting more provisions, the shop owners young son, gave Phoebe and big hug and then proceeded to help carry the shopping basket round the shop. I went across to a British flagged vessel, and started talking to the owners, Brian and Christine. They had done a slow circumnavigation, and had settled in Sicily, spending their summers cruising to round Tunisia, Malta and Sicily. <br />We found the Tunisians to be friendly and they all seem to love children, not thinking twice about picking up our kids and hugging or kissing them. <br /><br /> 07/08/06 We set off towards Yasmine Hammet, we encounted an uncomfortable swell in the shallow waters outside the harbour, and headed offshore to find some deeper water and easier swells. WE then had a pleasant sail towards Hammet, rounding Beni Khiar at 15:45, to see what looked like a pirate ship heading towards us. As we passed by each other, we could hear the music blaring, as the crew danced away doing their best to give the tourists a good time. Shortly afterwards we got a call for Ingalan, saying they were nearly at the harbour, which surprised us as we had not seen them go past us. Half an hour later as we were preparing to enter the harbour at Jasmine Hammet, we got another call, Ingalan could not find the harbour, it turned out that the co-ordinates in the Med Almanac were incorrect, and Ingalan was trying to sail into the Medina at Hammamet three miles behind us.<br />.<br /><br />.Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-42910136174704809142006-07-23T22:16:00.000+01:002008-07-28T00:01:22.079+01:00Aeolian IslandsSalina to Sicily<br /> <br /><br />23/07/06: Having spent the previous day, recovering from the passage across, with lots of swimming, watching the hydrofoils and ferries coming and going regularly between the islands and the mainland, we decided it was time to escape the swell created by these vessels and go ashore. The swell no doubt was exacerbated by where we had anchored, the bottom had shelved fairly quickly, but not having confidence in our anchor winches ability to deal with 10meters plus of depth, we had moved into shallower water of about 5m, which brought us close under a cliff between two short promontories, this had the combined effect of creating taller waves and we were caught by the wave as it came back after bouncing off the cliff. The holding was a mix of weed rock and gritty sand, and our anchor was nicely set into a clear batch of sand, so I was reluctant to move it. We launched ‘Bob’ by now using our trusted method of hauling the dinghy up, using the spinnaker halyard, swinger it over the guard wires, and lower into the sea, it is both easy and controlled, until that is you try doing it when the wind is blowing, when instead of it being nice and controlled, you end up with a dinghy swinging backwards and forwards trying to knock anyone in its way overboard, this we do have first hand experience of. However on launching ‘Bob’ we discovered a new problem, we had a leak, not only in the floor letting in water, but in the starboard tube. We pumped it up and went ashore to explore. The town of Santa Marina, is built on a slope, with what appears to be one main street, it is full of typical holiday type shops, selling loud shirts, lilo and fishing stuff, along with a couple of places selling diving gear. Along the high street, we found a couple of shops selling fresh provisions, so we stocked up with bread, drinks and fruit. Having spent a couple of hours walking round we returned to Dreamcatcher. That afternoon as the temperatures climbed we needed to keep cool the children cool without exposing them to the midday sun by swimming, we found the ideal solution, out came the hammock, which was rigged athwart ships from the shrouds, with the body passing under the boom, which meant it was covered by the cockpit tent, it became the children’s favourite spot, and that evening as we watched the setting sun turned Lipari a wonderful deep red colour, the children were ensconced side by side in the hammock, with Phoebe reading a book to Nick while he played with his stuffed toy gorilla. Later that evening I stood on the aft deck watching Stromboli in the far distance, as it occasionally lit up the sky with its pyroclastic display.<br /><br /> <br /><br /> 24/07/06 The wind got up a bit during the night, and I kept waking up in the night to peer out of the window to check that the marina lights were still where they should be. Sara had found things too hot in the cabin so had moved her bed up into the cockpit, where she continued to sleep for the next 7 days. Andre had told us about a small village of Lingua, at the foot of the island, where we thought his house was, so before it got too hot we went ashore and caught the bus to Lingua. Our journey ashore the previous day had acquainted us with the incredibly slippery boat launch ramp, even forewarned as we were dragging Bob out was a bit like watching a dog on ice, as our feet kept shooting out, and it was only by keeping a firm hold on the dinghy that we did not end up falling. After walking round a deserted Lingua for half an hour or so, we had drunk all our water, and the ubiquitous drinking water fountains you seem to find in all Italian towns, were not working, fortunately we found a shop selling cold drinks. Once re-hydrated and in some shade, I telephoned Fedirica to discover that she was in Santa Marina, however we arranged to meet at four o’clock that afternoon in Lingua. We waited patiently for the bus to take us back to Santa Marina and Dreamcatcher. Then we waited some more, and after about an hour a bus arrived. The distance from Lingua to Santa Marina just over 2 kilometres, but we did not fancy walking that far in the heat. <br /><br />What a difference four hours make to an Italian village, we decided to go to Lingua<br /><br />in Bob, and tied up behind a rock breakwater, to find the promenade full of people, and children playing in the sea. Fedirica appeared in a blowing Beach dress, draped and dragging an assortment of towels, and beach toys, while her two children were buzzing round her. We just added to the noise and confusion, as language obstacles were overcome, and the kids, dragged us all off to go swimming. As we picked our way gingerly across slippery sharp rocks, into the warm sea, the procedure to avoid nasty falls seemed to be to get into water half way up your shins, then semi float drag your way into deeper water. The kids didn’t understand this are tried to run and walk, with much falling over fortunately Phoebe and Nick had their lifejackets on, so survived the falls with only minor bumps. However the life jackets were a problem in there own right, Danieli who was younger than Nick, was a veritable fish in the water, and with his goggles on was happily diving down to the bottom to pick up rocks for his mother, our kids decided it was time for them to learn to swim. Into the confusion of trying to keep your balance, engage in conversation and keep an eye on the kids, there came Ros. <br /><br />Ros, Frank and the their two children were the English Family living on Salina that Andre’ had told us about. Ros had been living on Salina for a couple of years while trying to write a book, while Frank an Antiques dealer, would fly back to London for a couple of days every month or so, to do some trading, Issy was a year older than Phoebe attended the local school, while Juno, who was the same age as Nick stayed at home with her mum. It took all of about one minute for the kids to get introduced and strike up friendships, it now became a near impossible task even with four adults to keep track of the six kids, as they climbed onto rocks and jumped into the sea, and ran around on the promenade. Ros was a fluent Italian speaker, and we found we had a willing interpreter, who helped with introductions to numerous people, and we found Salina had a number of English speaking Italians, some of whom had been living abroard and had now returned, however without the introductions by Ros and Federica we would just have been another group of tourists. We had many a confusing conversations swopping between Italian and English, which usually involved people being spoken to in the language they did not understand. <br /><br />Once the kids had tired of swimming, we all went up to the promenade, where the adults conversations were interrupted regularly by, one or another of the children asking for something, or the sight of one of them suddenly appearing on a bicycle or scooter that they had just found, it seemed to be the norm that all the children came onto the promenade, with their toys, which then seemed to be fair game for anyone to play with until it was time to go home, when the children would get rounded up, relevant toys gathered up, and everyone bundle off. How the children found the time for these activities, as Juno and Izzy had set up a stall selling rocks they had gathered off the beach and painted with designs, Phoebe joined in the stall and spent her time trying to organise everyone. It was only later when Sara and I had time to confer that we realised that the mob, as a like to think of the children, had got themselves organised, and had managed to illicit numerous trips to the shop for drinks, granita’s (crushed frozen fruit drinks) or crisps, by trying approaching which ever of the adults was by themselves to ask for money. <br /><br />After a pleasant laid back evening, during which we had arranged to meet the next day and go to Lipari on the hydrofoil, we returned to find Bob a bit flatter than when we had started, and had a bit of a windy, bouncy trip back to the anchorage in the dark, without any torches. Finding the anchorage was easy due to all the boats, finding Dreamcatcher was not, we had not anticipated returning after sunset and had not left an anchor light on, plus we were a lot further in towards land than the other boats, we went up and down the anchorage, until I recognised the lights of a catamaran that was moored close to us. It was a tired but happy crew of Dreamcatcher who went to bed that night.<br /><br />.<br /><br />25/07/07 Todays trip to Lipari had to be cancelled, I had gone to check something in the engine room to find the bilge full of oily water, The stern gland was dripping and filled the bilge with water, it was not too worrying as I measured the drip rate and figured it would take three days to fill the bilge, but it was something we needed to keep an eye on. The water in the bilges was oily and I did not wish to empty my bilge this close to land, so we hauled up the anchor and ran before the wind, once we were over four miles from land we pumped out the bilge, stopping as soon as we saw a trace of oil on the surface. We decided to alter course and head towards the town of Lipari, passing between the islands of Lipari and Volcano. The crew soon all fell asleep, Phoebe in the hammock, Nick on his knees in the cockpit, and Sara while assisting with the lookout duties. I had a lovely sail slowly closing on the magnificent southern side of Lipari, and watching the fumes rising from the top of Volcano. We approached Lipari town but could not see anywhere to moor up, where we could just go to the shops and return without having to pay for the priviledge, so we returned to an anchorage Delle Genti. After four attempts to set the anchor in water deeper than we usually did, we give it up and headed back towards Salina, with a possible overnighter on Volcano. I had read about the supposed therapeutic effects of the sulphurous mud pools found on Volcano, on relieving the aches and pains of arthritis, so I was hoping to get a chance to visit the island. The harbour and main anchorage is on the East side of the island at Porto Di Levante, the name in it self is enough to make you wary, with another anchorage to the North at Cala Di Mastro Minico, with anchoring forbidden in the bay off Porto Di Ponente. However this is Italy so they bay off Ponente was filled with boats at anchor. We slowly nosed our way in, the bottom seemed generally free of rocks, sandy and gently shelving, we dropped our hook in 8 meters, and let out all 30 meters of chain, there was no wind or swell, it was open to the Northwest and North only, and if it did blow up, from their we could either nip round to the main anchorage or head back to Salina. We were close to some other boats and having watched some other boats come in, come to a stand still dump all of their chain, and just left the breeze set the anchor, we decided to rig fenders just in case any of the dragged during the night.<br /><br /> <br /><br />26/07/07 We woke the next morning, and I revisited the stern gland, looking at it more closely, A good nights sleep, had allowed me to recall some advice given to me by Paul about the stern gland, two minutes later the job was done no more leaking stern gland, now all I had to do was remember to loosen it off a bit before using the engine. We took Bob ashore to check out the town, the mud pools and find more fresh provisions. The town and the shops had a kind of scruffy, in a hippy kind of way, feel to it, but it seemed very relaxed. The island is most definitely on the backpacker route, with the ferries disgorging them in their droves, it was difficult to walk round near the ferry port without tripping over a rucksac or two. The town has boards up dealing with the emergency evacuation procedures in case of an imminent eruption, along with klaxons. Taking this all together, the backpackers, active volcanoes and natural therapies, probably helps explain the atmosphere, temporary, noisy, laid back and just generally cool. <br /><br />With all this laid backness I was disappointed to discover that the free mud pools had been converted into a business, with fences and gates, but I suppose it had to be done to protect them from damage and over use. The children had been told that people are a bit smelly after using the mud pools, and we certainly passed a number of people with an overpowering rotten egg cologne, it seemed unfair to the other crew members to confine them in the boat with me smelling like that, so I elected not to play in the mud. <br /><br /> <br /><br />We returned to Bob, after first stopping at a shop to buy both Phoebe and Nick some goggles and snorkels. In short order Phoebe was swimming, The snorkel let her breath with her face in the water, and then her bottom came up and she was in the perfect swimming position, and Phoebe was off without any buoyancy aids. Nick was not quite there but he was trying. On our return to Dreamcatcher, I went to go speak to the crew of a Brit flagged boat to find out where they were going and had been. I was bit longer than expected, and Sara swam over to join us. The kids thought this looked fun, and wearing their lifejackets they swam back to Dreamcatcher with Sara. <br /><br /> <br /><br />The next morning we were up earlyish, to walk up a volcano. By the time we got ashore the it was getting warm. We walked out of the town heading towards the volcano, and found the entrance, a rickety fence and gate. We set off up the path, beginning to walk past a little hut, when we were hailed. We thought there might be problems with the kids ages. The man beckoned us towards his hut, and then proceeded to explain, while using a map to illustrate, ‘You walk up here, then you go this way. Do not go this way, you die. Then you come back the way you went. Ok have a good visit.’<br /><br />And that was it. Safety briefing over off we went. The hill was a lot steeper than it looked, climbing over sharp volcanic ash. We passed a hut selling drinks, and kept going, then the going got harder. The path got steeper and as you walked you stirred up the dust, people coming back down stirred up even more dust, and every step forward you slid back half a step. The kids carried on, although we did have to have some stops. Round the next bend things got worse, the ash gave way to a pink coloured powder, that reminded me off face powder, touching it seemed to instantly dry your skin, and it was slippery. Still we went higher, the path got narrower, with gulleys erode by rain, then with a last effort, we arrived at plateau. Now we were on a moonscape, the ground was barren of vegetation but littered with rough edged grey rocks varying in size from loafs of bread to dog kennel size. We could seem yellow sulphurous gases coming out of the fumaroles, and we could at last seem the edge of the crater. The walking here was easy with fantastic views across to Salina and Lipari, the final 100 meters or so was covered quickly with excitement mounting, at last we were at the lip and able to stare down into the crater. Nick summed it up ‘Wow!’<br /><br />The children were excited about having climbed a volcano, an active volcano. Although there were no lava flows, and the bottom of the crater looked like dried mud, we could see the sulphurous gases coming out of the ground, the scientists walking round in their white suites, measuring the gases and temperatures. We sat and looked down at Dreamcatcher and savoured the moment, and watched tour guides issuing respirators before taking their charges into the ‘You die’ area.<br /><br />Getting down was lot easier apart from a really tricky part at the top, as we transitioned onto the face powder, where the gullies were. Our feet were sliding on the fine powder on the hard surfaces, with big drops off the edge. Phoebe, Nick and I all arrived at the refreshment hut in plenty of time to get our drinks before Sara finally arrived. Then it was straight back to the beach for some more swimming practice. We weighed anchor at 14:00, and at 17:00 after having we sailed close alongside the west side of Lipari, looking at the magnificent rock formations, and coves formed by the folds in the rocks we anchored back at nearly the same spot we had left at Salina. We were all straight into Bob and off to Lingua, for another pleasant evening. <br /><br /> <br /><br />28 July. The wind had picked up the previous day, while at Lingua, and we had had a bumpy, wet and exciting ride back. We woke up after a disturbed night as the wind continued to blow, we had planned on meeting Ros and the kids, but due to the wind we cancelled, and spent the day on board. Towards late afternoon I went snorkelling to check the anchor. I couldn’t find the anchor at first, as it was completely buried. At least I knew my anchor, and therefore our boats was not going anywhere.<br /><br /> <br /><br />29 July. Santa Marina shopping, while walking towards the town, I saw a young lad go past on a scooter, with his foot on an enormous tuna, draped across the foot plate, the tuna was so big it tail was dragging on the ground on one side with its nose grinding a groove in road on the other. Phoebe was upset about missing her only chance of seeing a tuna on a scooter, but she saw him fifteen minutes later when he came back, with slightly shorter tuna by now. We bumped into Ros and her family in town, and brought Izzy back to Dreamcatcher with us. <br /><br />On our now regular evening journey to Lingua, we arrived at the beach at the same time as the wash from a hydrofoil, it completely swamped us. I was sat in a dinghy up to my waist in water, surrounded by giggling soaked kids, and frantically trying to keep my bag with the camera in out of the water. Sara was trying to get the kids out of the dinghy and I wanted her to take the bag, on the grounds that the kids were wet, not broken and not in any danger. The kids jumped out of the dinghy and ran off into town, while Sara and I unloaded the dinghy, removed the outboard, and used our hands to bail out, a dinghy full of water is very, very heavy. <br /><br />When we finished we walked into Lingua, without the faintest idea where our kids were, we must have been coming to Lingua fairly often, as a couple of men sat on their boxes greeted us. We returned to Dreamcatcher in the dark, having once more forgotten to turn on the anchor light before departure. It took us bit longer to find Dreamcatcher this time, as we mistook a new arrival as the boat closest to ours.<br /><br /> <br /><br />30 July Another windy night, requiring another swim to the anchor, it had moved! It was now facing in another direction and had moved about two feet. I swam back to Dreamcatcher and hung off the anchor chain, I was amazed by how much Dreamcatcher moved with the wind. While at anchor we leave the mizzen up, and as the wind blew, it would power up the sail, and we would move forward with surprising speed until the mizzen brings the head to wind, then the boat drops back slowly until the next wind shift starts it all over again.<br /><br />We were invited to Ros and Franks for meal, the kids bouncing all over Dreamcatcher in their excitement, we gave in and went to Lingua early. We meet up with Fedirica and Ros, and were waiting for Frank who was doing the cooking. There was an art competition which all six children joined in, it got a bit chaotic at prize giving, with loads of kids pushing and shoving, but Nick won a star prize of a Pizza and drink at the local restaurant, he was not happy, he wanted a water pistol like the one Juno had won. <br /><br />While waiting for Frank to arrive we were once more expertly fleeced by the kids for drinks, crisps and icecreams. The art competition ended at about 19:00, with no sign of Frank. I was beginning to get hungry. 20:00 still no sign of Frank, or of Ros getting ready to move. 20:30 I am now leeting the kids buy crisps in order to nibble some for myself. 21:00 OK maybe we have got this wrong, is it tonight, was it an actual invite, or have we misunderstood. 21:30 Ros stands up time to go, at last, we gather up all the kids and head off, but first we have to stop to pick up another couple. We then wind our way up a footpath to Ros and Franks, where Franks appears from inside his tiny outside kitchen, hair plastered to his face. While the kids run round on the open terrace, and we sit round in the warm evening, Frank disappears back into the sweatbox, it must have been a very unpleasant experience for him, in the tiny room, with a small window and a hot cooker. <br /><br />The meal was lovely, and we finally rounded up our kids and left at 01:00. Along the way we pasted the other guests who had left before us, having a conversation with a family on a balcony, it appeared as if no one went to sleep in this town. The kids had done really well and despite the lateness of the hour, there had been no arguments, and they walked back to Bob without complaint, although Phoebe did admit to falling asleep in Bob on the way back.<br /><br /> <br /><br />31 July Pumping up Bob before going ashore, I heard a tearing noise followed by a loud bang, it took me a while to realise that and internal baffle had blown. I set off in to go get some fuel for Bob, the engine kept cutting out, but by wiggling the engine from side to side I made it to the entrance of the harbour, from where I had to row the rest of the way to the slipway. With the coming of August every one was heading off, Ros and Frank to the UK, Federica back to Rome, it was time for us to say goodbye and head off towards Greece. Eva and Hokan, our friends from Port Saint Louis, had contacted us to let us know they were in Sicily, looking at the charts it was a small detour on the way to Greece.<br /><br /> <br /><br /> 01 August, we weighed anchor at 09:50, and left our holiday island, and set off towards Sicily. I pulled the winding arm out of my watch and bent it. It was not worth fixing, I asked the kids if I should throw it in the sea, they said yes, so in it went, only to have Nick burst in to tears, it turned out he wanted to keep it to play with it. The entrance to Capo Orlando is tricky as there is a large sand bar across the entrance, which is marked by a bouy, a green bouy, we had not seen a navigation bouy since leaving Port Saint Louis, it took us a while to realise that this meant we had to pass on the far side of the bouy. At 17:15 we were moored up alongside the Viking pirates, after they had had to move their boat to make way for us.Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-36184306384134691982006-07-11T21:06:00.000+01:002008-07-28T00:00:39.892+01:00Swinging at anchor and VolcanoesAndre' who lived in Rome, and who had the Hallbergy Rassey moored two boats in front of us, had a family home on Salina, one of the Eolian Islands, and he was taking his family down there over July and August. He wasn’t sure if he was going to sail there, due to work commitments, but he invited us to go down, apparently they knew an English family on the island and he thought it would be good if we were down their with his family, to help his children with English. I did rather want to go down there, and see Stromboli doing its stuff, but the pilot books warned of strong winds coming up out of nowhere, so I was having second thoughts. However armed with local knowledge, provided by Andre’, that there was always somewhere to shelter no matter which direction the wind came from, and the chance of strong winds during July and August was minimal, and after meeting his family, his wife Federica, who spoke a little English, Danieli who was Nicks age and Lavina who at Phoebes age spoke fluent English, we decided to head that way when we left. <br /><br />After a couple more trips into Rome, where Nick got his head dunked into the Trevi fountain, by his horrible dad, and to make matters worse he didn’t know whether to be cross or not, as all the people round him, which on a summer day amounted to a good 300 people, where laughing, although he did say to me quietly afterwards that it was not a nice thing to have done. In fairness I agree, he had gone in a bit further than I anticipated, but it did cool him down. A trip back to England for Phoebe's birthday, and to attend to some medical appointments, regarding our car accident. A visit out to us by Grandma, with a trip to Rome, which included a E60-00 bill for four ice creams and three coffees, I did think that when I left I should try taking the table with me, as I must have bought it for the price they charged us. Travel broadens the mind and flattens the wallet. A trip to Ostia Antica, a fantastic place to visit, really hands on Roman ruins of a town abandoned by its inhabitants when the Goths invaded Rome. Only for a flood to them change the course of the river, leaving no reason for the town to be re-inhabited, although a lot of the marble got reclaimed, and had been taken into Rome for inclusion in Temples and churches over the years. It lay abandoned covered in earth until Victorian archaeologists rediscovered it, and started excavating the site and planting trees to provide shade, it is hardly visited by tourists, as it appears not to be on Tour Guides schedules. We engaged the services of a guide, a German lady who had been studying the site for many years, she pitched the tour at the kids at our request, and seemed generally impressed by Phoebes level of knowledge, stating she knew more about the Romans than a lot of adults she had shown round the site. Mosaics laid in the floors of the old market, depicting the trade of the stalls, fish, cereals, wine etc, bathhouses, Thermoplia it was all there, to be seen touched and experienced.<br />Watching Italy win the world cup, in a bar on the quayside with the kids sharing one of those enormous polystyrene hands, provided by John from a boat further up the quay. The party was almost instantaneous with parachute flares, foghorns searchlights from the coast Guard. Car horns, big flags and lots of noise from everyone else. Phoebe discovered that while walking back to Dreamcatcher, a simple wave of her enormous hand at the passing cars, would inject renewed vigour into its inhabitants whose noise levels would rise further. The party carried on until after we went to bed at 02:00.<br /><br />11/07/06 We had slowly been moving in towards the quayside, so when it was our time to leave we where against the wall with two yachts to our outside, fortunately there was an open space in front of us, and we were pointing into the stream. After saying goodbye to new friends, and with a fair bit of line juggling we moved into the gap, we were now able to use the stream to ferry glide slowly out of the gap, being constantly alert to any increase current as we headed into midstream. We had been planning on leaving a couple of days earlier, but Michaeli the owner of the yard had asked us if we could wait as he was going away for the weekend, and he wanted to be there to assist in our smooth exit, so we had waited and used the time to bring trolley loads of bottled water and provisions back to the boat. We were a bit early, for the bridge opening, so we took the time to tidy up lines and fenders, and get familiar with the controls and the feel of movement once more. Without incident or mishap we passed the end of the breakwater at 10:30. At 11:20 we turned the engine off, at 11:30 it came back on, as we were wallowing along at 1.5 knots, the engine finally got turned off at 12:30 as the wind began to fill in, at 16:00 the mizzen was dropped as we ran before the wind, we negotiated the tricky entrance into Anzio, missing the apparently ever changing sandbar, and did our first stern-to mooring since Corsica, all squared away by 18:00, 32 miles in a little over 7 hours.<br />The biggest problem of going stern-to, is getting off, the shape off Dream catcher’s stern makes the step off the back a very long step, with the plank rigged, you have to take a couple of unsupported steps, a half swing half throw gets the kids off, Sara manages, but I struggle, possibly due to the lack of movement in my back, or the lack of confidence to jump, knowing that if it goes wrong and I land awkwardly, I am going to be in a world of pain, and then not able to get back on board, we managed somehow, it was not elegant.<br />We had only just left Fiumicino, but once more we off shopping for provisions. Whilst having ice creams, a convertible F350 Ferrari, in red, well this is Italy, parked outside, Nick displayed his petrol head credentials, by having his jaw drop and issuing an appreciative noise. We arrived in the main plaza as the sun was setting. A beautiful place, we felt guilty about not having left Fiumicino earlier, while my mother was with us, as she would have loved this town. We didn’t get to the war memorial which was the other side of the bay, and was probably only of interest to me.<br /><br />12/07/06 Anchor broken out, covered in mud, at 08:30, as we set off towards Ponza, trying to get some miles in before the heat of the day. The children were being a bit grumpy this morning, partly due to a late night, and Phoebe and Nick didn’t want to leave so many Gelateria. A rather uneventful day, with some good sailing towards the end. We lost the wind as came under the lee of Ponza, so motored towards Ponza Town, we had been warned that the harbour was expensive, and judging by the size of the motor boats tied up, it would be, however there is an unofficial anchorage just outside the harbour, we found our spot among the boats and dropped the hook at 18:00. We were all hot and sticky it was time to cool down, the kids donned their lifejackets and we all went swimming off the back of the boat, in the ‘Big Sea’. The water was clear and warm, one of the reasons we came down to the Med. Bucket showers rounded off the day.<br />It was a beautiful spot, sheltered from the wind, with occasional wash from the big motorboats that seemed to charge into the harbour, without any consideration for their wash. We found we were one of the smaller boats in the anchorage, with a large proportion of ketch’s. While at anchor we saw something at a distance in the water, we couldn’t make out what it was, but it seemed to be moving purposely towards the shore, when it emerged it turned out to be dog that had jumped off one of the boats and had swum over 300 meters to shore. There was boat between us and the shore with a beautiful seemingly constantly topless woman onboard, who seemed to be joined regularly by a procession of different boats, maybe it was imagination, but they appeared to be redefining the term ‘swinging at anchor.’ <br /><br />The plan had been to take ‘Bob’ into the harbour, and wander round the town, but we, spent the whole of the next day at anchor, reading and jumping into the sea. Nick plucked up his courage and jumped off the side, he got so confident doing it, that sometimes he was jumping before Sara or myself was there to assist him. <br /><br />14/07/06 09:00 anchor weighed, and off we went towards Ventotena, no wind motored all day. While on passage we experienced an interesting phenomenon, the magnetic attraction objects exert on boats, the rhumb line between the two islands is 23 miles, with a big finger off rock sticking up out of the sea, approximately half way between the two and about 1.6miles off the rhumb line, we missed it by about three hundred meters. I learnt two things today, when you lay off a rhumb line on a large scale chart, you need to go to a smaller scale and just follow up on your course to make sure you have identified any hazards, and when sailing in a featureless sea, if you see an object and keep looking at it, that is where you end up going. For those that are interested Scio Della Butte lies at 40N50’40 013E06’16, it is nice looking lump of rock, very solid. We arrived at Ventotena at 15:15, the concrete harbour was empty, a chap in scruffy shorts appeared and waved us to a spot, after taking our lines he asked for E20-00, Ventotena is a free harbour, so I argued that E10-00 would cover, his time, this was not possible as the small boat next to us had paid E10-00, and this would cause him problems, therefore we settled on E11-00, not bad considering he spoke no English. While Sara and Phoebe stayed on board, Nick and I went off exploring. The first thing we came across was the old Roman harbour, carved out of the Tufa, which is still in use today, mainly by small fishing and day trip boats, but is had its fill of Motor Boats. Although the water level has risen, so that the base of some of the stores are now covered in water, you can feel the history and imagine what is would have been like as a busy port. Further round we found a passage under the headland leading to a beach consisting of lots of broken black Tufa, small stones and sun bathing Romans. We went back to fetch Phoebe and Sara, and all went back to the beach to go swimming. This was the first time Phoebe tried swimming without her armbands. Nick not to be out done spent his time diving off a rock, without his armbands on. We arrived back at the harbour to find it had filled up in our absence, and the scruffy boat boy, was now walking round with his colleges in smart matching Chinos, polo shirts with badges and deck shoes. The empty harbour was now full of large crewed motor yachts, you could spot the clients they were the ones walking round arrogantly, getting in the way, with cigars in their mouths, the owners were the same except they kept constantly fiddling and telling the crew how to do things. The crews professionalism shown threw in the way they efficiently did their jobs and didn’t get annoyed with the owners interfering. While on Ventotena we discovered another phenomenon Italians all leave the harbour during the day, when they take their boats out to an anchorage, sometimes only 600 meters from the harbour, then at about 17:00, they all come charging back, in order to be seen and to go to restaurants, even the big MOBO’s with cook on board, in their case it seems they need to be seen on their boats by as many people as possible, and the only way to do this is in harbour. One of our neighbours had slipped off during the day, but had tried to reserve their spot by leaving their lines on the dock, they got a surprise when they came back, not only had their spot been filled, but they now had no lines, as the boat in their spot had used them for tying up with. The ensuing discussion was wonderful to behold, and conducted at high volume with a lot of arm waving. Just after the boats started arriving for the night a Guarda Costeria, rib turned up, who was going up and down the harbour stopping boats entering and turning them around, this seemed to be in order to keep the hydrofoil berth spot free, and to stop boats getting in the way of the hydrofoil as it arrived and departed, the arrogance of some of the skippers was a joy to behold, it seemed that they had booked a space so they were coming in no matter what, eventually the man at the helm lost it, and he started jumping up and down waving his arms about, I did at one stage think, he was going to draw his firearm and shoot the skipper of one boat, and I do not think anyone would have blamed him, it was all vastly entertaining as seen from our cockpit, one of the best shows ever, and it got repeated each night we were their.<br />There seemed to be another tradition on the island, as the late afternoon Hydrofoil was preparing to leave a vast quantity of teenagers some with parents strolled down to the end of the breakwater, then as the hydrofoil containing their friends left, they all jumped off the sea wall down 10/12 feet into the sea, then swam back into the harbour to get out. This looked fun the first day, but on the second day, there were strong winds and big swells, it changed from fun to rather dangerous as they negotiated the gap between the harbour wall and wildly swinging boats. <br />Ventotena derives its name from the Italian word for wind, and during the period we were there we found out why, we had strong winds on two days. Apparently the Italian government made it into a penal colony, where the prisoners were allowed a certain amount of freedom, while the real bad boys were imprisoned on the nearby island of San Stefano where the huge former prison still stands. It appears a little ironic that the Italians are now escaping from Naples and Rome to the form penal colony. It had the feel of a happy friendly island, and certainly all the people in the main piazza in the evening all seemed to know each other, there was an open air cinema, and a town museum, that did opened at nine o’clock at night. Ventotena is an island I would recommend visiting, although how long it will remain a free harbour is doubtful, as while we were there a group of boats doing some sort of rally would pass across E50-00 each to the Ormigigotti every day.<br /><br />16/07/06 the morning started off with strong winds and lumpy seas, so we went off to the beach for the morning, during the day the winds died down, so at 15:00 we slipped our lines and headed off towards Ischia. It was another uneventful sail, and at 20:30 we dropped anchor in the little bay behind Castello Di Ischia. Time to swim and watch the world go by. That night we were treated to a roving firework and band display, as a procession seemed to be making its way round the town stopping in places to let off fireworks. During the night the wind picked up and the anchorage was subject to a bit of swell, went round checking all ok at 02:00 then finally fell asleep, the next morning everyone was tired, so we took ‘Bob’ for a spin. There is a causeway linking the monastery to the town, with a small bridge, the kids loved going under the bridge. We then took ‘Bob’ into town, the slipway was covered in slime, requiring careful placement of our feet as we lifted ‘Bob’ out. Ponte Ischia was used as a location during the filming of ‘The Fabulous Mr Ripley’, and there is an olive press with a plaque on to inform passers-by. We did not get to fully explore Ischia, as Sara was complaining about the bouncy anchorage, plus she was getting anxious about getting to Salina, so we elected to push on the following day.<br /><br /> 18/07/06 An early start saw us raising the anchor at 09:30, and heading off towards Salerno, on the way we were going to pass Capri, which we had been warned was an expensive place to stop, and we were not aware of any anchorages on the island, although there was meant to be one in a cove on the mainland, which we would look at and decide if we stay. The day was a mix of wind strengths and directions, making it necessary to constantly keep trimming sails. The history and legend surrounding Capri, would make it an interesting island to visit, however as we got closer the view of cruise ships and large boats crowding round the harbour, did not inspire us to stop, instead we contented our selves passing under the cliffs of Mont Tiberio, telling the children grizzly tales about the alleged evil emperor having his enemies thrown off the cliffs on their way home after visiting him. Aren’t children gruesome creatures? The seas got very lumpy and confused in vicinity of the harbour, which seemed to be caused by the wash from ferries and MOBO’s moving at speed, and we had to alter course as a sailing boat coming up from behind seemed intent on ramming us. As they went past, we could just see a head in the cockpit, they probably hadn’t seen us.<br />We spent a pleasant afternoon running down the rugged Mali coast, looking at the famous coast road, and imagining what it would be like to drive down it on a motorbike, or in an open topped car. The entered the harbour and had tied up in the marina, when we were informed we could only stay one night, and what the charge should be, I had been lead to believe that this was a free harbour. Apparently the free harbour was on the other side of the breakwater, if they had any spaces available, we untied and motor round. The free berths were right up at the top, and were full. We tied up on the end of the pontoon at 19:00 and reluctantly parted with E50-00 for the night. That night we watched helicopters dumping water on a forest fire that had been burning for two days. The wind picked up a bit during the night, but the mooring was largely free of swell.<br /><br />19/07/06 Sara woke up full of energy after her night of peaceful sleep, so the E50-00 had not been wasted. After breakfast we set off to go see Pompei, we were so close it seemed silly not to go, even though we knew we have to pay for another night. Pompei seems to be a victim of its own success, full of tourist, expensive eateries on the outside, areas fenced off, Perspex over walls, security cameras, and a lack of drinking water once within the site, unless you go to the onsite Cafeteria. We emerged later that afternoon, hot tired, thirsty and somewhat disappointed, it had not lived up to the hype, but please that we had been and seen, otherwise we would have been left wondering if we had missed something spectacular. <br />However Salerno itself was a lovely town, it is separated from the sea by a large promenade lined with palm trees, and the town seems to be a mix of old and new, with lovely winding streets, turning and twisting to reveal new aspects. I really liked the ambiance of the town, we had stopped at a boat yard in the morning to enquire about the possibility of over wintering and repairing the engine. Various chaps had gone off to find someone who could speak English to help me. While I was standing around waiting for this man to arrive, a man from another part of the yard wonder past, and insisted on me joining them for a cup of coffee, its was the strongest sweetest cup of coffee I have ever had, Sara did comment on meeting me later that I seemed to be a bit bouncy. This appeared to epitomise the general impression we got of the people of Salerno, a town well worth a visit, I felt comfortable and at home in its streets.<br /><br />20/07/07 We planned on sailing straight across to Salina, a distance of 130 miles, approximately 30 hours sailing, so we slipped our lines at 06:40 and headed South. This was going to be our longest passage by ourselves to date. The first part of the route was more or less parallel to the coast, so we had options to abort if things got too much. The day passed hot and uneventful, and as twilight approached at 20:25, we turned the nav lights on prepared for a night sail, with lifejackets, lifelines, hats, gloves and waterproof coats to fend off the cold. Phoebe went below to bed as Sara snuggled down in the cockpit, and Nick kept me company, while I waited for my first sight of an active volcano. 21:45 now 40 miles from land, still no sign of Stromboli, Nick still in the cockpit, helping to keep watch.<br />22:40 the anticipation is building but still no sign.<br />23:04 Top up the engine oil as Sara joins me on watch, I am determined to stay awake until Stromboli is sighted, Nick has by now gone to sleep, but he is still in the cockpit, on watch.<br />23:55 An orange glow spotted, bearing 160M, down to the chart plotter, checked the bearing, yes it is, Stromboli Sighted! My first active volcano, it is low down on the horizon, and it will not get any bigger on this heading. We are so close, and change of heading directly towards Stromboli, I went to overawed, overwhelmed by this massive natural phenomenon. <br />00:30 This is taking to long, down below to get the binoculars, I want to see more. Until this point in my life I had not realised that Volcanoes needed to carry Port and Starboard Navigation lights! We later course back to our original heading and carry on trying to spot volcanoes, as we move away from the motor yacht.<br />01:15 We seem to be at a Maritime cross roads, as we thread a circuitous route through the passing ships, we have a modification to the Col Regs for vessels that are bigger than us, We have seen them, we can not be sure if they have seen us, and if things do go wrong, we will definitely come off worse, therefore just stay out of their way.<br />01:30 Stromboli Sighted, there is no doubt this time, as the sky lights up with bursts of deep red colour, which dies down, only to be repeated again. Sometimes they seem to follow seemingly one straight after another after another, and at others there are long pauses, when you begin to wonder if you are looking in the right direction, when suddenly you see the lava bursting into the sky. Was it worth waiting for? Oh yes. I wanted to wake Phoebe and Nick up to see a volcano, but Sara pointed out it would still be there in the morning. <br />I finally went off watch still buzzing about seeing my first active volcano, and feeling slightly insignificant knowing that this force has been blowing bits of molten earth up into the sky for thousands of years. Nick remained in the cockpit cuddled up in his duvet, fast asleep, but on watch.<br />Up just after sunrise still excited to get another view of Stromboli, Sara had been joined by Phoebe in the cockpit, and they had the company of dolphins in the early light of morning. We were closer, much closer, and I now had to tip my head up to see the summit. During Sara’s watch some low cloud had moved over and she had lost sight of Stromboli, by the time the cloud had cleared Sara could no longer see the eruptions, and thought we had sailed past it. It was only when she stuck her head out from under the cockpit cover roof, that she realised that she had been looking at the wrong spot, Stromboli instead of being low on the horizon, was now above mast height as we passed 9 miles off.<br />10:20 We found a clear looking piece of bottom, dropped and set the hook in 5m of water in a little cove in front of the harbour at Santa Marina on Salina, got the cockpit, aft deck and fore deck tents rigged, and all went swimming. We spent the rest of the day, lazing at anchor, reading, sleeping and swimming.Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-44543940163375667832006-06-30T21:46:00.000+01:002008-07-27T23:59:50.632+01:00Volcanos, ripped sails and sinking feelings, and some good cruising<br />30/06/2006<br /><br />We arrived in Fiumicino intending to stay for a week, to pick up Phoebes passport, and see some of Rome, before heading south before Italy got to expensive. Things don’t always go to plan, we finally left 7 weeks later. After getting through the bridges, we meet fellow cruisers who had come for a week and where now on their second year there, it obviously had something. May be it was due to the reasonable monthly rates, being an hour from the center of Rome by public transport, which depending on your choice of route cost from E1-00 to E15-00 per person, our usual was E2-60 if the ticket machine was working to allow you to buy tickets, more usually we ended up traveling for free, a choice of Supermarkets close and convenient, or large and a bus ride away at Parco Leonardo, or maybe its was because it was close to Fiumicino airport which was served by a free bus from directly opposite the boat yard entrance. Anna in the office was a lovely exuberant and friendly woman, who I will remember standing on the jetty wall under the bridge cheering louder than anyone else when the American Catamaran finally got out on their second attempt. They had tried once and been thwarted despite the full tanks and six additional bodies on board, they bounced twice and the bridge keeper lowered the bridge not waiting for a third attempt, when they returned to the quay, their stood a rather rotund Italian, bursting out of a faded boiler suit with a repaired windex in his hand, he looked at the boat, then back to the windex, which with a resigned shrug, he let slowly droop. The crew were only slightly disheartened, the level in the canal dropped towards evening and the next day the bridge opening was in the evening. For the second attempt, we were once more happy to lend ourselves as extra ballast, along with everyone else they managed to rope in, cruisers, yard workers, people walking past, I counted 22 people excluding children stood on the bridge deck as we bounced once, then slid under on the second attempt, to Anna`s cheers.<br />We visited Rome, were overawed by the size of the buildings and footprint of the ruins and the Pallentine hill, shocked by the crowds trying to get into the Colloseum, and generally enthralled by the history seeming round every corner. At the Trevi fountain we threw in our coins and Nick, although he was not to impressed about having his head dunked into the water, the clown in him reacted to all the people laughing, he waited until after we had left before he told me that he was cross with me. We made use of the airport for me to go back to the UK to see solicitors and doctors about the car accident, and seeing as it was Phoebes birthday, we all came back for a week, although my doctors appointment got changed and I ended up staying a bit longer. Grandma returned to Rome with Sara and the children, upon my return we visited the Vatican and ended up paying E60-00 for 3coffees and 3 ice creams, angry is not the right description, I should have sent the others away and brazened it out.<br />Ostia Antica, was a fantastic place to visit, it is the site of the old Roman harbour town, abandoned when in the 4th Century when Rome was sacked, and then the river flooded and its course changed, a new harbour was used and the site never reoccupied, plus the marble was allegedly plundered for churches and temples in Rome itself. The site is the same size as Pompei, but even in July it was empty, with lots of trees providing shade, and you can interact, explore the site at your leisure, with very little blocked off. Phoebe and Nick where fully engaged playing shop in the old Thermoplium, the Roman fast food establishments.<br />While in Fiumicino, we were hailed from the quay side by a man, demanding to know if we were English, and where we were going. This was Andre’ a Roman who owned a Hallberg Rassey Ketch moored a couple of boat lengths in front of us.<br /><br />Rome and Home, June Trips to Rome, Phoebes birthday return to UK and grandma’s visitDreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-32375121935910207592006-05-02T21:43:00.000+01:002008-07-27T23:58:20.795+01:00Pirate beaches, marinas and wreckers.<br /><br />02/05/2006 Porto Vecchio Corsica via Rondinara<br />After four days in Madallena, where we had sat out bad weather, in which the only boats going out were sailing schools or charter boats, and a boat full of older gentlemen, who after a late night and a decidedly liquid lunch, had left without paying, and whom after being chased down the pontoon by the ormeggiatori, pointed at another boat saying they would pay the bill. We helped Eve and Gunner sail Topea across to Palau, they were already trying to decide when to return to Sweden and where to leave the boat. Our stop here had seemed like a holiday but it was time to get moving again, we were heading towards Rome to sort out Phoebe’s passport, we had decided that rather than do a crossing of 130 miles, it would be nice to head north up the east coast of Corsica, across to Elba and Giglio and then back down to Rome, it would involve shorter hops and then we should be in Rome within the next 10 days. We cast off at 08:45, and the children were deck crew, helping to bring in the fenders and warps. We motored back out past Razzoli with the children doing face painting in the cockpit we raised the main and the jib and stopped the engine at 10:20. By 10:40 we were back motorsailing. 11:40 we sailed past the opening of the Golfe De Sant Amanza, another beautiful place to stop. At 12:30 we entered into Rondinara, a circular anchorage accessed through a narrow opening, we dropped the hook into 5 meters of clear water and watched it bury itself into the sand, we were the only boat there, and apart from 5 people on the shore it was our own little piece of paradise . The anchorage was perfectly sheltered apart from winds from the west which reportedly would send in an uncomfortable, if not dangerous swell, the wind that night was forecast to be westerly, we would not be able to stay the night, but we could have a pleasant afternoon. We then took Bob to the beach and hauled him out onto the white sands, if it had had palm trees it could have been a Bounty Bar advert. During the course of the afternoon four other boats anchored up, including one who had inadvertently put petrol into his diesel tank, and after we gave him some diesel from our jerry cans, then had to pump out his diesel tank by hand in order to replace the fuel. At 15:00 Sara went forward and raised the anchor by hand, much to the admiring glances of a boatload of middle-aged German men.<br />Porto Vecchio is approached down a channel in valley. As we approached the entrance there was a ferry coming out slowly, so I maintained course and speed, until after we had crossed to the other side of the entrance, when I then turned to go down the channel, the ferry then gave a blast on his horn, this lead to a discussion on skippering and pilotage, which nearly lead us to discover just how narrow the channel is. The entrance to the marina is fringed with rocks, which the wind and waves have carved into interesting shapes; we found a dog and a walrus.<br />Before leaving Madallena I had sent emails to all the Port Saint Louis boats saying we were heading to Elba, and hoped to be there on Friday, and inviting them all to supper. This would have worked out fine however the wind got up for the next four days, and we sat on the pontoon watching boats coming in with wide eyed crews, who then struggled to get their mooring lines on to the jetty, why boats insist on trying to go stern to in windy conditions, when it would be easier and more controlled to go in forward, I just can not figure out. A lot of gelcoat got left on the pontoon, and at least one person got his knee strained, while trying to help another boat moor up.<br />The area around the marina is full of waterside restaurants, bars and boutiques, clearly geared up for the cruise boat and charter market, while we were there, a large sailing cruise liner the Windstar called in, we tried to go onboard to have a look round, but were refused entry on the grounds of immigration, it was an American liner with lots of USA citizens on board. We would however be welcome to go aboard if we caught up with them in Greece, and gave them 24hours notice so that they could sort it out with the local authorities. Having been not too impressed with the commercialism of the marina, I found the walk up the hill into the old walled town of Porto Vecchio definitely worth the effort. While still commercial it had the feel of a real town, with lovely views across the valley and the harbour to the mountains on the other side. We found a supermarket that did delivery to your home, although in our case it involved dropping me the shopping and the kids at the road side, leaving me with the problem of either leaving the shopping and the kids, or sending the kids to fetch Sara. After a quick safety talk about not running and staying in the middle of the pontoon, Phoebe fetched Sara. The Capitainerie was not very helpful, and when the dryer did not work in the laundry on their premises, they told me to contact the owner and offered no other help. After three days we decided it was time to leave, and tried to pay for the previous three days, the office stepped up to the mark and exceeded itself, despite me going in to the office and speaking to them everyday since we arrived, they thought I had only just arrived, and was trying to prepay for the next three days, we finally straightened it up, but the weather was now not looking good, so we decided to stay for another day, which I did not bother going to the office to pay for, if they couldn’t be bothered to know who was there it did not seem my position to upset their tranquility.<br /><br />06/05/2006 Solenzara Corsica<br />Phoebe filled in the log as we set off at 10:00, our days seem to start later and later. At 11:00 we were back at the entrance of the Golfe de Vecchio, the gearbox was slipping again, but we had a southerly wind for a change, although it was accompanied by large short swells, we set the jib and headed north along the coast at 3.6 knots. By 12:00 we had managed 7 miles since setting off. A rather dull day broken up by sightings of dolphins, and what I believe was the waterspouts of whales, but I did not actually see the whales, but I am claiming them as whales. At 13:54 the engine was on as we were racing to get into port before black clouds that were now all around us decided to drop their burden. 13:56 we didn’t and were caught by a deluge of thankfully warm rain, which continued until 15:05, five minutes after we had finished tying up in Solenzara in front of the Capitainerie, to a half finished pontoon, with a pile driver on the other side. Needless to say no one came to help with our lines or to indicate where a free berth might be. The entrance is a bit tricky in onshore winds due to the swells it causes in the shallow water, and there is not much wiggle room if it goes wrong. It was not a nice stop, but it did have a lovely beach with a stream running down from the mountains, it reminded me a lot of the coast near Wilderness in South Africa. The children, the only people, to stay dry in the downpour proceeded to rectify that as quickly as possible while I talked to Andrew on the phone and told him how beautiful Corsica was.<br /><br />07/05/2006 Taverna Corsica<br />Once more I can’t be bothered to pay for no service, we leave at 08:30 with not a breath of wind, but an uncomfortable swell left over from the day before. Today’s trip was long and boring broken up briefly by the sight of dolphins, which came while I was cooking, Phoebe keeps missing them, as she is either down below or looking in the wrong direction when they jump. Sara tells the children that the dolphins have come cause they can smell my cooking. 16:00 we are tied up, after a bit of manoeuvring and rejection of potential berths due to obstructions, restricted access and general g don’t want to try getting in there from me, there is a small chandler open but not much else, the main town is half way up the mountain, a bit far to get to today. We are now late for our supper date in Elba, if anyone has got there, we haven’t been able to find any internet access to tell people we have been delayed, but this is sailing. We all go for a walk up a valley which is green and verdant, the soil still slowly giving back the moisture from the day before, the smell of wet musty earth is mixed with the scent of wild garlic, whose purple headed flowers are crowding the sides of the road. We stop to examine tadpoles and water skimmers caught in a culvert. The whole valley reminds us a lot of visits to David’s house near Monmouth. On the way back to the boat we divert to identify a tree with gnarled bark, and discover it is a cork tree, the children get to touch and feel the tree, then I break off little piece of bark for the kids to dig their nails into and bend while we walk back to the boat. Back at the marina we find the German boat that had had the fuel problems at Rondinara; we were both off to Elba the next morning.<br /><br />08/05/2006 Porto Ferrario Elba Island<br />It is a long passage of 50 miles today to Porto Ferrario on Elba. I am up early to get an idea of the weather. The sea is glassy calm, there is a bit of morning haze, which the sun is already beginning to burn off, so with an updated weather forecast from the vhf we drop our lines and slip out of the marina at 07:00. An hour and a half later Sara spots two dolphins heading straight towards us which are jumping completely out of the water, Phoebe misses them again. While enjoying a breakfast of scrambled eggs and lardons Sara notices a number of things on the sea, which she can’t identify, they are hundreds of little jellyfish, the ones with small sails which they raise to catch the breeze, which has started. 09:50 all sails set still motor sailing, the German boat which left just after us is in sight, and beginning to overhaul us, I can’t let another boat beat me with this fine beam wind, it is not a race, but oh yes it is. 12:00 Elba is clear in sight, I always find a sense of relief when we sight land after being out of sight, even on short passages, that we have been heading in the right direction, We have a GPS, a chart, a chart plotter and a compass, but until I see the landfall there is always some element of doubt in my mind. Sara helms while Phoebe and Nick go forward with me to raise the Italian courtesy flag. We are now doing between 5.5 and 6 knots under sail alone, Dreamcatcher was sailing beautifully, albeit a bit noisy down below with the rush of water past the hull, Sara informs me that I have a stupid grin on my face, and yes I did I was thoroughly enjoying myself, it is a lovely feeling when you have a beautiful sailing yacht under your command, and she is doing what she was built for, leaning slightly to a wind, and eating the miles comfortably, while not bouncing her crew about, these moments have been to few on this trip so far as we need a fair amount of wind to get her 10 tons moving. Phoebe has been looking forward to getting to Italy, the land of pizza, pasta and ice-cream, so when I see mainland Italy beyond Elba, I point it out and say “There’s Italy.”<br />Phoebe, with a voice that combines notes of excitement, incredulity and scepticism replies “Really?” and looks to her mother for confirmation that it is in fact Italy itself and not an Italian island. When Sara confirms it, a huge grin splits her face and her eyes light up with excitement.<br />The western end of Elba is dominated by Mont Capanne, a huge mass that is bound to affect the wind, do I head further off shore and extend the distance, or is the wind funneled down the mountain to give better wind closer to shore, I can see local boats sailing in close under the lee, so head inshore, as we hit the lee, the wind is turned off like a switch has been pulled, 6.0 knots to 0 knots, we were on a starboard beam reach, and coming directly towards me is another boat also on starboard tack, with the sails slating, it is time for the engine once more. An hour and a half later I am down below plotting our position when Sara calls down to ask what to do, I go up, the wind has come rushing back and there is a boat under engine a long way off on our starboard side heading towards us, the answer is simple, the main and mizzen our still up, so get the jib out, kill the engine and lets sail away, 5 minutes later we are back at 6.5knots under sail, and I am grinning again. I hold my sails as long as Sara lets me as I start looking for any other boat under sail to race. Some of the other boats coming our way are having a bit of a rough time bouncing and being heeled over by the wind, Dreamcatcher is tracking nice and straight, with a modest amount of heel, although I am easing the main occasionally. We drop sail at the entrance to the natural harbour, as it is getting busy with sailing boats and ferries, and Sara is down below with the kids more than she is in the cockpit. The free harbour of Porto Ferrario is empty, an ormeggiatori guides us to a berth, and tells me the charges, and I now know why the harbour was empty E50-00 for a night in MAY! There was water and electricity, the showers and toilets were public facilities somewhere in the town, which you had to pay extra to use, we felt that we were being taken advantage off, when I spoke to the office about the charges, I was informed that the town had decided to start charging this year.<br />Some more boats came in some doing a sponsored able-disabled sail, and then a tall ship came in, Sara can’t complain about me shouting to her on the foredeck, this guy used a pa system.<br />The next two days were spent walking round Porto Ferrario, which after the hype in Rod Heikells Italian waters pilot we found disappointing, although it did have a good supermarket, which we stocked up from. Eventually we found what we had been looking for ever since arriving in Italy a gelateria which served big bowls of ice-cream, Nicks eyes nearly popped, first when he saw it, and secondly after he had eaten it all. Phoebe and Nick enjoyed an evening sat on Bob on the foredeck-watching people passing by.<br /> Here we meet Richard and Judy along with Bingo their dog on board Flirty, who had sailed from Poole. When we found out the cost we talked about anchoring in the natural harbour but Sara was a bit apprehensive as there was strong wind forecast, we decided to try the other yards, after a longish walk we found Esom’s yard. The yard itself had some magnificent boats being overhauled and repaired, from large cruisers to some even larger out and out racers, with keels so deep that even with 4 foot or so dropped into a sump in the yard, they still towered over me, and I was unable to reach up to touch their bottoms. The charge for the night was about E23-00 and included free showers in ablution blocks, the downside if it could be considered such was that the yard gates were closed and locked at night, which meant if you were planning a night out in Porto Ferrario you had to do a short dinghy ride into town. We decided to move Dreamcatcher, but by the time we had stopped at the supermarket, walked our purchases home and stopped to try get belts for the autohelm, it was late the kids needed feeding and we were tired, so we ended up spending one more night in the Medician harbour.<br /><br />10/05/2006 Cavo Elba Island<br />The day started slowly with apparent lack of motivation to get going, possibly because we felt this leg of the voyage was something we were having to do in order to sort out Phoebe’s passport, or because we had been traveling for too long without any real time to stop and catch up on ourselves, or maybe because Elba which was meant to be so nice had proved a disappointment after some of the lovely places we had been, but had left a bit too quickly or possibly because we were missing the company of friends we had met, but by 12:00 we were ready to fuel up and go, only to discover the fuel pontoon, which was run by a local filling station, who sent a man down when requested by the harbour master, was shut until 15:00. Eventually, at 15:45, we were fuelled up and on our way, which, despite our earlier reluctance to get moving again, it felt good to be moving on, even if it was a lot later than we had hoped. The wind as per normal decided to be on our nose as we came out of the harbour and headed north to Canale de Piombino, the 5 mile strip of sea separating Elba from main land Italy. While traveling round Corsica and Sardinia, we had been getting constant references to the pirate Barberrossa, who it transpires could have been one of three different pirates from different periods of history, but we had discovered in the pilot book that there was a sheltered anchorage at near Porto Azzuro, on the east coast of Elba called Spiaggia Barberrossa, Barberrossa’s Beach, the big kid inside me could not resist adding a bit of fake adventure in my children’s lives. I do not know who’s imagination was being more active, mine or the kids, as I picked up on their excitement at going and possibly even anchoring at ‘Real Pirate Beach’, that might even have treasure. The distance to Barberrossa is 17 miles, but closehauled, close to the cliffs, and with the engine on our progress is dreadfully slow, unlike the ferries from Piombino and other mainland ports, who seem to have only two speeds, full ahead or dead stop, and leave big wakes trailing behind them, which leave us wallowing accompanied by the now inevitable sound of something falling on to the floor. Neither Sara nor I are looking forward to the trip at these speeds, fortunately just round Capo Della Vita, there is a small harbour of Cavo tucked under the lee of a headland and Monto Lentisco, there is an island and some rocks to negotiate, the depth is marginal, but looking at the pilot book there should be enough for us on the end of the pontoons and the maximum length is 12meters, we decide to give it a go. We creep in slowly keeping an eye on both depth and heading, we gain the entrance without any problems and call across to two sailing school boats to enquire about he depth, they inform there is two meters, the berth is the third one in, in a narrow gap, summoning all my confidence I believe we can do it, we slot in first time, as if the gap was made for us, which was fortunate, as there wasn’t room to get it wrong, getting out might be a problem, but that will have to wait. It is 17:30; it has taken us nearly two hours to cover 7 miles. There are two beaches on either side of the harbour, we take the children to the southerly one, which still has a bit of sunlight left on it, and they go swimming in still chilly water.<br />Cavo is a small town with is mainly developed in a strip parallel to the beachfront, which is in the middle of development to create a large promenade. All the provision shops appeared to on roads leading out the back of town It has a small ferry disembarkation pier, which must bring a huge amount of trade to the town in summer, but now out of season it was empty apart from locals and small groups of cyclists coming through. We liked it, it somehow managed to feel more real and more Italian than Porto Ferrario, and the kids could jump off the boat and be playing on the beach in less than five minutes. <br />The next morning we caught a couple of small crabs in the kids bucket, and saw a purple blue coloured jellyfish. It was a lovely place and we decided that the children needed a break from traveling, so we elected to stay here for a day and let the children play on the beach, after an aborted attempt to walk up Monto Lentisco, to get to the monument, which overlooks the harbour. We returned to the northern beach, where we managed to restrain the children long enough to get their armbands on, but only just, before they plunged into the chilly sea. The beach was sheltered by a small headland on which a lovely green shuttered villa had been built. We had a pleasant time despite the construction work taking place at the harbour 300 meters away. The bay in front of the beach would make a beautiful anchorage in settled weather.<br /><br />12/05/2006 Barbarossa Spiaggia Elba Island<br />The next morning we were getting ready to depart, when we found a marina card stuffed under the anchor, which enabled us to find the harbourmaster and pay our fees. The harbour was full of purple, blue and brown jellyfish about 3inches in diameter, and a couple of long transparent tube-like ones, which appeared to propel themselves by squeezing water through their middle. By the time we had stopped to look and catch some in a bucket, you can see a lot of detail in zoomed in digital photos, our departure had been delayed by an hour and a half, however the only reason for an early start was in order to get to our destination earlier so as not to feel that we had been traveling all day. Spiaggia Barberrossa remained hidden as we approached Porto Azzurro, the alternative anchorages were in sight, it was not until we were sailing past the bay that it revealed itself. The midday peace of the anchorage was disturbed by the rattle of chain, is it followed our delta down to the sandy bottom, and reverse engaged to bury it deep into the sandy bottom, the head of the bay had a couple of beach huts, to our starboard was a red coloured bluff dropping onto a rocky foreshore and on our port side, on top of a pine clad hill, was a old fort, Fotezza Di Giacomo, with not a pirate flag to be seen. There were two other boats already at anchor, a French boat, and Flirty who had arrived the day before. Bob was launched and we motored to the beach. Judy rowed ashore later and Phoebe and Nick did their best boat boy impressions running forward to take Judy’s painter, although Nick in his eagerness did go in a bit deeper than he should and the water nearly went over his head. Richard had stayed on board trying to fix their winch, although Dreamcatcher has a winch, it has no chain gypsy, and we haven’t worked out how to use chain on it yet, so as we say, we use the wench, Sara is rather good at anchor work, which is handy, as I struggle to drop and recover the anchor. After having his work disturbed by us all motoring out to Flirty, to join them for a pre lunch drink, a cup of tea, us cruisers like the simple home comforts, Richard gave up on his winch for the day. Later Richard and Judy took Bingo and walked into Porto Azzurro, however Richard is not a happy anchorer and does not like letting Flirty out of sight when on anchor, so he asked us to keep an eye on his boat, and gave us instructions on how to start his engine, all of which turned out to be unnecessary, although the idea of moving his boat did briefly enter my head. The next day we walked through the pine wood to the castle, which had been used as a prison, and I continued on into Porto Azzurro, for supplies, while Sara got pestered by the kids into taking them back to the beach.<br />Porto Azzurro was approached down a step hill, to reveal a large piazza looking onto the harbour. The piazza is ringed by restaurants and cafes, and there are some restaurants built on stilts that go out into the harbour. Behind the piazza are a number of smaller twisting alleys, with the normal tourist shops and a number of gem cum rock stores, selling things made from amethyst and other crystalline rocks, for which the area is known.<br />We discovered on our second day that our holding tank was full and starting to overflow, we had neglected to empty it while coming down from Cavo, another lesson in living on a boat, along with never pass an opportunity to fill your water and diesel tanks, forget to empty your holding tank at your peril.<br /><br />14/05/2006 Talamone, Italy<br />The wind had moved to the South, blowing into the anchorage and was forecast to increase during the day, Isola Giglio, the Island of Lilly’s, our next stop, lay 33 miles to the south east, with the engine running to charge the batteries we waved goodbye to Flirty and set off. It was an uncomfortable morning, the horrible short Mediterranean swell, was in fine form, coming from the South East, the only way to make the journey even slightly bearable was to either head East or South, we chose the latter. After 4 hours we still had 23 miles to go to Giglio, we aborted and set course North East to Castiglione della Pescaia. A sheltered harbour with a narrow dredged entrance channel with depths of 1.5 to 3 meters, although dangerous to enter in strong on shore winds, the wind was from the south, and it should not present any difficulties. Two hours later things were not much better: -<br />“14:50 All sails down. Horrible lumpy sea, everywhere seems to be the wrong direction”<br /> The seas appeared to have got worse, and we were rocking and rolling, like a boxer just before he hits the canvas. We were not having fun. In an attempt to steady the boat we let out some jib, the wind had veered and increased, we were now heading onto a lee shore. The seabed from the shore shelves relatively slowly, so that at one mile out you are in only 20 meters. I was concerned about the now onshore wind, but the waves were not that big, and we were watching motorboats going into the harbour to see if they were having any difficulties, which they were not. With Phoebe calling out the depth, and Sara on lookout, we approached the harbour under bare poles. The depths started shoaling rapidly as we approached the breakwater, then they leveled off at 2.1meters, a fishing man, on the harbour wall, watching us coming in walked over to the side of the breakwater, apparently standing by to take our lines, the engine speed was increased to maintain steerage way, when with the depth still at 2.1meters, Dreamcatcher bow dipped sharply and we all shot forward, we had landed on Italy, aground in a narrow entrance channel, with an onshore wind and waves pushing us in, in a boat that does not reverse in a straight line and with a RIB right behind us intent on getting into the harbour. The options were try and push over the sand bar, wait to get bashed about by the waves and maybe rescued or go full power in reverse and hope to pull ourselves off, and then hope that Dreamcatcher will not swing round in astern as she normally does. Hobson’s choice really, full power astern. We came off and started heading backwards, I now had to hope that I could manage to steer in a straight line, and avoid the RIB that was behind us. The RIB seemed to notice our intentions, probably helped by me staring backwards at him and waving my arms, but he went astern and moved out of our way, and Dreamcatcher edged backwards in a more or less straight line, avoiding the breakwater and the on the other side. During these moments of high anxiety I noticed the fisherman raise his hands palm upwards, and with an Italian shrug, walk back to his rods and carry on fishing, if only I knew some Italian, I could have used some choice words just then. With 5 meters under the keel, we risked turning round and headed back out the way we had come. With 10 meters of water under us, and my heart still intent on making a bid for freedom, I unfurled the jib, stopped the engine we needed the calm. As we headed South Sara was down below consulting the pilot book to find an alternative stopping place for the night. We had a lovely sail down the coast, passing the anchorage of Cala Di Forno, The Oven, which looked beautiful with red cliffs in the evening light, but it seemed a bit exposed for the forecast weather, and after our day so far we didn’t need any more problems, At 20:45 we finally tied up at Talamone, whose harbour is in a bay protected from the West by a Castle and village on a hill, the south by a concrete breakwater, and the other two sides the Tuscan hills. It had been a long unpleasant day, 12 hours and 49 miles, and we were nowhere near where we intended to be, but somehow the lovely sail at the end of the day coupled with the feeling of having overcome adversity and the comfort derived from being able to adapt our plans so that we had arrived after a fantastic sunset into this harbour, left us feeling happy and contented as we sat in the cockpit looking out at the gently rolling hills of Tuscany.<br /><br />15/05/2006 Talamone<br />After the day before we need a bit of quiet, we had entered Talamone the night before, making our way cautiously to avoid the shallows and rocks, which are reputed to lie alongside the entrance to the harbour, we did not want a repeat of our earlier disaster. The next morning we were visited by two men who said they were the Harbourmasters, on enquiring as to where their office was, we were given directions which we did not fully understand, we paid up for two nights and where issued with a receipt. Despite being mid May we were clearly to early for the tourist season and after a walk around the walled medieval town, not only did we had the piazza to ourselves as we ate our ice creams, but the port-a-cabin that was the tourist information office did not open for another two weeks. Fortunately their was a bus and train timetable posted in a display case, for the previous year, but we decided to go with the times as shown, which indicated that their was only one viable connection available to get us into Rome, and give us time to do our jobs and look around, before catching the last train home.<br /><br />16/05/06<br />We were all up early to start our journey, it is a bit of an unusual feeling to be heading into a city like Rome, not to do tourist bits, but merely to sort out paperwork. Train stations early in the morning have a magical quality to them, all calm and freshness, a gentle place as yet unsullied by the noise, heat and smells that accompany us nearly everywhere we go. The downside of this peace and quiet is there is no one in the ticket office to assist you, only a German couple, and a ticket machine. The German couple were confused by the machine as we were at first, then we managed to get it working, the initial ticket selection was second class, but in trying to find the station in Rome we wanted, it offered us Cambio tickets, seeing as we were not going far I choose these the cheapest return ticket option. As we left the ticket office Sara told me that she thought we should click our tickets in an orange machine, I thought we did not need to as we had our tickets, but it was for locals to click their weekly tickets. I was wrong. As we left the station the ticket inspector came down the train, I got my tickets out, but he waved them away as he moved down to the back of the train. Thirty minute or so later, he came into the carriage and asked for the tickets, which I passed to him. He stared at them and informed me these were no good, after a long and heated discussion involving me and Sara, me and the inspector, Sara and the inspector, we were lead to believe that there was no Cambio on this line, he confiscated our tickets and refused to return them so that I could not get a refund, and despite the fact that the return tickets cost more than the correct single fair he insisted on us buying new single tickets from him, and paying a fine for not having the correct tickets. One bureaucratic individual ruined my day, I spent all day ranting and mumbling about his attitude, as we later found out we are not the only ones to fall foul of train ticket inspectors, whom it would appear can be rather obdurate. After getting off at Termini, we walked to the Embassy, which is a modern building with fine grounds and Henry Moore sculptures, all protected by high fences, armed Carabinari, video cameras, turnstiles, bombproof doors and security guards. I felt more vulnerable in the embassy than I did on the streets. We got Phoebes passport application in, but had no money, so after arguing about the charge, to discover that we had to pay for a biometric passport, which contained absolutely no Biometric data, I had to find a bank. By the time we had finished it was time to head back to the station to catch our train home. We got back without incident apart from a long wait of 50 minutes, which was passed by eating a fantastic takeaway tomato pizza which cost under E3-00.<br /><br />17/05/2006 Giglio Island<br />A lazy start to the day, after the previous day exertions, while Sara went ashore to get fresh provisions before we departed, I filled the water tanks, hosed off the deck and washed out the cockpit. Sara came back and turned off the hose and jumped onto Dreamcatcher, the cockpit drains go out through the main bilge outlet, and we had washed out some oil residue. As we were trying to disperse the oil, a group of men came walking down the pontoon to us. There was nothing we could do, no one had been near the boat for three days, and now we are in the middle of a multicoloured sheen, we were going to have to face the consequences. It transpired that they had noticed Dreamcatcher the day before and had been admiring her, and were doing the sailor thing of asking the what’s and where’s, and passing on compliments. We felt uncomfortable after our incident and decided to leave as soon as possible; we cast off our lines at 13:00 and headed towards the Island of Lillies. With all sail set we had a lovely sail towards Isola Giglio, With the wind on the port bow we couldn’t lay a course direct to the harbour, but got as close as we comfortably could, a with the helm centered and left to look after itself, we sailed along adjusting the course by tweaking the mizzen, it was not a fast sail only 3.8knots over the ground, but it was a beautiful sail, we put in a couple of tacks near to the island, to both get in closer and to avoid a tug pulling an enormous platform, then did a quick calculation as to the amount of time it would take us to get in under sail, and turned the engine on. It was impossible after such a lovely sail and land fall to be annoyed about anything anymore. Giglio is a small island with a small town that has grown around the harbour, with a large mountain behind it on top of which is the Castello, the old walled still inhabited town, in which the locals apparently sort refuge when attacked by pirates. The pontoons were full of boats, although their was space on the harbour wall, but it was having construction work done on it, we were just thinking of going to the harbour wall, when a man appeared in a scruffy t shirt and shorts, who waved us in to a spot, and assisted us in tying up. He was a hard working marinello, who seemed to be always doing his best to squeeze boats in. It cost E40-00/night, which was paid for the first night and our last night, the ones in the middle just got forgotten about, whether intentionally or not I do not know, although he did seem a bit surprised when I tried paying him for our last night, I got the feeling that provided you were in his book and he had at least one receipt and payment from you it did not matter to much. Giglio is a lovely island which held us for longer than expected, the bus ride from the harbour to the Castello is not to be missed, as the bus winds it way up the road cut into the side of the mountain. Castello is still largely untouched by tourism, with a bar and restaurant outside the walls, and not much else of a tourist nature inside, it is a town inhabited by locals, and is a delightfully untouched spot.<br />We went to the church and inspected the relics, the ulna of some Saint in a glass case wearing a metal gauntlet, a scimitar reputed to have belonged to one of last group of pirates who tried to sack the island, and a beautifully detail small statue if Jesus on the cross, so detailed that you could see teeth in the open mouth, I was fascinated and kept staring at it, it was one of the most beautiful things I have seen.<br />In the relatively small harbour ferries arrive in regular streams from the mainland, and come into the harbour without seeming to slow down, then aiming their bows at the tied up yachts execute a ferry J-turn, the first couple of times it is rather alarming to have a large mass of metal coming straight towards you, then slewing round and going backwards only about 50 feet from you, after a couple you remember they do this about 6 or 8 times a day everyday, and you relax and let them get on with it, although it did get a bit cramped while we were rafting a 45” charter boat alongside us, with slack lines, another yacht outside of them trying to come alongside, and the last ferry of the day turning round at the same time. Rafting up was a bit awkward as the charter party had not done it before, and could not grasp the concept of how to do it and just stood round in groups on their deck with short lines in their hands, Sara and I managed to get them sorted, and explained that it was perfectly acceptable to cross over our decks to get ashore, I just didn’t expect everyone of them to continually ask me permission whenever they needed to cross. The water in the harbour is beautifully clear allowing you to see down to the bottom day or night, as at night the harbour has floodlights, which while they enabled you to read a carefully angled book in the cockpit, are not intrusive.<br /> On our second day Nick and I had a boys day, and went off exploring, we found a number of twisting alleys that lead us to lighthouse and the old eel pounds, nice square holes carved out of the rock in a small cove behind the harbour. We explored more roads and tracks until we found another long bay with a sandy beach at the far end. Later that afternoon all four of us set off once again, and Nick, arguing with his sister about who was in front, took on the leaders role as he proudly showed his mother and sister all the things we had discovered earlier.<br /><br />.20/05/2006 Porto Ercole<br />We finally managed to drag ourselves away, and at 08:50 we left Giglio to head towards the Italian mainland and Mont Argentario, an island which has been joined to the mainland by silt carried down by flooding rivers. After an uneventful sail we encountered a number of sailing and powerboats heading towards Giglio for a sailing festival, why we had decided to leave, when a sailing festival was coming to town I can not remember maybe we thought it might be able to find berths more easily. We entered the harbour at Porto Ercole, which seem rather full of sailing and powerboats. We saw one sailing boat get waved away from a pontoon, they then tied up against some fishing boats and where then made to move on. We found a spot but where waved away as we approached, and it was indicated we move two pontoons further down, and there between two motorboats was the perfect space. With fenders and lines ready we slipped in, and had our lines taken by a man on the pontoon. As I was getting ready to take the stern line, a man came running down the pontoon to tell us that this was his friends space and we had to go, he did not enquire how long we wished to stay, but started untying our lines and casting us off. Slightly annoyed by the lack of cooperation we went back to circling in the middle of the harbour, here we watched the same boat from earlier being chased away from yet another spot. I called across to an Italian sailing boat that was also doing circles, he suggested we either anchor in the middle of the harbour, or go to the marina outside the harbour, but he warned us it was expensive. By now we were hot and tired, so we headed out of the harbour, and headed towards the beach, Tombola di Feniglia, where a number of boats draped over by sunbathing bodies were anchored up. We set our anchor and launched Bob to head in to the beach, in order for the kids to swim, to sit in the shade of the pine trees, and to get away from the uncomfortable swell. We took some fenders for the kids to play with, they spent the afternoon pulling each other round in the water on the fender, rolling round in the sand and trying to catch small crabs in the sea. It was a thoroughly pleasant afternoon, and the water was a lovely warm temperature for swimming in. Slowly the beach emptied as did the anchorage, with the boats all heading back to the marina or the harbour 300 or 800 meters away respectively. By 17:00 everyone was gone apart from group of teenagers who had a fire and quite party going until 02:00.<br />We set the anchor alarm and went to sleep, in the knowledge that if things did blow up we could cut and run into the well-lit marina. During the night the anchor alarm went off, which was caused by the wind strengthening and blowing offshore, which swung us round, and calmed the motion down, Sara slept beautifully, I did not, I was up and down regularly during the night checking our position. <br /><br />21/05/2006 Cittivechia Italy<br />The next morning the wind was back onshore, and the swells had picked up, Nick was sick while we were still at anchor and Sara struggled to get the anchor in and it was not easy holding Dreamcatcher into the swells during recovery of the anchor. The swells were so uncomfortable that the kids did not raise any objections to leaving such a lovely beach behind. At 18:00 after a long boring day sailing down flat featureless coastline, with a passing uninspiring towns frustrating day with out much wind we arrived at Riva Di Traiano, where we had a three way VHF conversation with the harbour master, with a kindly English man joining in as an interpreter. It is large purpose built marina, which according to Rod Heikel has berthing for 1180 boats and has 110 visitors’ berths with the usual marina type shops and restaurants. Toilet blocks are spread evenly round the complex, but all key controlled apart from one block of 2 showers and 3 toilets for the visitors pontoon. Maybe because I was hot and tired, or possibly because despite all the shops we could not find anywhere that would serve us food, I lost my sense of objectivity and recorded it in the logbook as ‘Concrete dump’. However it is one of the few places that provide shelter down this stretch of the coast, and it is meant to be a good spot to leave your boat if you want to head into Rome, and the staff were helpful and polite, it cost E60-00 for one night.<br /><br />22/05/2006 Fiumincino Italy- Marina<br />At 10:00 after dealing with formalities, and showering, and with trepidation about the potential future costs, we cast off and headed towards Fumincino. Which is meant to have a small marina, or moorings alongside the canal, although not very secure, and is meant to have good transport links to Rome. The wind is once more on the nose, so we head off shore hoping to get a good angle on our tack to take us all the way down to Fiumincino but to no avail having set full sail at 10:50 by 11:40 we are back motorsailing, although we did have a dolphin cross our path, the first one since leaving Corsica. Eventually we wind shifts and we manage to complete our journey under sail alone. As the pilot book says Fiumincino is easy to spot, just watch for the planes taking off and landing, otherwise the landscape is flat and featureless, with no significant landmarks, it must have provided a fair challenge for early navigators. We stood off while we identified the narrow entrance to the canal, which we did by watching another boat and seeing where they went, but even with this guide it was not easy to clearly identify the entrance. At 18:00 we had squeezed our way into a berth in the Darsena Traiano, and Vincenzo relieved us of E40-00 for a night or E200-00 for a week.<br />Fiumincino is an unsupposing place, which appears to have been built to service fishing boats and the airport. It does have a plethora of ice-cream shops, which the kids seem determined to categorise according to the quality of their ice cream; we made a start on the research that first night.<br /><br /><br />23/05/2006 Fiuminicino Canal Italy The next morning Sara goes off in search of other moorings and shops, and comes back with us booked in for a week at a yard further up the canal at E1-50/m/night. The canal is spanned by two lifting bridges with fixed times for opening. Sara praised my manoeuvring into the berth when we arrived, as she did not think I would get Dreamcatcher in, ?I did not get praise for our exit, which was conducted with far less élan then the arrival. I must learn to go with the prop walk, we went out into the middle of the canal where a held station for a while, the canal appears to have a lot of contrary currents, at least that is my excuse for the hash we made of tying up to the wall while waiting for the bridges to open. With bells and sirens the pedestrian bridge swung up , and a procession of boats headed up stream, towards the second bridge, which was not open. With all this going on I noticed that the second bridge was a horizontally lifting bridge, and we did not know its height, a quick look at the boats going through revealed all their masts were lower than ours, apart from the lead boat, a large American flagged catamaran, the answer was simple, they could be our ‘twang stick’, if they got through so would we. With the sound of bells the pedestrian bridge lifted and our convoy of boats headed up stream. Then things went a bit pear shaped, as the second bridge opened a big motor yacht shot out towards our convoy, then once clear of the bridge he seemed to stop and head across the canal directly towards the lead catamaran. The harbour master started waving his arms about, and the catamaran pulled over and tied up to the left bank of the canal. I had been moving slowly and watched this chaos smugly, then realized that their was no a huge gap between me and the other boats, and I? Had better get a move on if we wanted to get through the bridge, I increased engine speed and mover Dreamcatcher up to 5/6knots, when as we started approaching the catamaran, his engine emitted a great gout of smoke, his lines were slipped and he shoot out towards us, it was Marseilles all over again, with full reverse and a cavitating prop, I tried to stop 10 tons of boat, fortunately a yell from his crew alerted their skipper and went back towards the wall, and we missed him, we were now still charging along at about 4 knots as we headed for the bridge. This is when I realized that our ‘twang stick’ was now behind us, it was to late to stop or turn around, reducing speed as much as possible we passed under, how much room we had I do not know as I could not tilt my head to look. As we headed slowly upstream looking for the berth, their was a bang, sounds of breaking plastic and shouts, turning round we were in time to see our ‘twang stick’ remove his windex on the first girder, his masthead lights on the second and his VHF antenna on the third. Pitching backwards and forwards with each crunching contact. The damage was not too severe and fortunately could be easily fixed, but he still had to get back out again, and the only way was back under the bridge.Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-15899665880572556072006-03-27T21:41:00.000+01:002008-07-27T23:57:31.444+01:00Things do get better but not always<br />27/03/2006 Girolata Corsica<br />We had arrived in Corsica, Girolata was a lovely quiet anchorage, with one other boat, anchored fore and aft, and obviously packed up for the winter, and a rib tied to the jetty at the head of the bay. In clear waters over a sandy bottom we dropped our 15kg Bruce, watching it drop to the bottom, I motored astern asking Sara to tell me if it was holding, she asked me how she would know. Although I had anchored before, even with Sara on board she had never been at the sharp end to see what happens. There followed a quick exchange of information, and I tried reverse once more. Yes its tight, I went forward and was told it came tight then went slack again, a further exchange of information. Sara went back to the helm, reversed, the chain started to come then went slack, a further exchange of information about giving it some berries when in reverse. At this stage a local in a rib came past and told us that the wind that night was forecast to be strong and coming from the South East, so we would need to relay our anchor. I pulled it up and we re-laid it. We were tired and it was unbelievably hot, our fleecies and sailor suites were removed and shorts and t-shirts were donned as the decks were sluiced with warm seawater. The children wanted to go to the beach which they could see less than 200 meters away, but that would involve getting the dinghy pumped up and in the water, and by the time we had tied up after our journey we were too tired. Instead we bobbed to our anchor and felt happy and watched the setting sun bring out the shadows and contrasts on the surrounding hills.<br /><br />That night was a bit disturbed, as it was our first night at anchor, so both Sara and I kept waking up and taking turns to check how we were lying, which was rather difficult to gauge as there was no moon, and we were swinging on the anchor to the alternate forces of wind and the slight swell coming round the headland. Fortunately some of the houses on shore had lights on, and I could orientate myself by the castle on top of the hill silhouetted against the stars. Eventually I figured that the bottom was sandy if we did drag and touch it should not do too much harm, plus if while laying in my bunk I could feel the boat rocking we were not aground.<br /><br />27/03/06 We woke up not too refreshed from our nights sleep, we examined our location, we appeared slightly further in than we had been, we decided we might have dragged slightly so re-laid the anchor at 11:00, although not convinced with its holding, by now the children really wanted to go to the beach, we promised to go after lunch. The lunchtime weather forecast promised strong winds in the afternoon, the beach run was cancelled. At 14:00 we concluded that we had moved, and once more re-laid the anchor. 16:00 despite having over 30 meters of anchor chain out we were still dragging, I undid the anchor chain from the warp, refastened the chain onto the 22kg delta anchor, retrieved the 15kg Bruce anchor and dropped the delta, this time there was no doubt, engine full astern the anchor chain rose out from the sea bed and stretched tight. Once more we sat in our boat watching the sun etc, but this time confident that the anchor was holding.<br /><br />28/03/06 At last we went ashore, and went for a short walk to try and find a church we could see from the boat, we never did find the church, but we found a secluded beach, where the children swam,<br /><br />29/03/06 We went for another walk this time towards the Scandola National park with Phoebe and Nick being excited about doing a real hike. As we walked surrounded by the perfumes released by sun warmed coastal plants, we had fantastic views down onto little sandy coves and back down the gulf towards the open sea. There were fascinating plants growing wild all around us, we brushed past curry plants growing wild, and stopped to crush leaves to let the children get the different smells. Sara saw a lizard which the children were fascinated by, Sara suggested I should try and catch it so that Phoebe and Nick could see it more clearly, while I was thinking about how this might be done, Sara pointed out the snake which was moving towards the lizard. It was an olive green colour, thinner than my little finger, and about 12 to 18 inches long. The lizard picked up the snakes presence and shot across the path between Phoebe and myself, I was worried that if the snake followed the lizard Phoebe might get a fright, and might fall off the path, I told Sara to move Phoebe back out of the way. Unfortunately the snake did not follow the lizard, and Phoebe did not see the snake. We crossed some streams and found Narniaesque overgrowth, and as you moved into the overgrowth the sounds of the sea and wind vanished to be replaced by bird calls and the sound of trickling streams. We placed a rock each on a cairn that had been started, and saw a bull on the other side of the gorge. Further progress got harder as Phoebes excellent imagination started playing up, the snake was now the size of a python, and the bull was a fighting bull that was bound to charge us. On the return to Dreamcatcher we watched a pair of large birds flying backwards and forwards, seeming to gather nest materials, Nicholas was certain they were Fish Eagles, so Fish Eagles they remain. We had put the outboard on ‘Bob’ before we left, so instead of going straight back to Dreamcatcher, we motored the dinghy round to our beach of yesterday, and discovered the problems of beaching a dinghy with small waves. The children stripped off and went playing in the sea. If getting onto the beach was awkward getting off was a tad more problematic. I got everyone into Bob more or less dry, then I pushed off out into deep water and started the outboard, then Phoebe pointed out the hats and shoes still on the beach. Returned to the beach, Sara jumped out and got wet, she got wetter still when she relaunched us, deep water engine on, Phoebe points out that there is still a least one shoe on the beach, repeat as above. Third time lucky all back on board Dreamcatcher, wet bottoms all round. Things must be getting better, Phoebe went to her cabin and presented me with a badge emblazoned with ‘Superstar’, it gave me a nice warm feeling.<br /><br />30/03/06 I had been reading Famous Five to the kids, and Phoebe liked the sound of swimming from a boat, so we took Bob towards the beach to try. Phoebe didn’t like going over the side and clung fiercely on to the side in panic. After a bit of a paddle and swim in the shallows we had to take Nick back as he was getting too cold. I rigged the fishing rod, without much hope, as I had seen no signs of fish in the anchorage. The sweetcorn baited hook was dropped in the water, and bits of sweetcorn thrown in around it, and sat down to enjoy the sun shine, then I noticed the sweetcorn was disappearing, I reeled in we had a fish, which snapped the line. We spent the rest of the afternoon unsuccessfully trying to lure or see another fish.<br /><br />01/04/06 Cargese Corsica<br />Recharged we decided to move on towards Cargese, the left over porridge was thrown into the sea, no sooner had it hit the surface when it was surrounded by about 20 meal size fish gulping it down greedily. The fishing rod had by now been packed away. 10:00 the anchor was broken out, it was buried up to its fluke, and we were off once more. Once more we were accompanied by dolphins, as we sailed down this magnificent coastline. Old semaphore towers on the headlands, step mountains and cliffs plunging into the sea, occasional off shore rocks breaking the surface serving as reminders not to be too lazy in navigation. Note from the log book:13:35 Rounding Punta Di Puntigliane snowcapped mountains behind forehills- Beautiful sight.<br />I still find it hard to believe that we are doing this, although it seems a natural thing to do, it is difficult to get to grips with the fact that we are sailing off Corsica being accompanied by dolphins with magnificent views.<br />On route we tried to explain about April Fools Day to the children, they are not really old enough, but we had an amusing journey. We arrive at Cargese at 15:00 to find the Harbourmaster had shut up for the weekend, we have our first and second attempt at mooring bows to picking up tailed lines, with only 2 people this needs more practice. Sara went ashore with the children while I tidied up the boat, Sara returned the shops were up the hill and the children were paddling in the harbour, so while I got the children out of the harbour, Sara went to find the shops. After spending some time on a beach next to the entrance to the small harbour, we started walking up the hill to try and find Sara, who then appeared in the passenger seat of a van, the supermarket did free delivery if you purchased more than 40 Euro’s, very easy to do when stocking a boat, but it is a service we will look out for in future, especially when buying tins or drinks.<br /><br /><br />02/04/06 Ajaccio Corsica<br />We walked round the town in the morning, the bakery had a promotion that involved children colouring in cardboard fishes in return for a prize. We bought some pencils and Phoebe conscientiously coloured hers in, Nick did his best, the prize was to have your colouring in displayed in the window, and a soft toy fish with fabric pens to colour that in for yourself, Phoebe’s was coloured in within 5 minutes of being back on board.<br />12:30 We slipped our lines and headed towards Ajaccio. We had a bit of wind aft but if we wanted to get anywhere before nightfall we needed to motor. As we cut through the passage inside of the Isle de Sanguinaires, we watched the depth gauge fall to 6 meters and then we were through, and got a good wind on the beam, Sails were raised and we briefly had 6 knots before dropping back to between 2 or 3 knots. We sailed the last bit slowly finally mooring up at 18:30, mooring onto a finger pontoon seemed hard work, dropping the anchor is a lot quicker and easier. In the harbour there was a fantastic looking red hulled boat, the following day we were invited aboard by the owner, she was a Hilas 46, absolutely beautiful to look at both inside and out, and according to the owner able to cruise at 8 to 9 knots, I went back onboard Dreamcatcher with a dreamy look, and spent most of the day commenting to Sara about just how lovely the boat was.<br /><br />03/04/06 to 08/04/06 Our overnight stop got extended a bit, we felt we were close enough to Sardinia to do some essential maintenance work, we still had to fix the aft head, the outlet pipe of which had been blocked since the canals, and the World Rally Championship was due to roll in to town at the weekend, with the service area directly across the harbour from us, I felt Nick might like the spectacle, and I was sure the weather was going to be a bit worse than the forecasters were saying. The pipe was eventually cleared after dismantling the cupboard, the anti-siphon loop, and removing the baby wipe that had got jammed in the loop. In the process we discovered that the valve on the anti-siphon valve was blocked and hadn’t been working, which probably explained why the toilet would occasionally back flood. Most days we wondered round the WRC service area, and looked at the cars and got some posters, which the kids stuck up all over the inside of the boat. There are two mariners in Ajaccio, Port Charles Ornano, with harbour side restaurants and bars and large motor boats, and Port Tino Rossi next to the old part of town, and the market, we chose the later. The daily market in the car park at the entrance to the harbour, was fantastic, full of local specialties, with friendly stall holders who were happy for you to sample their foods. The children never went in without someone giving them biscuits or cakes to try. When we decided it was time to leave, Sara went to pay the bill which we expected to be about 140 Euros, and was shocked to asked for 228 Euros. The difference was told that the price we had seen did not include tax, this did not seem right. Sara went back to query and pay, and then came back, because the Harbour master did not have any change. I went back to pay the balance, and discovered that we had been looking at the wrong tariff, however the price for one week was only 222 Euros, I queried this with the harbourmaster, and was informed that the price was indeed 228 Euros for six nights, and I could not pay 222 Euros as I had only stayed for six days not for a week. When I informed him that in that case I would stay for an extra night, the bills was amended to 222 Euros, and we elected to stay one more night as we had not quite finished all our jobs, and there was going to be a firework display that night, although I was tempted to leave anyway and I can imagine him chasing after us demanding that we either have to stay one more night or that we pay him another 6 Euros, this is bureaucracy gone wrong. The firework display took place that night on a floating raft anchored up 100 meters from Dreamcatcher, it was fantastic having the fireworks going off apparently right overhead.<br /><br />09/04/05 We refueled with 128 litres of Diesel, which was expensive at 1.28E/l, our fuel consumption since leaving the canals had risen to 2.8l/hr, which reflected the higher engine speed used on open water, but it was way down on what we had used before we entered the canals, which was due to our better understanding of getting the best out of the engine. We now operate the engine at between 1700 and 2000 rpm, which gives us between 5-5.5 knots, increasing the engine speed gives only marginal increases in speed, for a lot more noise and a heavier fuel consumption. We were heading towards Bonifacio which was going to be long day. All the guide books warned about the evil reputation of the Bonifacio Straits, the gap between Corsica and Sardinia which funnels the winds and increases their strength, and can make passages through dangerous. We had picked a good day there was hardly any wind and motoring was the order of the day. As we approached Point De Senetosa, the wind picked up quickly and we had large swells caused by the wind and a rapidly shelving bottom, the waves started getting foam crests. I could not tell if this was just local or continued all the way down to Bonifacio, as I kept staring forward the horizon changed from the occasional foam crest to a continuous line of foam crests, it was now 14:00, it was still another 4 to 5 hours until Bonifacio, it was time to turn around. We headed for the anchorage of Campomoro. We passed the rocks at the entrance and headed towards the anchorage. Trying to avoid getting too close to the shore we let the anchor go in 15 meters, it did not hold, with 30 meters of chain and the delta on, we could not recover the anchor. The windlass did not have a gypsy, and would not hold the chain, so we motored round the bay dragging our hook, trying to find shallower water, as we knew that we could recover it from depths of 10 meters or less. Two other boats came into the anchorage and anchored and watched us going back and forth, until we finally managed to retrieve our ground tackle, by which time I was exhausted, the seat on the dolphin nose had come loose with me sitting on it and it had jolted my back, I did not have enough energy left to recover the anchor again if it did not set, so we cut our losses and headed to the marina at Propriano. On leaving the anchorage we were joined briefly by three dolphins, their visits, no matter how brief, always bring a touch of excitement. As we got closer to the town, set against the hills, with sweeping deserted beaches, we could smell the scent of the plants on the shore. The town had an Italianesque look to its buildings, the marina side was crammed with Gelateria’s and the names above the shops seemed more Italian than French. We moored up at 19:00, alongside a floating raft, which was itself moored to the jetty, and was obviously half finished. Looking at the forecasts for the next day it was mixed weather, low winds in the morning and early afternoon, rising to strong winds in the evening, if we left early the next morning we should be in Bonifacio by 14:00.<br /><br /><br />10/04/06 Propriano Corsica<br />I woke up to a windless day, with mill pond seas, with Sara and the children<br />asleep, I cast off the lines and headed out of the harbour by 07:00.<br />08:00 we were off Campomoro, we were making good time and were on schedule, off Point De Senetosa, we were again confronted by swells on the starboard bow, which created an uncomfortable yawing. The weather forecasts started coming in over the VHF, they were forecasting Force 8 to 10, in the Bonifacio Straits that evening. We should be tucked up comfortably in Bonifacio by then, but it was concerning, looking at the GPS our ground speed had dropped from 5.6knots to 3.6. An expression came to mind “If in doubt, turn about” We headed back to Propriano, we had a good sail back with over 6 knots on the log at times. After circling the harbour, and going out a couple of times we finally moored up back where we had started from at 14:30. The harbour master who was now at work, made us move to another spot, and with the assistance of the harbour master and two other members of staff, we finally tied up stern to at 15:00. That evening and during the night the promised wind arrived, and we were harbour bound for the next two days, with spray from the waves coming over the top of the lighthouse.<br /><br />11/04 to 12/04/06 We watched a couple of sailing boats go out, they were heeled right over as they left the harbour entrance with considerable lee way, and it seemed touch and go whether they would get out, but they did. We were visited by a rather officious group of customs officers, who despite being informed that we had been in France for eight months and had been visited by customs on four previous occasions, wanted to know what we were doing about schooling our children, how much money we had on board and if we had anything to declare. Bored customs officers have a high nuisance value, possibly the best course of action when you see them enter your area, is to get off your boat and go ashore, or make your boat look and sound as if no one is on board, as they seem to ignore you if it does not look like any one is onboard.<br /><br />13/04/06 St Theresa di Gallura Sardinia<br />We set off once more this time towards either Bonifacio or Saint Teresa di Gallura which ever we could get to easiest dependent upon the wind and sea state. As we turned the corner and came out of the shelter of the breakwater at the entrance to the harbour, we began to encounter swells, not the usual small short swell that are the dominant swells in the Mediterranean, but large rolling swells, like folds in the earth, that rose above my head as I stood at the helm. The swells were coming in straight onto Dreamcatchers nose, and with no wind to talk of , we headed out rising and falling, as we rode over the tops, occasionally getting bounced by bigger waves coming at a different at a slightly different angle to the others. I kept looking at my crew for signs of sickness, or concern of which there were none. I was concerned that the swells might not die down and that we would struggle to turn the corner at the end of the bay, as it shallowed quickly from over 1000 meters to 40 meters, and we believed that this had contributed to the uncomfortable seas on the previous occasions when we had tried to head south. We had decided to head further off shore before we turned, four miles off shore the swells had shown no signs of abating, although by now I believed we should be able to turn and run before the swells, all the way down to Saint Teresa, I was struggling to find a smooth enough pattern to the waves, to allow us to turn without getting broadside to one of the bigger waves, eventually I saw a wave pattern that might allow enough time to turn, and with a call to everyone to hold tight, I hauled the wheel to port, and increased the engine revs. Anxiously I watched the next big wave coming as we started to turn, slowly initially then the bow started paying off more rapidly and we were through, with the next big wave giving Dreamcatcher with a big shove from behind, lifting her stern up and rolling away underneath us. With the waves now under our stern we headed towards Saint Teresa. Just before we made the turn a helicopter heading down the coast had spotted us out to sea, and had turned towards us and had come and hovered behind us, why they did this I do not know, if they thought we might be in distress the sight of two children wearing lifejackets and waving excitedly while playing with their toys in the cockpit, must have allayed their fears, as after a couple of minutes they turned and headed off towards Bonifacio. We finally passed pointe Aquila about one mile off, and found ourselves having to alter our course to a more southerly one putting the swells on to our starboard quarter in order to miss a cluster of rocks called les Moines which are two and half miles off shore. We got used to the feeling of being picked up and shoved forward, with our view changing between the mountains behind Capo Testo on Sardinina and sea as we alternately rose up on the waves then slid down into the troughs. The children played happily in the cockpit, and occasionally got too boisterous when we would stop them worried that they might get hurt if they fell. The children would stop listen then within five minutes would be doing the same thing all over again. Eventually Phoebe found the best and must fun place to sit was inside the ships bucket on the cockpit floor, where she would bounce around. When we were half way over, I took Phoebe out on to deck with me to do an important job, changing the courtesy ensign to the Italian one. After we had removed the French and hoisted our new host countries ensign, Phoebe and I remained sat on the coachroof, where I was giving a big cuddle from Phoebe. I asked her why I was getting such a big cuddle, and I was told that she had some big cuddles inside her, which she was keeping for special occasions, and this was one of those occasions. Before returning to the cockpit, I asked Phoebe if she wanted to stay on the deck or come back with me, she wanted to stay, so I left her on the coachroof, where she sat with a look about her that communicated her pleasure and pride in being treated like a responsible person. We left her on the coachroof for a while then Sara went forward for a cuddle and was joined by Nick, we then left the two children on the coachroof as we sailed in to Saint Teresa. We entered Saint Teresa trying to determine where we should moor, we had decided that after our last attempt at stern to mooring, and Dreamcatchers reluctance to respond to the helm in reverse unless a lot of way was built up, that we would moor bows to, however as we were heading down the moorings a young lad fishing on the pontoon waved us off, indicating that there was not enough depth further on, I stopped Dreamcatcher and due to the lack of room, I had to spin her about her keel, which brought us up six foot from the side of another boat, and our stern about eight feet from the pontoon, I changed the plan and we dropped back on to the pontoon, where the young lad stood with the tailed line in his hand, this time the stern to mooring was successful, and we were in Sardinia with one day to spare before Nana and Granddad arrived.<br /><br />We hired a car to go to the airport to pick up our visitors, which gave us an opportunity to see bits of the inside of Sardinia, and possibly to pick up some stores for the boat. The plan was to let Jean and Michael have a day getting used to boat life and their grandchildren before we set off on Dreamcatcher slowly back towards Olbia, which the weather gods seemed to agree with as their first day there was a bit windy. We walked up the hill on the other side to Saint Teresa and watched the Moby lines ferry coming in to the narrow shallow entrance at great speed, once inside it put its helm full to starboard, and engines full astern, and the ferry slewed round with a lot of heel, the nautical equivalent to a handbrake turn, it was impressive to watch. There were a number of nicely blended into the landscape houses on this hill, any of which I would have loved to live in, all though there were my favorites.<br /><br />17/04/06 Cala Lunga Isola Razzoli<br />The forecast was for gentle winds from the West swinging round to the East, perfect for a night at anchor in Cala Lunga, an inlet on Isola Razzoli, we sailed to the anchorage in overcast conditions, I was a bit anxious about the rocks in the entrance, when a pilot book warns of rocks I imagine sharp edges hiding just under the surface waiting to punch holes in your boat, but like must places, once you have got in, it as not a bad as expected, and the entrance was rather straight forward. We arrived and had the anchorage to ourselves we picked a spot and dropped the hook in 5 meters onto sand, where it dug in straight away. Due to miscommunication our stern ended up a bit closer to the rocks than I would have liked, but we were still in over 3.5 meters of water. The rocks round the anchorage had been sculpted by wind and rain into fantastic shapes While we were bobbing around having lunch a large catamaran came into the anchorage, hovered round us for a while then went round the corner into the other leg, being new to anchoring it is reassuring to have some one else anchor in the same spot, although they are probably taking their reassurance from you being there themselves.. The children wanted to go swimming off Dreamcatcher, so Bob got hauled off the foredeck, in case of difficulty, but I was not expecting the kids to have the courage to go swimming off the boat. Once the kids were on the beach they were happy playing and paddling, Michael rowed back for Jean and Sara, and my shoes so we could go exploring the island. The bit of the island we managed to see was covered with sharp rocks and scrubby bushes that made walking difficult. After standing at the top of a crest looking towards Deadman’s Reef Passage, a shoal area leading between the islands of Razzoli, Budelli and Santa Maria towards pink beach, where the clear waters changed colour to brilliant light blue over the shallows, and looking at the catamaran at rest in the middle of the wide inlet held on station by four long lines lead to shore, which blocked anyone else from using the inlet, they had strung fenders on the lines, which I presume was to try and prevent other boats from sailing into them, we returned to the beach, where Michael and the children built a hut, out off driftwood and a blanket. The overcast conditions deprived us of what we had been told is a highlight of being at Cala Lunga, a sunset playing onto the rocks. The wind which was meant to swing round to the East persisted in staying in the West, and blowing a small swell, into the anchorage all night.<br /><br />18/04/06 Maddalena Island<br />We woke up to another overcast sky, and a forecast of increasing wind from the North. The previous day I had been informed by Michael that he can not swim, with the increasing wind and bouncy sea, I was more risk aware than I had been the previous day, and was a bit over forceful in trying to avoid an incident. We had decide to tow the dinghy round to Pink Beach in order for us to go ashore if the conditions were favourable. The approach to Pink Beach was exposed to the northerly winds that were been squeezed between the islands, I decided that going ashore was not an option, and we should bring the dinghy aboard, which was a bit tricky due to the wind and swell. We should have brought the dinghy on board at Cala Lunga, trying to save time had increased both risk and time taken to do the job, it is a mistake I hope not to make again. We raised the jib, and headed towards Isola Maddalena, an awkward swell made the crossing uncomfortable, we moored up bows to at 12:45. After lunch we went for a walk round the town of Maddalena, to find most of it closed until 17:30, so we had an ice-cream each, after all we were now in Italy. There is a large cross on top of a hill looking down onto the port, which appears to be made of strip lights that get lit up at night. The harbour seems to be constantly busy with ferries plying backwards and forwards to Sardinia, but they do not cause any problems in the yacht harbour.<br /><br />19/04/06 In the afternoon we caught a bus and went to the north of the island to another inlet called Cala Lunga, where we sat on the beach while the children paddled and dug in the sand. Phoebe called back from the shoreline, where she was digging, saying she had found a fish, which we didn’t believe. Phoebe picked up her ‘Fish’ and brought it to us, it was a leaf. Phoebe went back to the shoreline, and once more said she had found a fish, and it had eyes. Michael walked down to join in the game, then declared that it was a fish, although on its last legs, and asked for a bucket to catch it. It turned out to be a healthy, but sleepy burrowing fish, which first burrowed into the sand, only to be dug back out again, then it swam off slowly into deeper water. After we returned to Maddalena we had what was the best ice-cream I can recall ever having at an American style cocktail bar. I suspected they might be good when I spotted two young men both well over six foot, with intense expressions on their faces as they licked their way round their three flavoured ice-cream cones.<br /><br />20/04/06 Porto Rotundo Sardinia<br />We cast off at 10:00 and went through the 13 Foot passage, named after its minimum depth. Once through I passed the helm to Michael after the Jib and Mizzen had been raised, and he steered us past the American Nuclear Submarine base on Isola Saint Stefano, and on to Porto Cervo, the town and harbour which had been developed by the Aga Khan, where the rich and famous were reputed to hang out, although not in April. We tied up to the empty quay side, which was reserved for the large 100m yachts, and had lunch. After lunch we walked round the town of Porto Cervo, we had to have some ice-cream in order to do a comparison, Maddalena still out in front. After lunch we raised the jib and main and sailed off the quay, using springs would have helped the departure and stopped us heading backwards first. A slick tack with all hands working in concert enabled us to lay a course out of the entrance, and south towards Porto Rotondo. With Michael once more at the helm we passed inside Isola Nibani and outside of Isole della Roche, and were greated by our first sight of Isola Tavolara, a large island appearing to rise sheer straight out of the sea, to the south of the approaches to Olbia. With the late afternoon sun warming up the colours, and longer shadows giving definition to the islands of Poveri and Mortorio, we sailed down towards Porto Rotondo, while enjoying a beer in the cockpit. We were helped on to our berth by the marina attendants, two days before the start of Porto Rotondo’s yacht show. We spent the next day on the beach, and had a ringside seat as lovely motor boats arrived. I am not a stinkpotter, but there were a number of motor yachts that if I had the money I would have been tempted to buy, both modern and classic. Porto Rotondo is a large circular marina, reputed to being a Porto Cervo wannabe, however I found it a pleasant friendly place, albeit expensive, my fees for the night were approx E8-00 for the berth and E8-00 for electricity, but in August the mooring fees would have been E147-00. The local supermarket was expensive, and a couple we meet Julie and Ian, who had left their boat there for winter informed us that the supermarket had only opened two days earlier.<br /><br />22/04/06 Baia Caddinas After a late start due to beach trips, and the need for supplies we set off at 11:30, we had removed the anchor off the bow roller to make getting on and off easier, and Michael and I replaced it, unfortunately it was not cleated on properly, and neither Sara nor I noticed it, in our predeparture checks. We set off in a light wind, which was pleasant for sailing, but we were not making enough progress, it was time for the engine to come on if we were to reach our anchorage at Porto della Taverna. With sails raised and the engine on we approached Capo Figari, and encountered bouncy seas, when suddenly there was a rattling from the bow. A wave had pulled the anchor off its roller and it was heading towards the sea bed, 50meters below, taking 30m of chain and 100m of brand new octoplait warp with it, and there was nothing we could do about it. I shouted for everyone to stay clear of the chain, I did not want anyone getting tangled up in it. I knew that we could not recover that much anchor and chain easily, and being in only 50 meters, there was a very real danger of the anchor setting. I then wondered if someone might be able to stand on the chain or warp as it came out of the hawsepipe, when suddenly with a bang it stopped. Michael and Sara went forward and told me that the join between the chain and warp had jammed in the hawsepipe. Thank goodness I had given up on trying to splice the warp to the chain, otherwise there would not have been a shackle to jam. We needed to find somewhere shallow to take the weight off the chain in order for us to retrieve it. Sara went below to the chart table to tell me about places we could stop on the otherside of Capo Figari, I also needed time to think about what to do and I was having opinions thrust at me, which I was rejecting, but having to explain why, this slows down my thought processes, this is when things went wrong, Sara wanted to drop the sails and head into a beach she could see, the anchor chain needed securing to prevent it coming loose, no one seemed to know how to do that so I went forward to tie it on, while Sara had the helm, as I was coming back into the cockpit Sara gybed and I got hit in the face by the boom, at this point the air got a bit colourful. I needed to get back in charge to prevent something else going wrong, people got shouted at. We dropped sails and motored round to a bay between Isola di Figarolo and Cap Figari, staying in 50 meters plus, as we came in to the shore I increased speed in the hope that the drag from the chain and anchor might raise it up a bit to stop it snagging, if there were any raised outcrops of rocks, I just had to hope we would miss them. As we came into 10m it was apparent that the anchor was now dragging as our boat speed had slowed down, and the anchor chain was pulling tighter. Michael and Sara were on the foredeck waiting to pull in the anchor, which they did, although it required tremendous effort, which was explained when up came the fishermans net, tangled in the anchor, with the minimal amount of cutting this was released, and we motored out of the bay. Porto Taverna got abandoned and we headed towards Baia Caddinas, which turned out to be a lovely stop. Standing in the cockpit we had a lovely view of Isola Tavolara, and right next to the marina was a beautiful sandy beach, with clear water, in which you could see the fish swimming, Sara, Phoebe, Nick and I joined them it had been a hard day.<br /><br />23/04/2006 Olbia Sardinia<br />An early start, in order to give Jean and Michael, plenty of time to catch their plane, found us having breakfast while underway. The entrance to the harbour would be hard to spot in the rather featureless terrain, if someone had not built a very conspicuous lighthouse at the entrance, which guides you to the narrow channel. We tied up to the harbour wall, 58 miles after Jean and Michael had joined us, which for people who do not list sailing as a preferred activity, is probably quite far enough, with plenty of time for them to get to the airport. The weather had been good to us, there had been only two days of strong winds. Olbia itself has little to recommend it as a destination, apart from somewhere to change crews or provision, although it does apparently contain the best ice-cream shop in Sardinia, a fact we did not discover until after we had left. We spent the next three days tied up to the harbour wall for free, while we reflected on the last month, stocked up and decided where to go to next. There were a number of German registered boats sharing the wall with us, they all seemed to be charter boats, with crews changing regularly. We meet Denni, a retired New Zealander, who was looking after one of these boats. He was meant to have left the week before we got there, but due to problems with the boats engine the charter had been cancelled and he had no idea how long he was going to have to wait for things to get themselves sorted.<br /><br />27/04/2006 Madallena Island<br />The day before I had contacted Topea, and discovered they were on Isola Razzoli, so I arranged to meet them tonight at Maddalena. We left at 08:30, and motored back round Cap Figari. At lunchtime we raised sails which I hung to doggedly, sailing past the entrance to Maddalena with all three sails set, not only to enjoy the sail, but to show off Dreamcatcher as I think she must look magnificent under sail, this point was confirmed by Eve and Gunner who had jumped up from their table at a Café, where they were having their first coffee of the year, when they saw us sailing past. Our plan had been to spend the night then head on off to Corsica, but we ended up staying four days. We meet another family Steven, Fiona and their children Morgan and Morwena from Penryn, who were just starting out for six months of sailing, plus there was some bad weather forecast which we watched stirring up the narrows between the islands from the comfort of the marina. It was not an incident free period however, we all got a great laugh from a boat crewed by a group of retired gentlemen, who after a particularly noisy and alcoholic lunch, slipped their lines having forgotten to pay, the Ormiggiori came running down the jetty demanding his fees, they slowed down a bit looked at their wallets, and decided that the skipper of a boat they had sailed in would pay for them, which he obligingly did. We put Bob in the water to try scrub our waterline, and Phoebe wearing her lifejacket leaned against the guardrail netting at the point where the gates are, it was not secure, and she disappeared head first into the harbour. On surfacing she did not panic but swum to the dinghy, grabbed hold, and then yelled. We fished her out, dried her off, and discussed the incident, in a positive and humorous way.<br /><br />Next: Pirate beaches, and running aground.Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-81511136043456516172006-03-10T21:39:00.000+00:002008-07-27T23:56:14.468+01:00The Med at last, or is this the last.<br /><br />10/03/06 We had been watching the weather closely, and despite the mistral blowing, it looked like we might have a good window in the early part of next week, so we got ready to leave, this involved deregistering the children from school, letting everyone know that we hope to go on Tuesday, returning and collecting various books DVD’s etcetera, and filing the tanks with water and diesel. A farewell party was hastily organised to take place on the Saturday, by Sherry from Arca di Bella, our neighbours for the last 3 months. Blue Duck another Swedish boat had been trying to leave all week, but had been weather bound, they were now hoping to go on the Monday.<br /><br />11/03/06 Veliserdi braved the mistral to come and visit in batches, a comment to Dianne that our Chart plotter software wasn’t working had Serge pedalling across to help me sort out the problem. Before he disappeared that night with my GPS we persuaded him to come to the party, his comment to me later was that he did not realise that there were going to be so many people, all the boat people turned up apart from Julian and Peter, Peter it transpired thought he had been excluded as he was not invited directly, and we don’t know what happened to Julian, as we did not see the pirate again before we left. During the day I began to suspect that my fixed VHF antenna was not working properly, Dennis kindly offered to go up my mast the next day, although the forecast was for more Mistral.<br /><br />12/03/06 Mistral still blowing, shrouds finally pinned, deck gear stowed. Spare antenna cable from Blue Duck confirmed that there was a fault.<br /><br />13/03/05 Blue Duck still not gone, the mistral has gone but it is still a strong and bitterly cold North wind blowing, Dennis goes up the mast, so we can check the cable, which is fine therefore it is the antenna itself which needs to be changed. Serge arrived with my GPS complete with lead to connect to the chart plotter. We decided to delay our departure until the VHF antenna can be changed. Later that night while checking all our other bits of electronics I discover that the GPS is not working, the original wires get reconnected to the radar switch, and it works although not with the chart plotter.<br /><br />14/03/06 Get woken up at 07:00 by a knocking on the hull, I find Serge outside with some software revisions that will enable the chart plotter to work more fully, he was worried we might leave before he had it working properly. After discovering that the only fault with Serge’s cable was that it had been wired into a disconnected earth bus bar, it had worked the day before as the computer provided an earth link, and apologising over a coffee we got the chart plotter working. Dennis had arrived to ask when he was required to go back up the mast, it had been arranged for 10:00, but it was still windy and cold, so we rescheduled till lunch time, when the antenna from the chart table got plugged in and at last we were all systems go at 14:30, it wouldn’t be like me to get things ready to soon in advance. Blue Duck had slipped out some time in the morning, so with the help of the Capitainair, Dennis Sherry and an kind wind blowing us off, we slipped our lines and left Port Saint Louis three month exactly after first arriving. We had meet some friendly people some of whom we hope to meet later as we all head for Greece, and others who are going in different directions, we hope to keep in contact with them and wish them all fair winds and slight seas. We passed Andy working on his boat, and with jib only we showed 5.7 knots on our log as we headed the 2 miles to Navy Services. This stop had been planned last night, as we wanted to leave Port Saint Louis and now there were too many people at Navy Services to whom we wanted to say goodbye to. Veliserdi saw us arriving and before we were alongside, Veliserdi, Topea and Christine were all standing by to take our lines, it was an excellent welcome. The children thought this was an excellent sailing idea, leave one place arrive somewhere else less than 30 minutes later to be met by all your friends. Sara and I managed to find all the people we were looking for. Ann and Norman joined us onboard briefly to say goodbye, then Dreamcatcher’s crew all went to Veliserdi, which was stood on the hard having repairs done, where we were joined by Guner and Eve from Topea who brought our supper. After a pleasant evening containing a reasonable quantity of wine we departed leaving Serge with a bottle of Malt Scotch as thanks for all his help.<br /><br />15/03/06 Dermot arrives just as we are about to depart and helps slip our lines, we are hoping to make a quiet departure, leaving Phoebes bike behind for Veliserdi to use, but our departure is spotted by Veliserdi, and before long Veliserdi are all on the quay wall waving and shouting their goodbyes. It is a sad moment as we do not anticipate seeing Veliserdi again for a long time, as they hope to be returning to Paris for a two year employment contract, as we finally past out of sight behind the land they are still stood there waving. After this start Sara and I are quiet for a while caught in our own thoughts, we motor out into the Golf de Fos and finally into the Mediterranean Sea. Phoebe helps helm, there is a bit of wind but I had a sleepless night due to some stomach bug, and I can’t manage the effort of putting the sails up and down so we motor on. The landscape changes as we move away from the flat industrial part of the Golf de Fos, and round the corner towards Carry le Rouet, there are sand coloured hills with olive green vegetation, at last this is beginning to look like my idea of the Mediterranean coast of France. Marseilles revels itself guarded and sheltered by its islands including for people familiar with Alexandra Dumas’ Conte of Monte Cristo Il D’If complete with its prison Chateau D’If. 5 hours after leaving Navy Services we thread our way in past the Phare and the Fort, to find the Vieux Port opening up in front of us, we slow down as we try to locate the reception pontoon. I notice a large wooden boat reversing out in front of us, it stops then goes back in, trying to line itself up on it’s pontoon, as we get closer it starts reversing again I anticipate it stopping and going back in, when I realise it is not going to stop but is continuing backwards, I can’t turn to port as I now have another boat overtaking me, if I try to reverse I will just stop behind him, so increasing throttle, I yell across for them to stop, at last they react diving for the cockpit, but they do not stop instead they increase their speed backwards and with a loud banging and crashing noise smash into my pushpit, we are slewed around to starboard, as they continue to career across the harbour straight towards moored motor boats on the other side. Eventually they stop, and come back and apologise, and ask us to come alongside their pontoon so that we can sort it out. Beinevenue Marseille. The reception pontoon was 20 meters in front of us. It transpired that his engine telegraph had malfunctioned, and after assessing the damage, our pushpit is seriously distorted pushed in on the starboard side with all the uprights bent, and their inflatable, which was what actually hit us and acted like a fender, burst, we moored up at the reception pontoon and waited for the morning when we would sort it all out.<br /><br />16-22/03/05 The next seven days are spent getting the boat repaired and walking round discovering Marseille, an unusual place that reveals its secrets slowly, it is too easy to take it as a busy commercial mish mash of a city, but that would be a disservice, it is a colourful, friendly and frenetic mix of cultures squashed together, but still different, in a sprawling city, if anything this was clearly indicated in the Carnaval we went to, a procession of nearly 1.5miles of floats all representing different districts; schools or cultural groups, packed full of energy. We stood at the side of the road, for over 2 hours, in the sun until the last float finally came past, with its band and troop of dancers still in full flight. The carnaval went down the road heading towards the horse race course, a part of the city which had been developed because the city council thought they should develop that area. We walked round the North African area, near the Arch De Triomph, and found Tea shops selling baklava’s and other sweet cakes, alongside Halal markets and stalls from which wafted the heady scents of spices. The daily fish market at the end of the Vieux Port, sells fish caught by the local fisherman, sold by the local fishermen, it is so fresh that it is quite literally flapping, as some of the trays are flooded with water to keep the fish alive. The character of the town is typified by Renee’ and his cohorts who come round to fix the pushpit rather than involving the insurance companies, the pushpit is removed later one afternoon, and rather than trying to get it through the busy rush hour traffic it gets put into a rib, a rib with a somewhat temperamental motor. The rib announces its appearance by an engine starting and quickly going up it rev range to full power, as it shoots out into the harbour, does a quick turn and heads towards us whereupon it engine promptly dies. The pushpit is loaded up and off the ribs goes, with Renee at the helm, and his companion standing up in the bow, this in Marseille is not unusual as we have seen the Harbour master patrol boats regularly taking people out all standing up, usually holding on to part of the structure, what is unusual about Renee’s rib, is it only about 7 foot long, and the bloke standing up in the front is holding my pushpit over his shoulders. The ribs engine stalls 10 meters from Dreamcatcher, and not wanting to miss an opportunity like this the chap holding the pushpit lets go of it, leaving it balanced on his shoulder while he proceeds to roll and light a cigarette, while Renee is tugging at the started cord. The Harbour masters office was getting refitted for the start of the season, and Nick soon made friends with the builders, due to delays in getting the pushpit remade we moved onto Renee’s pontoon and tied up alongside one of his day trip boats, which he sorted out with the harbourmaster. Nick and Phoebe made friends of Renee and Jean Michel, to the extent that whenever they came on board they were either shot by Nick, or they attached themselves to their legs stopping them form leaving. When Jean Michel came on board to fix some new boards in the ceiling, Nick got dressed up in his construction workers costume and took his tool kit in to help, and was a bit upset when Jean Michel went ashore to get a saw, as Nick had on in his toolbox, which he got out and offered to Jean Michel when he came back. The trip boat community got a bit interesting while we were there, as the charter company taking day trippers to Port Friole and Château D’If, which it was alleged had a gangster element, which it was believed had had a hand in fire bombing two of Renee’s boats, including the one we were moored up to, in the past, had finally had its licences revoked, and their boats had been impounded, chained to the jetty, then towed away by the police. When we finally left we were told that any time we came back to Marseille, we were welcome to tie up in their yard, and as we sailed away Jean Michel who had taken a ferry across to Port Frioul past us going the other way, and hooted his horn in farewell, which the children responded to with excited waving.<br /><br />23/03/06 Once more we had got ourselves sailing to a deadline and losing time; in January when Jean and Michael had been with us we arranged to meet them again in Sardinia at Easter. Sitting in port in winter 200 miles in over 4 months did not seem extreme, even leaving when we did gave us time and allowed for the odd weather bound day, but did not include losing time due to repairs, the last two days had had horrible weather, some even if we had been ready we could not have left, however we now had a window, Westerly 2/3, slight seas, just what we require for our first real sail of the season, if a bit light we should make the 16miles to Port Miou easily. As we came round the corner form the Vieux Port, we hoisted the mizzen, in a lumpy swell, left over from the last 2 days of westerlies. We turned the engine on after ghosting past Chateau D’If, and were slopping round in the swells, I thought about raising the main, but decided to wait until we were out of the shelter of the islands, as we started getting out of the shelter the swells started getting bigger, there were white horses on the crests of the waves, and the wind got stronger. Phoebe and Nick lost the struggle and started being sick, Dreamcatcher was tromping along beautifully showing over 6 knots sometimes going over 7, with the wind and waves on the starboard bow. If we carried on we would have to turn the corner and run before the wind, which should lessen the apparent wind, but could led to problems later when we needed to turn into Port Miou, although I had confidence in Dreamcatcher, the crew would be a problem, and another 2 to 3 hours of this would not be pleasant for the children, and Sara would then be needed to look after them, leaving me by myself, it was an easy decision to make, with the strong winds which I estimated at closer to a F6 than F3, white crests on the waves, we turned back. This now moved the Mizzen boom across onto the other adjustable backstay, due to the motion I did not ask Sara to go back to loosen it, which meant that in the gusts we had tremendous weather helm, as the mizzen tried to swing us to wind, with full opposite helm we stayed more or less on course, even this did not slow us down with over 7 knots on the log. As we got more sheltered we loosened our backstay and headed towards Port Frioul, a harbour in the shelter of the Rattenau islands off Marseille. Three hours after setting off we were 2.5 miles from where we had started. However I am glad we had to make the stop otherwise we would have missed this delightful spot. While Sara and I tied up the boat, after 4 months travelling down the canals and three months in port, we had neglected to stow the boat properly for sea, the children’s toys which had been set up on the table were all over the floor, where they were having a party with books, charts, smashed glasses, bread boards, some battery operated stainless silver salt and pepper pots, Christmas presents, which we now refer to as the missiles, various fruit and vegetables, which had decided they were missing out, or did not want to be eaten, we kept finding bits of glass and vegetables reappearing from their hiding places over the next two days, Phoebe and Nick were put on the jetty, and allowed to run off and explore by themselves, something we had been hoping to let them do ever since we set off, we fetched them back when we saw Nick standing on the edge of the cliff looking down. After a rest I took the children for a walk on the nature reserve, the sun was warm on our faces as we walked up the rocky hill covered with scrub plants, went through a cutting, to see the Mediterranean Sea with white capped waves, more closely clear blue waters in the cove in front of us, a castle on the hill at the far end of the island, it was what we had been aiming for the last two years, I finally felt that we had got there, it was an emotional moment. As we ran back to fetch Sara, as she should not miss out on this, we had a lovely view of Marseille behind Isle D’If.<br /><br />24/03/06 Weather bound, so we went walking round the island and the children went swimming in the sea, that evening as I was tiding up a French Family with a little girl walked down the jetty to talk to us, they had seen our children walking about the jetty, and came across to talk to us. They were going to heading down to Greece later in the year, to visit the island that his grandfather a sponge fisherman had come from. He told us that if there is a westerly wind in the area that there are always big swells. Weather looks good for tomorrow.<br /><br />25/03/06 Up at 7:00 aiming to get a good start if the wind is calm, it is a flat calm in the harbour. Off to Port Miou, with options to continue on if it is good. We sneak through the gap between the mainland and the islands off the tip of Marseille, which cuts three miles off our journey towards Port Miou, 6 meters of water is disconcerting after being in over 80 meters. Mizzen raised jib out, and we are running before the wind, still with the engine on to keep up the miles. We pass Port Miou and head across towards Ciotat, Roger the autohelm gets pulled out of his cupboard and turned on, the winds is still gentle, the 11:15 SSB weather forecast still foretells good weather. This is very different from our first attempt to leave Marseille, the sea is has a gentle swell and all are smiling. At 12:00 Sara serves up ravioli, and the engine gets turned off so we can sail through a gentle lunch. Dreamcatcher maintains an indicated 4 knots, the lost 1.5 knots for an hour while we have lunch will not add too much on to the journey. We decided to keep sailing as the speed slowly moves up to 4.5 knots, and we head off towards Porquerolles, an island that everyone tells is lovely. The wind picks up and we reef the mizzen, we are still running, with the log now showing 6.5knots going up to 7.5, the seas are catching us on the stern and trying to slew us round, ‘Roger’ had been struggling to keep up and spent most of the time turned off. It was uncomfortable to hold the chosen course, so we headed a further 10 degrees off shore, moving the wind from dead astern to the Starboard Quarter, would put us off track, but it made the motion a lot more comfortable. As we got closer to Porquerolles we executed a gib, got it horribly wrong with the jib wrapped round the forestay, and did a series of circles to untangle it, during which ‘Roger’s’ belt snapped, this might cause us problems on longer passages unless we could find a replacement, which I believed where in the engine room. We identified the gap between Porquerolles and the mainland, and slipped in, the wind was blowing strongly in the harbour, but their were plenty of people offering help with our lines, at 17:0 after a fantastic days sailing we tied up having turned the engine on at the last 20 minutes to get us into the harbour. 52 miles in 9.5hours an average speed of 5.5knots, with most of the latter part of the afternoon spent at nearly 7 knots, I felt alive and buzzing, this was the furthest and fastest we had ever just sailed, without the engine on, in Dreamcatcher, and we had done it just as a family without any help, and the children had been with us playing in the cockpit all day. Sara took the children for walk while I talked to people on other boats, and put on sail covers and generally tidied up the topsides.<br /><br />26/03/06 Woke up late, after we had got ourselves dressed and breakfasted, we set off to go explore, and found a note on the deck from the harbourmaster asking us to go to his office before 11:30, we arrived at 10:45, I found him stood at his door, hew told me he was closed and was not open now till Monday. This was a bit confusing as we were on time but the clock at the ferry station showed was an hour later, it was now Summer time in Europe. I was disappointed with Porquerolles, the harbour was new, and was filling up with motor boats coming over from Toulon, and then sitting in the marina moored next to each other having barbeques and lunch staring at a lump of concrete, wearing pastel sweaters and thick gold chains round their necks. The village was not much better, as far as I could see its only reason for being there was to provide holiday accommodation it had the feel of artificiality, a form of Bowness on Sea. It may have been better if we had anchored up off one of the beaches, or had walked further onto the island. During lunch we had a conversation looked at the forecast weather, we would need two days of good weather to get to Corsica, as the distance was 120 miles, we had a forecast which was good now and tomorrow but a bit iffy for the day after, we decided to go in the afternoon, at 14:45 we turned on the engine cast off our lines and headed out towards Corsica.<br /><br /> 26-27/03/06 This was going to be a challenge, our first long crossing, with just Sara myself and the children, once we had left there were no stopping places on route, but we were still on a high from our fantastic day the day before, we had chosen to move the goalposts slightly, instead of doing the normal route of Porquerolles to Calvi we had opted for Girolata, about a third of the way down the coast, but that meant it was going to be a bit further to go. We were all in the cockpit as we motored between Porquerolles and Ile De Port Cros, we turned off the engine and raised the jib while we had supper, but there was no wind to talk off at all, so after supper it was back on with the engine as we set off to Corsica. Sara got the kids to bed, then went down to get some kip, but spent an hour or so plotting positions and tidying up, but before finally getting her head down at 22:00. It was a moonless night, and we appeared to have the sea to ourselves, it would have been peaceful if it weren’t for the engine throbbing away. The boredom of night watches with nothing in sight was broken by staring over the sides watching the sea light in our wake with blue phosphorescence, and trying to keep the jib filled, which was not helped by the swell left over from the last 3 days of westerlies. Sara was up again at midnight to take over, by which time I was looking forward to getting some kip. I gave Sara a course to steer, asked if she was all right, then headed towards the spare bunk in the saloon. I didn’t think I had fallen asleep, but I was woken by Sara bashing my foot and shouting at me. Lifejacket and harness on I was up in the cockpit, trying to find out what the problem was and found Sara struggling to keep the jib filled. Sara’s major concern was she had been shouting at me, and trying to throw things at me, to try and wake me up, before coming down to physically wake me, I had been sleeping with my hearing ear in the pillow, and with the combination of engine noise and tiredness I had not heard her. I really needed some more sleep, but Sara wasn’t happy with being on watch by herself. I got a blanket and a pillow and tried to get some kip in the cockpit, which was a lot harder than it sounds, not only are the seats to short to stretch out on, they are narrow and with the rolling seas, I was trying to sleep with one hand alternating between the binnacle and the cockpit cover. After finally nearly sliding all the way off the seat, I asked Sara if I could take over the helm. Sara and I changed positions, Sara was a lot more successful at getting to sleep. She was so fast asleep that when we were caught by an awkward swell she only woke up once she was in a heap on the cockpit floor. While I was staring out the starboard side, Sara claimed she had seen a dolphin or something that had snorted and made her jump, I did not believe this, the only light was what ever was reflecting from our steaming light. At 04:00 I had to believe her as I saw a steel blue fin cut through the water and followed by a trail of phosphorescence in the water, we had been joined by two dolphins who swam round and under our boat for the next 45 minutes. It woke us up and gave the passage a magical element. Before the dolphins arrived I had been struggling to stay awake, and there were times when I had micro sleeps while helming. At 05:00 I suddenly saw masthead lights in front of us, they had not been there when I had last looked, maybe I had been asleep, I could not make out what it was, a stern light, a steaming light or an anchor light, what ever it was it was big and close, as it was bright and high. I jumped up poked my head through the opening in the cockpit cover, we had seen 5 ships during the night, I did not want to get run down, I could not see any other navigation lights, I took my glasses off, this still did not improve it, I turned to starboard, what ever it was I couldn’t stay where I was. I cleaned my glasses and put them back on, still no better. It aspect was not changing it was still there, what was it? Finally the truth dawned, it was a planet or star that had appeared from behind the thinning clouds. It was time for me to get some proper sleep. Sara took over the helming, commented about the star, and I went below for some kip. I woke at 07:00 with light coming into the saloon, to see Sara stood at the helm, talking to Nicholas, who was sat in the cockpit, in his pyjamas, wrapped in a blanket, keeping his mum company. I plotted our position still 35 miles from Corsica and told Sara that she might soon be able to see Corsica. Sara said she had been seeing it since dawn, I came up into the cockpit and saw the mountains in the north of Corsica arranged like teeth ripping at the sky, as we got closer the mountains slowly revealed more details, the high peaks in the background were snow capped, giving way to dark granite coloured peaks, then drab olive green and finally at the base were they joined the sea the red of iron rich rocks. The red band dwarfed initially dwarfed by the peaks, slowly got larger blotting out the higher bits behind, as they plunger shear into the water, they rose to over 500 meters, and the sea depths rose equally sharply, just over 1 mile off shore the depths were still over 1000metres, finally rising to 20metres about 100 meters from the shore. We anchored up in the bay at Girolata, tucked up in the lee of a castle topped premonitory. There was one other boat at anchor, although it appeared to have been left there all winter and was not occupied, the village, accessible only either by foot or by boat, appeared mostly empty. There was a bit of activity on the shore as a small group of about 6 men repairing jetties and getting the wooden sided bar and restaurant ready for the season.Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2151467820976026641.post-18071507853645749512005-11-18T21:32:00.000+00:002008-07-27T23:55:27.687+01:00Are we there yet?<br /><br />29/11/05 Our first full day in Avignon, it was time for a shower, the last time I had indulged in such a luxury had been 4 days before at Valence, boat showers had not been an option as the weather had been too cold, even with Sara cooking all day the temperature in Dreamcatcher never really rose above 8°C, and the last thing I wanted to do after spending all day helming in bitterly cold temperatures was strip off and get wet. What a distance we have come when the thought of a shower is considered a luxury. Despite the marina being washed away 2 years previously in the floods, the city council had not decided whether to replace it, which would appear to be an oversight, as Avignon is a fascinating place, the showers and laundry were still in service in the former cargo hold of a barge. The laundry had a fascinating stainless steel drum, which I was told was to take the radioactivity out of the water from the Rhone.<br />Avignon however is a fascinating city, with twisting streets, amazing architecture, little theatres and cinemas, a big multiplex cinema, a main street filled with all major high street shops and little boutiques selling anything from high fashion clothes and jewellery, second hand books stores and a shop selling first editions alongside shops catering for the students at it University, expensive good restaurants and kebab shops. It seemed to be a town for everyone, and due to its unique nature of being completely walled, it was very compact and contained, outside the walls is the train station, big hotels and larger stores, but I only ventured outside the walls when I was lost and couldn’t find my way back. As outside each of the many gates there was a map showing you where you were, enabling you to either plunge back into the town and to once more trying to find your way to the other side, or to walk round the outside of the walls back to Dreamcatcher. I was not the only person who got lost, and Australian family coming through found their way back by the simple expedient of keeping Venus on their right until they came out of a gate then walked round the outside. Most of our time at Avignon was spent just walking round the town looking at the different buildings, Phoebe found an amazing studded door, we visited the Popes Palace and climbed the staircase to the park above the Popes Palace which gave views across Avignon, and the Rhone to Villeneuve-les-Avignon. Despite being less than 400 meters from the famous pont Saint Benezet d’Avignon, we did not go onto the bridge. Instead we visited the Christmas market, took the children skating on a temporary outdoor ice rink set up in front of the market place, and Nick and I had a bash and trying to climb a climbing wall in aid of charity, I got all of 9 inches up, before I had to give up, whereas Nick got up to well above my head height before he decided he wanted to come down. And all the time we were trying to figure out where to go next.<br /><br />We had started this adventure on the 8 September, with the initial goal of getting down to the Med, now we are at kilometre mark 242 on the Rhone, with Port Saint Louis and access to the Med at 321, 79 km from our first goal, with the river current that was easily only 1 day away. Where to next? Our masts were still at Le Havre and Stefan had said he could get them down to us within three weeks, Michael who had been in our company almost daily since Beaujolais Day in Macon on the 17 November, was going to be heading down to Sete when he left Avignon, although we were initially heading towards Port Saint Louis, we had been told that is equally possible to get our masts stepped in Sete. The children got on with Michael and were always excited to see him on his daily visits, even if those visits were only to give us his newspaper in order for us to discuss the weather forecast. Michael finally left Avignon on the morning of the 03 December, after initially planning to leave on the 01 December, he seemed sorry to be leaving our company, and we all felt a little bit sad as his little yellow boat pulled away from the quay side and turned downriver. The day of Michael and Nokaoi’s departure we woke to a mud coloured river, flowing visibly faster than before, which contained branches and other debris, was this the start of the floods, I hoped not as we had not put any diesel in since Chalon Sur Saonne. I checked with the harbourmaster who assured me that is was not the start of the flood. The next 3 days were spent putting over 100 litres into the tanks, it took this long due to buying it in 20 litre jerry cans, and fitting it round lunch hours, half days and Sundays. I need diesel not only to complete the journey but also to try and cut down on condensation in the tank, with its implications of contaminating the diesel.<br /><br />During our period at Avignon, we were joined by 2 other boats that were passing through, first Sequel, heading towards Australia with Rob, Hanna and 9 month old Angus, and after they had left by a Dutch boat Linda with Arian, Niek and their daughters Maria and Nina. Both these boats had come through the canals together, and told stories of frozen canals, the ice of which was nearly an inch thick, which they had to smash with hammers each morning in order to break their boats out, and of branches being placed in front of lock gates overnight to prevent the ice freezing them shut, it made our ordeal seem like a mere inconvenience.<br /><br />It was suggested that the best place to get our masts foot remade would be Sete, as I was bound to get fleeced at Port Saint Louis. So we decided to go have a look at Sete, which although it would involve a detour of nearly 100km, we would be going round to top of the Camargue National Park, and it looked like a good place to go. On the 5 December it was no longer branches floating down the river but small trees, and over night the river had risen by 3 inches, although the Harbour master assured me that we would need 2 weeks of rain before the floods and that he would be able to give us ample warning, it was time to move. Sara agreed with me, not due to worries about the state of the river, but due to the fact that she was sure that she had seen a rat walk past the window one night. This lead to an interesting conversation about where it could be living and how we were to get rid of it, I suggested to the children that I should go buy a gun and shoot it. Despite their fascination about the prospect of having a real gun, the children vetoed this suggestion, as I might miss and then Dreamcatcher would go ‘Glug, glug, glug’ as she sank to the bottom of the river.<br /><br />07/12/05 Engine on at 09:17, we motored slowly into the current as we ferry glided off from the quay, then we turned with the flow and were carried down past the bridge, the children came out and waved good bye to the harbourmaster, the bridge and to Avignon itself. We were off to Arles, to see the Roman Amphitheatre, which had seen gladiatorial combats and was still in use as a bull-fighting arena. If felt good to be travelling once more. The sun was shining and although the temperature was cold, it was warmer than when we had come down the Rhone. We passed the twin towns of Tarrascon and Beaucaire, built on opposite banks of the river, and both with imposing looking castles, there were no obvious stopping place at either, access to the marina at Beaucaire is via the Canal du Rhone au Sete a detour of about 60kms. The Rhone which was noticeably faster below the last lock, the pillars and supports holding up the bridges over the Rhone had the appearance of doing 4-5 knots through the water. The lower sections of the Rhone feel remote and inhospitable with low scrub bushes and trees, shoals and sandbanks, with the passage through marked by navigation piles and buoys. With the junction with the Petit Rhone in sight I turned Dreamcatcher round to point upstream to see if we could make progress against the flow, if we could not we would have to decide whether to continue on to Sete, or revert back to the original plan of Port Saint Louis. Dreamcatcher slew round, and heeled as I turned her, and the ground track fell from nearly 8 knots to 1 knot then very slowly crept up to 1.5knots as we slowly made way back up river. The campaniles of the churches appeared, backlit against the pale blue sky, then slowly the beige stone walls and red roofs of the rest of the town came into definition. The moorings were tucked onto the right bank just after a right hand bend and as such were sheltered from the worst of the flow, they were full of boats apart from a small space between a big motor cruiser and a small motor boat, we managed to squeeze ourselves in with the help of people on the jetty. The pontoon was wobbly with no shore power, apparently it had been turned off the week before because people were using it to heat their boats! We spent the afternoon doing a quick walking tour of Arles, past the Ancient Roman Theatre, which was in the process of being renovated, and on to the Amphitheatre. We had promised the kids a trip to the amphitheatre where there had been gladiatorial combats and now it is used for bullfighting. I think Nick was a bit disappointed not to see any actual bullfights, but I captured their imaginations by re-enacting bullfights and gladiatorial contests. Nick decided his Dad was a bit funny pretending to be a bull and paw at the dirt, before charging towards him.<br />We walked back through the town with Nick insisting on going to a café for a drink, he had even seen one serving beer. It had been a good day, I even managed to run a bit, not that Linford Christie has anything to worry about, it was more the Granddad chasing toddlers round a garden run, but hey it was still a run.<br /><br />08/12/2005 We left Arles early in the morning and headed back upriver to the junction with the Petit Rhone, this river is completely different, more Africa Queenish, with trees and vegetation encroaching onto the river. The guide to this section of river down to the junction with the Saint Giles lock, was full of warnings of obstructions and admonishments not to leave the marked channel. Channel markings were conspicuous in their absence, by staying approximately in the middle of the river and staying clear of the branches of any submerged trees, we made it through to the Saint Giles lock. The latter part of the river<br />On the approach to the lock was very clearly marked with piles nearly every 100m. This was meant to be the last lock before the Mediterranean Sea. The canal du Rhone au Sete is an uninspiring canal, when compared to the earlier canals we had been through, the vegetation was predominantly coastal scrub land, and the canal gave the impression of neglect. The halts were flimsy rickety affairs with no apparent reason for them being there, no shops or facilities, or simply completely missing. However this appears to be changing a long section round Aiges Mortes has been improved, as is a long section heading from Aiges Mortes towards the Saint Giles lock, Nick was a happy chap, he could sit in the cockpit and get his fill of big earth moving vehicles, articulated dumpers, graders, diggers some on pontoons dredging the bottom, and even a section with divers in the water.<br />A reason for doing this section is for an opportunity to see the things the Camargue is famous for, its wild White Horses, Black bulls and pink flamingo’s, we were not sure if we would see these but I had told the kids that we might, our first sighting of the Camargues horses was as we came round a corner of the canal to find a group standing at the canal side, I called everyone up from down below, and Sara, with a tear in her eye, took some photos, it was a lovely moment where we began to think that we had made it to the Med at last. Nicholas remained in the cockpit after the others had gone below, he was seriously unimpressed, and when I enquired what was wrong his reply was ‘Where are the flamingo’s? You said white horses and flamingo’s’<br />Fortunately not much further on we came across the first of the flamingos. We missed the turning to Aiges Mortes, and took the bypass instead, we were no longer using the Navicarts, but the RYA recommended book by Imray Laurie ‘The Inland Waterways of France’, the first time we had to use it, we found it seriously lacking. It had started getting cold as we went down alongside an Etang, and we had a Mistral blowing on the nose, our hunt for shore power was a failure and we ended up with a line, not very securely, thrown over a bollard outside of Pavlos les Flots. While Phoebe cooked supper. Our water pump is experiencing difficulties with less and less water coming from the tap, I will look at this when we get to Sete.<br /><br />09/12/2005 Woke up at 02:00 to hear the wind picking up in strength, and the lines creaking and then going silent, its is the silent bit which is worrying, has our line come off, by lifting my head off the pillow, I could see the top of a garishly lit tower, provided that was always there we were not moving. 07:00 got woken up by the wash of a speedboat going past which nearly tossed me out of my bunk, I got up put the kettle on and watched the sun rise. Phoebe and Nick were disappointed that they could not go ashore, but we were about 2m from the bank. We set off with the children snuggled under their duvets in the cockpit, watching flamingos on the etang, which were now on either side of us. 09:30 we finally saw the Med, well we actually saw a sport fishing boat, passing along on a strip of water on the horizon, but it created a good buzz of excitement we were there, nearly it was tangible we could see it.<br />11:00 reached Frontignan where forward progress was stopped by a low railway bridge, we headed towards the quay wall, only to be stopped by mud while still about 1.5 meters out, I called to Sara on the bow to wait as I pivoted the stern into the canal, but she paid no heed, and ended up stood up to the tops of her thighs in clear salty canal water. While 4 passing workers helped her out, I did what I could by calling the children to look at where their Mummy was. The bridge at Frontignan opens, I found out by reading the notice stuck in the window of the control tower, once a day at 13:30 provided you call them by phone before 12:00. I phoned and had a very awkward conversation, with someone who appeared not know what I was on about, finally someone came on the phone who spoke a bit of English, it transpired the person I had been saying ‘Pont Frontignan Overt Si vous Plait’ too was a receptionist at a bank. Once I dialled the right number it all went smoothly. After lunch we completed the last few miles through clear water to the Etang du Thau, the wind had picked up a bit into a good force 4, at the entrance to the etang there is a warning sign instructing you not to enter the etang in winds above 15km/hour, but we were in a well found sea boat and carried on into the short waves of the etang, it was good to feel Dreamcatcher taking waves in her stride and have spray coming back into the cockpit, the children were squealing with delight, in the cockpit, but Nick decided he had enough of getting wet and went down below. I had looked at a chart of the Etang and I was expecting to see a line of markers leading me thought the oyster beds and fishing nets, but I could not see any. We headed out into the etang towards a headland and some cardinal marks in order to check that we were in the right place, and then turned and headed towards the girder bridge which marked the entrance to Sete. The entrance from the etang to the harbour of Sete is through a series of bridges which open twice a day provided that you contact the harbourmaster before a prescribed time, we elected to tie up on the empty waiting quay, and decide from there what to do. I got caught out while coming in to moor, I turned to go head to wind as I approached the quay, to discover that the supposedly tideless Med does in fact have a tide and we were now going with it, the mooring was aborted while I turned round to try with the tide, Sara got annoyed with me as she now had to change all her lines back to where they had just come from.<br />Phoebe and I went for a walk through round the harbour, with its active fishing fleet, until at last we came to the harbour wall, and we could stare out at the Med, as I pointed out towards the South, I told Phoebe that just over that water lay Africa. To which her wide-eyed response was’ Really!’, she then quickly got her bearings and as I pointed East and West asking her what was there, the answers were correctly given, with a big grin, as Italy & Spain.<br />The marina office told us their was no spaces available, and they did not know of anyone who could help us with our masts, I went to a yard that had been recommended by a chap at Frontignan, did not inspire me, and a chap from Goole in a barge informed me that the only time he saw the owner was when he turned up at 18:00 for drinks. As I watched the yachts in the marina rock in the wake of the big fishing boats going out and in, I decided that we would stay at the waiting quay for the weekend and then head back to Arles and on to Port Saint Louis.<br /><br />10-11/12 Spent in Sete, walking to see the Med, and filling up with diesel managing to get about 70 litres into the tank. Sete is a fishing and holiday town, it has some large beaches situated near it, but it was to cold to bother going near them, although it did warm up a bit by 11:00. The fishing is divided between the big trawlers going out to sea, and the small boats on the etang either fishing or oyster farming, with the etang fisherman side having a more Mediterranean feel about it. There was no shore power but it was not as cold as it had been on the Rhone, it was bearable provided we were back on board by about 16:30 and cooking, then into bed soon after supper. Sara moved into the salon at Arles and has stayed there each night. I have to run the engine twice a day to keep the batteries topped up enough to start the cooker. Domestic battery replacement is another job to add to the list, along with the water pump which is giving less and less water.<br /><br />12/12/2005 Engine on at 09:00 left quay at 10:00, as we were leaving the quay the house next to our moorings being knocked down by a back hoe, by the time we had turned round to head back out into the etang it had been converted into a mound of rubble. As we came into the etang the channel markers were easily seen, and it also easy to see how we had missed them, their top marks had disappeared and they were just a series of poles, which with the sun in our eyes we had been unable to distinguish. We got through Frontignan without any drama this time, we just had an enforced lunch stop of 2.5 hours. We finally entered into the canal to Aiges Mortes in the dark, the throttle was pulled way back and we slowly made our way down into the moorings, which were all full. We looked at mooring alongside a motor boat, but we had a misunderstanding about which boat was been talked about, so we eventually pulled into a jetty in progress with no mooring signs, and tied up to the boat in fronts ground stake, and took the kedge anchor ashore as our stern line, as we were ‘anchored’ I couldn’t work out the scope to which we should lie, 6 times depth or 6 times the drop from cleat to shore, I couldn’t find any guidance in any of the books onboard.<br /><br />13/12/2005 Sara’s birthday, a no travel day, a day out in Aiges Mortes visiting the tower and walking round the ancient walls which surround the town. Very cold windy day. We had lunch in a lovely restaurant off the square that had a log fire in the open kitchen on which they did the cooking. The smell and warmth were most welcome, and the food was excellent. Nick and Phoebe ordered a pizza each, from a wood fired oven, and a plate of chips, which when it was delivered was enormous, Nick grabbed it saying they were all his, a bit of persuasion was needed to get him to share them. Phoebe went to use the toilet by herself, but seemed to taking rather long, I went upstairs to find her shouting, as she had locked herself in, it was easily solved, she had been pushing on the door and trying to turn the lock. After lunch we watched some men playing boule, and then returned to Dreamcatcher. It is nice being able to visit new places then to have a short walk back to your home. (We have returned to Arles and Aiges Mortes by car, it is difficult to describe but it is not the same, knowing you have to get into a car and then have a journey to get home.)<br /><br />14/12/2005 Left Aiges Mortes at 09:00 we had a long day ahead of us 90km, if we were to get to Port Saint Louis. As we headed up to the Saint Giles lock we had strong Northerly winds on our port beam, we pulled the cockpit cover up, it was the first time that we had found it necessary to cover the helming position, it certainly at lot more comfortable heading into the wind. The cooker has once more decide to stop working, black smoke inside the boat streams of white smoke outside, and the both overheating on start up and turning themselves off. Sara hit a mud bank trying to avoid a barge. With the strong winds we were experiencing in the relative shelter of the canal, I was expecting the junction with the Petite Rhone with the Rhone to be rather windy, with Arles possibly untenable as a halt if required, we needed to decide upon either going onto Saint Giles or Port Saint Louis, if we did decide on the Port Saint Louis it might be difficult changing our minds if it was to windy, in light of the lack of heating or cooking, we felt we should push on to Port Saint Louis where we knew there would be facilities. The Petite Rhone was sheltered but still there were strongish gusts, as we rounded the last corner we hit the full force of the wind, I got Sara out to bring the mooring warps into the cockpit, as I did not want them going overboard in the wind and tangling with the prop, it was a full life jacket and harness affair, as we headed up against both flow and wind. Once we turned to go with the flow and wind we were driven down river at a rapid rate, as we went past Arles Sara thought it would be a good idea to take advantage of the hot water provided by the engine to wash her hair, I vetoed this as the spray from the waves on generated by the wind was going vertically up into the air, and with concrete training walls on both sides if something did go wrong we would need all hands on deck quickly to avert disaster. We finally arrived at the lock between the Rhone and Port Saint Louis as it was getting dark, we had phoned the marina to be told that the last lock opening was at 16:00, although the almanac said there was an opening at 19:00. Sara phoned the lock keeper and despite her speaking to him in French, he kept saying he did not speak English. We slipped out of the stream and were able to hold station outside the lock on tickover, there was a big yellow ship in the lock, so we turned circles outside the lock for 30 minutes waiting for the ship to vacate the lock, then we approached the lock, whose lights were still against us, we couldn’t contact the lock keeper as our VHF was now flat, and the telephone only got his answer machine, although we knew he was there as the lights went from standby to do not enter, and then the lock gate closed. It was now dark, we were tired and cold, and the wind was still howling, we finally tied up alongside a steel ketch moored outside the lock. Straight to bed exhausted. It turned out the forecast for the day had been a strong Mistral with gusts of 120/130km/h, which is hurricane force. If I had had the forecast we would not have travelled today, it reinforces the need to get accurate weather forecasts before setting off.<br /><br />15/12/2005 Up at 08:20, exited our last lock at 08:45, tied up with the help of marina staff at 09:30. Tired, hungry, cold, filthy not having been able to shower for 8 days, in need of a cup of coffee or tea, with a boat with a cooker that did not work, not able to get fresh water out of the tanks due to the now knackered water pump, an engine and gearbox that leaked oil, this was not the arrival we had anticipated. While booking in at the Marina office a New Zealander, called Andy who was stood behind me, kindly invited us aboard his boat for a coffee. This was typical of the hospitality and welcome extended to us by the sailing community down here. We had travelled 1622kms down the rivers and canals of France and had racked up 262 engine hours, it was time to rest and plan the next stage.<br /><br />The rest of December to March<br />We did not move off Dreamcatcher at all that first day apart from to have hot showers, and to fill the our small 10litre water container. The Dutch family from Avignon were still here and on day 2 their daughters came and found us to invite us to a party, where we met most of the other liveaboards at Port Saint Louis.<br />The problem with the cooker was that any strong winds on our port side blow straight down the intake pipe blowing it out.<br />The oil leak has, we think, been sorted by replacing a chafed hose from the oil filter to the sump.<br />The masts have been restepped, and we were fleeced by the guys who made the mast step, after that experience if either I can’t do the job myself, or none of the other liveaboards can do it, it will have to wait for somewhere else. Our masts which we thought were still at Le Havre were already down here, although not at Navy Services where we had asked them to be, but at the more expensive Port Napoleon. When the masts were eventually stepped I rounded up a number of volunteers to assist with both the preparation and stepping. There were a number of obsolete fittings on the top of the mast, who’s wires were not pulled through the base of the mast, including a VHF connector with no aerial connected, upon opening my chart table 3 days after stepping the first thing I found was a VHF antenna removed six month before, the one we had pulled though was for the stereo.<br />The fixed after heads wasn’t, we had simply diverted to the holding tank, which then filled up, and needed to be emptied, it still isn’t fixed but the problem is bypassed until we can get round to fixing it.<br />Guests were received and I made a trip back to the UK.<br />While I was in the UK, a strong hurricane force storm came in from the South, Sara and the kids stayed in bed for 2 days, two boats got sunk, one of which belonged to Peter, who was on board frantically baling, but was being constantly pooped by 1.5 to 2 meter waves, while in a canal, Peter is very deadpan so when he came round to tell us he could not return our books as they were at the bottom of the canal as his boat had sunk, I thought he was having us on. Extensive damage was caused to a number of others including rubbing away the gel coat and mat on the bows of two boats.<br />The children have been enrolled in the local school, it was Nick’s first proper school, we still can’t get him to speak to his teacher, who believed for a while that he couldn’t talk. Everyone who has meet Nick and Phoebe on the way down has commented had voluble they are, Nick talks non stop all the way to school and all the way back, but from the moment he enters the class room door until he comes out he doesn’t say a word. We think he is afraid the other children will laugh at his accent. Phoebe loves being at school and at the end of day one she stood in front off her teacher and demanded to know when snack time was, as she had brought snacks with her and she had not had a chance to eat them.<br />I would like to think that we have brightened up some of the other liveaboards period here as we were the only people with children, until Veliserdi turned up, although Max and Augustine are a lot quieter than our two, who have conducted pirate raids, completed with black spots, on the boats of Julian and Eva & Hoken, who reciprocated with a raid of their own, by tender, after first going into town to buy pirate costumes and bags of sweets to throw at us.<br />Norman and Anne have been here for 3 years, getting the boat ready, Norman has recently had an accident with a router and nearly lost his finger, we explained to the children that they needed to be gentle with Norman, who is in his seventies as if they hurt his finger it might have to cut off, Nick was most concerned, as this would mean he would only be able to count to nine. Norman new alias ‘Nine Fingers’<br />Eva and Gunner on Topea have returned and are getting ready to leave, Veliserdi are in a bit of a quandary as Dianne has a job offer in Paris, but needs a work permit, so they are not sure what they are doing, but they have just hauled out and have discovers osmotic blisters, complete with acetic acid.<br />The party lazy day atmosphere has gone as February ended with people all getting ready waiting for a lull in the low pressure systems and Mistral to head out, most of us are heading towards Corsica and Italy so we may meet them again later on.Dreamcatcherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07519793132804175977noreply@blogger.com