The Tuscan Islands, September 2007

Approaching Marina di Campo, South Elba

Elba 8th September 07
A pleasantly sunny blue day greeted us as we approached Marina di Campo. We found a pleasant anchorage, not too busy, no speedboats, with a chilled out little tourist town, relaxing after a busy summer period. We stumbled over a few Italian words to try and find a bar that would be showing the NZ/Italy rugby game - a bit of a challenge as Italians don't understand games with odd-shaped balls, only the ubiquitous soccer. We were successful though, and as we finished our salads on the terrace of a harbour-side pizzeria the proprietor wheeled out the most enormous flat-screen and set it up for the half-dozen interested clients. Not surprisingly the All Blacks trashed Italy 57-17 which was a bit embarrassing to watch in their home country, but they put up a spirited defence.

After lunch we did some shopping and embarrassed ourselves some more in our stumbling Italian, enjoying the small supermarkets with all types of pasta, proscuitto, and cheap local fruit and veg. It  was a treat after Corsica prices.

Next day dawned cloudy and with a little southerly swell creeping into the anchorage, so we sailed around the top of the island to Portoferraio, which Nelson proclaimed the most complete harbour for it's size in the world. The mud swallowed our anchor among the many other cruising boats, some of which had clearly been sat there for some time. We timed our trip ashore in the dinghy so as not to cross in front of the many passenger ferries that zip in and out of the port. You can't help feeling very vunerable in a tiny inflatable with a not-so-powerful outboard engine, when crossing the path of these big ships.
The town is a warren of alleys, staircases, expensive boutiques and down to earth pizzeria and friendly bars. The city walls turn red-orange in the setting sun. Just the sort of place that we would find very hard to leave.

Our first evening ashore we met the very unhappy crew of a huge motorboat. Their captain was felt to be incompetent and prone to drunkeness, and had nearly run the boat aground a few times. They were all working their notice and were clearly all ready to 'jump ship'. For this boat to travel from Rome to Elba, it had cost $30000 in diesel. At the speed they travel it does not bear thinking about a drunken captain, who does't bother to keep a proper watch! We commiserated with the crew in various bars until 4am. Alongside their uphappy 30m superyacht , we climbed into our 2.65m rubber flubber, cranked the outboard alive on first pull and motored carefully back to our home. As we crossed the fairway, a late night ferry came around the corner, and we held our breath until our little ship got us clear of his path shining our tiny torch at them to warn of our presence – they are obviously used to this, as they swept their path with a spotlight on the way in, and clearly knew that we were there.
We shopped and wandered for a couple of days, while it was a bit overcast, and messed about in the huge boatyards looking for superyacht rubbish that could be usefully recycled. We found some perspex for a flopper-stopper (more on that later) and some stainless steel to fix our sprayhood frame, and were very pleased with our finds.

The next sunny clear day we hired a 100cc scooter for €32 and wobbled off for a tour of the island.

We saw everything but somehow managed to miss both of Napolean's houses. The scooter only just dragged us up to the hill towns and it took an hour or so for the back seat driver's white knuckles to relax, but it was a really enjoyable way to see the interior of the island. We both had very sore bottoms after clinging on for about 80 miles, and mine was even sorer, as a wasp went up the leg of my shorts and got his revenge when he couldn't get out again. The final section of the island didn't even have a real road, so after bumping our way back to Portoferraio we were glad to deliver the scooter back to the shop and have a walk about as the evening light faded.

After this and a shop in Italian supermarket heaven co-op (complete with pidgeons roosting in the rafters) we were ready for the next adventure.  A short sail to Porto Azzuro where we were keen to see the citidel, but on inspection we realised that it is still a prison so after a slightly rolly night in the anchorage, we set off again the next morning in a frustrating south-easterly to the next island of Giglio (pronounced Jeelyeo) and anchored in a large bay on the west coast.

The town of Giglio perched on the top of the hill beckoned us to explore, so being mad and English we set off in the midday sun to climb the track to the top. It is 1km inland and400m above sea level, so the track averages a 1 in 4!!! We arrived at the top very hot and pink, gasping for a drink despite having consumed 2 litres on the way up, but were rewarded by finding posters announcing that it was the festival of Sant Mamiliano. The poster promised a Palio, festivities in the main square, music and midnight fireworks, so we decided to stay for the day.

The view from the top to both sides of the island

The old walled town was a real treat, even more tiny streets and staircases than Portoferraio, but complete with washing and flags hand-made from scraps of brightly coloured  material

The 'Palio' turned out to be a donkey derby
-note the risk assessment for the spectators positions ( will it break or won't it?!! )

 

By the end of the fireworks at 1am there was a huge queue for the bus to go back down-hill to the anchorage. We decided to walk down instead, and as our original path was treacherous and unlit, we took the road instead. This turned out to be 5km trek as the road twisted back and forth away from the anchorage, and we arrived at the bottom 45 minutes later just after the bus! Ah well, at least we walked off some of the calories consumed during the day!

Feeling inspired by all this exercise we went on another walk the next day to find a good swimming spot. At the end of the penisula, there was a track down to a small beach with clear turquoise water. It was steep enough to make a goat bleat, but we half climbed, half clambered down to the beach. We were a bit perplexed by the amount of equipment and bags the other few occupants of the beach had with them, including sun loungers and picnic hampers.  We assumed that there must be a road nearby, but the question was answered when they packed up their stuff and carried it all up the path we had just come down, to be followed by a coastal track of at least 3miles back to the town.Italians just cant sunbathe without the lounger.

After a look at the forecast, and some advice from one of the locals that the anchorage suffers from downdraughts from the hills, and is not great holding, we decided we had to head for the mainland to shelter from some strong winds that would come first from the north, then from the south.
We headed for a place called .........

Porto Ercole 17th September, Mainland Italy
to be known hereafter as Port E-Coli, as it was about as welcoming. We followed a german-flagged boat into the marina, and heard him calling the capitanerie, marinero, or ormeggiattori on the radio in Italian – no reply. Little chance for us if we called up in English.
Both boats circled the port looking for a space. Still no answer from the authorities. We found a space alongside a large powerboat on the end of a hammerhead pontoon, and settled down for a nights sleep. The German boat went alongside a similar boat elsewhere. The wind started to blow outside, so we were going nowhere! At 8am an Italian appeared on the boat next to us and with much arm-waving told us we had to move. We asked where we should go. Don't care – you must go!-Not here! We refused to budge until somewhere could tell us where to tie up. Along came one of the marineros, who also told us to move. He was a bit more understanding of the plight and told us to go alongside a fishing boat on the quay as the fleet  would not be going out in this weather.
So we moved off, only to find that there were no spaces alongside a fishing boat as all the boats were in to avoid the weather!
We found a spot normally occupied by a dive boat and tied up. The German boat had also been kicked off of his spot and was circling again, still trying to make contact by radio with anyone who could help. After a couple of hours the dive boat returned wanting his space, so we moved again to the spot reserved for the crane to haul and launch boats. The german boat by now had anchored in the middle of the harbour and had given up trying to contact anyone. Its the first time we've ever beaten a German to a space and we were quite proud of ourselves!
We waited on the boat all day in case anyone wanted us to move again. By evening is was clear that no boats would be launched that day, so we went out for a pizza. We had lots more arm-waving and shouting as we sat at a table made up for 4 people, instead of the un-made table for 2. Resisting the urge to tell him where to put his pizza we tolerated a mediocre overpriced meal and went to bed early to avoid further contact with the locals.
This was our first experience of a mainland harbour. What happens is that there are various pontoons owned and operated by different ormeggiatori, and no overall control of the harbour. The pontoons are full of local boats, and it is in no-ones interest to be helpful to find a spot for a visiting boat. By September the local boats are no longer going out, and they have not yet been hauled for the winter. It also seems to be increasingly common that boats are left afloat all through the winter, so don't expect it to get easier late in the season.  Bear in mind that Beneteau and Bavaria are churning out 5000 and 1700 boats per year respectively,  and they don't all get wrecked in the first month, so the chances are that many of them are parked somewhere in the Med.
After hearing the crane start up at 8am, we untied and left without a backward glance. The name of the village associated with the harbour is Grotte – just about sums up what we thought!! At least it was free and we weren't anchored out in a storm!

Giannutri 19 September
We made a last attempt on a Tuscan island, unspoilt Giannutri. We headed for the main cala with the anchor ready to go, and guess what – we were chased away by arm-waving and shouting. We went around the corner out of their way and anchored in clear water, tying the stern of the boat to the rocks. We had a lovely swim and snorkel, hoping to see some marine life, as this island is in a protected marine reserve. There were a few fish and lots of sea-urchins, but nothing special.

Stu dodges sea urchins to tie us to the rocks with sacrificial rope ends

 

We went for a walk ashore to find the hotel and surrounding houses in advanced states of decay. The roman villa was closed for 'works in progress' though everyone clearly visits it via a hole in the fence. They seem to apply 'works in progress' to anything that can't even meet the basic Italian Health and Safety requirements.
By 8pm, just after dark, the wind started to rise and it was plain that we would not have a comfortable night, and it may become untenable. Luckily we had made the ends of our lines tied ashore sacrificial, so from the dinghy we could cut them and move off quickly. The swell was making even this difficult already, so we got out just in time. Within an hour there was a force 7, blowing directly into the anchorage.  As we did not relish the prospect of heading back to shelter in Porto E-Coli, we turned south and made a fast overnight passage bound for Rome......


 

Corsica, 16 August to 8 September 07

Sorry it’s November and only just started to put into the blog all the travels since middle August but we've been busy travelling and we have been trying to collect a large enough number of descriptive words to adequately convey what we have seen and felt over the last few months.
16 August, Woke to a fine morning and set sail for the famous Bonifacio straits via the Maddelena Islands . For the first time in ages (or so it felt) we had a sailing wind that wasn’t on the nose and a trip of not too many miles, so there was little in the way of pressure to keep speed up. So we allowed our speed to raise and fall as the wind backed, dropped, headed, increased and veered across the straits and as we closed the Corsican coast the scenery rose up to astound us. The magnificent mountainous backdrop to the rocky coast dappled with turquoise bays and coves.

We headed into Porto Santa Amanza-not a port but a deep bay surrounded by sandy beaches and slashed by an impressive Calanque,( pronounced like a bang on the head with a tin pan.) Deep in the bay the shelter was good and after poking around quite a lot we found good holding and swinging room for the forecast blow tomorrow.  Leaping from one anchorage to another seems to be a popular pastime in this area. The Straits of Bonifacio funnel the wind and increase its strength by about 2 forces on average and this wind , east or west in direction travels up the coast for several miles and out into the Tyrrhenian sea to the east for 60 + miles. It does however make for some lively sailing close inshore along the Eastern coast of Corsica .
The morning sortie to the shore revealed an up-market beach bar with matching prices, a few holiday chalet developments and a handful of houses, but little else. No shops, no bread, no supplies or water. By the time we returned to the boat the wind was already rising and it was safer to stay aboard and be on watch for boats taking refuge from the windy exposed anchorages around the area. Many are charterers with little experience of anchoring safely. A source of occasional amusement unless they are too close or upwind of you. The concept of a swinging circle seems often too confusing to consider and as for the wind changing direction whilst at anchor??......
We met up with a New Zealand yacht in the anchorage and a good evening was had. They were able to offer lots of tips on future anchorages as they had been sailing for 10 years and were now on their way back to NZ.  In return, we were able to advise them on up to date prices etc. for their trip along the south of Spain on their way out of the Med.
We sat out a gale but by the 19th we were starting to run out of fresh food and the wind was still blowing from the west so we decided to head north up the coast in the lee of the land. Our initial plan was to anchor in Rondinara. It was extremely full but a short stay was rewarded by a swim in some of the clearest waters seen yet. We decided to press on with the good wind and get into Porto Vechio with it’s good shelter and supermarkets.

Sat out another gale here. When it was possible to leave the boat we investigated the surrounding area finding a buzzing camp site in peak seasonal frenzy.  On the 21st we moved across the bay to just under the town of Porto Vecchio and from there were able to do shopping, internet and get water, which, now we are in Corsica, is free for the taking and with no hassle. In all fairness they seem to have more water on this island but still the attitude is very different here. It’s not seen as an opportunity to fleece you. Porto Vecchio is a very pretty ancient hill top town but even in the peak of the holiday season, although heaving with tourists it doesn’t seem to have sold it’s soul. The reason for this would become clear in 8 days.
22nd Our friends on Marlin caught us up in the anchorage. Lots of adventures to swap tales of late into several evenings. What good company they are! Martin and Linda left the UK a month or so before us and we first met them in Gijon, Galicia. We bumped into them a couple of times along the way and when we arrived in Lagos for the winter, there they were again. They  left Lagos about a month before us and we hadn’t seen them since then.

26th  After a failed shopping expedition (everything closed) in 35 degrees, we set sail for San Ciprianu a few miles up the coast. Described as “a delightful bay with crystal clear water”. Well it is! Unfortunately most of France and Italy seem to have heard of it as well and they come here en masse with their speedboats and jetskis . It seems it has been given over to small high speed craft and they buzzed us all day and well into and after sunset, water skiers in tow. At sunrise they started again, and so by about  8am we were all agreed on moving.

Back to P. Vecchio and off for a massive shopping trip involving an extremely long wait for a return taxi , the only one the very kind bar manager could locate . After the restock was safely loaded from the very full dingy, Steph set about stowing and I got the boat underway back south for a fresh attempt on Rondinara.  This time the bay was only half-full and fantastic swimming was had by all. More socialising and relaxation. Dinner aboard is a ritual exchange process. Tonight Steph is doing Vietnamese Stew, a curry type dish of considerable taste, the recipe and introduction to which we have to thank Marlin for back in Lagos. The water here is so clear that whilst snorkelling on the surface, Steph was able to read the headlines on a newspaper dropped overboard by somebody, on the bottom in 20 feet of water.

We had all agreed that, although it meant back-tracking, we didn’t want to miss Bonifacio. The NZ couple had described it to us, and we were prepared to be amazed by it.
The next morning 29th headed off 9.00 am for Bonifacio. Sailed virtually all the way although the wind was light.  What an entrance and what an enchanting city.

The harbour is a slit in the limestone cliffs turning in on itself, forming a natural harbour. It possibly sheltered Odysseus' fleet of ships. We anchored in a cala opposite the town quay, tied to the cliff stern-to about 6 feet away. You don’t see this kind of anchoring in the UK, but here with no tide to worry about it works well although it can get a little un-nerving on occasions and it’s always worth thinking through your exit plan in the event that things get nasty.

That evening we also were joined by an Australian boat called Mud Skipper. Really nice cruising guys and a boat stuffed full of invention and all home-made, from the gimbled galley- yes the whole galley, not just the stove! to the double bed which could be angled so that it is horizontal whatever the degree of heel on the boat – they quite literally tack the bed when they tack the boat. The boat was featured in one of the yachtie magazines a while ago.

That evening we had a wander round the old town, dinner ashore and a drink in one of the harbour-side bars where the rich and sometimes famous hang out looking up at their towering luxury yachts. They can’t get lost here because they just follow the red carpet back to their boats and are of course helped on board by their crew. We rowed our dinghies back across to the anchorage comforted by the knowledge that our stay is at least free, despite what it says in the pilot book.
The next morning it started the Bonifacio blow. We were not expecting to be affected tucked into this little hole but how you can be drawn to false conclusions! Whilst the quay opposite was enjoying a quiet summer day and the top of our mast recorded 5 to 8 mph winds the water whipped us in the face, the wind drove onto the side of the hull and the anchors started to drag. By the end of the day Mudskipper and ourselves had laid a total of 5 anchors and about 300m of chain and rope extending nearly to the other side of the cala. It eventually worked and our comfortable 6 foot stern clearance from the rocks was restored. It was too windy to leave the boats that day. There was plenty to keep us busy, Marlin’s dinghy flipped upside down, complete with engine and by the time we got it going again there wasn’t much of the day left.
The town is a real treat, an ancient citadel perched on the top of a chalk plateau, at some points overhanging the edge. Whilst at first you think that you wouldn’t feel comfortable living up there in case it crumbles away underneath you, once you see the view from up there, you become  bewitched by it.

After a couple more days exploring the tightly packed streets of the citadel, and absorbing the views, we decided to move off north again . It took 2 hours to untangle and raise the anchors but no real problems. The ground was however pretty foul and it is advisable to attach tripping lines to your anchor /s here.
We motored and sailed the trip back up to Porto Vecchio and anchored back off the camp-site where we had been 2 weeks previous. We went ashore to the now deserted camp-site. Two weeks earlier we couldn’t get into their 40+ table pizza restaurant because it was so busy with queues of people waiting. Now, after the end of August we were one of 2 tables. We were told that the whole site facilities , bar shop and resturant complex would be closed by the 15th of September. The town was equally and pleasantly empty. The next morning we went ashore to clean the dingy and when finished had a beer at the deserted bar sitting in glorious sunshine. In the time it took to down two beers the wind came up so much that we struggled to row against it back to the boats. Marlin dragged anchor and was in danger of stranding on the beach. In the furious manoeuvring to get her off the mud they managed to capsize the dingy again, we were fortunately nearby to rescue floating shoes, oars, bags and the like and as the panic declined and they were safely in deeper water  the dingy was restored to it’s more practical orientation. Several oil changes and tank cleanings later the engine once more fired into life and apart for a couple of trapped water bubbles in the fuel lines it lives on to see another day. We all returned to the old anchorage under the town where we all slept better although we weathered 2 more gales of 30 + knots. Some boats dragged at 3 am at 35 knots and there was a bit of shouting and hand waving as they snagged and bumped their way through others who had taken the time to anchor properly. We stayed on board for two days and one or two more dinner parties.

Over the next few days we searched for a car hire that would not mean selling time shares in the boats. What a shock from Portugal where in the winter we paid €75 for 7 days hire. Our searching paid off with a visit to a small doorway of a house in the town centre, over which hung a small car hire sign, we stood in the hallway whilst the woman haggled and translated our requirements on the phone. The car was the courtesy car for the local panel beater, probably a reclaimed write off but it had 4 gears, so we  hired a it for €68  to explore the interior for the day. We were shown a suggested route by the Tourist info office, we thought we could see more than they suggested but it was so fantastic that we barely completed it in the day. The mountains tower over the old town in the distance and the craggy pinnacles of rock spike the occasional cloud. This area is heaven for walkers, climbers and all sorts of outdoor pursuits, the scenery is what chocolate boxes were made for.

We felt it would be easy to stay here for the winter and engross ourselves in the mountain life but there is so much more to see before the end of the sailing season we were compelled to move on. Not before one more meal ashore which rated as probably the best so far. €25  got you anything on the menu , all 3 courses. There was so much food and it was exceptional. The view out over the anchorage looking down on our boats was beautiful.
Marlin were meeting friends in Porto Vecchio so it was time for us to part company once again. We were heading north toward Elba and the Tuscan islands. Another change to our original planned route but the lure of Rome and desire to see more of Italy was just too tempting. En route we decided to go all the way up to Elba without stopping – besides we had a deadline to meet – one of the first   Rugby World cup game was on the next day and NZ were playing Italy!
These overnight passages are quite enjoyable now we don’t see so many fishing pot markers in these deep waters. Dawn saw Elba looming in the distance.