tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42536806609125642782024-03-14T03:12:08.273-07:00Yacht Matador ArchiveSteph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-36208275587179371132008-07-30T02:29:00.000-07:002011-04-20T02:43:35.202-07:00Ionian Islands (continued) - Ithaca and Kefalonia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<b><u>1st July. Kioni, Ithaca</u></b><br />
A new month , a new island. Ithaca is supposedly the home of Odysseus, although there does seem to be remarkably little archaeological proof. He would have had a palace here several thousand years ago, so its not entirely unlikely that it was swallowed up by the numerous earthquakes that ravage this part of the Med. Even the supposed site of the 'Cave of the Nymphs' was thought to be accidentally destroyed by quarrying – how careless! Of course, the Iliad and Odyssey have to be read whilst in these parts, though I think some sort of award should be forthcoming for anyone who finishes the Iliad!<br />
Kioni was a sweet little place with clear turquoise water in the port. We had just got our anchor to grip, and were trying to tie a line ashore to some rocks, when a charter yacht with 4 men-in-a-boat, retired Sheffield lads, tried to suck our line into their prop in their hurry to get anchored and tied up, resulting in a lot of shouting and tangles. They did treat us to G&T's on board to make up for it, and they promised to warn us next year when they come on holiday again.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxwCAv8y_fw/Ta1fGpK0rPI/AAAAAAAABSU/cPIXiV5z8u4/s1600/Kioni+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxwCAv8y_fw/Ta1fGpK0rPI/AAAAAAAABSU/cPIXiV5z8u4/s320/Kioni+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vl9lzVtszBk/Ta1fKeEdsNI/AAAAAAAABSY/ZbQOYweRObA/s1600/Kioni+fishing+boats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vl9lzVtszBk/Ta1fKeEdsNI/AAAAAAAABSY/ZbQOYweRObA/s320/Kioni+fishing+boats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<b><u>3rd July Vathi, capital of Ithaca</u></b><br />
We anchored in the harbour of Vathi, it has mud that sucks your anchor in and doesn't let go. Thank goodness, because the wind really knows how to blow here. Most evenings it blows F5-6 due to thermal and geographic katabatic effects of the surrounding mountains, and that's when there's no background wind. When there's wind around the rest of the Ionian it really howls here. This makes for an interesting time as the charter boats have to leave the normally serene anchorages that have become untenable and there's a lot of unhappy people looking seasick at anchor, too scared to get in dinghies and go ashore, or constantly relaying their anchors to avoiding dragging onto the quay walls. When it blows like this, the best trick is to anchor off, and if you want to go ashore, go in your swimwear, with your evening clothes in a drybag!<br />
Vathi claimed to be having a cultural weekend, and so in the good company of Bob and Liz on Birvidik, we set about enjoying the activities on offer. Friday night, music on the quay – we never heard any ! Saturday night, cultural discussion about Homer, advertised in Greek and English. This should be interesting, we thought. We tried to find out more at the tourist information but no English was spoken there. So we all went along to the cultural centre at the appointed hour to find the talks were all in Greek. So we went and ate and drank ourselves silly instead.<br />
Sunday -small church procession and Greek dancing on the quay. We went along 30 minutes before the advertised start time of 10pm, which was good, as the dancing finished at 10pm. More drinking and eating to compensate for our disappointment. Still it is a lovely little town, very Greek and not too touristy, but oh boy does it blow!<br />
There are some lovely swimming bays around Vathi, so we made it our base for some time, popping out for the day and coming back to the safe anchorage. One evening we came back in 42 knots of wind, and the gusts were picking up buckets of surface water and flinging it at us.<br />
For a few days a loggerhead turtle kept the boats company in the bay. I thought since they were endangered that they would be quite cute, but he was an ugly brute, with a head the size of human head, teeth, and a barnacle covered 1m round shell. I shudder to think about ever meeting one when swimming – I'll jump as high as the mast .......<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j_eNhZ16he0/Ta1fuqOCdgI/AAAAAAAABU4/8vJNvjPlHBY/s1600/Vathi+harbour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="162" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j_eNhZ16he0/Ta1fuqOCdgI/AAAAAAAABU4/8vJNvjPlHBY/s320/Vathi+harbour.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mirabella V to the right of the harbour</i></td></tr>
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We had an interesting neighbour for a couple of nights when Mirabella V visited the port. This is the largest single-masted sailing yacht in the world, and of unfortunate notoriety for being grounded on rocks within a few days of its maiden voyage. Despite it's prodigious size, it is perfectly proportioned, so doesn't appear so big, until you see one of the crew walking past the furling drums, and he's about half the height! It is 75m long, 14.8m wide (2m wider than we are long!), 85m mast height, 10m keel. The boat is available for charter for $375,000 per week (that 1 week would keep us at sea for at least 20 years!). In the 'garage' it has 3 ribs (400hp, 240hp, 125hp) 4 laser dinghies, 2 seedoos, 3 replica models, diving gear, kayaks, and on deck a 20 person jacuzzi and dip pool. But even so, they were in the same anchorage as us, swimming in the same sea!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lbWO1XTU4Ik/Ta1fbtwhmEI/AAAAAAAABTU/rFzVtwwGVRw/s1600/Mirabella+V+Vathi+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lbWO1XTU4Ik/Ta1fbtwhmEI/AAAAAAAABTU/rFzVtwwGVRw/s320/Mirabella+V+Vathi+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2kCTXSNWc4/Ta1fcJCQevI/AAAAAAAABTc/50Tv6Tzzz1w/s1600/Mirabella+V+Vathi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2kCTXSNWc4/Ta1fcJCQevI/AAAAAAAABTc/50Tv6Tzzz1w/s320/Mirabella+V+Vathi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div><div><div><b><u>14th July, Sami, Kefalonia. </u></b></div><div>Another new island. I visited Kefalonia 20 years ago so was interested to see how tourism had developed on the island, particularly post Captain Corelli's Mandolin fame. Despite the site of much of the filming, Sami is remarkably unaffected, apart from every other bar and restaurant having a Corelli theme or photos of Nicholas Cage and Penelope Cruz ! It still remains a laid back Greek town, without any high rise tourist apartments, and not too many tourist tat shops. The small quay was free and even the water supply was free, so this was a good base from which to explore Kefalonia (and do laundry!) </div><div>We took a hot walk up to the ancient site of Same, a 3rd century BC fort on the hilltop overlooking the Strait between Kefalonia and Ithaca. Incredibly one of the cyclopean walls is still standing despite the earthquake that levelled the whole of the island in 1953, and numerous ones before that. They sure knew how to build in those days. How much has mankind forgotten!</div><div>Now the site is only home to a lot of funnel-web spiders. </div></div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1-ZhyXC4Fpw/Ta1e1UIbyXI/AAAAAAAABRg/OuJYqB4FZhk/s1600/b+Ancient+Same+%252823%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1-ZhyXC4Fpw/Ta1e1UIbyXI/AAAAAAAABRg/OuJYqB4FZhk/s320/b+Ancient+Same+%252823%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Stu rearranges some pots </i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XQ_eQEqNwq4/Ta1ez9JizlI/AAAAAAAABRU/IFwKY0FDu8k/s1600/b+Ancient+Same+%252821%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XQ_eQEqNwq4/Ta1ez9JizlI/AAAAAAAABRU/IFwKY0FDu8k/s320/b+Ancient+Same+%252821%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Cyclopean wall – the ancients thought that only a Cyclops (a giant) could bring these blocks to the hills to build a wall like this</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6eDl7Ti9qA/Ta1fpDpPQXI/AAAAAAAABUg/Fd3oDu4uO04/s1600/Same.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6eDl7Ti9qA/Ta1fpDpPQXI/AAAAAAAABUg/Fd3oDu4uO04/s320/Same.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FLpXcCGElwo/Ta1e1BVcuYI/AAAAAAAABRc/O2v3AwrOb_Y/s1600/b+spider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FLpXcCGElwo/Ta1e1BVcuYI/AAAAAAAABRc/O2v3AwrOb_Y/s320/b+spider.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>A funnel-web spider in his home</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>Steve and Sophie from Poole Yacht club were on holiday nearby, so we spent a pleasant couple of days with them. As thanks for taking them on a sailing trip they gave us a tour in their hire car, with a special stop at LIDL, where their eyes popped out of their heads when we filled the tiny boot with another 6 weeks supply of beer! </div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qmIDG6KEVAg/Ta1ferZ6uPI/AAAAAAAABTk/g8ZFCuQJl3E/s1600/Mourtos+Beach%252C+Kefalinia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qmIDG6KEVAg/Ta1ferZ6uPI/AAAAAAAABTk/g8ZFCuQJl3E/s320/Mourtos+Beach%252C+Kefalinia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Mourtos beach -the colour of the water is due to the local limestone, not digitally enhanced</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><div>The last time I was here, there was no road to the beach. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Our next visitor was Janet from Sheffield, taking a break from the radiography-rat-race. </div><div>Janet must have inadvertently packed some Sheffield weather, as we had rain for the first time in 60 days! When not dodging rain and wind in Vathi, we spent the week touring swimming spots around the islands of Kefalonia and Ithaca, our favourite one <b>Ormos Ay Andreou</b>, which we renamed Goaty Bay. A large herd of wild goats populate the cove, sheltering from the sun and tourists in their caves during the day. A dusk they trundle along to the small beach and their favourite bathing spot and stand in the water cooling off, and probably getting rid of the insects in their coats. At night they sleep on the beach, while some others appear to keep watch at the edges of their 'camp'. It was better than Eastenders, honest. </div></div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gMbfDSJLRko/Ta1e-StMlUI/AAAAAAAABSM/emhSiY-9JOg/s1600/Goaty+Bay+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gMbfDSJLRko/Ta1e-StMlUI/AAAAAAAABSM/emhSiY-9JOg/s320/Goaty+Bay+%25284%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Ormos Ay Andreou- Goaty bay</i></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QAOuMpgNwFc/Ta1e7P2g8TI/AAAAAAAABR8/kKWJCVehZX8/s1600/Goats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QAOuMpgNwFc/Ta1e7P2g8TI/AAAAAAAABR8/kKWJCVehZX8/s320/Goats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ej0yT62E-TQ/Ta1e7qPy--I/AAAAAAAABSE/xswipTfOdB8/s1600/Goat+ginger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ej0yT62E-TQ/Ta1e7qPy--I/AAAAAAAABSE/xswipTfOdB8/s320/Goat+ginger.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div><div>We briefly popped into the well known Fiskardo, but it was stuffed full of charterers. As one boat left it's slot another would zip into its place risking all out anchor-rage. We turned tail and fled, renaming it Fiascardo! </div><div><br />
</div><div>After taking Janet, our last booked visitor, back to the airport we had to face our decision – to stay in the Ionian, to go around the south of the Peloponnese, or to bite the bullet and pay for the Corinth Canal. After an evening spent with Martin and Gill on 'Sapphire' we were absolutely decided on the Canal route, and not least because of the battering our friends Kate and Davy were having with the meltemi in the South Aegean. We'd seen enough of the Ionian islands, lovely though they are, at times it seems that half the world's yachts must be here at one time, and it was still only July. The dreaded August holiday season was just about to start, and the first Italian holiday boats were starting to arrive. Time to be off in search of new adventures......</div><div><br />
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</div><div>For those that are interested in these things, in this 3 month period in Greece we paid for only one nights mooring fees, at Gouvia (€50), the other nights were at anchor or on a free quay. We paid for water only twice, once at Gaios- €7 for a tank fill which was straight out of the reservoir and green, and €3 at Nidri on the Neilson pontoon - charter companies do have their uses after all, particularly when all the boats have gone out for the week. We have not plugged into mains power since leaving Vibo, all our charging is from solar panels and the wind generator, or as a by-product of motoring from place to place, except for running the 1kW petrol generator a handful of times using no more than 5l of petrol. The remainder of our budget we ate and drank in numerous tavernas and very good it was too!</div></div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HOVSFZcCzgk/Ta1e-eIGNEI/AAAAAAAABSI/gGEovA8jBR8/s1600/Ionion+restaurant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HOVSFZcCzgk/Ta1e-eIGNEI/AAAAAAAABSI/gGEovA8jBR8/s320/Ionion+restaurant.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Martin, Linda, Davy, Kate, Norman, Jill, Stu at the fabulous 'Ionion' </i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CfI5q5W_UZs/Ta1eys0Mr1I/AAAAAAAABRM/r7z5AvcckKU/s1600/vathi+meal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CfI5q5W_UZs/Ta1eys0Mr1I/AAAAAAAABRM/r7z5AvcckKU/s320/vathi+meal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>David, Linda, Ollie, Martin, Dave, Pam, Stu at Vathy</i></td></tr>
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</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-11092565944240435732008-06-30T02:12:00.000-07:002011-04-20T02:26:36.198-07:00Ionian Islands (continued) - Lefkas, Meganisi and the mainland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<b><u>26th May to 25th June - Tranquil Bay and Vliho Bay, Nidri, Lefkas</u></b><br />
After retrieving our anchor from underneath that of our neighbours flotilla boat, we headed south and west to the entrance to the Lefkas canal. Luckily we had calm weather, even so it is disconcerting to be heading towards a lee shore, where the canal entrance is impossible to make out from the sandbars and beach- thank goodness for GPS.<br />
We motored past Lefkas town and on through the canal to Nidri and anchored in 'not so' Tranquil Bay. For several weeks this was to be our temporary base to meet up with friends and make short visits to surrounding islands and bays.<br />
It didn't take long to discover that many of our sailing acquaintances had similar ideas, and we crossed paths with Roamer, Will You, Dawn Chaser, Marlin, Birvidik. Also we met Rob and Juliet Kemp, and Clive and Teresa Lawrence, on their respective holidays. Sue and Martin from Bournemouth grabbed last minute holiday and stayed in an apartment in Nidri, on the waters edge.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Slgzf7fY87s/Ta1e3ff8lVI/AAAAAAAABRk/KOJqvOneO64/s1600/Cockpit+Nidri+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="161" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Slgzf7fY87s/Ta1e3ff8lVI/AAAAAAAABRk/KOJqvOneO64/s320/Cockpit+Nidri+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Davy entertains us in the cockpit, with me, Kate, Martin, Linda, Jill, Norman</i></span></td></tr>
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Early on in our stay we discovered the 'Ionian' restaurant, among the many on offer in Nidri. It has top quality food at rock bottom prices. The staff were constantly amazed because we always turned up with different people, such was the social activity for the month.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rIpFXCXbvXo/Ta1fsHII7uI/AAAAAAAABUs/9TAC3EGu5zI/s1600/Tranquil+Bay+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rIpFXCXbvXo/Ta1fsHII7uI/AAAAAAAABUs/9TAC3EGu5zI/s320/Tranquil+Bay+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tranquil Bay (round about when the disco started at 5.30am)</span></i></td></tr>
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Nidri is a great place to get things done. Whilst getting our genoa (front sail) UV strip replaced by Sioux Sails to avoid another sticky problem with the furler, we carried on sailing with our smaller blade jib. A bit of overzealous cranking up of our inner forestay highfield lever (that helps hold the mast up!) had resulted in the detachment of the deck from the bulkhead underneath. This bonding of the bulkhead and deck gives the strength to keep the rigging tight. After three days with fibreglass and an angle grinder and some locally made stainless engineering, the bond is now better than the day the boat was built. I, on the other hand, am definitely several pounds lighter due to the 35 degrees still air temperature in the front cabin, which I had to seal to stop the fibreglass dust permeating the rest of our living space. It's not all sunbathing and swimming you know.<br />
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A highlight of our stay in Nidri was hiring a quad bike for €20 per day. We went in company of Sue and Martin and toured the interior of the island. It is really unspoiled, and the quaint villages are untouched by tourism. The island has stunning beaches on the west coast, high mountainous interior and challenging roads over the passes. At one point Martin's bike showed the low petrol light, and we found ourselves on the wrong side of the pass, 26km from the nearest petrol station. So we nervously ascended to the ridge and then free-wheeled with the engine off non-stop downhill for 12km, reaching a peak speed of 67km/h ! We trundled into the petrol station with only vapour to spare.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Me1RFterG20/Ta1fUrz81VI/AAAAAAAABTA/geqmbpEilvg/s1600/Lefkas+quadbike+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Me1RFterG20/Ta1fUrz81VI/AAAAAAAABTA/geqmbpEilvg/s320/Lefkas+quadbike+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--mGw6kbGMOA/Ta1fUVfS4CI/AAAAAAAABS8/S0jx9ZR9ewk/s1600/Lefkas+quadbike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--mGw6kbGMOA/Ta1fUVfS4CI/AAAAAAAABS8/S0jx9ZR9ewk/s320/Lefkas+quadbike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We had been tempted into a walk to the waterfalls signposted 3km away. We're glad we didn't attempt it as they are much further, as we discovered by bike, and only a small piddle in summer!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5zCIphIf1mE/Ta1fXVlfLiI/AAAAAAAABTE/jHqnp3rzhjo/s1600/Lefkas+waterfall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5zCIphIf1mE/Ta1fXVlfLiI/AAAAAAAABTE/jHqnp3rzhjo/s320/Lefkas+waterfall.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tDF-LCOhj_Y/Ta1fb1FZ9JI/AAAAAAAABTY/wG330lc4z1Q/s1600/Lefkas+waterfall+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tDF-LCOhj_Y/Ta1fb1FZ9JI/AAAAAAAABTY/wG330lc4z1Q/s320/Lefkas+waterfall+2.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
We also should have known better than to try to catch a bus to the monastery on a holiday. We'd been told that buses went every 30 minutes to the hilltop monastery as it was a 'special day', the town's saint day. After walking all over to find the bus, we gave up and decided to walk. We asked a local 'how far?' He said 'about 3km'. It was a lot, lot, lot further and we didn't see a bus all day. These experiences lead us to suspect that Greeks can't comprehend numbers greater than three, so a long way = 3km !!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-56iCVq_M16k/Ta1fStDkYgI/AAAAAAAABS4/P35XcX6dxvI/s1600/Lefkas+monastery+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-56iCVq_M16k/Ta1fStDkYgI/AAAAAAAABS4/P35XcX6dxvI/s320/Lefkas+monastery+4.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LtJb2uY8x6U/Ta1fQ_QXytI/AAAAAAAABSw/UFr7UKKw2gs/s1600/Lefkas+monastery+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LtJb2uY8x6U/Ta1fQ_QXytI/AAAAAAAABSw/UFr7UKKw2gs/s320/Lefkas+monastery+3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EUZ9taThz9o/Ta1fN1n7PgI/AAAAAAAABSo/PwKSviWtVPw/s1600/Lefkas+monastery5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EUZ9taThz9o/Ta1fN1n7PgI/AAAAAAAABSo/PwKSviWtVPw/s320/Lefkas+monastery5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lT049lMMvuw/Ta1fO7tFxaI/AAAAAAAABSs/IixRIDs5gzA/s1600/Lefkas+monastery+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lT049lMMvuw/Ta1fO7tFxaI/AAAAAAAABSs/IixRIDs5gzA/s320/Lefkas+monastery+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Farenomeni monastery - incense, candle wax and cinnamon cake.....</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>The great thing about the Ionian is that island hopping is so easy. The distances are small and so even though the wind is often fickle you can usually sail from bay to bay, mostly in the afternoon, although we found that the engine hours do mount up.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nVanE6t-iLw/Ta1fMWsEevI/AAAAAAAABSc/BGlTZLRJbmU/s1600/Jun+08+310b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nVanE6t-iLw/Ta1fMWsEevI/AAAAAAAABSc/BGlTZLRJbmU/s320/Jun+08+310b.jpg" width="197" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-udjcCGpGhtE/Ta1fnlDN5eI/AAAAAAAABUY/vIrA99Tw4hA/s1600/Sailing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-udjcCGpGhtE/Ta1fnlDN5eI/AAAAAAAABUY/vIrA99Tw4hA/s320/Sailing.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><br />
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Here is a brief overview of the places around Nidri that we visited.<br />
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<b><u>28th May - Mitika, mainland Greece</u></b><br />
A lovely little Greek town, where we struggled to find anyone who spoke English, or any taverna open for business. Eventually through sign language we managed to get a meal on the waterfront, as dolphins fed in the bay in front of us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GTVLcVOFXHw/Ta1fdldiLaI/AAAAAAAABTg/n-X3BRVEdyE/s1600/Mitika+meal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GTVLcVOFXHw/Ta1fdldiLaI/AAAAAAAABTg/n-X3BRVEdyE/s320/Mitika+meal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>A simple meal with dolphins, with Rob, Angus, Juliet and Imogen</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<b><u>30th May – Spiglia and Spartakhori, Meganisi</u></b><br />
Lovely bays on this island, but an unfortunate problem with persistent wasps, which land on any bit of you and then sting if you move. It is apparently because the island is arid, and they are looking for water, which accounts for their interest in anything blue. Its good sport to kill as many as you can, but the game wears thin after a while and the wasps win out in the end. Stuart was sympathetic to them until he got stung in the goolies while showering, now he's on a trail of retribution!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aTBF415DexY/Ta1faGI3wXI/AAAAAAAABTQ/iJYe2wZ1Ve0/s1600/Meganisi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aTBF415DexY/Ta1faGI3wXI/AAAAAAAABTQ/iJYe2wZ1Ve0/s320/Meganisi.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The view to Scorpios from Spartakhori</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<b><u>3rd June – Nisos Thilia, Meganisi and Nisos Scopios </u></b><br />
Beautiful anchorages, perfect for scrubbing the bottom to avoid having the boat hauled out. Scorpios is the Onassis island, now a private parkland, as the two children died tragically and there seems to be no-one to inherit it now. Wardens patrol the island and prevent anyone from landing, but you can anchor in any of the bays.<br />
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<b><u>14th June - Lefkas town, Lefkas</u></b><br />
A fun town, we managed to stock up on Thai supplies in a strange little minimarket shop, run by Australian Greeks – now that's a strange accent.<br />
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<b><u>Sivota, Lefkas</u></b><br />
Nice stop, if a bit twee. Lovely supper with Clive and Teresa on the waterfront. Theres a nice photo of us all, except me, so it doesn't get on the website.......<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SmCWCqQbl88/Ta1fqxwI15I/AAAAAAAABUk/XjUnOwSnA_E/s1600/Sivota.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SmCWCqQbl88/Ta1fqxwI15I/AAAAAAAABUk/XjUnOwSnA_E/s320/Sivota.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">View of Sivota from the road above</div><br />
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</tbody></table><b><u>26th June – Porto Leone, Kalimnos</u></b><br />
A village abandoned after the earthquake redirected the spring supplying the village water. Fascinating to wander around, but so many wasps. We must have killed about 300, mostly in our homemade wasptrap !<br />
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<b><u>27th June Vasiliki, Lefkas</u></b><br />
We enjoyed a couple of visits to Vasiliki. One of the top windsurfing venues in the world due to it's regular high winds. The town is friendly and has not sold its soul to tourism, rich kids or flashy fashions. The wind with amazing regularity starts in the morning at about force 2 until about 2-3pm when it picks up the pace for the afternoon of F 5 to 7. As the sun goes down over the hill to the west the wind dies instantly- make sure you're back to the beach or you'll be swimming home.<br />
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The evenings were spent quietly on anchor just off the town quay. Good holding on sand with crystal clear water. No need for the jostle and fretting of crossed anchors on the small quay side. We bought a second hand windsurfer with a sail and rig for just under 200E. It made me weep when I thought how little I sold all my old gear back in the UK before we left. The board we bought was an old Mistral Tarifa which needed a little work with the epoxy filler but it goes OK now and we both are enjoying the exercise. Cycling is simply too hot to be enjoyable now, exercise has to be on or in the water!<br />
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</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-895491610368074892008-05-30T01:20:00.000-07:002011-04-20T01:32:47.411-07:00Stromboli, Volcanic Adventures, April 2008<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tc_tz1rhEtA/Ta1di9tmH7I/AAAAAAAABQE/E8GtibOFrm4/s1600/Stromboli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tc_tz1rhEtA/Ta1di9tmH7I/AAAAAAAABQE/E8GtibOFrm4/s320/Stromboli.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After a couple of weeks of cramming all the winter jobs into a few days we went out for a test sail. Good job we did, as we could feel some excessive vibration as we were motoring. Back at base we found that the nylock (supposedly cannot vibrate undone) nuts had loosened from the coupling of the prop shaft to gear box. One of the nuts was completely undone and was found in the engine bilge. This was probably a result of the fishing net that we hit way back in Portugal. If we hadn't spotted it in time, the prop shaft would have come loose, and we might have sunk – it would have been nasty anyway. So we did few more days of repairs and checks and then came a decent forecast (5 days without a storm is a decent forecast in Calabria). Then we were off, leaving poor Martin and Linda on the shore waving us off. They had ordered a part for their engine in nearby Tropea, but the day it arrived, they were informed that 'tomorrow is a holiday' , then a long weekend, and then next week the whole engineering workshop is closed for holiday!!!!<br />
Glad to be out on the water again we headed for the Aeolian Islands. These had beckoned from the horizon all winter, but there was no way we could easily visit by boat or train and ferry as the winter timetables made it impossible. Dolphins entertained us on our afternoon trip towards Stromboli, the constantly active volcano of the island group, known throughout the ages as the lighthouse of the Mediterranean, as its red glow and fireworks could be seen from sea, guiding the ancients towards the Straits of Messina. Unfortunately in 2004 the crater collapsed inside sinking the active part behind the volcano rim, so it is less visible from the sea now. As we approached the island at nightfall we saw a few sparks and explosions on the NW side of the island before cloud hid it from view, plunging everything into the deep dark moonless night. We pottered onwards, thankful for our GPS plotting, threading down between the islands to Lipari (where Odysseus was given his bag of wind by Aeolus, the god of wind), and arrived at daybreak at the small marina of Pignataro. We'd come to this place as research showed it to be the cheapest safe marina in the islands (€30 per night). It is just possible to anchor off Stromboli itself but we wouldn't feel comfortable leaving the boat for several hours to climb the volcano, as the weather can turn nasty very quickly here, particularly this time of year. We spent the day resting, and booking the ferry to Stromboli, the hotel we'd need for the night there, and the trip itself. Everything fell into place, and the next day we headed off on the 7.30am ferry. A rain squall came through as we made the 3 hour trip to Stromboli, with visibility reduced to a few meters and a short sharp chop blown up. We were glad that Matador was safely tied up in a marina, while we were adventuring.<br />
Miraculously the rain stopped and the cloud cleared to a bright blue clear sky as we stepped off the ferry. It was to be the first night in 5 nights that the crater wasn't covered in cloud, so we were really lucky.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L4nRyVo33CE/Ta1dmYUkHdI/AAAAAAAABQM/g9kxuF7YmEk/s1600/Stromboli+village2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L4nRyVo33CE/Ta1dmYUkHdI/AAAAAAAABQM/g9kxuF7YmEk/s320/Stromboli+village2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The island is very strange, as the population purely exist there to serve the tourists who want to climb the volcano. A few B&B's are straddled along the waters edge on one side of the volcano. On the other sides the volcano disappears straight down into the sea, which is also why there is nowhere to anchor. We checked into our hotel (La Nassa) and grabbed some lunch and picked up some picnic supplies for the evening. Our ascent was booked for 4.30pm and we joined the groups of younger fitter looking people waiting to be allocated a guide to start the walk up. The information we had been given was to take lots of water, a sun hat, a wind proof layer, warm layer, stout walking shoes, some food and a torch. At that time of year we'd add thermals, gloves and woolly hat and a tot of brandy to that list. To walk to the top you have to be part of an organised trip with a guide, as they had a huge safety shake up after the last serious volcanic eruption when they found that they didn't know how many people they should be looking for.<br />
We set off on the 3 hour climb with our guide Giuseppe. It was a slow steady pace cleverly set to accommodate many levels of fitness. It was tough going and steep but by no means mountaineering. A few people found it too much and stopped by the wayside to return disappointed to the village. It is difficult for the guides above a certain height in the park area as walkers are not supposed to be unaccompanied, but I guess by that time they've worked out those who are already struggling are not going to make the whole ascent.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3f6N8wd_29Y/Ta1dpwUe6eI/AAAAAAAABQg/h9m3y4l8iRk/s1600/Stromboli+Halfway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3f6N8wd_29Y/Ta1dpwUe6eI/AAAAAAAABQg/h9m3y4l8iRk/s320/Stromboli+Halfway.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NOe2IGIKvgE/Ta1dn_bFX_I/AAAAAAAABQU/NQvZ5FHejZA/s1600/Stromboli+village.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NOe2IGIKvgE/Ta1dn_bFX_I/AAAAAAAABQU/NQvZ5FHejZA/s320/Stromboli+village.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This is not the place to be, when you look down and see you've dragged your anchor!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WB8EfXurL5M/Ta1dpKKiriI/AAAAAAAABQc/wZk3muCHjzQ/s1600/Stromboli+climb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WB8EfXurL5M/Ta1dpKKiriI/AAAAAAAABQc/wZk3muCHjzQ/s320/Stromboli+climb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hu5y23UsHGg/Ta1dsuFsj7I/AAAAAAAABQs/9hNisFVcQIk/s1600/Stromboli+caldera2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hu5y23UsHGg/Ta1dsuFsj7I/AAAAAAAABQs/9hNisFVcQIk/s320/Stromboli+caldera2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OcF20Y5-SB8/Ta1dsxBraAI/AAAAAAAABQw/uc5xJDCJNzQ/s1600/Stromboli+caldera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OcF20Y5-SB8/Ta1dsxBraAI/AAAAAAAABQw/uc5xJDCJNzQ/s320/Stromboli+caldera.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We reached the top for a fantastic sunset as the cauldron bubbled and burped at us. We all formed a circle on the rim of the crater and shivered as night rapidly descended. Within minutes our thermals and wind proofs were proving inadequate and it was absolute freezing cold with a biting wind. This would not be the time to be worrying about your boat in the anchorage 900m below!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fQOPf1O3bgc/Ta1dqTERMZI/AAAAAAAABQk/VjsRRcUMSn8/s1600/Stromboli+viewing+gallery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="199" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fQOPf1O3bgc/Ta1dqTERMZI/AAAAAAAABQk/VjsRRcUMSn8/s320/Stromboli+viewing+gallery.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i>To the bottom right of this photo is the exploding volcano crater! </i></div><div><br />
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</tbody></table>We witnessed a large belch of lava, ash and smoke amongst the constant smaller ones, and after 30 minutes at the summit were pleased to be getting our blood going again with more walking. We were told to turn on our torches and were guided over the back of the volcano down the ash flows. We sort of slid down these steep slippery slopes in a torch lit procession, and we could feel the ash landing on our backs as it was blown off the erupting crater.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lm2xj_0hIlk/Ta1dwI0Jr_I/AAAAAAAABQ4/KlWNKEW9vHY/s1600/Stromboli+by+night+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lm2xj_0hIlk/Ta1dwI0Jr_I/AAAAAAAABQ4/KlWNKEW9vHY/s320/Stromboli+by+night+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RogUFMCi1bs/Ta1dtqnx-dI/AAAAAAAABQ0/S6kYUjZ-Y14/s1600/Stromboli+by+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RogUFMCi1bs/Ta1dtqnx-dI/AAAAAAAABQ0/S6kYUjZ-Y14/s320/Stromboli+by+night.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-odqvsbCOWoE/Ta1dwersumI/AAAAAAAABRA/jftrOoDKb-A/s1600/Stromboli+by+night+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-odqvsbCOWoE/Ta1dwersumI/AAAAAAAABRA/jftrOoDKb-A/s320/Stromboli+by+night+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It was a beautiful clear starry night, and as we looked back at the groups of torch-bearing walkers descending behind us it was like a train of firefly's snaking down the mountain. We'd been so lucky that the weather had held out for us.<br />
It took 2 hours to descend to the village, and at times a couple of steps from the path would have led to a very rapid descent straight down into the sea. No wonder they don't like people wandering around without a guide.<br />
We rested our legs and nerves with few well-earned glasses of wine at Bar Ingrid before returning to our hotel to fall into an exhausted slumber. It was not a cheap outing, what with the marina fees, ferries and hotel but we felt it was well worth the effort and cost to have access to such an amazing show.<br />
Someone has laid some mooring off the NE corner of the island now, for which they charge €25 to €50 a night. If you are thinking of visiting Stromboli by boat, this is now an option, but you'd have to have a look at them for yourself to decide if you'd be happy to leave your boat there for 7 hours while you can see the wind and sea picking up from the NE from 900m above!!!<br />
Next day we took a sore and stiff shuffly walk back to the 11.50am ferry to Lipari. With some time to spare before departure we were able to sit and watch the coming and going of the locals. Nothing moves in a hurry on Stromboli and most veichals are eitherthe 2 stroke APEs or golf buggies. There is also nobody so proud of his uniform or his self importance as an Italian Policeman and they paraded between the ferry and their offices in their new shiny police car complete with flashing light.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDCJ_eQLb3o/Ta1drRSjF2I/AAAAAAAABQo/qtiZ0cVJEtw/s1600/Stromboli+Carabinieri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDCJ_eQLb3o/Ta1drRSjF2I/AAAAAAAABQo/qtiZ0cVJEtw/s320/Stromboli+Carabinieri.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1wEC6aPK8bY/Ta1diRNQl7I/AAAAAAAABQA/sVUJ6t6Oh9E/s1600/Why+Rome+had+no+navy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1wEC6aPK8bY/Ta1diRNQl7I/AAAAAAAABQA/sVUJ6t6Oh9E/s320/Why+Rome+had+no+navy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;">Back on the ferry we were reminded why ancient Rome was never known for it's naval conquests - Italian 'mal de mer' being rife on board, on a smooth sunny day.</i><br />
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</tbody></table>After returning to Lipari and the boat. We untied and headed off on a short motor to the the nearby island of Volcano.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kToWc2AXHAk/Ta1dh5TR06I/AAAAAAAABP8/IQk1n24lNVI/s1600/Volcano+Arival.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kToWc2AXHAk/Ta1dh5TR06I/AAAAAAAABP8/IQk1n24lNVI/s320/Volcano+Arival.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>This is still active, but in the slowly steaming sulphur-stinking phase of volcano life. We'd gone in search of promised mud pools and bubbling springs in salt water pools to rest our weary limbs. The mud pools were not yet open (not tourist season yet) and the salt water springs were freezing cold, so it was a disappointment. We had every intention of staying the next day to climb to the volcanic crater, which you can walk across, but we looked at the forecast and saw that there was a 5 day forecast weather opportunity just too good to miss. </div><div><br />
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</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-57774101328827733142008-05-24T01:52:00.000-07:002011-04-20T02:12:15.613-07:00The Ionian Islands, Corfu and Paxos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<b><u>A sailing holiday within a holiday, 1 May 2008 to 30 July 2008</u></b><br />
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</div><div><div>We had a vague plan to head from the north end of Corfu to Kefalonia or Zakynthos before heading east through the Corinth Canal or around the south of the Peloponnese. All that we read about the Ionian encouraged us to get here early in the season before the crowds and flotillas and charterers made it less enjoyable. We'd been told that by August the bays would be very full as the Italians arrive en mass for their summer holiday. </div><div>Apologies first - we've tried to be brief in writing about our travels, but it never works!!</div><div><br />
</div><div><b><u>Ay Stefanos, Corfu</u></b></div></div><div>After leaving Corfu Old town, our first anchorage stop was in my name-sake bay Ay Stefanos, at the north east end of Corfu. It was an idyllic place, but a Sailing Holidays flotilla had already beaten us to it. Never mind – there was still plenty of room. The taverna to the right as you look at the beach has prize for the most overpriced and poor quality meal in Greece yet! You can easily see Albania across the water, and occasionally a Greek patrol boat cruises up and down looking for trouble. At night the ferries that ply this stretch of water produce waves that reach into these eastern bays, making you fall out of bed in the night.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4uEuSJg79CE/Ta1e0RhuIiI/AAAAAAAABRY/wWZrF6d_hDA/s1600/Ay+Stefanos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4uEuSJg79CE/Ta1e0RhuIiI/AAAAAAAABRY/wWZrF6d_hDA/s320/Ay+Stefanos.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hTjA2XK_EWs/Ta1ezaL7QVI/AAAAAAAABRQ/AjjkaQGPPrU/s1600/Ay+Stefanos+bay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hTjA2XK_EWs/Ta1ezaL7QVI/AAAAAAAABRQ/AjjkaQGPPrU/s320/Ay+Stefanos+bay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><div><b><u>9th May – Petriti, Corfu</u></b></div><div>A relatively unspoilt fishing harbour with a few tavernas, occasionally visited by a sailing flotilla. </div><div>It was free to stay on the concrete wall, with the bow (front) anchor out and tied to the quay at the stern in the normal Mediterranean manner. Its free because the local businesses benefit from the tourism of sailing boats. There was a free water supply on the quay so we did our laundry too. </div><div>One day the fishing boat came in and gave us a big bag of anchovies. Stu occupied himself for the rest of the day filleting them and we ate anchovies in various recipes for days. </div></div><div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JDKJoOMrT_E/Ta6gl3GU-ZI/AAAAAAAABa4/d1bK3hT1dLY/s1600/fishing+boats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JDKJoOMrT_E/Ta6gl3GU-ZI/AAAAAAAABa4/d1bK3hT1dLY/s320/fishing+boats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><div><b><u>10th May – Sivota Islands/Mourtos Greek mainland opposite Corfu</u></b></div><div>This is a beautiful anchorage, very protected from the weather and enclosed, so it feels like you are in a French river. We went ashore to the town to find the port police to attempt to get stamped in and out. They started to get the quadruplicate book out and asked us where we had moored. When we said we were at anchor, they dismissed us with a wave. They told us that if we anchor we should just report to port police once per month for a stamp. This is the advice that others have had but none of the officials are willing to put it in writing! </div></div><div><div>While at anchor Stu was fiddling with the anchor hook leaning out over the chain. I looked up in time to see his legs disappear through the bars of pulpit in a perfect dive! He managed to grab the chain as he went, and then the chain hook landed on his head giving him a little gash for his efforts. </div><div>It was the first swim of the season, and he didn't spend long at it. He got out, had a warm shower and got dressed, then realised that his sunglasses had been on the top of his head before 'the accident'. So he had to have the second swim of the season to retrieve them from the bottom!</div><div><br />
</div><div><b><u>12th May Lakka, Paxos</u></b></div><div>After a short motor we arrived at a new island. We had arranged to meet Kate and Davy (Roamer) here and we spent a couple of days catching up with their news since we stayed with them in Malta. </div><div>The bay is pretty and lovely clear water for swimming but the town touristy and priced accordingly so we didn't stay long before we motored around to the west coast. The cliffs are gargantuan and peppered with caves. To the right of the photo you may be able to see the cave that had recently collapsed into a big pile of stones and trees.</div></div><div><br />
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</u></b></div><div><b><u>14th May Gaios, Paxos</u></b></div><div>We moved a whole 8 miles today and moored on the quay next to the seaplane dock. This was very convenient for a walk into town, but we didn't really enjoy aviation fuel fumes in the cabin at 7.30 every morning. The manoeuvrability of the seaplanes is impressive, as is the short distance they require for take-off and landing. We were amazed that there was no boat on patrol to clear the area of boats, but it manages to come and go without landing on anyone's head!</div></div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJOjyTnEcgI/Ta1e4h5VbFI/AAAAAAAABRw/GDuc5upOnfM/s1600/Gaios+Seaplane+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BJOjyTnEcgI/Ta1e4h5VbFI/AAAAAAAABRw/GDuc5upOnfM/s320/Gaios+Seaplane+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div><i>The seaplane moors alongside us at Gaios</i></div><div><br />
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</tbody></table><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dbsV5_8WiN8/Ta1e466OwnI/AAAAAAAABR0/DC0JKBYA-WQ/s1600/Gaios+Seaplane+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dbsV5_8WiN8/Ta1e466OwnI/AAAAAAAABR0/DC0JKBYA-WQ/s320/Gaios+Seaplane+2.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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</div><div>Feeling that we should do some exercise before the summer arrives and it gets too hot, we got the bikes out and went for a cycle. In the usual mad dog fashion we got organised by around midday just in time for maximum heat and sun! In Paxos you only need 2 gears on your bike, first gear for going up and top gear for going down. There is nothing in between. We went off looking for a nice coastal path, but this involved going over the highest hill on the island first, then exploring every road in case it led us back around the coast – they didn't – just down to a cove and then back up to the same road again! We liked it so much we went and did it again the next day!</div></div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QwSKfEX6zHk/Ta1fjv0TDII/AAAAAAAABUI/EWjcFsPNMJY/s1600/Paxos+bikes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QwSKfEX6zHk/Ta1fjv0TDII/AAAAAAAABUI/EWjcFsPNMJY/s320/Paxos+bikes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>We can only spend 72 hours in company with Roamer before we mutually have to have a liver-recovery break, so we waved them off, they went north to Corfu and we went to Mongonisi, a landlocked anchorage at the south end of Paxos. </div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tMGM0dCLGLs/Ta1ffJbM-sI/AAAAAAAABTs/ccLJtDtY9P4/s1600/Mongonisi+Paxos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="126" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tMGM0dCLGLs/Ta1ffJbM-sI/AAAAAAAABTs/ccLJtDtY9P4/s320/Mongonisi+Paxos.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Mongonisi, Paxos</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><div><b><u>20th May Preveza, Greek mainland</u></b></div><div>After a wonderful upwind sail at 7 knots, we crossed back to the mainland to the busy Greek workaday town of Preveza. It was tempting to stay on the quay, and it rumoured that the port police were yet to start charging. We found out later that the glamorous bars and restaurants on the newly poshed-up waterfront are active and loud until the very wee hours, so we were happy that we'd chosen to anchor a little way off the town and come in by dinghy. </div><div>The weather deserves a mention at this point, only because we had about 2 hours of rain on 22nd May. It soon passed and after an hour everything was dry again. </div><div>We took the dinghy across the busy fairway to have a look at the 3 huge boatyards side by side, Cleopatra, Preveza and Aktio. There must be about 1000 boats in each yard, testimony to the number of people who keep a yacht in the Ionian and have it launched just for 3 months in the summer. We subsequently met a lot of yachties doing just that. We got prices for a haul out and hard standing - all very similar, not surprisingly, and a fraction of the cost it would have been in Italy. Then we thought about the heat and the joys of antifouling when the paint dries on the roller before you can spread it on the boat, and we decided to carry on scrubbing the bottom of the boat from the water, until we winter the boat in Turkey. </div><div>The names Aktio and Cleopatra reflect the historical significance of Preveza, as this was the site of the Battle of Actium in 31BC. The future Emperor Augustus routed the fleet of his adversary Mark Antony who was accompanied by Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, thereby deciding the fate of the Roman Empire and the history of the Mediterranean. </div><div>Preveza stands at the entrance to a large inland sea, called the Ambracian Gulf. We sailed inside and anchored in the north west corner, looking across the 30 mile wide sea. All around us fish jumped out of the water and pelicans swirled around the sky looking for food. </div><div>We wandered ashore and found the road. A short walk found us at the ruins of the Nikopolis (Victory City) founded by Augustus in 30 BC to commemorate his success at Actium. We were about to clamber across the grassy banks to the ruins, when we remembered that the guide book said to watch out for snakes. A little further along the path, we saw a big brown snake (5 ' long and as thick as my wrist) and were very glad that we hadn't gone on a foray into the undergrowth! </div><div><i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1e1eneUwUIE/Ta1fiKszqHI/AAAAAAAABT8/gVD_Q2iAXkY/s1600/Nikopolis+ruins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="202" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1e1eneUwUIE/Ta1fiKszqHI/AAAAAAAABT8/gVD_Q2iAXkY/s320/Nikopolis+ruins.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Nikopolis ruins</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qBWd2O-B_eQ/Ta1fiKLwqOI/AAAAAAAABT4/FFITMCNiLB0/s1600/Nikopolis+snake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="116" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qBWd2O-B_eQ/Ta1fiKLwqOI/AAAAAAAABT4/FFITMCNiLB0/s320/Nikopolis+snake.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Can you spot him?</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><div>All around us flowers sprung from every crevice, birds chirped and insects jumped. It is an area rich in nutrients and the presence of so much flourishing nature is testimony to the lack of intensive farming and pesticides. </div><div style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K0RIwczqgKc/Ta1fjuGonYI/AAAAAAAABUE/un7fVuF7sVM/s1600/Pelican.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K0RIwczqgKc/Ta1fjuGonYI/AAAAAAAABUE/un7fVuF7sVM/s1600/Pelican.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><br />
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</div><div><b><u>24th May - Vonitsa, Gulf of Ambracia. </u></b></div></div><div><div>A lovely laid back Greek town, still waiting for tourism to happen. Free berthing on the town quay which is in the process of having moorings laid. The water is free here, and is straight out of a spring, so the quality is exceptional.</div><div>We met another kiwi boat, Kiwi Volant, with Gary and Maria on board. We enjoyed a couple of cheap and delicious meals at the local spiteria – like a BBQ without all the washing up. It has become a regular quest throughout Greece, to search out good spiterias as they are the best value and tastiest food. </div><div>Another Sailing Holidays flotilla arrived and provided an early evening of entertainment as they crossed anchors and bashed into each other and into the quay, broke down, and generally demonstrated their startling lack of experience and knowledge of all things nautical.</div></div><div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This chap really fouled up; he has one anchor chain under his bow, and another between the keel and rudder. After being untangled he left the bay with his tail between his legs, too embarrassed to try again.<br />
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</div></div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-66648494260328371672008-05-10T01:33:00.000-07:002011-04-20T01:47:54.721-07:00A passage plan from Italy to Greece, 28th April 2008<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">How not to do it!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fsrY3D5cGnE/Ta6cfuLKwZI/AAAAAAAABaw/0nnjAkr3H94/s1600/Goodbye+stromboli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fsrY3D5cGnE/Ta6cfuLKwZI/AAAAAAAABaw/0nnjAkr3H94/s320/Goodbye+stromboli.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Goodbye Stromboli</i></td></tr>
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The cruisers who have spent long periods of time in port always seem to have a lot of well-meaning advice for those who've decided to depart. Some Danish friends in Vibo gave us 3 important pieces of information for our trip:<br />
1)Never transit the Messina Straits when the moon is visible in the sky day or night.<br />
2)Always ask the local fishermen before you leave, what the real weather is in the Strait as they are in touch with their colleagues there, and it could be much worse than you imagine.<br />
3)When you find a LIDL stock up for 6months, as you never know when you'll see another.<br />
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Well, as we roared downwind towards the Straits of Messina, we had no idea about the moon, and we couldn't converse with the fishermen as we don't speak enough Italian, let alone the local language, however we did have a carefully researched and prepared times and dates of the tidal streams at Messina and we were on course to arrive just after the tide turned southwards, as advised by Rod Heikell in his excellent pilot book. It's not hard to work out– 4h30mins after HW Gibraltar. As we approached the Strait in mobile phone range of Sicily we plugged the mobile into the laptop, found the Italian meteorology site and looked up the actual wind speed and direction from the weather buoy at Messina. All very modern and simple and clever!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l81oqYp-8A0/Ta6bWo8GFiI/AAAAAAAABaY/HJ-nuIx-Sl0/s1600/This+beats+the+Solent+anyday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l81oqYp-8A0/Ta6bWo8GFiI/AAAAAAAABaY/HJ-nuIx-Sl0/s320/This+beats+the+Solent+anyday.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This beats the Solent any day!</i></td></tr>
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So we had a great sail in flat water through the Strait and didn't see a single whirlpool- we were a little disappointed! We watched small fishing boats motor straight for the middle of the charted position of Chrybdis, the main whirlpool and .....nothing happened, he didn't even get sucked into the bowels of the earth -amazing. At one point Scilla, of the Odyssey fame, who lives in a cave on the eastern side, with 12 feet and six long necks with horrible heads that hang down and pluck innocent sailors from their ships.... tried to steal my hat, but I grabbed it back and put it firmly on my head again, wagging my finger ! That told her!<br />
It was already a long day, but we sailed on past Reggio de Calabria, winner of the verruca award for the toe of Italy. We turned the bottom corner of SW Italy in 7 knots and Stuart gripped the wheel grinning from ear to ear. We went on past Rocella Ionica, which we now know has a free marina ( free, yes that's right free and in Italy too!!) and on up the coast towards Crotone. The pilot book makes Crotone sound like a contender for the athletes foot award of the instep of Italy, so we hooked the mobile phone up again and got the most recent forecast, clever eh?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The tippy toe of Italy in the background. We're doing 7 knots but upright and no splashes!</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WKkuUtrk2Ys/Ta6bYME4tcI/AAAAAAAABas/cpDWOho98UE/s1600/Straits+of+Messina2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WKkuUtrk2Ys/Ta6bYME4tcI/AAAAAAAABas/cpDWOho98UE/s320/Straits+of+Messina2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Under several layers of insulation despite the sun !</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZlJIO9F5eNE/Ta6bYNgBQ_I/AAAAAAAABao/Zo7JkeJ0i2U/s1600/Straits+of+Messina+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZlJIO9F5eNE/Ta6bYNgBQ_I/AAAAAAAABao/Zo7JkeJ0i2U/s320/Straits+of+Messina+sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The calm before the storm</i></td></tr>
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The forecast was SW force 5 for 24 hours followed by calms followed by easterlies for days to come. This meant we go for it, or rest in Crotone for a week rather than burn diesel and fight the wind (Crotone does have a free harbour wall we found out later). As the wind got up we pointed the boat on the only tolerable point of sail in the resultant boiling seas which, hey presto, pointed us to the bottom end of Corfu. We decided this was some sort of divine message to get on with it, so we set the sails, crawled into the corner of the cockpit and held on tight for the roller coaster/water slide ride of our lives. Thank goodness for Marks and Spencers tinned curry, as you can just slop it in a pan and warm it up, as darkness descended and we took it in turns to ride the 'Black Hole' roller coaster in the moonless night. I found that one of the few benefits of spending the winter rolling in our marina berth is that I no longer appear to be seasick !<br />
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As dawn arrived the wind decreased to a tolerable level and we slopped about in the leftover sea. Within a couple of hours the wind started to rise to greet us from Greece, right on the nose – what an unwelcome greeting to a new country. By this time it was a long way round to change course, so we plugged away for hours and hours the last 20 miles to Corfu. As we rounded the tip of the island and could sail north round the inside we tried to unfurl our genoa (the sail at the front) and it wouldn't undo. This was due to the duck tape that we'd repaired the sacrificial UV strip with, which had undone and stuck to itself the wrong way round. After lots of prodding with long sticks and swear words, Stu climbed wearily into his harness and I winched him up, as he shimmied up the furled sail looking at it murderously with a sharp knife. Two minutes later and the naughty tape was removed and we could unfurl the genoa with blue bits of cloth dangling off and sail again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6MQTF6LsfeI/Ta6bW07-k5I/AAAAAAAABag/gARB-quZ6-M/s1600/Gouvia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6MQTF6LsfeI/Ta6bW07-k5I/AAAAAAAABag/gARB-quZ6-M/s320/Gouvia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Gouvia Marina, Corfu</i></td></tr>
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We'd chosen Gouvia marina as our first destination on Corfu for many reasons.<br />
1)Mostly we wanted a safe thing to tie the boat to so we could sleep off our exertions<br />
2)We needed to wash the boat of salt crystals to half way up the mast and get ourselves washed too<br />
3)We were paranoid about checking into Greece and the pilot book said we could do this at the marina<br />
4)It was rumoured that we could fill our English gas bottles here.<br />
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After 2 days, 2 nights and a day at sea, we gratefully handed over our lines to a very helpful Greek lad who spoke good English. 'How much is it here?' we asked. He said he thought about €35, but 'the office is closed for the day, you must go in the morning'.<br />
The marina is a huge 1000 boat complex alive with all sorts of activity at this time of year as everyone tries to get their boat ready for the start of the season. It has modern facilities and overpriced shops and food outlets. After the washing was done we walked through the boutiques out the door of the compound into the Greek Kondokali village behind. We enjoyed our first experience of a smoky 'spiteria' where lamb and pork are cooked over coals on a spit – served with Greek salad and lots of wine to help us forget the ravages of the last few days. We got chatting to a mad Swedish ex pat who insisted we go along to a local nightclub to 'help' her with her friend, a Norwegian with some sort of degenerative nervous disease. All we really wanted to do was sleep, but she was as mad as a snake, so it was hard to reason. We were treated to the most interesting real Greek dancing that we've seen to date, which looks like 2 cossacks flinging themselves across the room at each other......or it could have been some sleep deprived vision.<br />
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Next morning we found the marina office and they requested a whopping €50 per night. 'How many nights will you be staying?' –' We're off!' we said in unison.<br />
The port police office was closed so we couldn't check in anyway, but we did manage to sort the gas bottles once we found the helpful and resourceful Franz of Force 5 chandlers. You are able to visit the marina for 2 hours free of charge so we could return and pick up the gas another day. So far we have not had to resort to local gas bottles, despite being told it's not possible to fill UK bottles outside the UK. We have 2 x 13kg bottles which when the first is empty, givs us about 3 months to find a friendly refilling station with the correct attachments. So far so good.<br />
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So after achieving only 2 ½ of our 4 objectives at Gouvia we moved onto Corfu town old harbour to search out the port police. These town harbours seem to have no rules of engagement, usually no-one to tell you where to berth, and more fortunately, often no-one to take any money from you either.<br />
This was our first harbour of its sort and still being naïve we asked a NZ boat if we could tie alongside them temporarily. As it turned out Pete and Raye on Saliander were great fun and good company and were happy for us to tie up to their 55 foot beautiful Tayana for several days. They in turn were tied to two old day tripper boats who seemed to be going nowhere. They were headed west towards the Balearics and Corsica, so we swapped information with them, as they had spent a lot of time in Greece and Turkey.<br />
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After several trips ashore we finally found the port police and went in to request our 'transit log'. No-one appeared to know what we were talking about, and various officials were called out of their offices and wandered off again muttering and scratching their heads. We seemed to be asking for something very unusual, but as the pilot book states (and other sources) every yacht over 10m must have one and present it at port police offices throughout Greece for the official stamp. No-one has any idea what function it serves, including the port police themselves. Eventually we parted with an arbitrary sum of €44 and were given an oversized, not quite A3 heavy paper document, with 5 pages of spaces for official stamps for whenever you enter and leave a Greek port – despite the fact that we are EU citizens in an EU flagged boat within Greece. But at least the EU have made them ditch the illegal 'cruising tax'.<br />
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Corfu Town is lovely to wander through the narrow street and wide open parks (where the Brits taught them to play cricket apparently). There are plenty of tourist tat shops and bright glaring white people emerging from the daily cruise ships that stop here, but it still has a homely Greek atmosphere. We set about sorting out our Greek phone, hoping to recreate our mobile phone internet access that we had in Italy. After visiting all the mobile phone shops in Corfu with no luck and lots of bewildered staff, we met Xaris at the Vodafone shop who thought he might be able to provide just the thing. Unfortunately none of the Greek networks offer mobile phone data SIMs/packages on a Pay-as-You-go basis. He told us we'd need a Greek address, a credit card, a Greek tax number and to sign up to a monthly contract of €17, and we could use our existing Italian mobile phone as the modem. We offered up our receipt of one nights stay at Gouvia marina as proof of our address, he fudged our tax number with lots of zeros and the next day we were on contract. It did take 3 days of increasingly desperate calls to the Greek Vodafone helpline, but it worked eventually and has continued to ever since. So, well done Xaris! Our friends tried the following month, and were told that you can no longer get a contract without a Greek tax number, which you can get on the internet, but we all fear what the tax implications of having that number might be!!<br />
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Next task was to stock up at LIDL. Unhappily all LIDL branches are way out of town and we are of course car-less. Getting a taxi back to town kind of makes the savings less worthwhile.<br />
However, we had spotted the happy yellow sign from the sea, so we asked around as to whether it is acceptable in Greece to anchor anywhere you like, and no-one could come up with a reason why not. So we carefully motored into the bay opposite the sign and dropped our anchor as close to the shore as we dared. We took the dinghy ashore at the only likely spot and hobbled through the undergrowth and wayside rubbish to the side of a major road. We crossed 2 lanes of traffic in one direction, then 2 lanes in the other direction and were outside LIDL.<br />
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Bearing in mind our Danish friends advice to stock up for 6 months, we filled our trolley to overflowing with cheap beer, fruit juice, water, and other heavy items. Outside the shop we paused for thought. There was no way to take the trolley across the road as several kerbs and central reservations and, needless to say, unrelenting traffic blocked our way. There was nothing for it but to unload the trolley onto the pavement and in relays we negotiated the 4 lanes of traffic, kerbs, central reservation, wayside rubbish and undergrowth, waded out to the dinghy and transferred our loads into it. There was just room for us to get in too, and we gingerly motored our top-heavy dinghy back to the yacht, to unload it on deck, then into our deepest darkest storage lockers. All this on the equivalent of a hot summers day in England - and you wonder what we do all day?!! In this way we managed about 6 weeks worth of supplies – there was no way we were going back for more.<br />
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With all our tasks accomplished, we were ready to move on, but first we had to 'check out' of Corfu and get a matching exit stamp in our Transit Log. We tied up in the commercial port and went into the Port Police office again proffering our oversized document. Again there was head scratching and muttering, officials coming and going, and then we were directed into a small office where a girl who should still have been at school wielded a quadruplicate book and entered all our details into it. She requested the grand sum of 86 cents for 'checking out'. A bit of confusion followed as they don't have any facility to provide change, and I had to return to the boat to rummage around for all the spare cents I could find. We were quite happy to keep them waiting. After returning and paying exactly 86 cents, mostly in small copper coins, we were given one of the quadruplicate sheets and sent to the next office to get the stamp and be written in the big book of coming and going. What a farce! Now we can start our big Greek sailing holiday.<br />
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</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-68468468152903365002008-04-30T05:39:00.000-07:002011-04-20T07:49:02.451-07:00Winter in Calabria, Southern Italy October 2007 - April 2008<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
We would never have believed that we would still be here in Vibo Valentia in the middle of April, still waiting for spring to arrive. At Easter the weather was glorious and we thought that spring had finally sprung, but alas we are now sitting out another gale, with the fenders grinding against the pontoon. It can't be too much longer before the Med settles down to it's blue sky and settled seas that we came for. Then we will be off to try and visit the Aeolian islands (Stromboli among them) before sprinting off to Corfu at the first opportunity. Maybe next week......<br />
Time to tell you all what we have been up to for 6 whole months!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-epahvNiMI-o/Ta2ELOkouEI/AAAAAAAABYQ/eoxyY0jDMQQ/s1600/Vibo+arielview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-epahvNiMI-o/Ta2ELOkouEI/AAAAAAAABYQ/eoxyY0jDMQQ/s320/Vibo+arielview.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Vibo Marina from above</i></td></tr>
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<b>Vibo Valentia Marina</b> is a small satellite town with a couple of supermarkets, 4 cheap and good restaurants, around 5 butchers, several bakers, a dozen fruit and veg shops, and a weekly market selling all sorts of fresh seasonal products straight from the hills, household goods and cheap clothes. It has plenty to satisfy our day-to-day needs, except any form of organised entertainment. There is a one-carriage regional train that goes to the tourist towns of Tropea and Pizzo, the airport town of Lamezia and links to the mainline railway for trips to Rome and Naples, or south to Sicily.<br />
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The main town of Vibo Valentia is a 30 minute bus ride away on top of the ridge 600m above sea level, hidden away from marauding pirates in the days when they controlled the seas. The road twists and turns on its way up to the main town, in a slightly nerve-racking and queasy-stomach way. The main town has loads more shops and another weekly market. We were able to buy a mobile phone here (€99 for super-UMTS internet access, if that means anything to you) and a new laptop – all of which we achieved in stumbling Italian and sign language.<br />
There is more in the way of entertainment up there, but the bus finishes at 8pm and doesn't run at all on Sundays or holidays or festivals, or strikes or any other reason they can come up with.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zKKpd9c-Z08/Ta2Eyz3kN9I/AAAAAAAABYU/CBJ9B-xCSn4/s1600/Vibo+Marina+market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zKKpd9c-Z08/Ta2Eyz3kN9I/AAAAAAAABYU/CBJ9B-xCSn4/s320/Vibo+Marina+market.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Trying to communicate in the local market</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Despite the fact that all the kids here learn English at school, they subsequently encounter very few visitors and they don't travel outside their country generally, so few have the confidence to speak any English at all. In Vibo, only the Canadian owner of the marina, one of the marina staff and one of the hardware shop workers speak English. So our Italian has come on well. Shame it is a useless language in any other country and that we will soon be in Greece, but our efforts were well appreciated and encouraged by the locals here in the town. In fact most of the people over 40 ish speak a regional dialect derived from Greek, similar but not the same as the Sicilian dialect. It came as a surprise to us when a local man apologised to us for his poor Italian. We thought we had just misheard him at first, but we came to understand that Italian is only his second language, and that explained a lot of the blank looks our attempts at communication were encountering.<br />
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You may have heard that Southern Italy is the poor half of the country, and that is certainly evident all around. The northern Italians have been known to say that 'Africa begins at Naples' which may be a little harsh on Africa.<br />
The local mafia apparently has its tendrils in all aspects of life, but is virtually invisible to the visitor or tourist. Taxes are high and so are avoided at all costs, most transactions are completed cash only. The result is that roads are poorly maintained, footpaths non-existent, municipal facilities are basic and rubbish is dumped by the roadside and left to be someone else's problem. However the people are proud, exceptionally friendly, honest, and appear to be very content with life.<br />
Their lives revolve around their family, the activities of the church (all-pervading catholicism here of course with no other competition for the congregation) and fashion for the younger generation. All are impeccably dressed and accessorised in the latest mode, even if it is bought cheaply from the market or the chinese shop. As a local told us, 'You either buy clothes or bread, you cannot afford both if you work here' .<br />
A recent survey of Italians found over 90% of the respondents to be mostly content with their personal lives, despite the problems that are endemic in Italy, and in particular in the south. I doubt that figure would be matched in the UK somehow!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dHsM9RehzlY/Ta2EzSt390I/AAAAAAAABYY/PX7ttDwmXpE/s1600/Vibo+market+people.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dHsM9RehzlY/Ta2EzSt390I/AAAAAAAABYY/PX7ttDwmXpE/s320/Vibo+market+people.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_talN75g6xc/Ta2Ff8zjdyI/AAAAAAAABYc/IfD8P8ERqxM/s1600/Vibo+Docks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_talN75g6xc/Ta2Ff8zjdyI/AAAAAAAABYc/IfD8P8ERqxM/s320/Vibo+Docks.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Fishermen mending nets in the port of Vibo Marina</i></td></tr>
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Our day to day life is very quiet, filled with the complexities of buying provisions without access to a car. It is like a 1950's life without mod cons but with expectations of high tech communications. A whole day can be occupied with a trip to Pizzo to recharge the mobile phone with internet access. This involves knowledge of the bus timetable, which is not generally available – described by a local policeman as 'simbolico'.<br />
We buy our tickets at the petrol station opposite the sort of pavementy area which is the bus stop, unfettered by any form of a sign indicating that the bus stops there. The 11am bus eluded us for 3 months until we discovered that it leaves from a different unmarked stop out of sight. The man who sells the bus tickets never felt it his duty to tell us that, although to be fair he most definitely has his own car, so why should he know or care? He has been known to sell us all return tickets, and whilst giving us the change, kindly impart the information 'no bus today – festa (festival)!'<br />
Waiting at the unmarked bus-stop wondering if the bus will come today, gives us plenty of opportunity to observe 'Italians in cars'. For a start, the bus stop is at a 5 road unmarked intersection, with no indicated right of way, give way or stop signs. Today we watched them tarmac-ing part of this intersection - no diversion, no traffic control, and as soon as the roller had completed a few passes of flattening, the cars were threading their way around the trucks and tearing up the new tarmac with their tyres. One car had to be stopped from passing between the tarmac laying machine and the roller behind, before he was buried in the congealing tarmac. <br />
On an average day, double or triple parking is the norm, leaving the car running, often the kids inside sitting on the dash, while they pop in to buy their cigs and lotto cards. Parked 3-deep, does cause extra confusion at the 5-road intersection, but doesn't stop overtaking, slow them down, or make them put down their mobile phones. Italian driving is fast and furious, aggressive and assertive, with surprisingly few accidents given the state of the wibbly wobbly roads. We think that they are actually very good drivers, more attentive to their surroundings, pedestrians and other road users, than the sleepy risk-averse, over-regulated Brit driver who has mostly given up thinking for himself.<br />
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The bus driver has 2 mobile phones, so he often has to juggle both and direct the bus around hair-pin bends and hoot his horn at the blind bends so as to avoid excessive and unnecessary breaking which might shock the driver behind. All the while he will be maintaining a conversation with the passengers at the front of the bus. Needless to say, we have pretty much given up on cycling here, or walking along the roads at night, where there is most often no pavement at all to protect you from maximum-velocity cornering. There are frequent traffic jams as the full size bus tries to navigate impossibly narrow streets as the cars back up in front and behind the bus and mopeds, with helmetless drivers of course, whizz through any possible spaces. Of course the double parking adds to the fun, especially on crossings, corners, pavements and anywhere there's a space!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oXoZIWO7Wzo/Ta1brguGLdI/AAAAAAAABNk/Ay_MlUBZOck/s1600/Pizzo+streets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oXoZIWO7Wzo/Ta1brguGLdI/AAAAAAAABNk/Ay_MlUBZOck/s1600/Pizzo+streets.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AsOiPsETJ1s/Ta1bqxzLtsI/AAAAAAAABNY/eBjaCphoTOU/s1600/Pizzo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AsOiPsETJ1s/Ta1bqxzLtsI/AAAAAAAABNY/eBjaCphoTOU/s320/Pizzo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nearby Pizzo</i></td></tr>
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The plus side is that we have often been offered lifts by local people as they couldn't comprehend what it is like to be without a car. They will go out of their way to help, and show their surprise at you choosing to walk or take the bus. Can you imagine getting a lift home from the manager of the supermarket with your heavy shopping in the UK in his private car, with his wife waiting patiently in the passenger seat? One of the advantages of being in a small local town, is that we really stick out as being different, and tourists are as rare as hen's teeth here at this time of year, so they are usually interested to try to talk to us, to help us out, and particularly to find out why we are here.<br />
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In order to preserve our sanity, and to have an excuse to get off the boat when it is gyrating about it's mooring lines in yet-another storm, we have taken the opportunity to make visits inland and further afield, Sicily, Sila mountains, UK, France, Malta, Rome again, Basilicata, Puglia and Southern Italy. Not bad for a 6 month stay, unless you're trying to balance a budget!!<br />
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<u><b>A brief trip to Sicily (December)</b></u></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nQ09ctDWAAw/Ta1bwjL_2VI/AAAAAAAABOc/jf3TfCIhGQ8/s1600/Martin+and+Linda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nQ09ctDWAAw/Ta1bwjL_2VI/AAAAAAAABOc/jf3TfCIhGQ8/s320/Martin+and+Linda.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
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Marlin (Martin and Linda) are our sole wintering buddies here in the marina. Their first winter visitors arrived to less than welcoming swell in the marina, and 'fed the fish' within minutes of being on-board. A spur-of-the-moment decision was made to visit Sicily by train, and to take the opportunity to see what sort of boating-winter-community we might be missing there.<br />
An easy and cheap train ride got us to <b>Catania</b> in Sicily. What a fabulous city- the people even more friendly than here. The most amazing food market that we have seen to-date, full of colour and colourful people, vibrant and fresh, smelly and noisome.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xBj_Iplz6qY/Ta1b_c-kqJI/AAAAAAAABPI/1Z6ufRxKlSY/s1600/Catania+market4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xBj_Iplz6qY/Ta1b_c-kqJI/AAAAAAAABPI/1Z6ufRxKlSY/s1600/Catania+market4.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PfQcEWjVl1I/Ta1b_-bO7BI/AAAAAAAABPM/yLgRMGFO4c8/s1600/Catania+market3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PfQcEWjVl1I/Ta1b_-bO7BI/AAAAAAAABPM/yLgRMGFO4c8/s1600/Catania+market3.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5k5dmOzzXQo/Ta1cAXlTBgI/AAAAAAAABPQ/bGj-ONkaljg/s1600/Catania+market2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5k5dmOzzXQo/Ta1cAXlTBgI/AAAAAAAABPQ/bGj-ONkaljg/s1600/Catania+market2.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A-6vlMDhS4Y/Ta1cBJp5Z3I/AAAAAAAABPU/2mmeakHvhcc/s1600/Catania+market1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A-6vlMDhS4Y/Ta1cBJp5Z3I/AAAAAAAABPU/2mmeakHvhcc/s1600/Catania+market1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
We had no hesitation in booking a 4x4 trip to the active volcano of <b>Etna</b>, one of the biggest active volcanoes in the world, towering into the clouds above the bustling city of Catania. Unfortunately in the winter it is not possible to go right to the top of the volcano, as it is covered in snow, but our volcanology guide, Marco, made our trip extremely interesting, as he expertly negotiated a road made for cattle to take a short-cut up the side of the mountain. No tourist trip is without a whinge, and this time it was the totally inappropriately dressed and unprepared Germans, who arrived in summer clothing and shoes to ascend up to the snow line, off-road, for a 'walking' tour of an active volcano in December ! No surprises that they complained of being cold and uncomfortable in the back of a landrover and wanted to know how soon ve vould be going down!!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BearUf7VSF4/Ta1b2CDwjsI/AAAAAAAABO0/zDoROwGOaIg/s1600/Etna+craters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BearUf7VSF4/Ta1b2CDwjsI/AAAAAAAABO0/zDoROwGOaIg/s320/Etna+craters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6_i-fBB9YRI/Ta1b22dRi8I/AAAAAAAABO4/kA9LwW6CzzQ/s1600/etna+bomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6_i-fBB9YRI/Ta1b22dRi8I/AAAAAAAABO4/kA9LwW6CzzQ/s320/etna+bomb.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A volcanic 'bomb'</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ItyDXKquVq4/Ta1b12JtzvI/AAAAAAAABOw/2stpZiFwQAA/s1600/Etna+lava+cave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ItyDXKquVq4/Ta1b12JtzvI/AAAAAAAABOw/2stpZiFwQAA/s320/Etna+lava+cave.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The entrance to a lava cave</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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Anyway we visited lava flows where nothing grows for hundred of years, lava tunnels where Etna has released it's fury horizontally, and currently inactive craters with volcanic bombs strewn around the edges. The best thing about Etna, is that it is constantly erupting, with a slow flow of lava travelling slowly down its side, since it's catastrophic eruption in 1669. Other volcanoes are thought to be more dangerous. For example Vesuvius has been built upon by the citizens of the outskirts of Naples because it has not erupted for so many years, but is thought to be bubbling away beneath the city, with explosive and volatile gases waiting for escape. Nearby Stromboli erupts violently every 20 minutes, belching rocks and fire into the sky, but at least venting its power constantly and fairly predictably.<br />
In the 1669 eruption of Etna Catania was devastated, its castle and ancient Greek amphitheatre covered in molten lava. One of the lava tunnels resulting from this explosion is now the feature of an underground bar in Agora hostel. It also contains a river that appears to flow uphill, but certainly flows away from the sea. Weird. It had to be paddled in, preferably after midnight, as you can see!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IHrg8Osn8b0/Ta1cIPl-GaI/AAAAAAAABPg/_h8m7aW7byU/s1600/catania.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IHrg8Osn8b0/Ta1cIPl-GaI/AAAAAAAABPg/_h8m7aW7byU/s320/catania.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The most unusual watering spot so far....</i></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5iYeYi7Ermg/Ta1cB70LzvI/AAAAAAAABPc/2sfwFeGOpNs/s1600/Catania+lava+cave2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5iYeYi7Ermg/Ta1cB70LzvI/AAAAAAAABPc/2sfwFeGOpNs/s1600/Catania+lava+cave2.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9G0SDafo2l8/Ta1cKyz-RxI/AAAAAAAABPs/lqPFnDzGVcs/s1600/catania+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9G0SDafo2l8/Ta1cKyz-RxI/AAAAAAAABPs/lqPFnDzGVcs/s320/catania+%25281%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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We went on to <b>Syracuse</b> and Martin, Linda and their guests went back to the boat. We had high hopes for Syracuse, but found no sign of any winter liveaboard community there, or much activity at all except ladies in fur-coats Christmas shopping in the upmarket shops, and the scrubbed and shiny old town, devoid of all character. Apparently if you meet the right people it is a fascinating city. It has a wealth of evidence of its past as one of the crucial settlements in the Mediterranean, controlling trade, interaction, warfare, and history of the many seafarers who used its port. Unfortunately all we got was bad tourist food and terrible service, more than once being turned out onto the street after a poor meal into the rain as soon as we had cleared our plates. I'm sure they can do better.<br />
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<b><u>A Christmas to remember</u></b><br />
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We had been warned that Vibo would close down for Christmas. As we couldn't see how it could get much more closed we decided that we needed a holiday. So we tried to book a trip to a small ski resort in the nearby <b>Sila National Park </b> mentioned in the Rough Guide. All attempts to do so by internet or phone failed, so we (with Martin and Linda) hired a car to drive to the place where we wanted to go on holiday – Camigliatello. Here we encountered the most inept, obstructive and incompetent tourist information employee of all time. I began by asking if she spoke English. 'Parla Inglese?' She said no, and before I could respond in any language she said in huffy Italian, 'Well how can I help you if we don't speak the same language..?' We bristled and refused to be intimidated, and we persevered in terrible Italian. Eventually she managed to find beneath her desk a faded copy of the bus timetable from Cosenza (the only way to get there without a car) which had obviously been stuck to the inside of the window previously, as it still had the sticky tape attached. After much encouragement she begrudgingly made a photocopy.<br />
Do you have a map of the town, or the ski area? 'Non' came the emphatic reply. We later found we could buy a very detailed one right across the street from her office. Despite 'the attitude' we managed to obtain a list of hotels in the area, with phone numbers, but no addresses. But then they would have been useless as we had no map!! After we had 'hassled' her with as many questions as we could possibly think of she went back to her seat and held hands with her boyfriend to gaze out onto the quiet street, no doubt reflecting on what a busy day she'd had – dealing with troublesome tourists who expect information from the tourist information office!!<br />
After some exploration and negotiation we prebooked a hotel room for Christmas in the town, and returned to the boat very pleased with our accomplishments.<br />
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We chose well. The Hotel Sila was bustling at Christmas with Italian families. Only the lovely Caprice at reception spoke some English and we took the opportunity to trade language lessons.<br />
The hotel had an entertainment room, where the crazy and amiable Francesco and his helpers worked tirelessly to keep the hotel guests occupied with karaoke, games and all sorts of other inexplicable pursuits. He spoke no English at all, but took every opportunity to involve us, willingly or not, in his exploits all around the hotel, including firing an Italian police pistol into his bedroom wall, treated with all seriousness until we worked out that we were firing blanks !! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UJwCxYaVSkw/Ta2H7Z7KygI/AAAAAAAABYg/OJrxWKzTFF0/s1600/Sila+Francesco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UJwCxYaVSkw/Ta2H7Z7KygI/AAAAAAAABYg/OJrxWKzTFF0/s1600/Sila+Francesco.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Francesco the crazy clown....how he made us laugh, although we didn't understand a word!!<br />
Here we capture the moment with our 'Cheese recorder', his English words for a camera!</i></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G86F0y0RZpI/Ta2H8S5mq4I/AAAAAAAABYk/RW7glTedtRM/s1600/Sila+Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G86F0y0RZpI/Ta2H8S5mq4I/AAAAAAAABYk/RW7glTedtRM/s320/Sila+Christmas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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It was a great insight into Italian family life. No-one drinks alcohol, other than half a glass of wine at dinner. The entertainment room was full every night, but not a glass of water, coffee or alcoholic drink passed their lips, well except for one glass of sickly Asti Spumante with cake at midnight on Christmas eve. We furtively smuggled bottles of wine and beer into the hotel and empty ones out again, so as not to attract attention. We really were the only non-Italians in the whole town.<br />
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We had a lovely day ski-ing up and down the 1-lift 2-run resort, which was really enough for our old and unacclimatised bodies. We also booked a day cross-country ski-ing which was a first for all of us, and is highly recommended. We decided to do the first part of the 'road of the 3 peaks' as it joins the 3 highest peaks along a picturesque and fairly flat piste, suitable for beginners like us, with views out over the whole National Park. We were dropped off by the Italian guide, shown how to put on our cross country skis ( and how to take them off) pointed in the right direction and then left to our own devices. We were making good progress at lunchtime as the mist closed in, and we decided to turn off the path to the mountain 'shelter' to eat our packed lunch. After an unexpectedly long time on this side-track we started to notice increasingly familiar landmarks in the fog, and increasingly suspected that we were going back the way we'd come. We couldn't believe that we could be lost on a single marked path, but we were. Thankfully there was a bar in a mountain refugio back at the start of the track, which we could perhaps smell our way back to, and we got back safe and sound, regardless of the now zero visibility. So much for the wonderful views. After the 18 kilometers we were ready for a drink or three and the refugio was welcoming with fantastic snacks and a big open fire. We lounged for a couple of hours, drunk a few beers and then were picked up and taken back to the hotel.<br />
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The poor visibility continued for several days and the temperature increased to make downhill ski-ing sludgy, so we went walking.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GG0tsFoakoo/Ta2J3pVYSaI/AAAAAAAABYo/vUUDW_Sg8qA/s1600/Sila+ski.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GG0tsFoakoo/Ta2J3pVYSaI/AAAAAAAABYo/vUUDW_Sg8qA/s1600/Sila+ski.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2QXWJ9k39Is/Ta2KCk6xUyI/AAAAAAAABYs/Y15Cm_1V-Yw/s1600/Sila+walking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2QXWJ9k39Is/Ta2KCk6xUyI/AAAAAAAABYs/Y15Cm_1V-Yw/s1600/Sila+walking.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?</i></td></tr>
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Italians do not walk. They were all dressed in fashionable mountain gear, but they don't go out in the cold. There are extensive marked forest tracks around the resort, popular with hikers in the summer months. There had been a thaw going on for 2 weeks when we were there. Despite this, and there only being less than 30cm of snow on the tracks, there were no walkers other than us.<br />
All footprints finished 20 steps from the nearest car park and we continued into the woods on virgin 2-week old snow........ And got lost again despite the well marked paths.<br />
We found all sorts of interesting things though, like wolf footprints and frightened running bunny footprints, and thigh deep snow, After 2 or 3 hours we emerged onto a familiar track none the worse for our adventures, after finding our own footprints to retrace our route out.<br />
In between all this exercise we ate great mountains of great mountain food and along the way had an unforgettable Christmas in good company.<br />
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We had high hopes for a lively New Year back in <b>Vibo Marina</b>, as it seemed that all the young people would return home from study or work in the north of Italy, to be with their families for the festive season.<br />
We went out on New Years eve. Not a single bar or restaurant was open. Not a single person was to be seen until 11.30pm, when one family set up their fireworks in the deserted street, right in front of their car. Dad seemed to think it would be a good idea to get rid of an out-of-date flare, so he fired it out over the harbour, where in landed in the back of a fishing trawler. Ten minutes later with the flames leaping higher and higher into the air from the boat we suggested (with sign language) that he call the fire brigade, which he did. They were there in a minute and doused the flames successfully. Meanwhile the kids, holding armfuls of fireworks, let them off with complete confidence, under the car, and even under their brother bent over lighting another one. Remarkably other than the fishing boat burning in the distance there were no other accidents, but that was the excitement for New Year in Vibo Marina. We retired to our boats and sipped red wine.<br />
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<b><u>The UK</u></b><br />
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We arrived back in our native land (well Steph's actually) in mid January after 18 months of absence. After continually struggling to be understood in other languages and cultures, it was such a relief to speak to people in shops, bars and restaurants and be understood, even in Suffolk, in our own language. We happily sought out technical information about all sorts of stuff that had been a mystery to us, and were pleasantly surprised to find that all the expensive customer service training in all aspects of UK business has been to good effect. We found (almost) everyone to be pleasant, friendly, interested and keen to help us, and without any prompting would go out of their way to answer our extensive questions about phones, trains, computers, sausage rolls, whatever......many and diverse things we found of interest after our long absence. What hadn't changed ......the weather! <br />
We made up for the lack of diversity in our healthy Mediterranean diet by consuming large quantities of fish and chips, bacon and eggs, Chinese, Indian and especially Thai food. What bliss!<br />
After 3 weeks of seeing friends and family, we were off to visit our friends Simon and Lizzie in Languedoc area and then to Malta courtesy of Ryanairs £10 flights.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QXmuckl3xIo/Ta2KkJKdXYI/AAAAAAAABYw/w23_trQPxZI/s1600/Pyrenees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QXmuckl3xIo/Ta2KkJKdXYI/AAAAAAAABYw/w23_trQPxZI/s320/Pyrenees.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Simon and Lizzie are the perfect hosts, in their beautiful home in view of the <b>Pyrenees</b>.</i></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WhL2fKRS9DU/Ta2KkvWyEaI/AAAAAAAABY0/eK2fjtKFZE4/s1600/Simon%2526Lizzie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WhL2fKRS9DU/Ta2KkvWyEaI/AAAAAAAABY0/eK2fjtKFZE4/s320/Simon%2526Lizzie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<b><u>Malta</u></b><br />
We had a lovely time staying with Kate and Davy aboard Roamer, and meeting up with the Dawn Chaser, Moyle Rose, Birvidik and Liz and Dave who were getting some winter sun without their boat, Kjemperjek. All these people were in Lagos last winter, so it was fun to catch up with news and compare cruising notes past and future. Hopefully we will see them all again around the Greek islands this year.<br />
Malta is a really interesting island and we did some touristy things, although like Italy many of the tourist attractions were closed for the winter months. The 1950's buses are real bone shakers, but are a great cheap way to get around.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6BLPPCGwMgw/Ta1bycZltkI/AAAAAAAABOg/QB9IWylyvOw/s1600/Malta+Busses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6BLPPCGwMgw/Ta1bycZltkI/AAAAAAAABOg/QB9IWylyvOw/s1600/Malta+Busses.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PXRTpQGs1os/Ta1bz1SGYOI/AAAAAAAABOo/Uw5UD_A6W6U/s1600/Malta+Bus+K%2526D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PXRTpQGs1os/Ta1bz1SGYOI/AAAAAAAABOo/Uw5UD_A6W6U/s1600/Malta+Bus+K%2526D.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P03-28JfiSw/Ta1bzNOkwZI/AAAAAAAABOk/1Ek_6MgAcjg/s1600/Malta+Harbour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P03-28JfiSw/Ta1bzNOkwZI/AAAAAAAABOk/1Ek_6MgAcjg/s320/Malta+Harbour.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<b><u>Rome</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
Back to Rome for a few days to meet Janet, and to see some of the sights that we missed last time, including the Vatican and Sistine chapel. It is amazing that the Catholic church obtained so many treasures by default, and they now charge €22 a head for the priviledge of seeing them. And it is packed every single day of the year. Without a guide, expect to wait several hours to enter. It is full of treasures beyond belief, from all parts of the world.<br />
Every church in Italy allows one beggar the priveledge of begging outside each church- if they distributed the entrance fee from the Vatican museums, there wouldn't be any beggars!<br />
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The Sistine chapel is a circus, it is so packed with tourists in a constant flow at all times. There is nothing in it except frescoes and tourists. There are frequent shouts from Mussoloni-like custodians telling us all not to take photos (as it is a holy place!), but as soon as he passes by, the masses of tourists snap away with flashes popping. It is offically forbidden to speak here, but it sounds like a cattle market.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dtW3y6Wos5Y/Ta2LPcfHq7I/AAAAAAAABY4/B4OveCrSKsY/s1600/Sistine+chapel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dtW3y6Wos5Y/Ta2LPcfHq7I/AAAAAAAABY4/B4OveCrSKsY/s320/Sistine+chapel.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>If you can't beat them, join them....the Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Good visibility rewarded our strenous climb to the top of the Basilica of San Pietro (St Peter's). The home of so much fervent religious attention, it also affords great views over the city for those that choose the €7 option to climb the stairs to the top....and where does that income go we wonder......<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z2YT0P6iGXQ/Ta2LjBlM0_I/AAAAAAAABY8/RFT_ttc_eJQ/s1600/Rome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z2YT0P6iGXQ/Ta2LjBlM0_I/AAAAAAAABY8/RFT_ttc_eJQ/s320/Rome.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E8htTjp_2EU/Ta2L0LvhvSI/AAAAAAAABZA/iThCpVTatug/s1600/Rome+St+Pietro+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E8htTjp_2EU/Ta2L0LvhvSI/AAAAAAAABZA/iThCpVTatug/s1600/Rome+St+Pietro+view.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
The absolute highlight of Rome is a small and bizarre crypt below the church of <b>Santa Maria della Concezione</b>, where the Capuchin monks had dug up a cemetery and used the bones of their predecessors to decorate the rooms. The bones of 4000 monks are arranged in abstract patterns, light fittings made from leg bones, mosaics of shoulder bones, Janet and I (as you would expect from radiographers) could recognise every morsel. The message from the monks- 'What you are now we once were, what we are now you will become!' What on earth were they thinking, by digging up 4000 of their fellows to demonstrate that point?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ji7SgjVz_xo/Ta2M47zV6ZI/AAAAAAAABZE/v0oFE23Dud4/s1600/bones+church+rome.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ji7SgjVz_xo/Ta2M47zV6ZI/AAAAAAAABZE/v0oFE23Dud4/s320/bones+church+rome.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The grim reaper oversees a room of skulls</i></td></tr>
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<div style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">A photographic tour of Southern Italy. </div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;"><br />
</div>Stuart's dad visited us in Vibo Valentia from NZ with his wife Yvonne. We hired a car and drove the length and breadth of Southern Italy, cameras deployed for maximum photographic opportunity.<br />
Stu put his new camera to good use, hopefully you should notice an improvement in the quality of the shots from now on!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DZTmTZTlJF8/Ta2NSd4pe4I/AAAAAAAABZI/DbQFSEpVSJQ/s1600/Stu+and+Phil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DZTmTZTlJF8/Ta2NSd4pe4I/AAAAAAAABZI/DbQFSEpVSJQ/s320/Stu+and+Phil.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spooky resemblance</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Our first picnic stop was a surprise, the Greek Temple of Hera, just 300m from the busy main road near Metaponto. This was once one of the three great Greek settlements in Southern Italy, or Magna Graecia as it was then. In 510BC Pythagoras was 'ere, though not much remains to show its former glory today. Nice picnic stop though!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3nQYvX4Gm9A/Ta2N41T1FFI/AAAAAAAABZM/jaFoaguJO3M/s1600/Hera.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3nQYvX4Gm9A/Ta2N41T1FFI/AAAAAAAABZM/jaFoaguJO3M/s320/Hera.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Further north we stopped for the night at <b><u>Alberobello, a village in Puglia</u></b> which has around 1500 of these strange igloo-like houses built out of the abundant local stone. They were apparently built like this so they could be knocked down in a hurry to avoid taxes, and rebuilt once the taxman had left town. Now they are mostly tourist shops, holiday homes or residences. We stayed in one for a night – we felt quite at home as we are used to living in a small space.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JZfhxoS4bHA/Ta1bpgCVx3I/AAAAAAAABNI/5ZFlwjHMAGY/s1600/Copy+%25282%2529+of+Trulli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JZfhxoS4bHA/Ta1bpgCVx3I/AAAAAAAABNI/5ZFlwjHMAGY/s320/Copy+%25282%2529+of+Trulli.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Alberobello</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sca4T761MTg/Ta2O338nIAI/AAAAAAAABZQ/ZtPJzh-LzQI/s1600/Trulli2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sca4T761MTg/Ta2O338nIAI/AAAAAAAABZQ/ZtPJzh-LzQI/s320/Trulli2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A trulli house</i></td></tr>
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Next stop we visited <b>Matera in Basilicata</b>, a ravine containing thousands of sassi or caves - its main claim to fame as the set used for Mel Gibson's 'The Passion of the Christ'.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sGInORVccmY/Ta2PiNIg5XI/AAAAAAAABZk/9s16fJ5CxW0/s1600/Matera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sGInORVccmY/Ta2PiNIg5XI/AAAAAAAABZk/9s16fJ5CxW0/s320/Matera.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xqHhv5p1mq4/Ta2PjJhpMHI/AAAAAAAABZs/mu6mR1c0eFE/s1600/Matera3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xqHhv5p1mq4/Ta2PjJhpMHI/AAAAAAAABZs/mu6mR1c0eFE/s320/Matera3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HAmwwT0AqQ8/Ta2Pj2mikHI/AAAAAAAABZw/vJNjkPCc2Ts/s1600/Matera2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HAmwwT0AqQ8/Ta2Pj2mikHI/AAAAAAAABZw/vJNjkPCc2Ts/s320/Matera2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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During the 1950's 15000 people were forcibly evicted from their insanitary cave dwellings to rehouse them in modern tower blocks. Their homes were boarded up to prevent them from returning to the life they were accustomed to.<br />
Many of the caves have been made into hotels or bijou dwellings but it is still possible to walk into the caves that have been left uninhabited, to see the sort of space they shared with their animals. We stayed overnight in very plush cave, which one day would have looked like the one below, but now has an ensuite bathroom and wifi!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDUexPkBncE/Ta2Phs3KgiI/AAAAAAAABZg/2QRSvsta70U/s1600/Matera5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDUexPkBncE/Ta2Phs3KgiI/AAAAAAAABZg/2QRSvsta70U/s1600/Matera5.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At night it is eerie, dark and silent.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--eOgYoSmqFE/Ta2Pi_UjjUI/AAAAAAAABZo/s6MeMcpveV0/s1600/Matera4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--eOgYoSmqFE/Ta2Pi_UjjUI/AAAAAAAABZo/s6MeMcpveV0/s320/Matera4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Further south we stopped at <b>Rossano</b> to see a sixth century Purple Codex, brought from the Holy Land by monks fleeing persecution. It depicts the life of Christ. It was a fascinating insight into early Christian art, very different from the hell-and-damnation imagery of the Sistine chapel.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jc1q6hMgc3I/Ta2PhboS2vI/AAAAAAAABZc/wfTj_UVp5MI/s1600/Purple+codex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jc1q6hMgc3I/Ta2PhboS2vI/AAAAAAAABZc/wfTj_UVp5MI/s320/Purple+codex.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>6th century manuscript at Rossano</i></td></tr>
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Time was getting on and we needed to book into a hotel for the night. We were told that there was only one hotel in this hilltop town, and it had only opened 2 weeks ago. We were the first tourists to stay in this self-appointed 3-star Fawlty Towers. Everything was complete confusion, including the price. But breakfast was the funniest part - as usual they served up horrid long-life croissants and coffee. We had to ask for plates to put them on. They must have heard that English people like cornflakes, but they are an alien concept to Italians, and not exactly knowing what to do with them, they were placed in the middle of the table in one small bowl with a spoon – for 4 people, with no milk! Priceless! They obviously thought we would sprinkle them on our croissants or in our coffee?<br />
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Next day we drove via <b>Santa Severina</b>, perched in the clouds on an isolated rocky peak with a huge fortress to protect the inhabitants from various aggressors during its history. The approach road was so steep it required first gear to coach our little rental car to the top. Stuart's ( the driver) nerves required some time to recover before the return trip down.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AY01EjACwhc/Ta2PgeU_B6I/AAAAAAAABZY/ZAfvB2tak4o/s1600/Santa+Severina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AY01EjACwhc/Ta2PgeU_B6I/AAAAAAAABZY/ZAfvB2tak4o/s320/Santa+Severina.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Santa Severina</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">After this we drove cross country in blind fog to the Sila mountains and stayed the night again in our Christmas hotel. It was very quiet in the town now, and several people came to ask us why we were there and how we had found it. We can assure you that you will not find it through their marketing efforts but it is truly a place worth discovering. Steph resisted the urge to go and hassle the girl in the tourist information office with some more ridiculous questions. We awoke the next morning to a crisp clear day with a smattering of snow all around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tMl9hUNFp4I/Ta2PfqDn54I/AAAAAAAABZU/FKLr3GCuREM/s1600/Sila+snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tMl9hUNFp4I/Ta2PfqDn54I/AAAAAAAABZU/FKLr3GCuREM/s320/Sila+snow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sila mountains</i></td></tr>
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Next day we returned to Vibo via several traditional Italian hill towns, and learned that one of them, Nocera Tirenese, has a strange Easter tradition not to be missed. We promised to return on Easter Saturday.<br />
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When you hire a car in Italy, which is not cheap, you want to maximise the use of it. Next came a tour down to <b>Reggio Calabria</b> via a couple of towns. Palmi was interesting for its new court house specially constructed for mafia trials. The walls are so thick that they are bomb-proof and tank proof. Every inch of the building is covered by surveillance cameras. There didn't appear to be any trials that day, but they sure weren't keen on any photos!<br />
The next town was supposed to be famous for its ceramic art work, according to the tourist signs and the guide book. However it appeared to us that the mafia drug barons had moved in and the locals were busy moving out. Every window was barred, and there was not a single business remaining open. The dusty streets were empty other than a few guys hanging around the central square. We were almost certainly followed out of town to ensure that we were just tourists. It was noticed in an entrance to a hill-side plot of land that “children had left a doll hanging in a noose in the entrance”. Not children, I suspect, and not an invitation to visit.<br />
Reggio Calabria was a dump, or in the words of the Rough Guide, 'synonymous with urban decline'.<br />
The Magna Graecia museum made an interesting stop, mainly for its Greek bronze statues, the Bronzi di Riace, discovered intact in the sea in 1972, in remarkably good condition given that they were cast around 450BC. The exhibit of their finds, and restoration looked really enthralling, but unfortunately all in Italian. We also had an unfortunate lunch in Reggio, which resulted in us leaving what we thought was a fair payment on the table and walking out. These people were happy to try and rip off visitors, Italian and foreign alike, every table had some sort of argument on paying their bills.Our single main course of King prawns, shared as a starter between 4, was charged at €80 instead of €20 because the boss lady decided we would want more than 1 portion. Of course, the credit card machine was out of action so all payments gratefully received in cash. They also substituted sea bream for sea bass without saying anything. It was the most disappointing and dispiriting attempts at a rip-off that we have encountered and completely out of our normal experience in the rest of Southern Italy. We didn't let it get to us.<br />
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Our last excursions with visitors, were more local, to the villages of <b>Serra San Bruno</b>, a pilgrim village in the heart of the Calabrian hills, Pizzo famous for its rich tartufo ice-cream (like eating a box of chocolates in one go) and touristy <b>Tropea </b>where we got great photos of Stromboli smoking 40 miles out to sea.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j0mQjj86g4M/Ta1brS2xekI/AAAAAAAABNg/LaoGbZgniwI/s1600/Pizzo+tartufo+shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j0mQjj86g4M/Ta1brS2xekI/AAAAAAAABNg/LaoGbZgniwI/s320/Pizzo+tartufo+shop.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bar Ercole, the proud producers of tartufo ice-cream at Pizzo</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c3YF0e0WIvU/Ta2RfQof8fI/AAAAAAAABZ4/dwqXc-Z4i3Y/s1600/Tropea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c3YF0e0WIvU/Ta2RfQof8fI/AAAAAAAABZ4/dwqXc-Z4i3Y/s320/Tropea.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crumbling clifftop town of Tropea (famous for its sweet red onions)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lyloWvm99kI/Ta2ReqUtpYI/AAAAAAAABZ0/AxE2CUghbRE/s1600/Stromboli+and+islands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="88" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lyloWvm99kI/Ta2ReqUtpYI/AAAAAAAABZ0/AxE2CUghbRE/s320/Stromboli+and+islands.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the Aeolian Islands</td></tr>
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After we waved Phil and Yvonne off to Rome, we went back to our boring lives for a week before Steph's mum arrived for a few days break. Spring kept trying to appear for a few days, then it was back to more storms, squeaking fenders and tiresome rolling. One night a bottle and 2 glasses of wine shot off the table into our laps, upholstery, floor – what a mess and what a waste!<br />
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We were determined to visit <b>Nocera Tirenese for Easter Saturday</b> as it sounded so bizarre – and it was. We had to have a hire car to get there, as it is nowhere near public transport, being a small hilltop town above Lamezia. They are quietly known for their perpetuation of a medieval ritual of flagellation. The flagellation consists of men running around the town beating their legs with a spiked pad until they bleed profusely. The blood splatters and runs over the road and houses. Each one is assisted by another young man on a lead or tether and carrying a cross, and another carrying red wine to douse the injuries to protect infection.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--yYMluTnQ-o/Ta1bsdmsCEI/AAAAAAAABNs/VMNWb3MJ_5I/s1600/Nocera+Easter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--yYMluTnQ-o/Ta1bsdmsCEI/AAAAAAAABNs/VMNWb3MJ_5I/s320/Nocera+Easter.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
It was indeed a bizarre sight but also quite moving at times. The whole village joins in the processions and many still do the flagellating bit. We were surprised just how many were involved.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-60mTPtsrf_4/Ta1bs0RvZ6I/AAAAAAAABN0/t00Va3H-Sjo/s1600/Nocera+Easter+legs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-60mTPtsrf_4/Ta1bs0RvZ6I/AAAAAAAABN0/t00Va3H-Sjo/s320/Nocera+Easter+legs.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
Near the end of the day we were invited into a villagers home for wine and snacks and we got a better understanding of what it's all about. Suffice to say that they are paying penitence for the sins of mankind, not trying to save their own skins, although they do spend the day by blessing (splattering) all the houses of friends and families and every church and shrine. The streets literally run with blood and it is real! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T4bSlM1k7pM/Ta1btGpX3xI/AAAAAAAABN4/fjehwNJLCCQ/s1600/Nocera+Easter+flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T4bSlM1k7pM/Ta1btGpX3xI/AAAAAAAABN4/fjehwNJLCCQ/s320/Nocera+Easter+flag.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w30PF7OHcw0/Ta1btIgYGqI/AAAAAAAABN8/5ToDLoubOZc/s1600/Nocera+Easter+flag2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w30PF7OHcw0/Ta1btIgYGqI/AAAAAAAABN8/5ToDLoubOZc/s320/Nocera+Easter+flag2.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
What surprised us is that they are educated people. The children of the family who invited us in, study at Rome University and spoke some English. Their father passed by to bless the family home with his blood, following in the footsteps of his father, who was present to admire his commitment. The youngest son held his father's leash and carried the cross all day, so that he might be privileged enough to one day have the honour to flagellate for his own family.<br />
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As well as the flagellation, the pietà (the Virgin Mary supporting the dead body of Christ) is carried around the town and taken to bless every single house in turn, receiving a floral tribute at every stop. It is accompanied by the old ladies of the village singing mournful lamentations about the pain of the death of Christ. The pietà is then carried up through the narrow streets to the ruins of the monastery at the top of a steep hill, where everyone stops for refreshment and to have their photos taken with the icon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FdosjNHxiBE/Ta1bszgz1xI/AAAAAAAABNw/bV7YNUhzwiI/s1600/Nocera+Easter+pieta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FdosjNHxiBE/Ta1bszgz1xI/AAAAAAAABNw/bV7YNUhzwiI/s320/Nocera+Easter+pieta.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nocera Terinese</i></td></tr>
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Easter Sunday here in <b>Vibo Marina</b> was a fantastic day and possibly the hottest this year, and thatnight was possibly the worst and we had snow back on the hills again.<br />
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Vibo's Easter procession, although we're not sure on the significance, is celebrated by a charge up and down the main street at a full sprint carrying 3 floats, a Madonna, and two Jesus ones. They seem to race each other and meet in the middle of the junction to much cheering and clapping, fireworks and a release of balloons. Then it's a brisk parade back to the church. We would never have imagined that so many people live in Vibo Marina and around. Where have they all been hiding during the winter?<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SU_gk1H1EDU/Ta2S3m3FIcI/AAAAAAAABZ8/P5uPne79iNI/s1600/Vibo+Easter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SU_gk1H1EDU/Ta2S3m3FIcI/AAAAAAAABZ8/P5uPne79iNI/s320/Vibo+Easter.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TjVsIx2D1wQ/Ta2S9S9--FI/AAAAAAAABaA/DusWKgEyaQY/s1600/Vibo+Easter2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TjVsIx2D1wQ/Ta2S9S9--FI/AAAAAAAABaA/DusWKgEyaQY/s320/Vibo+Easter2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
Within an hour the streets went from packed with Italians in their Sunday best, to totally deserted.When they say that Italians have Easter at home they don't mean most of them. They mean ALL of them, without exception, until about 4.30pm when the passagio ( strolling on the sea front) was the busiest we have ever seen for 4 hours and then they all scurry away home again and the place is deserted once more. One thing that we found throughout the area around Easter, was that every single church was packed to capacity at every service, a situation that British clergy could only dream of. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cB2ufqaSR4M/Ta2TaRSyPhI/AAAAAAAABaE/0dME640zBhY/s1600/Pedro%2527s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="181" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cB2ufqaSR4M/Ta2TaRSyPhI/AAAAAAAABaE/0dME640zBhY/s320/Pedro%2527s.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Steve, Steph, Martin, Linda, Francesca, Lisa, Pedro and Stu<br />
April 22nd 2008</i></td></tr>
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We are back to doing last minute jobs on the boat again so that we can take advantage of the next weather slot to leave Vibo for new pastures. We're glad that circumstances forced us to stop here, and absorb the culture of small-town Italian life, and forced us to learn another language in order to interact with the local people. We have been making our last visits to our favourite restaurants. Il Saraceno – best pizza in the world (out of the marina, turn left and its at the end of the seafront) where they gave us a vacuum packed gift of nduja, a spicy pig spread that livens up any meal. It was really thoughtful of them to pack it so that it will last for months in our onboard fridge. At Pedro's our last night was made special by a last operatic rendition of Ave Maria by Francesca. She is 1 year into 7 years of training to sing opera and we promised that we would return to Italy when she first sings at the opera houses of Naples or Catania. Here's a photo to prove we knew her before she was famous!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div></div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-43776798309964356202007-11-24T05:24:00.000-08:002011-04-19T05:39:17.598-07:00Venice 19-23 November 2007<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>If you're thinking that we went to Venice on the yacht, take a look at a map! It is a 700 mile thrash around the toe and heel of Italy, and all the way to the top of the Adriatic – about 6 days non-stop at the speed we normally travel. We took the train, which takes around 12 hours!<br />
It was my 40th birthday treat, and an excuse to get away from our small home and stay in a real bed for the first time in 18 months. We'd sat out some uncomfortable storms in Vibo Marina and so we were pleased to be on our way to a hotel where you don't get seasick in bed, and your beer doesn't fall off the table.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0StvSGHhU3I/Ta1WfYqTU8I/AAAAAAAABKM/tft0lcb9mSY/s1600/Venice+Grand+Canal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0StvSGHhU3I/Ta1WfYqTU8I/AAAAAAAABKM/tft0lcb9mSY/s320/Venice+Grand+Canal.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We got lucky with our choice of hotel, small but cheap by Venice standards and very close to the railway station. (We stayed in Hotel Florida €75 per night per room B&B) <br />
Weatherwise its was like entering another country – only a few degrees above zero most of the time, and of course very damp. Very much like an English winter. We spent four days in Venice wandering up and down the canals with a 3 day waterbus or vaporetti pass (for which 2 tickets costs the same as 50 minutes in a gondola), and visiting the outer island of Murano, with its streets of shops displaying tacky glass ornaments, sorry, I mean beautifully hand-crafted works of art.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B_tu66EuEDo/Ta1WdSYV2CI/AAAAAAAABKI/UoE9jANL1j4/s1600/Venice+waterfront2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="72" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B_tu66EuEDo/Ta1WdSYV2CI/AAAAAAAABKI/UoE9jANL1j4/s320/Venice+waterfront2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Our trip co-incided with the last 2 days of the Art Biennale, a six month long contemporary art festival that takes place every 2 years here. We avoided the large exhibitions of Tracey Emin and the likes as it's not really our bag, but scattered throughout the city were small shows, which were free to enter and gave access to pavilions not normally open to the public. Our favourite was the Mexican exhibit. Rafael Lozano-Hemmer seemed to be one of the few whose exhibits reflected the theme – Think with the senses- feel with the mind. One large room was devoted to a mexican wave of chairs. As you walked around them, a computer sensed your movements and the chairs would go up and down in a rhythmical wave corresponding to your speed and direction. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZnEFLpD4Pu4/Ta1XD9BnF2I/AAAAAAAABLE/Gewj10K5QZI/s1600/Venice+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZnEFLpD4Pu4/Ta1XD9BnF2I/AAAAAAAABLE/Gewj10K5QZI/s320/Venice+014.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMfhGQgENME/Ta1XHmTrwAI/AAAAAAAABLQ/NcBsdL5n38A/s1600/Mexican+wave2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMfhGQgENME/Ta1XHmTrwAI/AAAAAAAABLQ/NcBsdL5n38A/s320/Mexican+wave2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In another room, large white and empty, your silhouette on the wall tunes a worldwide radio receiver, the larger your shadow the higher the volume – very cleverly done, although a bit screechy if you stood in the wrong place. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3HHJZELYVSI/Ta1W41xpwhI/AAAAAAAABKs/seFm3wjG8sU/s1600/Venice+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3HHJZELYVSI/Ta1W41xpwhI/AAAAAAAABKs/seFm3wjG8sU/s320/Venice+019.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YqkTuQcMf-c/Ta1XEp7HZaI/AAAAAAAABLI/pZx3KDXN6oI/s1600/Radio4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YqkTuQcMf-c/Ta1XEp7HZaI/AAAAAAAABLI/pZx3KDXN6oI/s320/Radio4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In another room you activated a projection onto the floor of film of someone sleeping. As you stood above them, they'd wake up and appear to interact with you, and if you didn't move they would go back to sleep. Sounds naff, but it was cleverly executed. Stu though that one of the girls wanted to sleep with him, it was so realistic!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R27YpxlzjeE/Ta1XH21CRMI/AAAAAAAABLU/eaRyVBDCFAk/s1600/Invisible+sheep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R27YpxlzjeE/Ta1XH21CRMI/AAAAAAAABLU/eaRyVBDCFAk/s320/Invisible+sheep.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Invisible sheep – yeah right</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>On the other hand, in a beautiful pavilion on the Grand canal was the Icelandic exhibition. It was just naff - featuring invisible sheep obtained by the elf people – pllleeeease spare me!!<br />
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The Ukrainian exhibition was in an absoulutely beautiful pavilion. There were some fascinating movies of a scene where nothing moves for several minutes, although a cigarette clearly burns away and drops ash on the floor in the middle of a crowded pub. Another fascinating time lapse of a dying swan draped over a naked girl. Not sure how they combined the pictures, but the swan slowly decayed, a process that must have taken several days, while the girl was motionless. <br />
It went downhill fast upstairs in the pavilion, where the display consisted of holiday photos and sad Ukrainian prostitutes in various states of dress on nylon bedspreads in cheesy hotel rooms. <br />
Not sure what the message of that exhibit was, but the view of the canal from the window was very good!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YrFJRYfwb2s/Ta1W8A-YBUI/AAAAAAAABKw/A0EcE8YlMmY/s1600/Ukraine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YrFJRYfwb2s/Ta1W8A-YBUI/AAAAAAAABKw/A0EcE8YlMmY/s320/Ukraine.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6vzXhQyDRyM/Ta1W8Tu9IoI/AAAAAAAABK0/6ThMxtRv7b4/s1600/Ukraine2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6vzXhQyDRyM/Ta1W8Tu9IoI/AAAAAAAABK0/6ThMxtRv7b4/s320/Ukraine2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>From the sublime to the ridiculous:</i></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bo5n7ecHeSE/Ta1W3bhZkCI/AAAAAAAABKo/jpctc6N8EgA/s1600/Ukraineswan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bo5n7ecHeSE/Ta1W3bhZkCI/AAAAAAAABKo/jpctc6N8EgA/s320/Ukraineswan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Our trip also co-incided with the festival of Santa Maria della Salute. This fine church on the opposite bank of the Grand canal to St Marks, was built in gratitude for the end of an outbreak of plague that devastated the population of Venice in 1630-31. Every year a pontoon bridge is built across the canal from St Marks to the church just for a couple of days. On 21 November thousands of people parade across the bridge to the church to give thanks for their good health, pray for sick family or friends, and then gorge themselves candy floss and toffee apples behind the church afterwards. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I9g0nS4S0BM/Ta1XC8dLAhI/AAAAAAAABLA/uqyQJNb0JSE/s1600/Santa+Maria+de+Salute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I9g0nS4S0BM/Ta1XC8dLAhI/AAAAAAAABLA/uqyQJNb0JSE/s320/Santa+Maria+de+Salute.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Venice sports a new pontoon bridge for the day, and Santa Maria della Salute has a facelift for her birthday.</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FjR6PPUw4DQ/Ta1XHc1PGRI/AAAAAAAABLM/RRJ4HK9qjWM/s1600/Santa+Maria+de+Salute+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FjR6PPUw4DQ/Ta1XHc1PGRI/AAAAAAAABLM/RRJ4HK9qjWM/s320/Santa+Maria+de+Salute+2.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W-wPus6Bftk/Ta1XMTLt7II/AAAAAAAABLk/YUKEY2aw9rM/s1600/Acqua+Alta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W-wPus6Bftk/Ta1XMTLt7II/AAAAAAAABLk/YUKEY2aw9rM/s320/Acqua+Alta.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sxagn-FJ9Wg/Ta1XU6MnRQI/AAAAAAAABL8/9-t4NCF1fOg/s1600/Acqua+Alta+boards2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sxagn-FJ9Wg/Ta1XU6MnRQI/AAAAAAAABL8/9-t4NCF1fOg/s320/Acqua+Alta+boards2.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>A regular occurrence in Venice in the winter months is Acqua Alta, or high water. It depends on many factors, spring tides, rainfall, atmosperic pressure, tidal flow and winds in the Adriatic. A 1.10m predicted tide covers St Marks Square in about 60cm of water at it's worst, and many of the lower lying canalside streets are submerged. The problem is gradually getting worse as parts of Venice are built on soft sand that is slowly sinking, and the water levels are gradually rising. Duck boards are put up to keep tourist pedestrian traffic moving throughout the floods, and it is a strange sight to see tourists shuffling along the boards in single file. We were forewarned of the predicted high water, so we took our sailing boots along with us so that we could slosh through the streets like the locals. <br />
The shops have boards to keep the worst of the water out, you just step over them to get in the shop, and under the floor they often have a bilge pump to expel the excess water back out into the street. We felt quite at home in this watery predicament and we were fascinated to see this working city attempting to go about its normal business. Considering that England can't function for wet leaves or a centimetre of snow, you have to hand it to the Venetians. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--khjL-vKpkE/Ta1XApc2qCI/AAAAAAAABK4/TGhtPo933JQ/s1600/St+m+Sq+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--khjL-vKpkE/Ta1XApc2qCI/AAAAAAAABK4/TGhtPo933JQ/s320/St+m+Sq+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GHYaN7dULKM/Ta1XLfW9gsI/AAAAAAAABLg/F8uw32yyWCs/s1600/Bilge+pump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GHYaN7dULKM/Ta1XLfW9gsI/AAAAAAAABLg/F8uw32yyWCs/s320/Bilge+pump.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ARA272F7HA8/Ta1XRDVFUjI/AAAAAAAABLw/SkdArzHgPw8/s1600/Acqua+alta+cannaregio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ARA272F7HA8/Ta1XRDVFUjI/AAAAAAAABLw/SkdArzHgPw8/s320/Acqua+alta+cannaregio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qJ3mjBZ1Vvk/Ta1XTWJ5nfI/AAAAAAAABL4/gevoUVMZ48U/s1600/Acqua+Alta5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qJ3mjBZ1Vvk/Ta1XTWJ5nfI/AAAAAAAABL4/gevoUVMZ48U/s320/Acqua+Alta5.jpg" width="112" /></a></div><br />
Unfortunately our trip had to end, as there is no way we could afford to spend too long in Venice.<br />
Even the churches charge an entrance fee. Some are free, and others are accessible with a Chorus card - €8 covers the admission fee to 16 admission-charging churches. Poking our heads into these churches we couldn't really see much difference between these and the free ones. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mz3Y9Z96UuE/Ta1WZmflXZI/AAAAAAAABKE/KH6v1LgOD8U/s1600/Venice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mz3Y9Z96UuE/Ta1WZmflXZI/AAAAAAAABKE/KH6v1LgOD8U/s320/Venice.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8o0vkoEz_W0/Ta1XKu_NioI/AAAAAAAABLc/_RiIuNwe63M/s1600/gondale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8o0vkoEz_W0/Ta1XKu_NioI/AAAAAAAABLc/_RiIuNwe63M/s320/gondale.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0lXN7GlJfBQ/Ta1XJ5b4gXI/AAAAAAAABLY/_BCOco6wx64/s1600/Gondola+parking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0lXN7GlJfBQ/Ta1XJ5b4gXI/AAAAAAAABLY/_BCOco6wx64/s320/Gondola+parking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The cost of living here is extremely high, although with care you can find the cafes and restaurants frequented by the locals, that still charge fair prices. There is no sense to this though – they are scattered throughout the city between the tourist traps, and usually don't display a menu. It seems that it is a legal requirement in Italy to display the prices of drinks somewhere in the establishment, so if you head on inside and search you will probably find out. However we found cheaper lunch venues had no menu at all. You just have to bustle in amongst the locals, ask what they have,and hope it doesn't cost too much. By comparison, the tourist venues are offering 'tourist menu €15 ' on a chalkboard outside. It is usually crap. Anything published in the Rough Guide is usually closed – they've probably made their money and ran – with very few exceptions, as we found throughout Spain and Italy.<br />
If you are out and about in Venice, the Fondamenta della Misericordia in Cannaregio, had several good value restaurants, particularly one that appeared to be only a wine bar, with no sign of serving food. We discovered that it had a great value menu in the last few hours that we were in Venice, despite having walked past it several times day and evening.<br />
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It is a fabulous city. After four days it is strange to see a car again. All transport in Venice is by water. Goods are delivered by cart through the narrow streets. Its hard to imagine life like this. And after dark the city assumes a damp, mysterious air with a sea mist arising from the canals, that allows you to imagine just how it was several hundred years ago. <br />
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It is possible to visit Venice in our own boat, although to do a 'James Bond' you would have to take the mast down to get under the first bridge! There are places to anchor for free, and it would be really cool to spend some more time there, but it is a very long way to go to the top of the Adriatic. After questioning many people about their trip through Croatia, we have decided to give it a miss for the time being. Although it is a beautiful country, and we were happy to pay the €200 cruising permit, we were told of exceptionally rude and aggressive demands for payment in most anchorages. They welcome charter crews to their towns, to spend money in their restaurants, but are positively rude to those on a budget who choose to anchor out. Normally we don't listen to the negative comments of other cruisers, and say that we are happy to go and find out for ourselves. However there is so much to see in the Mediterranean that we really don't need to suffer treatment like that, so unless we are overwhelmed with news of recent positive experiences, we will head on past the Adriatic in spring and get to Greece and Turkey as soon as the weather allows. <br />
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</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-37884261380008084542007-10-30T05:12:00.000-07:002011-04-17T06:03:43.170-07:00Naples and Southern Italy, October 2007<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u><b>Rome to Naples and beyond</b></u><br />
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We'd been informed by a local that autumn is the time of northerly winds in the Tyrrhenian sea, so we should have some lovely downwind sailing. Hmm.<br />
After a boring and very hot motorsail down the coast we spent a peaceful night anchored off Anzio, we were lucky to have very settled weather so we didn't have to go and negotiate a berth in the marina which apeared full anyway. <br />
<u><b>Gaeta - 3rd October 2007</b></u><br />
Next day we motored on to Gaeta, and into the friendly marina for €33 per night. We tried to ask about winter berths, but they thought they were full and the chap who looks after berthing was on holiday for 2 weeks. The pilot book says that Gaeta is a popular winter liveaboard place, but there was only 1 English couple (Sandra and Dennis) wintering there and they were off to the Uk soon. Seems that the marinas are filling up with local boats and so there is less space for a community to develop in winter. We spent a few days here, as we found a bar with Sky Sports to watch the next round of world cup rugby. It is a very Italian town, little evidence of tourism, and has market stalls and small shops selling all manner of local foods, including fresh buffulo mozzarella – a real local mouthwatering speciality-a treat with fresh tomatoes to make a Caprese salad. There are some very cheap local restaurants and pizzerias, and no-one tried to rip us off. What a refreshing change from Rome and less than 100 miles south. It would have been an interesting place to winter, but it was not to be. We watched Australia and New Zealand lose their quarter finals, and Stuart cried in his beer. First the America's cup then the Rugby world cup – his country had failed him!!<br />
There is a large American naval base in Gaeta and there is a bit of a beer and chips culture at that end of the town. Can't imagine what the town must be like when one of the large ships is in port, and hundreds of servicemen hit the bars for R&R. Not pretty. <br />
The pilot book told us that you cannot anchor here, which is why we went straight into a marina. Sandra and Dennis say that in summer the anchorages are full of boats and it is only when the wind finds its way from the southeast that there is any problem - and that comes from the weather not the authorities. <br />
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We had planned to visit Ponza, a beautiful island normally full of tourists in summer. It is such a small harbour that you are not allowed to anchor within it as the ferry cannot turn. There are many pontoons all privately operated by different firms. A few phone calls and we established that they are not just closed, but at the end of September they take away the whole pontoons. We'd heard a couple of horror stories about the weather turning and blowing straight into the bay with huge seas, and no protection, so all in all we decided to give it a miss and head for Ventotene, a smaller Island a few miles South East instead. <br />
Sandra and Dennis from Gaeta, had cruised this coast several times and they armed us with information about free – yes free! - harbour walls where you can stay for a night or two. On no account should we give money to anyone for staying on these walls. We liked the sound of that.<br />
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<u><b>Venotene - 8th October 2007</b></u><br />
Ventotene is a tiny island, but has 2 harbour bays. We took the north bay with the free harbour wall. There is also a marina there, which had one boat in it. As we arrived on the harbour wall an old man took our lines (even though we didn't need any help) and also helped the English boat arriving just behind us -'Island bear' with Alison and Ross on board. We were in a dilemma now. The old man clearly expected payment, but there are no facilities, and the power and water supplies on the harbour wall were securely taped up. We waited and the old man still hung around. He told us eventually to pay him €10 per boat. He explained it is an informal arrangement out of season – just for a small 'present'. He is clearly not an official – just the first self styled harbour master, on the scene to 'help' tie up. In theory we should have told him to push off, but there didn't appear to be many work opportunities on the island, and the population has declined to only 500. He continued to drink 'Island Bear's wine and when he finished his glass of red wine, and saw Alisons white wine, he said 'I'll have a white wine now please!' How could they possibly refuse? He continued uninvited to tell me in Italian all about the island, fishing, the fascists (of which I could understand about 5%). The others don't understand Italian so I was his sole audience. He went on to tell me how much he likes the ladies, and he has to go to the mainland to find love as there are no ladies left on the island. He occasionally brings one back to his Island and takes them for a tour in his boat then takes them dancing? At nights he plays cards in the only bar open in the port, by day he fishes in his little boat. When he offered to take me on a tour of the island (it was dark by now) I made my excuses and he went off to fish for squid at the end of the pontoon. What a character! <br />
Ventotene was one of the places where ancient Roman politicians exiled girlfriends or inconvenient opposition. It has a Roman port carved out of native tufa rock, a reminder of Roman engineering feats. Porto Veccio, the roman port, has a very small rocky entrance, but was the overnight stop for a fleet of charter boats. Ventotene acquired it's current name in the middle ages, from the winds that sweep across it from the north. We discovered why in the middle of the night. The wind and swell came straight into the harbour entrance and we all felt as if we'd spent a night in a twin-tub. We had a quick look around the small town in the morning and saw the charter boats rocking and rolling too, even though the Porto Veccio entrance faces east. They left one by one, making the scarily tight turn between the rocks and heading north into a pitching sea.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8USEeOB-q08/TaraWLLlo1I/AAAAAAAABHc/CKNhcAm2ef4/s1600/Ventotene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8USEeOB-q08/TaraWLLlo1I/AAAAAAAABHc/CKNhcAm2ef4/s320/Ventotene.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Porto Vecchio, a roman port carved out of tufa rock, complete with contemporary Italian external wiring system!</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mf_ttx6kDDg/TaraY1SyU9I/AAAAAAAABHg/lKB_Hu0qymI/s1600/Ventotene+porto+veccio+entrance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mf_ttx6kDDg/TaraY1SyU9I/AAAAAAAABHg/lKB_Hu0qymI/s320/Ventotene+porto+veccio+entrance.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> We were not far behind the charter boats, but headed south. Within an hour the wind had headed us again, and the engine was back on to keep us on course to the island of Ischia. Alison and Ross were just behind us. <br />
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<u><b>Ischia 10th October 2007</b></u><br />
Isola d'Ischia is at the north end of the Bay of Naples. It is the start of volcanic Italy, a collection of craters and ancient lava flows, with numerous hot water springs. We headed round to a bay on the south of the island, with a harbour wall with plenty of space. As we were tying up (with no help offered) the ormeggiatoro appeared. He asked if we wanted to stay the night, and I asked how much it was. He had to say it 3 times before I understood – an unbelievable €80 a night! We politely declined and anchored outside the harbour for free. It was flat calm as the sun set. After dark a slight swell started and we rolled from side to side. Stuart deployed the flopper-stopper which had some effect. This is a triangle of perspex hung from the end of the spinnaker pole. It is weighted at one corner, so that it dips into the water as the boat rolls towards it. It then flattens out and slows down the boats return roll, so resisting the pendulum motion that is frequently encountered with a side-on swell (is there ever anything other than a side on swell?) It works to a certain extent, and we plan to add some more layers of perspex and to put one out the opposite side to increase the resistance for next season. Island Bear had anchored near us and suffered the same lack of sleep that night. <br />
In the morning the wind changed and there was thunder and lightning all around. Both boats moved to the other side of the headland to protected flat water. We headed ashore for late afternoon discount entry the the hot springs up the hill. It was pure bliss, and we didn't mention too loudly that none of us had had a bath for well over a year!! The hot salty thermal water is stated as containing naturally healthy radioactivity – as a radiographer I find that statement a little disturbing, but it didn't spoil the effect. We were the last to leave the baths, feeling really clean for the first time in ages!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m2i3uOsY-S0/TarbGM1vk7I/AAAAAAAABHk/S32nmyOlOF0/s1600/Ischia+thermal+baths.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m2i3uOsY-S0/TarbGM1vk7I/AAAAAAAABHk/S32nmyOlOF0/s320/Ischia+thermal+baths.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nice hat Stu!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>That night the swell started up again. The third sleepless night on the trot now! It is hard to sleep when you are hanging onto your mattress with clenched fists and toes. We eventually abandoned the bed and set up the sea-berths in the saloon with the lee-cloths rigged. We managed to get some sleep like this but it still felt like we'd spent the night at sea!<br />
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<u><b>Naples 11th October 2007</b></u><br />
Everything that I had ever read about Naples had convinced me that I didn't want to go there. We'd met an American who had hired a car to drive the Amalfi coast, and he could not get insurance to park the car in Naples. Some friends who had been on a cruise ship had had their video camera stolen as soon as they stepped off the boat, only to be offered a video camera for sale just down the road! It has a reputation of bag-snatching from mopeds, and warnings not to be out after dark in the old town if you have any sense at all. However it was proving hard to find a marina to leave the boat to visit Pompei, and Marlin had found a nice spot in Sonnazzurro marina in the Mergellina area of Naples and had negotiated a place for us too, so in we went, followed by Island Bear. It was €50 per night (cash of course), which although sounds pricey for this time of year, especially with no facilities at all, but it was a bargain in this area. <br />
For the first time we locked every exterior locker on the boat when we went out. We hid spare credit cards and put our cash in zipped pockets and ventured out into the city convinced that we would be mugged at knifepoint before the evening was out. <br />
But Naples was a huge surprise. The people are so friendly it is untrue. Despite seeing it's fair share of tourists, we clearly stood out as 'foreign', and so people would ask us if we needed help on the bus, and would go out of their way to make sure we found our way to the right stop, and wait with us to make sure we got on the right bus, going the right way. We wandered the streets of the old town in the early evening and didn't feel at all threatened. The city looks seedy and filthy, the rubbish lies around uncollected overflowing into the roads, and it's as if they think Vesuvius might finish them all off in the night, and then it would have been a waste of time clearing up! Everyone has heard about the driving in Rome, but it is nothing to Naples. Here the cars whizz around the double laned streets with no regard for red lights, pedestrian crossings, scooters or oncoming veichles. Every car has bumps and scrapes, but there are few bad accidents and the mopeds zip in and out of the cars wherever they see a gap. There are no road markings,give-way or stop signs. If they observed normal rules of the road the city would never function, and it would be a massive grid-lock. At least this way every survivor gets where they want to go as quickly as possible- but you need eyes in the back and sides of your head to cross the streets! If there was a road code book it would have to be called “Racing with Anarchy”, unfortunately no one would bother to read it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-44Mxz0AuJUo/Tarc5ri45MI/AAAAAAAABHo/dER7FLj35cw/s1600/Naples+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-44Mxz0AuJUo/Tarc5ri45MI/AAAAAAAABHo/dER7FLj35cw/s320/Naples+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
All 6 of us from the 3 boats set off to visit the National Archeological Museum, which houses the mosaics and artefacts removed from the Pompei and Herculaneum sites. We got lost on the way there, but the back streets of Naples were a sight in themselves – we were agog as we quickly tried to get back on the main streets and out of what we imagined would be prime mugging territory. We arrived at the museum unscathed and booked a time to go into the 'secret room' (adults only) which contains all the items of an erotic nature that those naughty Romans liked to collect, including the marble sculpture of pan 'seducing' a goat, and all kinds of phallic shaped objects. After sniggering our way round that, we saw numerous mosaics, paintings and sculptures, and a huge collection of Egyptian items collected by the wealthy inhabitants of Pompei. <br />
Linda sat at the window looking over the city and just watched the traffic - better than television. <br />
A huge room sized cork model of Pompei whetted our appetite for our visit there the next day.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UB5k4_qHw64/TardG8VUzjI/AAAAAAAABHs/DYv5I8FBYEY/s1600/Pompeii+model.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UB5k4_qHw64/TardG8VUzjI/AAAAAAAABHs/DYv5I8FBYEY/s320/Pompeii+model.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The trip to Pompei by train on the aptly named circumvesuviana was very easy and we emerged from the train to find tourists from all parts of the world. It is a huge site, covering many miles. All the guides for the site are confusingly numbered differently so it is easiest to wander at will and see what you stumble across. It is so different from Ostia Antica, with more of the building intact to a higher level, but with the mosaics removed, and the number of tourists it was somehow less personal. We're glad that we got to visit both. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u5SiU0sqIMc/TardT3XZJrI/AAAAAAAABHw/Pm-hQbW25to/s1600/Pompeii+and+vesuvius.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u5SiU0sqIMc/TardT3XZJrI/AAAAAAAABHw/Pm-hQbW25to/s320/Pompeii+and+vesuvius.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Vesuvius in the background waits for its next opportunity</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gqPjP4jsfco/TareKa0bH_I/AAAAAAAABIE/GcOuc1UeUmA/s1600/Pompeii+mllstones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gqPjP4jsfco/TareKa0bH_I/AAAAAAAABIE/GcOuc1UeUmA/s320/Pompeii+mllstones.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Pompei millstones</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rpv3Rb0ftu0/TareCq0C8aI/AAAAAAAABH8/MbNyT3Mtqlc/s1600/Pompeii+tourists.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rpv3Rb0ftu0/TareCq0C8aI/AAAAAAAABH8/MbNyT3Mtqlc/s320/Pompeii+tourists.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The 'tourists' observe the deep ruts made by chariots in the city streets, and the slabs put in place for pedestrains to cross the mucky wet roads, so thoughtful in those days. </i><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0WNTQJG-ypE/TareHO9jjfI/AAAAAAAABIA/VOP5KrsGpT4/s1600/Pompeii+tourists2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0WNTQJG-ypE/TareHO9jjfI/AAAAAAAABIA/VOP5KrsGpT4/s320/Pompeii+tourists2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EGbwJDDb6sA/TareXE0ik8I/AAAAAAAABIQ/vmVpr8a9Ru4/s1600/Lunchtime.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EGbwJDDb6sA/TareXE0ik8I/AAAAAAAABIQ/vmVpr8a9Ru4/s320/Lunchtime.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lunchtime in ancient Pompei, ' what will it be guv?'</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>My old guide book doesn't mention the brothel by name, and the entry just states that the contents of the building are of a licentious nature. A voice behind us said loudly in English 'ooo these pictures are a bit suggestive' She was looking at the 'menu' painted on the wall above the bedrooms! After 2,000 years it seems that mankind hasn't learned many new tricks.<br />
Stuart in a loud voice said, 'See Steph, I told you it was normal!'<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qd7UxbAjBZs/TareOZGC-II/AAAAAAAABII/r8VZJg-ZFlE/s1600/Pompeii+menu2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qd7UxbAjBZs/TareOZGC-II/AAAAAAAABII/r8VZJg-ZFlE/s320/Pompeii+menu2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>One of the highlights was a black and white mosaic at the entrance to a villa. This picture doesn't do it justice, but in the light you can easily see the words 'Cave Canem' – beware of the dog!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DzSH7UxxpjY/Tard76BFHfI/AAAAAAAABH0/qZYArK-9wSA/s1600/Beware+of+the+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DzSH7UxxpjY/Tard76BFHfI/AAAAAAAABH0/qZYArK-9wSA/s320/Beware+of+the+dog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The horror of the eruption is seen in the plaster casts made from the shapes of the bodies left in the volcanic ash. You can't help looking up at Vesuvius and wondering when its going to happen next. As the sun set we made our way back to the city.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vk1V7yp2gOQ/Tard-zZAF1I/AAAAAAAABH4/nDhv7-oFcvM/s1600/Pompeii+warehouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vk1V7yp2gOQ/Tard-zZAF1I/AAAAAAAABH4/nDhv7-oFcvM/s320/Pompeii+warehouse.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>We relaxed the following day, and bought a one day travel pass for €2.50 and spent the day taking buses and funiculars to just absorb the sights and sounds of the city. The view from the top of the immense Castel Sant'Elmo is stunning on all four sides. It was the best spent €1 entry fee of the entire trip. Among the tightly packed streets of the old Naples you can clearly see the old main Roman road. From above it looks like the city had cracked in two.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o7e4zamtvEk/TareUKhz4kI/AAAAAAAABIM/5UBeagvasMo/s1600/Naples+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o7e4zamtvEk/TareUKhz4kI/AAAAAAAABIM/5UBeagvasMo/s320/Naples+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It is an immense sprawl for many miles around, extending right up the base of Vesuvius, demonstrating the full effect that Vesuvius will have if and when it goes pop again.<br />
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Back at the marina, we'd negotiated with a local restaurant to show the Rugby for the international yacht crews instead of their ubiquitous soccer. We enjoyed a delicious meal of buffalo mozzarella overload, caprese salad followed by buffulo mozzarella pizza. The stuff in the plastic packets will never be good enough once the real thing has been sampled. Chatting to one of the yacht crews, we discovered that he earns €2000 per month with no qualifications and he is paid offshore so saves on tax. Makes you think ! He was not the first we have met earning a very acceptable wage traveling the world. No food or accomodation costs and no tax to pay. <br />
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Next day was time to leave our eye-wateringly expensive berth. It was a bit windy so we asked for some help to extract ourselves backwards from our space between 2 super-poweryachts. The helpers were so useless that we were worse off with them around and we scraped our way out, our first cock-up since we put Matador on her side in 2004. Fortunately for us our only casualty was the danbouy , now a bit crushed. We were not about to squeeze back in and look for any scratches on the super-boats and the marina staff of whom there were plenty to do nothing, seemed totally un-interested so off we went.<br />
We should have known better than to leave with any wind blowing- its always a bad sign in the Med. The force 4 rapidly became force 7 and our intended anchorage on the south eastern tip of the Bay of Naples (Punta Campanella) turned out to be too deep to anchor in, and the promised mooring buoys were not laid. We headed for the island of Capri, having already had a quote for the marina of €175 per night (!!), we went straight for the anchorage on the south coast.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u8ukMZnHVMo/TarR5MsuboI/AAAAAAAABHY/1G3rM6FZYl4/s1600/Capri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u8ukMZnHVMo/TarR5MsuboI/AAAAAAAABHY/1G3rM6FZYl4/s320/Capri.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Capri – we were here, but only for 5 minutes.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unfortunately the swell and wind were starting to come round and blowing in the bay and the few anchored boats were rolling like crazy. With limited choices we decided to head on south overnight, sadly we were not to see the Amalfi coast in daylight. It was very rough with winds up and down from 40-50 knots by 11pm. Waves crashed into the cockpit. It was exciting and scary at the same time, but as it was dark it didn't seem so bad as we coundn't see the sea state! Anyway we came through unscathed. Marlin had sailed with us, and they suffered a bent bimini frame and their dodgers were ripped from the their attachments, when a rogue wave washed across the cockpit. All good fun. We found the boat sailed smoothest with a small amount of jib un-furled and 2 reefs in the main. In the dark with the sea state as it was we felt it not worth the risk of bending on the storm jib.<br />
As we passed <b>Capo Polinuro</b>, or cape of good sleep, and turned into the <b>Gulf of Policastro</b> the winds came round to head us as usual but we perservered and entered the tiny harbour of Marina di Scario at 9am in bright sunshine. It was a glorious morning, and the wind had stopped blowing about 500 yards from the entrance. <br />
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<u><b>Marina di Scario - 15th October 2007</b></u><br />
The Golf of Policastro is rarely visited by cruising boats, as many rush on past towards the Straits of Messina. It is a shame, but at least it means that these little harbours remain untouched by the ravages of tourism. Scario is the sleepiest place imaginable. Even the dogs are too sleepy to bark. The church bells of the charming little church next to the port chime every 15 minutes day and night to stop everyone falling into a coma. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQZKLs7QNCQ/Targb3CZXnI/AAAAAAAABIY/XR-HrdEjlPs/s1600/scario.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQZKLs7QNCQ/Targb3CZXnI/AAAAAAAABIY/XR-HrdEjlPs/s320/scario.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-khOuGLrPAFo/TargfTdW__I/AAAAAAAABIc/dSzRbtXuHxo/s1600/scario2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-khOuGLrPAFo/TargfTdW__I/AAAAAAAABIc/dSzRbtXuHxo/s320/scario2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We idled away a couple of days here, eating a fantastic lunch on the waterfront for very little money. It was really hard to stay awake though, as the town inspired pleasant little naps throughout the day. After 2 days we really couldn't blame it on our loss of a nights sleep for the last passage anymore, and forced ourselves to extract the foldup bikes from the forecabin, and go out and get our blood pumping again. We had a short ride around the bay and tried to get up into the hills, but only finding a steep no-through housing development at the top for our trouble. <br />
After 3 nights, no-one had approached us for money for tying to the harbour wall. There was no pressure for space anyway - we were the only visitors. But a couple of digger trucks had moved in to do some work to the end of the breakwater, and it was interfering in our afternoon naps so we untied and motored across the bay to Maratea, enjoying the beautiful rocky coastline views on the way.<br />
(6 weeks later we went through this area on the train. I had been looking out of the window, expectant to get a glance of this stunningly beautiful coast from a different aspect. I woke up 10 minutes after we passed it. There is definitely something soperific about this place and its proximity to Capo Polinuro, or Cape of Good Sleep. According to legend Palinuro was Aeneas's helmsman, founder of Rome - who was escaping after the siege of Troy. Palinuro was lulled to sleep by the sirens and fell into the sea during a violent storm. For three nights and days Palinuro survived by holding onto the ship's helm (it's not quite clear if he pulled the helm off with himself as he fell into the sea ... however...) and when he did finally manage to reach the shore he was killed by the local inhabitants. What woke them up I ask myself?)<br />
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<u><b>Maratea - 18th Octbober 2007</b></u><br />
For miles out to sea, the imposing statue of Christ with outstrecthed arms perched high on a peak of rock assists navigation into the tiny harbour of Maratea. Once inside the harbour the 'Redentore' , or Risen Christ, dominates the skyline. It is particularly imposing when back-lit by lightning most of the night. The harbour wall was crowded with fishing boats, but room was found for us, Marlin and later Island Bear. No charge is made for the wall, but it is made clear that it is for one night only. As all the weather forecasts were harbingers of doom, the harbour master told us that we could stay until the weather improved. <br />
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We explored the neighbouring villages of Maratea Paese high up in the hills, and Fiumicello with its one bar, supermarket and butchers. Everywhere we went we asked if there was somewhere to watch the Rubgy world cup final. With England unexpectedly to play South Africa we were desperate. It seemed there was only one bar in the vicinity with SkySport, but he would be showing soccer to the locals. Eventually we found a helpful and English speaking lady in the tourist office, some miles from the marina. She understoord our plight, and phoned every bar, hotel and restaurant in the area, but with no success. If they had Skysport, they would be showing the Inter- Roma game. Despondent, we begged the nearest bar ( a 2 mile walk) to let us watch the last 15 minutes of the rugby, after the soccer game had finished. There were 6 of us and 6 locals, but they still held out and watched the soccer game but the bar owner flicked over at each break and immediately at the end of the soccer game so we saw as much as could be hoped for. We lost anyway, so it was all a bit of a damp teatowel in the end. <br />
Maratea is the only town on the west coast of the region of Basilicata, which boasts a beautiful unspoilt national park, rocky peaks, and lots of walking opportunities. Unfortunately, it is difficult to take advantage of most of the area without a car. It is certainly an area that we would like to return to later in the winter when we have access to a hire car. The east coast around Matera, with its sassi or caves, looks particularly interesting, and is a Unesco world heritage site. <br />
At the suggestion of the tourist office lady we booked a taxi for the 6 crew to go to the top of the hill to visit the Redentore. After rattling along the 1965 road built on stilts, which looks like a childs meccano attempt at a flyover, we arrived at the cold and windy peak. The 22m statue was positioned in 1965 and faces inland, back to the sea. The mind boggles as to how they got the statue up there, and what sort of a party must have gone on when it was raised into position, changing the focus of the landscape for many miles.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L0DiAVTqEFk/TarhCC4a90I/AAAAAAAABIg/vUUzYtUAaNs/s1600/JC+Maratea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L0DiAVTqEFk/TarhCC4a90I/AAAAAAAABIg/vUUzYtUAaNs/s320/JC+Maratea.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>How did they get him here? The mind boggles- you should see the road we came up!</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MlKJ4cPXjAg/TarhK7BFbKI/AAAAAAAABIk/jk7TfwIHkf4/s1600/JC+Maratea+tour+view+up-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MlKJ4cPXjAg/TarhK7BFbKI/AAAAAAAABIk/jk7TfwIHkf4/s320/JC+Maratea+tour+view+up-3.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A stairway to heaven?</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2XXn_e-CH0/Tarj0NwLcmI/AAAAAAAABJU/qewIQBfX7Uw/s1600/maratea+view+from+top+new.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2XXn_e-CH0/Tarj0NwLcmI/AAAAAAAABJU/qewIQBfX7Uw/s320/maratea+view+from+top+new.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the top.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GDKDaYf2P48/TarkYXw0XwI/AAAAAAAABJc/AAP1hspL1FU/s1600/Scario+and+Maratea+%252832%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GDKDaYf2P48/TarkYXw0XwI/AAAAAAAABJc/AAP1hspL1FU/s320/Scario+and+Maratea+%252832%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The bad weather or 'tempo bruttisimo' as we now know to call it – literally really ugly weather, had the marineros tying all the local boats together and tying lines across the port to stop them swinging around in the violent gusts that scream down from the mountains. We watched with nervous anticipation of what that might mean for us rafted alongside the harbour wall. <br />
After the first night of tempo brutto, with forked lightning illuminating 'Il Christo', we awoke to see the peaks of the mountains and hills covered in snow. In October!!! This is not what we have come to expect – is it some kind of divine retribution for having too much of a good time?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bDYi6mGVzhE/TarkLw8zJSI/AAAAAAAABJY/XserLSQuhNI/s1600/Marateasnow+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="278" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bDYi6mGVzhE/TarkLw8zJSI/AAAAAAAABJY/XserLSQuhNI/s320/Marateasnow+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Maratea</i></td></tr>
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<u><b>Cetraro - 23rd October 2007</b></u><br />
As the weather calmed down, it was time to move on south again. Our little flotilla left one by one, leaving early to make the most of the short daylight hours. We motorsailed to Cetraro (pronouned Chitraro) and moored bows to in a huge space in the port. An old chap came along to ask if we wanted any help with our lines, or finding places ashore, he didn't ask for money, he just wanted to advertise his restaurant opposite the marina. We would be his only customers in the 3 nights we were there. Shortly after he wandered off, another Italian came along to ask if the previous chap had demanded money from us. He was incensed as he assured us that he was the marinero and that his port was free. We assured him that we had not been asked for or parted with any money and he calmed down slightly. He insisted that he even owned the patched and chafed lines we tied to although he offered no assistance to untangle them from under the boat, clearly they had snapped numerous times and the occupiers at the time had managed to cross and tangle the lazy lines and then retie them with the mess still in place. It took an hour to sort it out and we rested on our tenuous rotten lines praying for not too much wind tonight. <br />
This place had to be the low point of year for me so far. We walked to the hill top village several miles away. It poured with rain on the way and we arrived a 1.01 pm just as everything closed for lunch for 3 ½ hours. We dried out in a bar (with no seats) for about an hour, then went in search of lunch. There was not a single restaurant. No town gives its best on a rainy day, but this place seemed dead, depressed, without hope and desperately dreary. We managed to grab a slice of pizza in another bar, where the local hoods smoked dope outside, or fed the fruit machines inside. What else is there to do? And how on earth do they afford to put €20 per hour into a fruit machine? The most exciting thing that was happening in the village was lots of people assembling at the main church. It turned out to be a funeral – which sort of says it all for Cetraro really. The flowers did fill a 4x4 pick-up truck though and it appeared to be the funeral of a local respected law-enforcer. To cheer ourselves up, the crew of 6 went for a meal at the restaurant that our first visitor had been so keen to promote. It was without doubt the most disappointing meal we have experienced in our entire trip. Most of the menu was not available and we had a job to insist on our selection over the propieters expensive choice for our meal. One of the options was green, tomato or mixed salad. We chose the mixed salad, it sounded more interesting. The green salad consisted of lettuce, one type only. The tomato salad consisted of, guess what, some chopped tomatoes. Obviously the mixed variety would normaly represent a challenge to any chef to do something, anything, but not this one. Half the lettuce and half the tomatoes were served slopped unceremoniously onto a plate. The evening was finished off by the dribbling water supply failing completely, so not even the toilets worked. <br />
Beam me up scotty!<br />
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<u><b>Vibo Valentia 25th October 2007</b></u><br />
It was time to move on again, and we planned a short hop down the coast to Vibo Valentia, in our flotilla formation of 3 boats again. The wind increased more and more, but fortunately stayed offshore from this inhospitable coast. There are no ports to run for between Cetraro and Vibo, so we were at least thankful for a beam reach along the coast, although not so pleased to be on the receiving end of 45 knots again. Here we go again we thought. Fortunately Stella del Sud in Vibo Valentia marina could accommodate all three boats and so we gratefully tied up and washed the salt crystals from the boats once more. More bad weather was forecast so it was time to review our options for getting to Malta for the winter. <br />
Many of our friends had already arrived in Malta and had struggled to find a berth there. Like so many marinas near here, it is full to capacity. The only option is to sail there, join the queue and hope that they can eventually squeeze just one more boat in for the winter. We heard of one yacht that had prebooked and paid in advance, only to be told when he arrived that there was no space for him. With more bad weather forecast to be on its way, we decided to book into Vibo Valentia for a cheap monthly rate and have a look at the surroundings while we sussed out whether the late October-early November weather might settle down again or if the year's cruising had fizzled to a damp and uncomfortable end. <br />
</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-35766696192191991772007-10-10T03:33:00.000-07:002011-04-17T04:01:08.596-07:00Rome, October 07<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><u><b>Rome (Fiumicino and Ostia Lido) 20th September - 3rd October 2007</b></u><br />
There are two seaward entrances to Rome on the west coast of Italy. The northern waterway is the Fiumicino canal and the southern one the Fiamara Grande river. The latter appeared the more appealing of the two at 8am when we arrived after an initially boisterous overnight trip. We slowly meandered upriver waiting for the offices to open so that we could contact the many marinas/yards regarding overnight stays. There are many different businesses lining both sides of river. We found that the VHF rarely illicited a response, so we started phoning. Each time we got the office secretary who could only say no. As we subsequently discovered the power to find that extra little space for a few nights lays with the head honcho, not with the office secretary. The secret is to go alongside a raft of boats, climb ashore, and then go and find the man with the power. Our first experience of this at ‘Delta’ just before the bridge earned us a free nights stay for one night. He said this is the worst time of year to arrive, as the boats are not going out, and all the winter boats are arriving, or waiting to be hauled out. Next day we walked to the Fuimincino canal (about 5 miles!!) to have a look. The marina there was dirty, smelly, badly looked after and a swell was already working its way in. We eventually found a bus back and experienced our first traffic jam in 14 months. Also within 30 minutes of arriving we saw a 3 car shunt complete with shouting and arm-waving as only Italians can do – fantastic!!<br />
After our free night we drifted back down the river looking for likely spots. We saw a space alongside a wall in a small club, tied up and attempted to get ashore along the crumbling wall. We found the head honcho who shook his head gravely when he heard where we had tied up, and how we had got ashore. ‘Didn’t you see the signs ?’ he said. ‘Oh you mean the small sign only in Italian hidden behind the other boat tied to the same wall ?’ we didn’t reply. After he got over his disgust he introduced us to Jo and Alan, an English couple who had job swapped to Rome, and kept their catamaran in the yacht club. They were off to Corsica that night, so we could use their berth for up to 2 weeks. This was fantastic news. We asked the ‘boss’ what the price was , and we both heard – ‘tonight you are guest, then €50 3 nights.’ Excellent value we thought. Alan and Jo gave us a lift to the supermarket , we cooked them some supper, and helped them untie their lines when they left at 1am. We happily occupied their berth alongside the wall that wasn’t falling down but had listened with interest to their comments of what the lower reaches of the river are like in a blow.<br />
The local town south of the river where the marina touristico is based is called Ostia Lido. It is a residential/seaside suburb servicing Rome by frequent trains. It also has substantial social housing which makes life on public transport full of colourful characters. The next day we finally found the train station in Ostia after another long walk. We subsequently found that it is dead easy to get a bus to the train station on the same 75 minute train ticket. This ticket costs €1 and covers all transport in and around Rome- what a bargain! Thirty minutes on the train and a direct change to the underground all on the same ticket we were in the heart of Rome, our first view the Circo Massimo – the ancient city’s main chariot racing venue, which had a capacity for 400,000 spectators in it’s glory days. <br />
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What a city !! We wandered the ancient city centre remains for free in complete awe, visiting the colisseum, circling the ruins of the Aventine and Palatine hills, the Roman forum – heart of the senate, Imperial Forum – surprisingly intact remains of ancient Rome's shopping centre. With a little imagination you could still see Julius Caesar, Tiberius, Claudius, Nero making their way from their luxury real estate on the hill to the centre of power of most of Western Europe.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AMk2g_RKlZo/TarEH3TviOI/AAAAAAAABGc/mDa4jR_Qnf4/s1600/Roman+forum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AMk2g_RKlZo/TarEH3TviOI/AAAAAAAABGc/mDa4jR_Qnf4/s320/Roman+forum.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The roman forum excavations, in the heart of the city, free to enter.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>After a cheap and cheerful tourist menu for €15 each, we headed back to the train, and back to the boat at our little private yacht club, for a peaceful night tied up! What bliss!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pFVZyil3Nls/TarETCSkeeI/AAAAAAAABGs/ETpqWg3vS4s/s1600/Rome+%252883%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pFVZyil3Nls/TarETCSkeeI/AAAAAAAABGs/ETpqWg3vS4s/s320/Rome+%252883%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_hX-_O-7KUs/TarDwDHOBCI/AAAAAAAABF8/PpCN9tvcwcQ/s1600/Colloseum+inside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_hX-_O-7KUs/TarDwDHOBCI/AAAAAAAABF8/PpCN9tvcwcQ/s320/Colloseum+inside.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The colisseum – showing the underfloor changing rooms of the gladiators. The wooden floor had trap doors with lifting platforms to raise the animals taking part in the games.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://www.enjoyrome.co.uk/">www.enjoyrome.co.uk</a> has a useful tourist guide, particularly highlighting what can be visited for free. We spent several days going in and out of Rome on the bus-train-underground trip seeing most of our list of sights. You really could spend 6 months here just exploring. Every corner of Rome has something interesting to see. For us the favourites were the Pantheon – the most complete ancient Rome structure in the city – with a 9m hole in the perfect domed roof and holes in the marble floor to drain away the rain, and the Roman forum where you can just take along a picnic lunch and a book and sit on some old pillars lying in the ruins watching the world go by.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p3kFFkyP99E/TarD8zuM8YI/AAAAAAAABGM/lWXE-XAiDwE/s1600/Rome+%2528196%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p3kFFkyP99E/TarD8zuM8YI/AAAAAAAABGM/lWXE-XAiDwE/s320/Rome+%2528196%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Inside the Pantheon, the oldest surviving Roman structure. </i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yjtRooqGp3w/TarEI9rErKI/AAAAAAAABGg/v23rpXAxNMg/s1600/Rome+%2528199%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yjtRooqGp3w/TarEI9rErKI/AAAAAAAABGg/v23rpXAxNMg/s320/Rome+%2528199%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The hole in the roof. Rain comes in and drains through holes in the floor. </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>We also visited the catacombs out on the Appia antica (old roman road leaving the city gates), the extensive burial chambers of the first christians in Rome. We visited one of the six sites, it is thought that there are 50 others as yet un-excavated. The one we visited alone had 7 miles of tunnels and had been the resting place of 100 000 bodies, including the apostles Peter and Paul at some time, before their remains were moved elsewhere when they became saints. <br />
On another occasion we left the final resting place of St Peter at the Vatican, the famous landmark square, the Pope was out, and walked along the Janiculum hill with superb views out over the city, to Trastavere, a laid back neighbourhood with many good value trattorias. We ate a feast for €10 including wine! If you are sensible, Rome will not cost a fortune to eat out but beware of buying property. As there is a ruin around every corner there is also one under every building, or possibly concealed in the walls of the existing one. One wealthy land owner who bought property in central Rome to build a hotel in the 1930s, upon digging the first hole found a temple. 'No problem', he thought, 'it will look great beside my new but slightly smaller hotel'. Unfortunately there was another one under the next plot and more under the rest of the land. In the end he gave up and donated the entire site back to Rome.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1nXlk3u1eis/TarD39dCEPI/AAAAAAAABGI/BZU3Xh8CNyU/s1600/Rome+real+estate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1nXlk3u1eis/TarD39dCEPI/AAAAAAAABGI/BZU3Xh8CNyU/s320/Rome+real+estate.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A bummer of a real estate deal </i></td></tr>
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We were by now getting quite cocky about knowing our way around, and we returned to Ostia station at 10pm one night getting on the no 62 bus. All the bus routes do a figure of 8 route passing via the train station on each loop, so when we realised the bus was going the wrong way we thought we'd just sit tight and go back to the station. When the driver noticed that he only had a couple of Inglesi left on board he asked us where we wanted to go. He then gave us the unwelcome news that this was the last bus and it did not return to the station. By this time we were out in an enormous park miles from anywhere, truly in the middle of nowhere. The driver showed us where to wait for a bus that would take us back to the station, but he didn't know how long we might have to wait. So we stood on the side of a dual carriageway running through the middle of this park/ forrest, in the pitch black, not really knowing where we were, without the number for a taxi, with not a soul in sight, trying not the think about Ostia's violent past and reputation as the place where a blind eye was turned to mafia-style shootings!<br />
When the bus finally came we had to jump into the middle of the road in front of it shining a torch on ourselves for the driver to see that someone was waiting at the stop – his face was a picture, he really wasn't expecting to pick up any passengers in this neck of the woods!! Back at the station we sought out a taxi to take us safely back, and had to knock up the night-watchman to let us into the marina. You'd think that we had learnt our lesson, but the next night we got on a bus going the wrong way again!!! This time we realised after 2 stops and walked back to the station to wait for one going the right way. Once your ticket is validated, for a period of 75 minutes, on train, tube or bus you don't show your ticket to the driver so there is no natural opportunity to check that it is the right bus!!! After that excitement we never had a problem again.<br />
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Back at the marina we thought we'd check with the boss man about our continued stay. He said he told us that the cost is '2 nights you are guest then €50 per night'. Not quite what we heard last time. The unspoken rule is that this is cash in hand and goes in the yard staff pocket, not via the taxman! We were quickly learning that in Rome nothing is as it first seems!! We'd heard that there was some bad weather coming from the west and looking at the river entrance, and hearing the comments of various people it was becoming clear to us that in a westerly a huge swell works it's way into the river creating standing waves. As we were moored alongside a bank in the main river, we predicted that this was not going to be a comfortable place for Matador to remain, so we were making plans to move to the Porto Turistico just south of the river entrance, with a reputation for rip-off prices. We offered to pay the boss then and there so we could move off in the next day or so, but he just said 'later'. That was the last we saw of him, as the next day was his day off, then he was somewhere else ! When we gave up waiting and tried to pay the girl in the office, the price was €75 per night, no free nights!!!!! We firmly told her what we had agreed with the bossman, left what we owed and left. Who knows if it found it's way to the right person or not!<br />
On entering Porto Turistico you have to speak to the control tower by VHF radio. They do not speak any English. They told us to wait. We waited and waited, circling in the entrance. Finally someone came along in a boat and asked what we were doing. 'You have to call the tower for a berth' he said in Italian. 'We did' we said. 'Ah ' he said, and after a short discussion in rapid Italian with the tower, led us to a vacant berth. Once safely tied up he told us to go to the office 1km away along the prom. It is a huge marina. The office was closed early for lunch for 3 hours. So we went to Rome instead, intending to return at 6pm before the office closed at the stated closing time of 6.30pm. When we returned at 5.50pm the office was closed already!<br />
The next morning we walked to the office again. The girls in the office were very friendly, spoke English and the price was only €44 per night, dropping to €22 after 1st October - so not so much of a rip off really, considering that there is little swell in this marina and all facilities are available. But we could only stay in this berth for 1 night, so then we had to return to the boat and move it to a new place, where we could still only stay for a few nights, and would have to move again. No problem. <br />
We took the opportunity to visit more of Rome's sights, and to go to the excavations of Ostia Antica. This is outside the city, to the north of Ostia Lido. At the time of ancient Rome it marked the coastline, and was the vital port of the ancient city of Rome, with a population of 100,000. After the decline of Rome’s power it gradually silted up and was stripped of most of it’s marble and left to be covered by alluvium deposited by the Tiber as the river changed its course though the years. It was re-discovered in 1909, and is now an extensive site of warehouses, meeting places, baths, dwellings, cafés, temples and theatres. It takes at least half a day to cover the site, and is pleasantly tourist-free. It is possible to take a picnic lunch and sit in the courtyard of the remains of one of the merchants houses. As it is more low-key than Pompei the mosaics have mostly been left in situ, leaving you with the feeling that the Romans have only just left. It's another place not to be missed!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-skuRZRGvy6s/TarEXIf0_aI/AAAAAAAABGw/JNeY_CoixwQ/s1600/Ostia+Antica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-skuRZRGvy6s/TarEXIf0_aI/AAAAAAAABGw/JNeY_CoixwQ/s320/Ostia+Antica.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Ostia Antica -the port of Rome</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s6FtCDkNlBA/TarEteUlyzI/AAAAAAAABHA/x7XANyW48DQ/s1600/Ostia+Antica2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s6FtCDkNlBA/TarEteUlyzI/AAAAAAAABHA/x7XANyW48DQ/s320/Ostia+Antica2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jcTHdFukehg/TarEYy5QncI/AAAAAAAABG0/pXVw3l9f-WQ/s1600/Ostia+Antica+mosaic+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jcTHdFukehg/TarEYy5QncI/AAAAAAAABG0/pXVw3l9f-WQ/s320/Ostia+Antica+mosaic+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nDvbaFQ5HQk/TarENhcrUDI/AAAAAAAABGo/nFK0cOYSas8/s1600/Ostia+Antica+mosaic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nDvbaFQ5HQk/TarENhcrUDI/AAAAAAAABGo/nFK0cOYSas8/s320/Ostia+Antica+mosaic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We won’t fill the entire website with descriptions of all the sites of Rome, and we could. Open any guide book and be astounded, not as astounded as you will be when you see it for yourself. Suffice to say that Rome could keep you entertained for months, would we have stayed longer? Yes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zoqRacH6P7M/TarEiMiHXxI/AAAAAAAABG8/1_qO_slV30k/s1600/Column.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zoqRacH6P7M/TarEiMiHXxI/AAAAAAAABG8/1_qO_slV30k/s320/Column.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uGVezzTYh34/TarEDoBNlWI/AAAAAAAABGY/zgajFQjga6I/s1600/Rome+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uGVezzTYh34/TarEDoBNlWI/AAAAAAAABGY/zgajFQjga6I/s320/Rome+%25282%2529.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The column of Trajan, from 112AD with a detailed story of what happened during the campaign in what is now modern Romania.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K5FLx7cLkhI/TarD95U1NPI/AAAAAAAABGQ/sJOjENSht3A/s1600/Spanish+steps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K5FLx7cLkhI/TarD95U1NPI/AAAAAAAABGQ/sJOjENSht3A/s320/Spanish+steps.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The drinking water flows freely all around Rome, just bring a bottle</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SqAYmc3MQ0c/TarDessEc8I/AAAAAAAABF4/wOBU50KF2aU/s1600/Trevi+fountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SqAYmc3MQ0c/TarDessEc8I/AAAAAAAABF4/wOBU50KF2aU/s320/Trevi+fountain.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Trevi fountain-toss a coin over your shoulder into the fountain to ensure you will return to Rome</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0laQqB2saZo/TarDxcuvtgI/AAAAAAAABGA/Nn5Mg1W91q4/s1600/St+Peters+Sq+Rome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="59" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0laQqB2saZo/TarDxcuvtgI/AAAAAAAABGA/Nn5Mg1W91q4/s320/St+Peters+Sq+Rome.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>St Peters square – waiting for an audience with the Pope</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>We tried to negotiate a berth for the winter, to return in November after further cruising, as it was still too early for us to consider starting our winter lay up. This proved to be further opportunity for modern Romans to practice their favourite art of rip-off. After declining an offer to pay the list price in cash up front for 6 months to secure a berth with no paperwork we decided to leave. But first the office had to deal one more blow to our faith in fair dealings. To be fair, rip off is a bit harsh, we have discovered it to be an Italian, predominantly Roman sport to eek just a bit more out of you than you expected. It’s not the quantity that counts, it’s how cleverly you can obscure or withhold the whole story. The published price list states that there is a weekly rate which amounts to the 7th night for free and following that a monthly rate with further discount. Having been there for 10 days we calculated 10 days at the weekly rate, however the office informed us that we didn’t qualify for this discounted rate as although we had been in the marina for 10 days, we had at their request, moved to a different berth mid-way through our 10-day stay, thus not completing a 7 day period on either berth, and as the berths are rented from different berth holders the published rates did not apply! This news given with a smile and a shrug! By now we had given up arguing against logic like this. We paid up and waved goodbye to rip-off Rome. We were not disappointed or dis-heartened, we were just astounded by how many opportunities the modern-day Romans take to extract a little bit more money off you than you thought you'd agreed. Hardly worth the bother, it really is a game for them, a source of irritation to us in an otherwise fabulous city. But rest assured, they don't just do it to foreigners - anyone is fair game. As an example we were in an Indian restaurant in central Rome. There is always a cover charge per person, we were used to that, and by law the menu has to state how much it is, usually €1.50 or €2 each. This restaurant it was €4 per table, fair enough we thought. When the neighbouring table of 4 Italians got their bill, they queried the cover charge of €8. The waiter smiled, shrugged, and lifted up the tablecloth – 'it's two tables together' he said!!!! You just have to admire the nerve!<br />
For information, the price in the marina drops by 50% to €22 per night from 1 October, making <b>Porto Turistico</b> a bargain at this time of year, sorry nearly got you, there is a 2% additional charge for water. It is still a good deal being so close to Rome, but it may still be potluck as to whether you can find a berth. Our friends on Marlin had trouble getting in a few days after us. The control tower would not admit them, and we had to go and negotiate on their behalf with a private contractor who operates some other berths in the marina to find a short stay for them while they circled outside the marina. All this the day after the office had told us that there was plenty of room for our friends to come. Eventually we were successful, more euros changing hands, but if we had not already been 'inside' Marlin would have had to go up the river and take their chances there. It sounds as if it is easier to get a place in high season as the locals are out using their boats and anchoring around the islands, but then you have to suffer the city heat of Rome, and high season prices. <br />
To explain what we have found in numerous marinas in Italy: the berths are all sold to private individuals and they in turn allow third party “ommagiotori” to let them out to visitors when not in use. This is why often there is more than one supplier of visitor berths in the same marina and why you should not accept the first price or rejection on the radio, but they hotly guard their charges, and will rarely offer information regarding other competitor Ommagiatori, unless you ask, seems that we got a lucky break.</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-15620379814772783032007-09-30T03:05:00.000-07:002011-04-17T03:28:27.810-07:00The Tuscan Islands, September 2007<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IJFk7jxQm00/TapkmTe967I/AAAAAAAABEU/ssJAPz2cUjk/s1600/01+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IJFk7jxQm00/TapkmTe967I/AAAAAAAABEU/ssJAPz2cUjk/s1600/01+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IJFk7jxQm00/TapkmTe967I/AAAAAAAABEU/ssJAPz2cUjk/s320/01+Elba.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Approaching Marina di Campo, South Elba</i><br />
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</tbody></table><u><b>Elba 8th September 07</b></u><br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Es5yzposWtY/TapkpdiCETI/AAAAAAAABFg/Cw9gDTXFdV8/s1600/02+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Es5yzposWtY/TapkpdiCETI/AAAAAAAABFg/Cw9gDTXFdV8/s320/02+Elba.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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. <br />
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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.<br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f1YtqeCRS4o/TapkpKvgTRI/AAAAAAAABFY/2m-rBrQ0Gn4/s1600/03+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f1YtqeCRS4o/TapkpKvgTRI/AAAAAAAABFY/2m-rBrQ0Gn4/s320/03+Elba.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
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The next sunny clear day we hired a 100cc scooter for €32 and wobbled off for a tour of the island.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RU0gDpFqkmI/Tapko_7ar-I/AAAAAAAABFU/HijqG1Wm6OM/s1600/05+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RU0gDpFqkmI/Tapko_7ar-I/AAAAAAAABFU/HijqG1Wm6OM/s320/05+Elba.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WgXIkptAHd4/TapkovmBvJI/AAAAAAAABFQ/oAvBY-RUiTg/s1600/06+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WgXIkptAHd4/TapkovmBvJI/AAAAAAAABFQ/oAvBY-RUiTg/s320/06+Elba.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1Cq0edpCGME/TapkoZJ3ccI/AAAAAAAABFM/llUFHDp8oMg/s1600/07+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1Cq0edpCGME/TapkoZJ3ccI/AAAAAAAABFM/llUFHDp8oMg/s1600/07+Elba.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ADfMsOtg7q0/TapkoUVnqVI/AAAAAAAABFI/QligBteO5bg/s1600/08+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ADfMsOtg7q0/TapkoUVnqVI/AAAAAAAABFI/QligBteO5bg/s1600/08+Elba.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rCt-B_pCM3A/Tapkobbdq0I/AAAAAAAABFE/Ttvg_dk2eNA/s1600/09+Elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rCt-B_pCM3A/Tapkobbdq0I/AAAAAAAABFE/Ttvg_dk2eNA/s1600/09+Elba.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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 <u><b>Porto Azzuro</b></u> 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<u><b> Giglio</b></u> (pronounced Jeelyeo) and anchored in a large bay on the west coast. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MtVRx8Wj37E/Tapkn_qhw2I/AAAAAAAABE4/W7Rv0HHGDNA/s1600/11+elba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MtVRx8Wj37E/Tapkn_qhw2I/AAAAAAAABE4/W7Rv0HHGDNA/s320/11+elba.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vcKjVAS4lB4/TapkntZ69SI/AAAAAAAABEw/KfeoC3hVPtE/s1600/12+giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vcKjVAS4lB4/TapkntZ69SI/AAAAAAAABEw/KfeoC3hVPtE/s320/12+giglio.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The view from the top to both sides of the island</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GOiToV93aEw/Tapkn5Q0KsI/AAAAAAAABFA/TX62xJj91m8/s1600/13+Giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GOiToV93aEw/Tapkn5Q0KsI/AAAAAAAABFA/TX62xJj91m8/s320/13+Giglio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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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<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NNnY7aelU2Y/TapknXtkGcI/AAAAAAAABE0/9OQndqechnI/s1600/14+Giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NNnY7aelU2Y/TapknXtkGcI/AAAAAAAABE0/9OQndqechnI/s320/14+Giglio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--A8zcItvLqs/TapknTmLCwI/AAAAAAAABEs/egUohk7vk-w/s1600/15+Giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--A8zcItvLqs/TapknTmLCwI/AAAAAAAABEs/egUohk7vk-w/s1600/15+Giglio.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T9Yidlte5Ws/TapknJWW9fI/AAAAAAAABEo/zrtA-uM-hwU/s1600/16+Giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T9Yidlte5Ws/TapknJWW9fI/AAAAAAAABEo/zrtA-uM-hwU/s1600/16+Giglio.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n5nurx7m_FU/Tapkmy_cpoI/AAAAAAAABEk/5eTguJ1Ps6I/s1600/17+Giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n5nurx7m_FU/Tapkmy_cpoI/AAAAAAAABEk/5eTguJ1Ps6I/s1600/17+Giglio.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The 'Palio' turned out to be a donkey derby <br />
-note the risk assessment for the spectators positions ( will it break or won't it?!! )</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>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!<br />
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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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W51_0oGXcTI/TapkmkNZdSI/AAAAAAAABEc/4NHF2WoCWMY/s1600/18+Giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W51_0oGXcTI/TapkmkNZdSI/AAAAAAAABEc/4NHF2WoCWMY/s320/18+Giglio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--B_elxGPCjc/Tapkm2HJpSI/AAAAAAAABEg/00pr5miMEos/s1600/19+Giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--B_elxGPCjc/Tapkm2HJpSI/AAAAAAAABEg/00pr5miMEos/s320/19+Giglio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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. <br />
We headed for a place called .........<br />
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<u><b>Porto Ercole 17th September, </b></u>Mainland Italy<br />
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. <br />
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. <br />
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!<br />
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! <br />
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. <br />
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. <br />
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!<br />
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<u><b>Giannutri 19 September</b></u><br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xml-7aIJDn4/TapkmiRXQDI/AAAAAAAABEY/GD2OEnTBf4I/s1600/20+giglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xml-7aIJDn4/TapkmiRXQDI/AAAAAAAABEY/GD2OEnTBf4I/s320/20+giglio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<i>Stu dodges sea urchins to tie us to the rocks with sacrificial rope ends</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>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.<br />
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......<br />
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</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-48894433189742547352007-09-08T20:36:00.000-07:002011-04-16T20:52:03.345-07:00Corsica, 16 August to 8 September 07<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">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.<br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hcp5xIE10ws/TaphnjMGUgI/AAAAAAAABEA/OOoUNLMyzxE/s1600/Corsica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hcp5xIE10ws/TaphnjMGUgI/AAAAAAAABEA/OOoUNLMyzxE/s320/Corsica.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We headed into <u><b>Porto Santa Amanza</b></u>-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 . <br />
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??......<br />
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.<br />
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 <u><b>Porto Vechio</b></u> with it’s good shelter and supermarkets.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VKhufogRdaQ/TaphlT6zguI/AAAAAAAABDs/k6t_40E1rYw/s1600/Porto+Veccio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VKhufogRdaQ/TaphlT6zguI/AAAAAAAABDs/k6t_40E1rYw/s320/Porto+Veccio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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 <u><b>Porto Vecchio</b></u> 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.<br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-72ApuNp0mo8/TaphmyHV9fI/AAAAAAAABD8/AAPOajUCOAA/s1600/Marlin+drinks+Porto+Veccio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-72ApuNp0mo8/TaphmyHV9fI/AAAAAAAABD8/AAPOajUCOAA/s320/Marlin+drinks+Porto+Veccio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>26th After a failed shopping expedition (everything closed) in 35 degrees, we set sail for <u><b>San Ciprianu</b></u> 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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aR0SHkdcFzo/Taphmf5fM6I/AAAAAAAABD4/cXWXIyMzlz4/s1600/Marlin+anchored+with+speedboats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aR0SHkdcFzo/Taphmf5fM6I/AAAAAAAABD4/cXWXIyMzlz4/s320/Marlin+anchored+with+speedboats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fEzM6rEdr9U/Taphd7KtMgI/AAAAAAAABDM/yVMrGMKd9rg/s1600/Corsica+Aug+07+039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fEzM6rEdr9U/Taphd7KtMgI/AAAAAAAABDM/yVMrGMKd9rg/s320/Corsica+Aug+07+039.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8zywMADhei4/TaphdtGSvMI/AAAAAAAABDI/EK_wIeFT6bA/s1600/Corsica+Aug+07+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8zywMADhei4/TaphdtGSvMI/AAAAAAAABDI/EK_wIeFT6bA/s320/Corsica+Aug+07+040.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AfFFsYxD3E/Taphc1hUriI/AAAAAAAABDE/vvhoy1pmcQc/s1600/Corsica+Aug+07+041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AfFFsYxD3E/Taphc1hUriI/AAAAAAAABDE/vvhoy1pmcQc/s320/Corsica+Aug+07+041.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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.<br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FrQ5-inkvQ4/Taphe47taqI/AAAAAAAABDQ/ney5WAnblU4/s1600/Bonifacio+outside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="122" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FrQ5-inkvQ4/Taphe47taqI/AAAAAAAABDQ/ney5WAnblU4/s320/Bonifacio+outside.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P-PKYGi9nZQ/TaphhpyomRI/AAAAAAAABDg/4HjoNypVl-c/s1600/Bonifacio+outside+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P-PKYGi9nZQ/TaphhpyomRI/AAAAAAAABDg/4HjoNypVl-c/s320/Bonifacio+outside+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A0EBfk-X0Lg/TaphlUDPeYI/AAAAAAAABDw/FmnB9X_yo-s/s1600/Bonifacio+cala+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A0EBfk-X0Lg/TaphlUDPeYI/AAAAAAAABDw/FmnB9X_yo-s/s320/Bonifacio+cala+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8d_WN_EM_eU/TaphhLyMbiI/AAAAAAAABDc/_04KFyxCDcg/s1600/Bonifacio+Mudskipper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8d_WN_EM_eU/TaphhLyMbiI/AAAAAAAABDc/_04KFyxCDcg/s320/Bonifacio+Mudskipper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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. <br />
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. <br />
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. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SDwCLRpEq4o/Taphi_rkpDI/AAAAAAAABDo/f1Ip-LADMLQ/s1600/Bonifacio+citadel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SDwCLRpEq4o/Taphi_rkpDI/AAAAAAAABDo/f1Ip-LADMLQ/s320/Bonifacio+citadel.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qkGd5OXXru8/Taphizbx7PI/AAAAAAAABDk/HAHNQEKEjLg/s1600/Bonifacio+cemetery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qkGd5OXXru8/Taphizbx7PI/AAAAAAAABDk/HAHNQEKEjLg/s320/Bonifacio+cemetery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mes2fEAKrBQ/TaphfII3INI/AAAAAAAABDY/88O8nwVQaIY/s1600/Bonifacio+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mes2fEAKrBQ/TaphfII3INI/AAAAAAAABDY/88O8nwVQaIY/s320/Bonifacio+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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. <br />
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.<br />
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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. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n80COZIsPv4/Taphp1pLCSI/AAAAAAAABEE/Z0_c4zuosVg/s1600/Corsica+lake2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n80COZIsPv4/Taphp1pLCSI/AAAAAAAABEE/Z0_c4zuosVg/s320/Corsica+lake2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mW4gceaxkWk/Taphll-TVvI/AAAAAAAABD0/xDFiLh-LnAw/s1600/bonifacio+drive+waterfall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mW4gceaxkWk/Taphll-TVvI/AAAAAAAABD0/xDFiLh-LnAw/s320/bonifacio+drive+waterfall.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Er4vuw91vks/Tapheyy-0xI/AAAAAAAABDU/b_RkDX5fr0s/s1600/Corsica+drive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Er4vuw91vks/Tapheyy-0xI/AAAAAAAABDU/b_RkDX5fr0s/s320/Corsica+drive.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>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.<br />
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! <br />
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.<br />
</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-77653157449667236422007-08-16T20:15:00.000-07:002011-04-16T20:35:05.278-07:00North Sardinia 26 July 2007<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>You could be forgiven for thinking that spending a day, night and a day crossing a featureless, wind-less sea would be really dull. But, during the day you can catch up on reading a good book, sunbathe at bit - at night listen to language CD’s on the iPod, and stargaze, and as usual when we are looking forward to sampling a new cuisine, you can catch a large tuna just before you reach land!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PX5NyCJHQ24/Tapclqm_HgI/AAAAAAAABCw/yaqRQEH2RZs/s1600/Fresh+Tuna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PX5NyCJHQ24/Tapclqm_HgI/AAAAAAAABCw/yaqRQEH2RZs/s320/Fresh+Tuna.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xT_DMiLncYU/Tapcg1SkoOI/AAAAAAAABCU/Mc6L6KgS09g/s1600/Tuna+prepared.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xT_DMiLncYU/Tapcg1SkoOI/AAAAAAAABCU/Mc6L6KgS09g/s320/Tuna+prepared.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>From ocean to table in approximately 45 minutes!!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Whilst not wanting to appear ungrateful for the catch – he was a perfect size, eaten before he became boring and not-so-fresh……<br />
Porto Conte, North-west coast<br />
We had little information about Sardinia, and for the first time were making decisions for ourselves, rather than on advice from those who had gone before us. It was very refreshing to do our own research into which bays looked good for anchoring, and were protected from strong winds, using the copious information contained in the pilot books. Luckily Porto Conte was as safe as houses (well almost) in any gale direction, and only a few miles from Alghero, where our friend Helen and son Matthew were flying into for a weeks holiday. <br />
We unexpectedly bumped into ‘Moyle Rose’ again here for a few days and enjoyed a meal ashore together in the local pizzeria – what a joy to have a real Caprese salad (mozzarella and tomato) followed by a wood-fired pizza- the first of many in this part of the world.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kmvFsa-1-IY/Tapci98BPcI/AAAAAAAABCo/Hrsqonth6Xs/s1600/Porto+conte+neptunes+grotto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kmvFsa-1-IY/Tapci98BPcI/AAAAAAAABCo/Hrsqonth6Xs/s320/Porto+conte+neptunes+grotto.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We ended up using this as a base for a couple of weeks during Helens stay until 10th August, when the wind and swell moderated enough for us to move on east again.<br />
What to do with a 9-year-old boy on a complex elderly and fragile sailing boat, where everything seems to be big, red and interesting to enquiring fingers? Well – we did our best : sailing, kayaking, dinghy rowing lessons, halyard swinging, sea football were organized to distract him from ‘fiddling’, between visits to the town of Alghero, and a car trip down the stunning coastal and mountain route to Bosa to see another fishing–boat blessing ( this one a lot more impressive than Mahon!). <br />
Unfortunately the adults eventually put an end to the halyard swinging – the old boat just isn’t up to our kilograms on the end of a spinnaker pole, so Matthew had to resort to more mundane activities aboard while Stuart pondered how to fix the spinnaker pole end.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dOaltuoE3h4/TapceQCgxPI/AAAAAAAABCM/f9X9fPCYSx0/s1600/What+should+we+do+with+the+naughty+sailor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dOaltuoE3h4/TapceQCgxPI/AAAAAAAABCM/f9X9fPCYSx0/s320/What+should+we+do+with+the+naughty+sailor.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>What shall we do with the naughty sailor…….?????</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Before the adults ruined the fun!</i></td></tr>
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It was hard to work out the current situation with regard to the marine reserves and parks. Although many bays are marked as anchoring prohibited or restricted there are still plenty of boats doing just that, while the marine park RIB patrols the area without complaint. Our all-weather spot just off the marina had great holding, even when exposed to a mile-plus fetch which only caused us to pitch up and down to the anchor – we seemed to be no problem to the officials. <br />
But nor was the swimming spot further round the bay, where we could see giant clams swaying in the current, even before we got into the water. Our anchor chain had laid itself between the clams, so we lifted it carefully by hand, so as not to disrupt their apparently tenuous holding. However the next day no RIB chased off the 10 boats that decided to anchor carelessly amongst the clams. Maybe the clams can re-attach themselves if disturbed by trailing anchor chains - we’re not sure how else they would get to be so big around here (approx 12” diameter). Can anyone enlighten us?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UWMSnrREuyA/Tapcl4ytSdI/AAAAAAAABC0/2rcKnQ0_q6k/s1600/Giant+clams+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UWMSnrREuyA/Tapcl4ytSdI/AAAAAAAABC0/2rcKnQ0_q6k/s320/Giant+clams+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-evZlf9yUZg0/Tapcaw2a5_I/AAAAAAAABBw/LaAZ8J4tLcw/s1600/Bosa+trip+by+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-evZlf9yUZg0/Tapcaw2a5_I/AAAAAAAABBw/LaAZ8J4tLcw/s320/Bosa+trip+by+car.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Just one of the sublime views from the coastal road to Alghero to Bosa….</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3vg2LC-WqlU/Tapcd8jD5xI/AAAAAAAABCE/4gbDSDSnATQ/s1600/Bosa+fishingboat+blessing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3vg2LC-WqlU/Tapcd8jD5xI/AAAAAAAABCE/4gbDSDSnATQ/s320/Bosa+fishingboat+blessing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The blessing of the fishing fleet at Bosa</i></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WNSteQu6-3Q/TapchtwwhQI/AAAAAAAABCc/dAxBFZKFX7U/s1600/Sardinia+%252833%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WNSteQu6-3Q/TapchtwwhQI/AAAAAAAABCc/dAxBFZKFX7U/s320/Sardinia+%252833%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<u><b>Stintino, North coast</b></u><br />
After Helen and Matt’s departure, and yet another delay due to a gale – we moved on north toward the Bonifacio Straits, first stop Stintino via the gap between the islands between Sardinia and Corsica. No matter how much you read and prepare and plan, nothing can prepare you for the actual size of this rather shallow passage. On the charts it looked like a major gap, a several-hundred metre wide passage through the Fornelli passage. As we approached it downwind (sails full of wind of course for a change) it seemed smaller and smaller. We surfed through on the 0.5m waves of the west coast into complete calm, and a huge sense of relief! It was enough to curl my hair!!<br />
<br />
We were rewarded with a sail through a holiday brochure dream photo-shoot – the most turquoise water imaginable. Hundreds and hundreds of Italians crowd onto a short stretch of beach called Spiaggia della Pelosa– all under each others beach umbrellas and sharing sunbeds it seems, to enjoy the occasional splash of the shimmering water. Our camera just doesn’t do it justice, but the colour of the water at least is true-to-life. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0XqEnTQt9HI/TapciJhZwoI/AAAAAAAABCg/XajPRlAfy_I/s1600/Sardinia+%252834%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0XqEnTQt9HI/TapciJhZwoI/AAAAAAAABCg/XajPRlAfy_I/s320/Sardinia+%252834%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We pulled into a small fishing port called <b>Stintino</b> – the pilot book states the anchor holding is ‘mediocre’ – well we would go along with that – 11 attempts to get the anchor to hold, and we gave up eventually and just piled the chain over the side and resigned ourselves to staying on board despite the festivities ashore. The music was of questionable appeal and quite loud enough to enjoy aboard anyway, so it wasn’t a disaster. You can take a dinghy up to the top of the harbour, cross the road and be in a respectably sized supermarket, so it is worth a visit.<br />
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<br />
That reminds me that I haven’t mentioned Sardinian food yet – probably a good thing, as I wouldn’t have got off the subject for some time…..<br />
Not cheap, but fresh filled pasta, gorgonzola, salami, Sardinian bread, tasty tomatoes, yum yum yum……. and in Stintino we discovered what has to be the worlds most heavenly desert :<br />
Seadas/sebadas, a sort of light pastry turnover, in a bitter honey sauce, filled with cheese (!) orange peel, and scattered with sugar. It is to-die-for……. Worth a holiday to Sardinia just to try it!<br />
We moved on east along the north coast of Sardinia, past the depressing sight of petro-chemical industry at Porto Torres, and swiftly onto the deeply indented bays south of the Bonifacio Straits. We anchored in a very understated town ‘Isola Rossa’, which was beautiful, and empty other than ourselves, as it is open to the predominant westerlies and therefore not popular as a yachtie retreat. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AmdosDaY5XU/Tapci0LM3uI/AAAAAAAABCs/htT691rloyo/s1600/Isola+Rossa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="114" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AmdosDaY5XU/Tapci0LM3uI/AAAAAAAABCs/htT691rloyo/s320/Isola+Rossa.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It is always a bit worrying to be the only boat in the bay – you can’t help yourself from asking yourself why no-one else is here if the Med is so busy?</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Without wishing to push our weather-luck, the next day we moved on to a bay called <u><b>Porto Liscia</b></u>, typical of Sardinia it seemed – no facilities or building ashore except for one beach bar playing cool tunes. It was an unusual bay in that it was 14 metres deep, but shoaled to 2m within 50m of the beach. This made for good anchoring, but weird snorkeling, as heading out from the beach the sea-bottom plunged into the gloom, with our anchor chain disappearing into the deep. Sea-life was rich here, the Italians having made large areas into marine parks or reserves, where fishing is restricted or licensed. On the outskirts of the reserve, everyone trawls a fishing line though ……<br />
I hired a windsurfer, and we both regretted the decision to have sold all of Stuart’s windsurfing kit back in the UK (although we think that it’s stowage on decks would have been a liability on the Atlantic coast). However, now in the Med, we are going to look out for a windsurfing kit, as a lot of summer days are spent in bays avoiding the windy seas, with not a lot to do other than watch people windsurfing or kite-surfing around the bay. We don’t feel comfortable to leave the boat in strong winds to go ashore , as we have seen so many other boats drag their anchors and trip (pull out) those that are properly set. The average charterer seems not have the knowledge or morals to re-anchor an unoccupied boat, once they have pulled their own anchor clear. It’s best to know exactly what is holding your own boat to the bottom, and I’m sure our insurance company would agree!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5omwPV0Jy54/TapciY_7KcI/AAAAAAAABCk/-pYceelHv30/s1600/Liscia+North+Sardinia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5omwPV0Jy54/TapciY_7KcI/AAAAAAAABCk/-pYceelHv30/s320/Liscia+North+Sardinia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Porto Liscia : North Sardinia in August, a bay completely protected from the prevailing wind direction and gales, almost empty at night in high season and free (!) ……who said that the Med was full????</i><br />
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</tbody></table>We were within view of the <b>Maddalena</b> islands, over 47 variously sized granite lumps between Corsica and Sardinia, in the <b>Straits of Bonifacio</b>, and debated whether to pay for a cruising permit which allows you to stay on buoys in the bays around the islands – if you can find a spare one. The weather was swinging from gale to calm about every 3 days, so we decided to sail through the islands and find protection from the winds on the east Corsican coast at <b>Sant’Amanza.</b><br />
It is inconceivable if you have witnessed the beauty of the Maddalena islands, but the US Navy has an atomic submarine base at Isola Santa Stefano, a mile or so off the north Sardinian coast and a short RIB ride from the rich and famous at Costa Smeralda. Even more unbelievably it is reputed that the US wants to treble the size of it’s base here – and it is only one of the islands 24 NATO bases. In 2003 there was a close call between an atomic submarine and a sandbank in the archipelago – I didn’t hear about that in the news – did you? It is impossible to conceive of a situation where an atomic naval base occupies part of such an astoundingly beautiful nature reserve, but apparently this NATO-US agreement, is not subject to the control of the Sardinian government. <br />
We have not yet explored the east coast of Sardinia, and it is unlikely that we will do so this year. But others have told us that there are anchorages galore. You may have to beg, borrow or sneak water into jerrycans to keep you going but, it is not necessary to pay to stay in a marina if you are of a live-aboard mindset. This means that you limit your water consumption and be able to charge your batteries without connection to the national grid, using every opportunity to save water or to obtain it. To be fair, most of us would prefer to pay a fair and modest charge to fill our water tanks or jerrycans and not to feel like outlaws for wanting water. Bear in mind that often there is no room in the marina, even if you do feel like paying 50-200 euros a night in high season, so why not just offer a standard charge for 200 litres of water as they do at Mahon, Menorca and let us obtain it fairly?<br />
Rant over – why would this stop anyone enjoying the spectacular beauty and freedom of the Sardinian islands? On the other hand long may it be as beautiful and free as it is now…<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XT3xleTC_Qk/TapcbEfu2OI/AAAAAAAABB0/pJdSx-MH-i8/s1600/corsica+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XT3xleTC_Qk/TapcbEfu2OI/AAAAAAAABB0/pJdSx-MH-i8/s320/corsica+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Now we are heading north to Corsica across the legendary Bonifacio Straits:<br />
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16 August 2007<br />
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</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-16304483398504734712007-07-31T10:39:00.000-07:002011-04-16T20:15:12.165-07:00Balearic Islands, Mallorca and Menorca<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><u><b>Mallorca : 14 June 07</b></u><br />
‘There’s a long-standing Spanish joke about a mythical fifth Balearic Island called Majorca (English spelling) inhabited by an estimated 8 million tourists a year’- ‘ The Rough Guide to Spain’ How true!! Most of us don’t even know how to spell or pronounce it correctly!<br />
We had a deadline for heading to Mallorca, which was useful in a way, as we may not have left Ibiza otherwise! Our friend Peter was flying into Palma for a couple of days, so we needed to find a peaceful anchorage and a meeting point that was not too far from the airport. Last time he visited us in Galicia and we still feel guilty that it cost him 120 euros each way in a taxi from the airport. Hence, we were keen to make it somewhat easier for him this time around. <br />
We sailed into <u><b>Puerto de Andraitx</b></u> which is protected from all directions except southwest – of course the swell from the SW was already starting to work its way into the bay ahead of the expected winds as we arrived. We were uninspired by the port and decided to try and find something a bit more peaceful for Peters last couple of days of freedom for some time (Small life-changing Diblet on it’s way in 2 months time!) This was not so easy, as everywhere around Palma faces south and the forecast wind direction for 5 days was SE, S, SW, S, SE ! Palma itself is a no-go as it is full and expensive.<br />
We pulled into Santa Ponsa for an uncomfortable night of rolling, as the swell just worked its way round the corner of the bay. We sought relief from seasickness ashore, only to find a hideous overdeveloped, predominantly English egg and chips culture. We absolutely hated it, and only returned to our oscillating home when we could really bear it no longer! However, it served its purpose as a crew pick-up place, and as soon as Peter was aboard the next morning, we were lifting up the anchor to be on our way. <br />
We headed for<u><b> Cala Portals in the Bay of Palma</b></u>, solely for the reason that it appeared to offer some small protection from the southerly swell. It also offered excellent swimming, peaceful nights once the tourist boats went home and the most outrageous nudist beach yet!! Of course the boys were quite content here and were happy to spend the whole weekend attached to the binoculars or plopping in for a cool down swim. The small bay that we had chosen to anchor had a beach that was wall-to-wall, or rock-to-rock, naked, bronzed sun-worshippers. Not only that, but as anything goes in the Balearics, naked-lesbian-lilo-cavorting barely raised an eyebrow – not sure about what else it raised – best leave that subject alone!! The only shore-side entertainment was an expensive daytime restaurant – thanks Pete for shouting us poor live-aboards a meal. It was fun to pick a path between the towels and whatever else on the beach – there was no natural path across the beach to the restaurant and there was nowhere to look but down, hoping not to trip over anything hanging in the way !!<br />
Well, Peter sure got his get-away-from-it-all cala experience, but not sure it was good for the old men’s blood pressure!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-juUwRKwm0Ng/TanVXyzUKcI/AAAAAAAAA-w/_pTkqvAG1is/s1600/Mallorca+Cala+Portals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-juUwRKwm0Ng/TanVXyzUKcI/AAAAAAAAA-w/_pTkqvAG1is/s320/Mallorca+Cala+Portals.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fcMMEpiliso/TanVbVULdLI/AAAAAAAAA-0/2BxNooZ5SoU/s1600/Mallorca+Cala+Portals+restaurant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fcMMEpiliso/TanVbVULdLI/AAAAAAAAA-0/2BxNooZ5SoU/s320/Mallorca+Cala+Portals+restaurant.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Moving swiftly on : we pulled into Palma harbor to see if we could get a berth of any sort, but it lived up to it’s reputation of busy, expensive, full and not that comfortable anyway. Peter went off to his flight home, and we went to watch the super-yacht regatta in the bay – what a deal !!<br />
We thought the modern 4-masted ship was only a spectator until they came in on starboard to the windward mark and caused the spectator boats to scatter, as they forced the small (!) super-yacht (120 foot plus) to overstand the mark. We watched from a safe distance, amongst the other relative superyachts – including those with helicopters for tenders.<br />
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After this excitement we motored on to <u><b>Puerto Andraitx</b></u> to see if it was more welcoming second time around. We spoke to Roamer on the way by radio and they were up for heading to the same place. <br />
Well, the swell had gone, and all was quiet, but we had no less than 8 anchoring attempts, including changing to a different type of anchor - before moving halfway out of the bay, well beyond the protection of the breakwater – we might as well have been back in Ibiza!! At the end of 40m of chain, we decided that we were unlikely to drag very far, and let’s face it, where we were there was no-one to drag onto!! Roamer got in first time, but later regretted their decision to move closer to the town – after several anchoring attempts. For future reference – stay close to the starboard buoys for best holding. <br />
Up early the next morning due to anchor worry – we stocked up in the excellent supermarket and headed up to the north of the island – reputed to be of outstanding natural beauty and a world away from Magaluf and other Majorcan resorts of the south.<br />
<u><b>Puerto Soller </b></u> <br />
The north coast of Mallorca is absolutely stunning, truly naturally beautiful and completely undeveloped. We pulled into a semi-circular natural bay at Puerto de Soller. This is a very protected anchorage, the only harbor of refuge in 50 miles of tramontana-facing, rugged inhospitable coast. <br />
We plopped our anchor in, it held perfectly 1st time and we knew that Soller wanted us to stay! The main town of Soller is set 2 miles away from the port – a first defence against pirate attacks of old. It is visited best by vintage tram. At the end of the tramway one can take the Victorian electric railway to Palma,crossing through and over the mountainous hills, orange, lemon and olive groves with breath taking scenery.We caught the early morning tram with the school kids off to school with their backpacks, and the hikers, who get dropped off early in the morning at the top of the mountain and walk down – very sensible. <br />
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Palma was very hot, despite the sea breeze, dusty and expensive, but lovely. You have to be very very careful where you eat and drink. The places in the backstreets where a few old Spanish people congregate are the best bet, but when you are hot and thirsty and standing outside a roadside restaurant/bar that serves big beers it’s easy to just sit down and order large beer. Stuart got more than he bargained for in the way of a litre of beer – costing an unbelievable €12.95 – even he said it didn’t taste so good when he knew what it cost! A litre of same in the supermarket is 1 euro.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nBTxEslrUL0/TapTYW7fSuI/AAAAAAAAA_s/w5wTosI9OoA/s1600/Mallorca+Soller+to+Palma3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nBTxEslrUL0/TapTYW7fSuI/AAAAAAAAA_s/w5wTosI9OoA/s320/Mallorca+Soller+to+Palma3.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IuBvCNR2PMM/TapWiyWMqkI/AAAAAAAABBg/_1Ej652LfGs/s1600/carriage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IuBvCNR2PMM/TapWiyWMqkI/AAAAAAAABBg/_1Ej652LfGs/s320/carriage.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Palma has the most amazing food market that we have ever seen :<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WP09jIxmdw/TapUhk9-OQI/AAAAAAAAA_8/m7H9rfba39o/s1600/market+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WP09jIxmdw/TapUhk9-OQI/AAAAAAAAA_8/m7H9rfba39o/s320/market+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wn3D_q7mjuI/TapUikb1GsI/AAAAAAAABAA/wdgtnrsYzn0/s1600/market+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wn3D_q7mjuI/TapUikb1GsI/AAAAAAAABAA/wdgtnrsYzn0/s320/market+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We stayed in <u><b>Soller</b></u> for some days, as it is very pretty and we needed to be somewhere for our friend Rick to join us. There can’t be many more impressive approaches to arrive at your holiday accomodation– plane, taxi, Victorian train through the mountains, vintage tram, dinghy. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fqDoywM4zU0/TapUjxccZGI/AAAAAAAABAM/ZImcyyi_odA/s1600/Mallorca+Soller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fqDoywM4zU0/TapUjxccZGI/AAAAAAAABAM/ZImcyyi_odA/s320/Mallorca+Soller.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Rick soon discovered one of the ways we fill our time – it took the best part of a day wandering around in the heat searching for wifi internet and a television screen to watch the developing drama of the Americas cup final series- NZ challenging the Swiss for the cup that they stole, I mean won, when we were in Auckland 4 years ago.<br />
While we were in <b>Puerto Soller</b> we experienced the strange <b>‘seiche’</b> that occurs around the Balearics. The seiche was recently brought to everyones attention in a yachting monthly article from a couple who had their yacht in Cuitadella in Menorca a while back – without warning the water level in the harbour dropped by a couple of meters, leaving fishing boats high and dry on the mud and pulling boats from their moorings, then followed by the sudden rushing in and out of water from the port causing much damage to the moored yachts. We did not suffer anything like this in Soller, but the boats rotated around their anchors in strong currents swishing through the bay. We lost an oar from the dinghy where it was tied to the end of the pontoon while we were ashore – a current must have pushed it under the end of the pontoon and ripped it off. We spent the night disentangling ourselves from 2 other yachts who had both anchored too close, and as there was no wind, and strong currents pushing us all over the place we frequently found ourselves attached to the other boats. At daybreak we pulled in some chain to pull ourselves clear of the 2 yachts, and then found we were dragging swiftly across the bay – we couldn’t really understand this as we still had 15m of chain out – and this should hold us with no wind. We pulled the anchor up and then understood the problem – the constant circling in the night had would the chain around the flukes of the anchor and tripped the anchor out. We cleared the whole mess and went and anchored somewhere else for a couple of hours kip.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GOH-jPSQWZM/TapUkqUC62I/AAAAAAAABAY/SB-zDZb5wEI/s1600/Mallorca+Soller+anchor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GOH-jPSQWZM/TapUkqUC62I/AAAAAAAABAY/SB-zDZb5wEI/s320/Mallorca+Soller+anchor.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>No-one knows what causes the seiche – I recently read something by Rod Heikell who proposes that it occurs when a strong current driven by strong winds from different directions converge between islands – of course in the med this can be at some distance from where it is blowing – there is no tide to counteract the effects of the currents, so they travel unopposed for some distance. <br />
We filled the water tanks uneventfully at the superyacht quay for €4 and set off to <u><b>Cala Engossaubas</b></u> on the south coast of the NE peninsula of the island. It still feels weird to watch your anchor set in the sand 25 feet below. We had a swim in beautiful warm, clear, jellyfish-free water, had some lunch, and with an iffy forecast we moved into the bay of <u><b>Puerto de Pollensa.</b></u><br />
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On the way out of the cala in the main channel I saw a large black fin appear for 5 seconds and slowly disappear never to emerge again – I looked in all the books we have on board and I could not make it match anything other than a shark ! Eek! <br />
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Pollensa is tucked so far down the end of a large bay that the anchorage is protected from most directions. We anchored successfully in the weed here, although others (Moyle Rose and Roamer) had some trouble getting their anchors to set. <br />
Ashore, we found an English owned internet café for Rick, and they agreed to show the Americas cup for us in the afternoon. NZ won that day, so we all got very drunk to celebrate. Unfortunately we also picked up some kind of stomach bug there. Pollensa was a nice buzzy town, but full of tourists, so we were quite happy to move on to Menorca from here - on an Americas cup rest day of course!!<br />
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<u><b>Menorca : 28 June 2007</b></u><br />
First stop<u><b> Cuitadella</b></u>. This long narrow inlet is surrounded by an ancient fortified town, used by Romans, Moors, and raided by Turks. It is a very impressive little port where passenger ferries just fit in the gap, causing lots of wash to the boats moored along the sides. It is amazing to see these ferries turn around in a gap just a few feet wider than their length – I wouldn’t have wanted to have been the first captain to have to try it! As we motored around the port lights came on and we were shuffled off to tie up in a tiny cala opposite the yacht club – which has been turned into a small marina with lazy lines. No-one is allowed to be at large in the port when the ferry is coming or going. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RbuBK0RpBow/TapUnM1VW-I/AAAAAAAABAg/2e80fB1D6ns/s1600/Menorca+Cuitadella1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RbuBK0RpBow/TapUnM1VW-I/AAAAAAAABAg/2e80fB1D6ns/s320/Menorca+Cuitadella1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2FOHpQeA0U/TapX8w9YPiI/AAAAAAAABBk/qCVuW50TpAs/s1600/ferry2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2FOHpQeA0U/TapX8w9YPiI/AAAAAAAABBk/qCVuW50TpAs/s320/ferry2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ksO3DgXuIX4/TapX9XpUYAI/AAAAAAAABBo/S5S4RlH6Ckg/s1600/ferry1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ksO3DgXuIX4/TapX9XpUYAI/AAAAAAAABBo/S5S4RlH6Ckg/s320/ferry1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Once tied up and the ferry had gone past, we decided to stay here the night anyway as it was to be Rick’s last night with us. It was the first time for one month that we had paid any mooring fees, as we had managed to anchor everywhere. It was €40 per night, no power, water or facilities, and you had to use your own dinghy to go ashore at the yacht club, where you could pay more to have a shower. It was very nice to sleep properly at night – knowing that you are tied to the land. At anchor, there is always the possibility that your own anchor will drag, or more likely that someone elses will, and they will drag into us. <br />
Despite our continuing stomach bugs we enjoyed a fine meal at a quayside restaurant . The old town is a real joy to wander amongst the tiny streets. Menorca has a different feel than Ibiza and Mallorca – it seems to have kept its soul ! It is very Spanish (well Menorcan really!) and the tourist trade is more relaxed and up market. <br />
After seeing Rick off in his taxi, and another restful night tied ashore, we headed around the north of the island next, to<u><b> Cala Algayerens</b></u>, beautiful undeveloped beach with no shore facilities at all. It was great swimming and we gave the boat a good clean, to clear off the city dust that had accumulated. It was the weekend, so next day every Spanish person with a small motor boat came to anchor in the bay – there was room for everyone though so it was no problem. We estimated 120 boats were there in the day. At night they mostly went home, and about 8 boats were left to enjoy the peace and quiet.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J29U2yhKT44/TapUjcE0MlI/AAAAAAAABAI/4iHQJQfJMBg/s1600/Menorca+Cala+Algayerens3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J29U2yhKT44/TapUjcE0MlI/AAAAAAAABAI/4iHQJQfJMBg/s320/Menorca+Cala+Algayerens3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We were out of mobile phone signal here, and with no internet. We had a navtex forecast which gave strong northerly winds, and in the morning the swell had started to build in the entrance to the cala. One by one the boats headed out and we went back to the South east of the island. We had a fantastic sail in 20knots of wind – we have had the best sailing in the Balearics of anywhere so far. <br />
Cuitadella was closed due to 1m water oscillations, which we assume to be another seiche. So we headed on around to <u><b>Cala Covas</b></u> on the south side. It is reputed to be the most spectacular cala of the Balearics, containing nearly 150 caves, some of which are prehistoric, and some still inhabited by hippies (when the warden is not around to shoo them off) It is a tiny cove with many rocks just under the water near the edge, so it required a complicated manoevre to fit into a slot amongst the few other yachts here. After circling for some minutes to prepare all lines, fenders, dinghy with oars, and anchor. First we dropped the anchor into a sand patch in the centre of the cala, and reverse into a spot, allowing chain to run out and stopping within a metre of the rocks. Then I launched the dinghy and rowed lines ashore to find suitable rocks to tie them to, before Stu pulled the lines in and kept us pulled off the underwater rocks. All this has to be done as quick as possible to avoid being blown onto the other yachts. We executed it all without embarrassment, and settled in for a very quiet night. Again, no facilities, bars, no mobile phone signal, but Navtex still worked so we knew that we only had one night here before we had to start seeking shelter from strong winds again. <br />
It is a very spooky place at night – surrounded by all those dark caves – we were glad to be in the company of several other yachts – although there was no danger at all. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W2S3ka6qsHw/TapUiriAZFI/AAAAAAAABAE/7tWXTp_Fgkk/s1600/Menorca+Cala+Cala+Covas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W2S3ka6qsHw/TapUiriAZFI/AAAAAAAABAE/7tWXTp_Fgkk/s320/Menorca+Cala+Cala+Covas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We contemplated a visit to Cova d’en Xoroi, a bar and restaurant built into natural caves halfway up the cliffs, but we needed to move on the next day. The swell was already starting to enter the cala and the dinghy was being bumped into the rocks as I went in to untie the lines.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IYfAvB40l7M/TapUmjPxM_I/AAAAAAAABAc/Qqd_9hsZFV0/s1600/Menorca+Cala+den+Xeroi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IYfAvB40l7M/TapUmjPxM_I/AAAAAAAABAc/Qqd_9hsZFV0/s320/Menorca+Cala+den+Xeroi.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> Cova d’en Xoroi from the sea</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>With strong winds coming, we headed for the natural harbor that the French and English fought for many times over – <u><b>Mahon</b></u>. You can see why everyone wanted to own it – it is deep, large, very well protected from all sides. We had heard several horror stories about Mahon, but we’re pleased to find them unfounded. The harbour authorities manage all the buoys (€17/night) and pontoon islands (€70/night we think), and the club nautico charge a fortune for a space on the quay, but there is no need to bother with any of this because there is a very fine anchorage in <u><b>Cala Taulera</b></u> under the fortifications of La Mola in a circular bay with 2 beaches, 2 small entrances, and well protected from the wind from any direction, and with good holding in weedy sandy mud. It takes about 20-30 minutes by dinghy to reach the quay, so shopping and internet are a whole day event, and the best supermarket is at the top of the hill. You have to have eyes in the back of you head on the trip ashore in case a huge cruise ship slides silently up behind you!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sHyICNG4Ro4/TapVCFBxhNI/AAAAAAAABA8/_vHYr3g6q94/s1600/Menorca+Mahon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sHyICNG4Ro4/TapVCFBxhNI/AAAAAAAABA8/_vHYr3g6q94/s320/Menorca+Mahon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A cruise ship slides past us as we cross the channel by dinghy</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hjxoraGogxU/TapU-QurSLI/AAAAAAAABA4/aTi_wBuKaZs/s1600/Menorca+Mahon+Cala+Taleura.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hjxoraGogxU/TapU-QurSLI/AAAAAAAABA4/aTi_wBuKaZs/s320/Menorca+Mahon+Cala+Taleura.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cala Taulera</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>The anchorage is full of liveaboard yachts, so the entertainment at night is provided by one or other boat. Water is easily available from a small water pontoon island - a 50c coin supplies 50 litres of water. Diesel is available at the club nautico, avoiding the beginning and end of the day and the weekends when all the small power boats queue up, and if there is a luxury motor boat filling up, just go off and do something else for and hour!<br />
Here we watched the last of the Americas cup races and when we got back to the boat, the Team NZ flag was flown at half mast. The Swiss had sadly managed to keep their ill-gotten gains. <br />
As we are anchored just off the beach for the entrance to the <b>Fort Isabel II on La Mola island</b>, it beckoned an exploration. It has only been open to the public for a couple of years, previously being populated by the Spanish army, and housing a prison for those opposed to the Franco regime. The fort itself was built to repel the French (who wanted the port as a refuge between France and Algeria) and the English ( who wanted it as a base between Malta and Gibraltar). It was very successful, as once built, it was never attacked, and its cannons were never fired in anger. The architecture is fascinating, every stone hand-carved and every feature perfectly aligned. It is a work of art, particularly the galleries where soldiers armed with rifles could defend the double moat from a land based attack. Looking through the doors of these rooms, is like looking in an infinity mirror. It also house a 15 inch Vickers battery cannon; last test-fired in 1991, the Mahon residents were warned prior to firing, as it made their windows rattle! . It can penetrate 36cm of armour plate at 23km. Given the number of French and English boats in the anchorage, you could forgive them for thinking themselves under threat again!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AI78lMRQdmo/TapU8H1Jz8I/AAAAAAAABAw/_lbFQBQQGn4/s1600/Menorca+Mahon+Fort2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AI78lMRQdmo/TapU8H1Jz8I/AAAAAAAABAw/_lbFQBQQGn4/s320/Menorca+Mahon+Fort2.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3C6hNbAIOvw/TapU94pEaSI/AAAAAAAABA0/sI00wBIntok/s1600/Menorca+Mahon+Fort.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3C6hNbAIOvw/TapU94pEaSI/AAAAAAAABA0/sI00wBIntok/s320/Menorca+Mahon+Fort.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nzf45Z_sJXk/TapU66X3oBI/AAAAAAAABAk/QHwW6EexIEc/s1600/Menorca+Mahon+Fort+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nzf45Z_sJXk/TapU66X3oBI/AAAAAAAABAk/QHwW6EexIEc/s320/Menorca+Mahon+Fort+4.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p40tGtI5sN4/TapU7evtXjI/AAAAAAAABAo/5oRt8nMXluY/s1600/Menorca+Mahon+Fort+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="100" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p40tGtI5sN4/TapU7evtXjI/AAAAAAAABAo/5oRt8nMXluY/s320/Menorca+Mahon+Fort+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We have been here for two weeks, with friends on ‘Will You’, ‘Roamer’ and ‘Moyle Rose’, and have met lots of others here. The kayaks were unpacked and have explored most of the calas around the port, including one that the pilot book indicated might be suitable for small yachts – small kayaks maybe, but not yachts!<br />
We sat out our first gale at anchor here- which was entirely uneventful except for a couple of French boats dragging their anchors in the early hours. Quelle Surprise! <br />
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We made a trip up to town together for the evening to see the fishing boat blessing festival – there were lots of boats accompanying the 3 fishing boats out to the harbour entrance, but none of the expected dancing and music on the quay – unusual for Spain, they tend to celebrate everything with some fireworks at least.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rUCLBEGZK60/TapVhX1qJhI/AAAAAAAABBI/RH5kIHyGV9Y/s1600/Menorca+Mahon+festival.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rUCLBEGZK60/TapVhX1qJhI/AAAAAAAABBI/RH5kIHyGV9Y/s320/Menorca+Mahon+festival.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KaF7TfDAPj8/TapVj7lMqdI/AAAAAAAABBY/C85j4GxHbvY/s1600/Menorca+Mahon+dinghies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KaF7TfDAPj8/TapVj7lMqdI/AAAAAAAABBY/C85j4GxHbvY/s320/Menorca+Mahon+dinghies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EyIURfZiFCU/TapViPSbthI/AAAAAAAABBQ/G7mV-KcW-ek/s1600/Menorca+Mahon+Paz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EyIURfZiFCU/TapViPSbthI/AAAAAAAABBQ/G7mV-KcW-ek/s320/Menorca+Mahon+Paz.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Kate tries to attract Peter Stringfellow’s attention –but he was just playing it cool!</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> </i></td></tr>
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Most people are here waiting for the right weather slot to make the 200 mile trip to Sardinia. It is an excellent place to stock up and get weather forecasts etc. When we arrived here we realized that we had only been in the Balearics for 4 weeks, and we were already at the point closest to Sardinia. We decided that we had been hurrying through and should slow down a bit and just enjoy being here. Two weeks later we are still in Mahon, but then so are Roamer, Will You and Moyle Rose – it’s just too good to leave. Roamer and Will You will eventually leave for Sardinia from here when the weather is settled again. Both boats have target destinations for the autumn that are earlier than ours for different reasons. We realize that we are able to take a bit more time to enjoy the island, and hope to visit the calas on the north east side before we move on east. <br />
We had had good reason to stay here for these 2 weeks – the weather just has not reached its summer stability yet – probably something to do with the same weather systems ravaging the UK at the moment, the tail end is upsetting the normal Med highs and lows– at least it isn’t raining here though! We couldn’t think of a more pleasant harbor to be anchored in while the winds sort themselves out, and more pleasant company to share it with. <br />
17th July 2007<br />
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<u><b>Addaya and Fornells</b></u><br />
‘Moyle Rose’ , ‘Roamer’ and ‘Will You’ moved on within a couple of days of writing this, so, friendless and partied out with headed for some R&R round the north tip of Menorca. <br />
First stop <b>Addaya </b>– some local knowledge had prepared us for the dogleg entrance through the rocks – it is Ok once you are inside the deep wooded cala but only a fool would attempt it for the first time in any northerly wind or swell. Luckily it was flat calm for us. We motored slowly up through the packed moorings, expecting the water to shoal well before there was any space to anchor, but actually there is plenty of room to anchor in a perfectly peaceful setting, beyond the moorings, deep inland almost isolated from the world. You could happily spend months in here, without any knowledge of the sea conditions outside. It was a beautiful place to rest and swim in water at 30+ Degrees, but shoreside activities were soon exhausted. On the quay close to the anchorage/marina the road leads through neat little plots and bungalows reminiscent of a characterless suburban new town, leading to a couple of purpose-built holiday bar-restaurants including the ubiquitous Irish bar, complete with Shamrock symbol. A somewhat longer trip ashore by dinghy takes you almost out of the Cala and then back in to a second bay to the old fishing quay, complete with toothless grannies, dogs and children. The atmosphere somewhat more attractive to us, the Spanish tourist/English tourist divide was evident in the differences between the two sites. <br />
After a couple of days to chill we headed on west a few miles to <b>Fornells</b>. Our friend Rick had told us a lot about the fabulous sailing school (Menorca Sailing) at Ses Salines at the head of this large cala, so we headed up and anchored off the school for several days, while the wind blew it’s now customary 30 knots during the day. At least we had a lot of entertainment watching both novices and experts practicing their windsurfing and dinghy sailing – feeling slightly jealous that we couldn’t join in. The kit and the training both seemed to be superb, so if anyone is looking for a watersports holiday option – this comes highly recommended. And I’m not just saying that because we used their wifi internet connection for free for a few days!!<br />
A trip ashore to <b>Fornells town</b> was rewarded by it being the weekend of the <b>San Antoni </b>festival. Our understanding of this is a bit patchy, but it seems to be a longstanding elaborate and exciting spectacle of horseman/woman-ship and bravado by the participating spectators. <br />
The boisterous stallions dance into a packed sawdust ring, to an ever-repeating tune played by a very long-suffering youth brass-band. The horses are goaded by the crowd, and encouraged by the riders to rear-up on their hind-legs as they dance, surging through the mass of people, so that the courageous ones can attempt to touch the ceremonial breastplate of the horse by diving under it – this being good luck. Survival of this act could be considered very good luck, whether it brings additional fortune is debatable. The Red-cross were on hand to deal with crushing and stampeding injuries, but amazingly we saw none. A real blow for Health and Safety and Risk Assessment specialists across the world! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g_RuanNUnfU/TapVjBrH2GI/AAAAAAAABBU/2VHL-avshfg/s1600/Menorca+Fornells+Horses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g_RuanNUnfU/TapVjBrH2GI/AAAAAAAABBU/2VHL-avshfg/s320/Menorca+Fornells+Horses.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yBJ6aYDakhM/TapVh9t11VI/AAAAAAAABBM/cOUjFRhJqVU/s1600/Menorca+Fornells+Horses+%252810%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yBJ6aYDakhM/TapVh9t11VI/AAAAAAAABBM/cOUjFRhJqVU/s320/Menorca+Fornells+Horses+%252810%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After updating our website, and waiting for a weather slot, we were ready for the 200 mile crossing to Sardinia. Spanish books away and Italian books at the ready!!<br />
Alas Med-weather usually means that you wait for a forecast of no wind, so as to avoid the Golfe du Lion gale leftovers. So we motor-sailed for 33 hours and arrived at <b>Porto Conte</b> on the north west coast of Sardinia, looking forward to a new language, culture and island. <br />
</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-71279447198504364022007-06-20T09:47:00.000-07:002011-04-16T10:37:13.600-07:00Balearic Islands, Formentera and Ibiza<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kPtRdIhtfQw/TanJdA69UFI/AAAAAAAAA9k/lJ8NzG-2unI/s1600/Isla+Espalmador+Anchorage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="73" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kPtRdIhtfQw/TanJdA69UFI/AAAAAAAAA9k/lJ8NzG-2unI/s320/Isla+Espalmador+Anchorage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><b><u>Formentera and Isla Espalmador</u></b>, 31 May 2007<br />
At last we have arrived at our first cruising destination!!! It has nearly taken a year, but we have seen such a lot along the way. It took 5 attempts to get our anchor to hold in the weedy bottom of the anchorage. Finally it bit and we could get some sleep after our night crossing, and relax for the day.<br />
Early next morning the wind came round and put us on a lee shore (normally you always try to anchor so that you are being blown off the land – not onto it, so that if the anchor does not hold you do not end up on the beach/rocks/mud!) so we upped anchor and headed to Isla Espalmador – a beautiful anchorage in a bay of a privately owned island. The anchor held on the 3rd attempt – things are looking up! We found ‘Will You’ at anchor here too. The water is clear with turquoise patches over the sandy bits. Excellent for swimming. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1hLaCzSGS-U/TanJhEi29II/AAAAAAAAA9o/ivrijzkTNC0/s1600/Isla+Espalmador+Mud+bath+stu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1hLaCzSGS-U/TanJhEi29II/AAAAAAAAA9o/ivrijzkTNC0/s320/Isla+Espalmador+Mud+bath+stu.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_Dm8it0o2HQ/TanJbGDNjQI/AAAAAAAAA9g/K6pk1RcauCg/s1600/Isla+Espalmador+Mud+bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_Dm8it0o2HQ/TanJbGDNjQI/AAAAAAAAA9g/K6pk1RcauCg/s320/Isla+Espalmador+Mud+bath.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We had heard and read about some mud pools on the island, so were not surprised to see small groups of people ,often naked , heading from the beach into the sand dunes, then similar sized groups of very black humans returning to the beach. This ritual is a must do, although I still can’t see why anybody wants to smell like a sulphurous rotting mud swamp for 2 days. People pay a fortune for this mud in exclusive spas!<br />
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Our first wedding anniversary was upon us so we decided to head off to another cala that had been recommended to us on Formentera – <u><b>Cala Sahona.</b></u> The water here was very clear and absolutely turquoise, and the weather behaved itself so the cala was tranquil. It was really weird to swim around the boat and to clearly see the underwater aspect that you can only vaguely remember from haul outs.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1nxrAEa4S0/TanKgNRd4xI/AAAAAAAAA9s/79DSIjNhhIc/s1600/Cala+Sahona+fish+feeding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1nxrAEa4S0/TanKgNRd4xI/AAAAAAAAA9s/79DSIjNhhIc/s320/Cala+Sahona+fish+feeding.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t7kVjzhSVcA/TanKiUQbGhI/AAAAAAAAA9w/cNtZHnOlR9c/s1600/Cala+Sahona+boat+bottom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t7kVjzhSVcA/TanKiUQbGhI/AAAAAAAAA9w/cNtZHnOlR9c/s320/Cala+Sahona+boat+bottom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In the evening we headed up to the Mohito bar to watch the sunset. The mohitos (Cuban rum and fresh mint cocktail) had been recommended to us, so despite the absence of a menu or pricelist ordered one each. They slipped down very nicely, so we ordered a second one each. We speculated how much they might cost as we watched the sunset over the bay – oh well what the hell, we’ll have a third one! I went up to pay our bill and being slightly sossled I did not express too much surprise when presented with a bill for 13 euros – what a bargain, I thought. I then glanced up and saw that they had given me the bill for the wrong table, which had had only 2 mohitos! We quickly disappeared into the darkness outside before they realized their error and asked for 26 euros more. We wandered over to the beachside restaurant and decided the menu was too pricey and not apparently great quality and so we agreed that we could cook up something better ourselves on the boat. So we wobbled back to the dinghy on the beach. To our dismay there were a couple of people on the beach coming towards us waving flashlights – we really thought that the bar had rumbled their mistake and come after us for the money. “Ola Ola! Were you in the bar just now?” We could no longer escape so we resigned ourselves that they’d caught up with us. “I lost my bag in the bar and it’s closed now – did you see it anywhere?” Just some other punters – not an angry proprietor. “No, sorry mate” we said and breathed a huge sigh of relief. So we did get away with 3 for the price of 1 after all.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VywhRiNSCAI/TanLNwaCltI/AAAAAAAAA90/waygLaHSyEQ/s1600/Cala+Sahona+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VywhRiNSCAI/TanLNwaCltI/AAAAAAAAA90/waygLaHSyEQ/s320/Cala+Sahona+sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--TLXoe4Zw_g/TanLk-gw1QI/AAAAAAAAA94/klYUwqL0N_k/s1600/Mohito+bar+Cala+Sahona.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--TLXoe4Zw_g/TanLk-gw1QI/AAAAAAAAA94/klYUwqL0N_k/s320/Mohito+bar+Cala+Sahona.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><u><b>Ibiza : 4th June 2007</b></u><br />
As we didn’t feel we could go back to the same bar a second night we moved on the next morning, and just to be sure that we were off the hook we went a different island. A short hop and we were in Ibiza, and we found ourselves in Cala Yondal with just one other yacht at anchor. There were 2 beach chill-out clubs full of beautiful people. They were playing really good up-to-the-minute chill-out tunes at both bars – unfortunately we were anchored exactly halfway between the two! They were very well behaved and the music finished reasonably early by Ibiza standards. <br />
Next day we moved onto Cala Port Roig – not as pretty or chilled out as Yondal, but a long safe well protected anchorage. Here we met up with Kate and Davy on Roamer and saw them at anchor for the first time – had to have a photo of that, just in case it never happened again. (They must have liked it – they’ve become true cheapskates like us !!) No shore-side entertainment here and not the prettiest cala, so we were on the move again the next day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TnLIbntlkqc/TanMwgFIwgI/AAAAAAAAA98/rfVV6UOsOHo/s1600/Roamer+Ibiza+Port+Roig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TnLIbntlkqc/TanMwgFIwgI/AAAAAAAAA98/rfVV6UOsOHo/s320/Roamer+Ibiza+Port+Roig.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Kate and Davey wet their anchor</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> The ‘spiritual’ island of Vedra</i></td></tr>
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In tandem with Roamer we gently sailed up the stunningly beautiful coast to<u><b> Cala Badella,</b></u> passing between the ‘spiritual’ island of Vedra and the mainland – it didn’t think that it felt particularly ‘spiritual’ but then we hadn’t been up clubbing all night and taking drugs! Ibiza is very cliffy and steep-to so it seems to just rise straight out of the sea. Vedra must make an amazing sight at sunset from the mainland. Cala Badella was pretty much full of mooring buoys, but there was room for boats to anchor around the moorings. After 1 failed attempt to get good holding we picked up a buoy and stayed for 2 nights on it. No-one came to take money or shooed us off – it was probably a private mooring and we were just lucky that the owner had vacated it for a while. <br />
<u><b>Anchoring </b></u><br />
We take our anchoring seriously and that is why we have so many failed attempts. Let me explain that – many yachts just drop their hook any-old how, pile several metres of chain on top of their anchors and stop their engines – often, to be fair they are just stopped for lunch or for the night in a fair-weather anchorage. 15-20knots of wind ( an average sea-breeze) seems to sort them out and they start to drag their anchors, causing havoc amongst the other anchored boats (forgive me – the French appear to be the absolute worst at this – everyone assumes the worst when a French flag appears in an anchorage!) Being used to anchoring in Brittany in strong tides and in the UK with 180 degree wind-shifts and unexpected gales we take it a bit more seriously – we drop the anchor and slowly drift backwards letting out chain as we go. We put out 3-4 times the depth of water in chain and slowly motor astern to encourage the anchor to bite into the sand/mud/weed/rock. If it bites we then motor astern at half throttle, mimicking the effects of a gale to see if we drift backwards. If don’t move we are happy to sleep well at night (apart from knowing that there is a French boat upwind of us!) If it doesn’t hold like this, we pull it up and start again. Hence, if our anchoring attempts seem to reflect a poor anchor, it is not a fair assumption. It just means we are trying harder to be secure at all times. <br />
<b>Cala Badella</b> was a comfortable combination of small tourist development and un-spoilt beauty. The English family tourism had encouraged competition between the bars, so they were good value and with good services – we found free wifi internet in a beach bar so we stayed all afternoon (working hard you know! ) for the price of a few beers!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MBO_DBXjkB4/TanNmDk5CZI/AAAAAAAAA-I/VNuAvoe9114/s1600/Ibiza+Cala+Badella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MBO_DBXjkB4/TanNmDk5CZI/AAAAAAAAA-I/VNuAvoe9114/s320/Ibiza+Cala+Badella.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>There was a small bonus for Stuart and Davey – a model sunset photo-shoot was taking place just on the rocks to the stern of our boat. We don’t think that Matador was forming the backdrop to their shoot – it wouldn’t have looked proper with the reflection from the binoculars in the background or the long slavering tongues!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qcZdnNSVz9g/TanNStkfhQI/AAAAAAAAA-E/6LZ0q8OxKDE/s1600/Ibiza+Cala+Badella+models.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qcZdnNSVz9g/TanNStkfhQI/AAAAAAAAA-E/6LZ0q8OxKDE/s320/Ibiza+Cala+Badella+models.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><u><b>Puerto de San Antonio : 8 June 2007</b></u><br />
We arrived here well equipped with info as to where to anchor from ‘Huit Huit’ who had spent many seasons here. They were absolutely right and we dropped anchor in good holding inside the green marks but just before where the anchorage proper is marked on the charts. We didn’t expect them, but they arrived a few days later to find us in their favourite spot! <br />
A good safe anchorage was appreciated, as we wanted to experience some night-life here. It is the second club city of Ibiza – two of the big clubs are based here, Paradis and Eden – and there are good bus connections to the real city of clubbing – Ibiza town. Both these options mean that we needed to be comfortable to leave the boat unattended while we spent a good part of the night ashore out of sight of Matador. <br />
Well we dug our anchor in well as usual and within a few hours the 20 knot test blew up. 5 boats dragged their anchors and ended up in the channel but we were confident that we were safe and sound because we had done the ‘full gale’ test. Roamer anchored too, and they were well acquainted with San Antonio, having holidayed on the island before. They insisted that we visit the west end of San Antonio – a neon lit strip of bars and clubs bursting with lobster-red loud-mouthed Brits on cheap boozed-up holidays. This is the smelly armpit, zitty chin, sweaty crotch of Ibiza but luckily the town planners seem to have contained it all within a small area. We took advantage of cheap beer and sat and people watched for many hours – fascinating anthropological study ! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qeftRzfuCmY/TanNJAap0WI/AAAAAAAAA-A/4bLewcuFMOk/s1600/San+antonio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qeftRzfuCmY/TanNJAap0WI/AAAAAAAAA-A/4bLewcuFMOk/s320/San+antonio.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Along the sunset strip the up-market chill out bars were an improvement – the original Café del Mar still exists here amongst several competitors- we just felt out of place – not on holiday, not burnt bright red, not living or working on the island, too old and frankly couldn’t wait to move on. <br />
As our first San Antonio hangover waned we popped on the bus to Ibiza town, arriving about 5pm. We walked all around the impressive fortifations of Ibiza, the Dalt Vila, climbing to the highest vantage point enjoyed by Greeks, Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Vandals, Moors and Catalans as they successively ruled the island. The evening heat hangs heavily as you slowly ascend the many steps to the top of the old town. We were glad that our hangovers had precluded an earlier start !<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lsegsYBEKf8/TanQbsN1sKI/AAAAAAAAA-U/5Kf4na0wwSg/s1600/Ibiza+town2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lsegsYBEKf8/TanQbsN1sKI/AAAAAAAAA-U/5Kf4na0wwSg/s320/Ibiza+town2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ljJNIKdLvy4/TanQ711_v1I/AAAAAAAAA-Y/GEbCt2Fgjok/s1600/Ibiza+town.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ljJNIKdLvy4/TanQ711_v1I/AAAAAAAAA-Y/GEbCt2Fgjok/s320/Ibiza+town.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Later we sought out the nightlife, exploring the hip gay area of the old town, the pre-clubbing bars with their touts trying to encourage you in – to overpriced beers and over-hyped transvestite parade. San Antonio had been a good practice run and we got off without too much ripping off, heading home on the night-bus at 3.30am. We could have spent 30 euros each on a ticket to one of the big clubs just for the experience, but it was still early in the season and any atmosphere in the pre-club bars appeared forced, false and directed at tourists with too much money to spend.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yGhizoGmilE/TanN9qIMDHI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/tTYpTtp4AdY/s1600/Ibiza+town+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yGhizoGmilE/TanN9qIMDHI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/tTYpTtp4AdY/s320/Ibiza+town+night.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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We’re sure that the foam parties and water parties are great fun if you are part of the crowd, in the mood, slightly drugged (no-one could afford to be drunk at 10 euros minimum for a small bottle of beer!) and younger than us !<br />
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Before leaving San Antonio we decided to fill our water tanks. 540 litres of water in our tanks seems to last us around 2-3 weeks if we are sensible , so it is not too much of a chore to fill the tanks when it is convenient. However, filling with water in San Antonio involved queuing in the office, presenting ship’s papers, captain’s passport, a 30 minute time slot, a dirty oily quay, no cleats to tie to, a special hose fitting only available in the Balearics, and 4.35 euros in exact change, if you please – but for the freedom of anchoring where and when we want for free, it is a small price to pay and only a mornings toil.<br />
We headed for the less-developed north of the island and enjoyed spectacular scenery again before anchoring in <b>Cala San Miguel</b>. This was another beautiful cala with a combination of laid back charm and Thomson holidays apartments. A small supermarket met our immediate needs. The inflatable kayaks came out for some exercise. Roamer joined us for a surprisingly good Chinese meal and we were happy bunnies indeed. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNwcH-M9AvI/TanSDxJ0QmI/AAAAAAAAA-c/xdRqwhMxy_U/s1600/Ibiza+cala+san+miguel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNwcH-M9AvI/TanSDxJ0QmI/AAAAAAAAA-c/xdRqwhMxy_U/s320/Ibiza+cala+san+miguel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FSEPKAcIWXM/TanSKcU6fVI/AAAAAAAAA-g/8JT1EKYK3mM/s1600/Ibiza+cala+san+miguel+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FSEPKAcIWXM/TanSKcU6fVI/AAAAAAAAA-g/8JT1EKYK3mM/s320/Ibiza+cala+san+miguel+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We were finding that some calas would suffer from an invasion of jellyfish in their hundreds for a day, but often the following day they were gone. A sort of jellyfish cruise thing going on maybe, like the huge cruise ships that spend 12 hours in port, disgorge 2000 people into the town and then depart as quickly as they came. We quickly learnt that you do not swim if the little evil b***ds are in town. They certainly do not try to get out of your way, and they have chemical warfare knowledge second to none. We thought we’d cracked a new cure, saltwater scrub, antihistamine tablet, hydrogen peroxide to clean, ammonia to neutralize the sting followed by a burn-jel dressing to relieve the intense heat. This resulted in an impressive immediate cure, but unfortunately it just lay dormant for 7 days and came back just as bad as if no action had been taken. A month later the skin is only just healing. Alas global warming is raising the average sea temperature, leading to huge increase in the numbers and size of jelly fish, and their natural predators, tuna and turtles are in decline. <br />
If only we could wage war on mosquitos and jellyfish instead of innocent people.<br />
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Our last stop in Ibiza was Cala Portinatx, an attractive cala with sane tourist development. Along with Roamer we found an excellent Asian restaurant at the top of the town overlooking the bar – not cheap, but excellent quality – and there was a swimming pool on the terrace in case anyone fancied a quick dip between courses. It was a real treat to enjoy a meal like this- the sort of meal we would have had at least weekly back in the UK- but we can afford to do this occasionally now that we are not paying for overnight marinas. We love swinging to our own anchor for free– long may it continue!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DRIkMF6DCGY/TanS1uSivLI/AAAAAAAAA-k/Bwu9W2hoD80/s1600/Ibiza+Portinatx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DRIkMF6DCGY/TanS1uSivLI/AAAAAAAAA-k/Bwu9W2hoD80/s320/Ibiza+Portinatx.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vOPgye93nnQ/TanS4tkw1iI/AAAAAAAAA-o/V1UKBeTLwmI/s1600/Ibiza+Portinatx+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vOPgye93nnQ/TanS4tkw1iI/AAAAAAAAA-o/V1UKBeTLwmI/s320/Ibiza+Portinatx+night.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
A 50 mile passage took us to Mallorca, we had a target to meet, our friend Peter was about to arrive in Palma and we needed to be on our way. Ibiza was far more than loud clubs and bars, it also had many beautiful calas and spectacular scenery.<br />
You’ll have to take our word for it, but this is a sperm whale we sighted between Ibiza and Mallorca. It jumped out of the water 5 times, getting a bit closer to the boat each time. It was an amazing sight but we were quite relieved when he stopped getting closer and disappeared, just in case it hadn’t seen us!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CZn7gvfHtx4/TanTrjChZcI/AAAAAAAAA-s/uWQ-u0s8gh4/s1600/whale+honest.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CZn7gvfHtx4/TanTrjChZcI/AAAAAAAAA-s/uWQ-u0s8gh4/s320/whale+honest.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-10964325698983491802007-06-01T12:10:00.000-07:002011-04-15T12:18:38.938-07:00Costa del Sol, Spain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We had been warned about the high cost, lack of berths and indifference to English yachties on the Costa del Sol, so we had planned to zip through this part of the coast without too many stops. <br />
7th May 2007. Our first scheduled stop was at <u><b>Estepona</b></u>, which we thought would be a reasonably priced marina, as we knew several boats that had wintered or stopped overnight there. We tied up alongside the waiting pontoon, which claimed to have 24 hour staffing. It was about 7pm and there was no-one to be seen. We wandered around the pontoons – no-one to be found, so we cooked our dinner and planned to spend the night on the waiting pontoon and be gone early in the morning. At 10.30pm the marinero knocked on the side and asked us to fill in his papers and check in. When we found out that it would be €50 for the night we decided to move on briskly and do an overnight passage instead. The mariner was kind enough to let us eat our dinner before we left and turn a blind eye to our short stay on the waiting pontoon. A lunch stop here is €25 so we were pleased with his generosity!<br />
We had an uneventful motor along the coast, with virtually no fishing boats, no ships to be seen and a tranquil flat sea. The peace was briefly broken at about 3 am, by the deep sound of a high-speed boat that showed on radar at 1 mile but had no lights. It disappeared quickly into the night and off radar. Drug boat, we both agreed and Stu went back to sleep and I continued my watch. The lights of Marbella and Malaga winked past in an unbroken line along the coast but by morning we were sailing past the fairly undeveloped coastline of Almeria, still showing the benefit of starvation of development by Franco in the 60s, but now starting to catch up with its neighbouring costas, and the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains in the background. We studied the pilot book, and found a reasonably sheltered anchorage at La Herradura. This was close to Almenucar where Laurie Lee witnessed the outbreak of the Spanish Civil war in 1936. We had a restful couple of nights at anchor and our first swim of the season. The water was already warmer than the UK at its best!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NyWbhSJtvSI/TaiYizK8Y-I/AAAAAAAAA9U/AecLHvnCDLY/s1600/Costa+de+Sol+Sierra+Nevada.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="193" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NyWbhSJtvSI/TaiYizK8Y-I/AAAAAAAAA9U/AecLHvnCDLY/s320/Costa+de+Sol+Sierra+Nevada.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> The Sierra Nevada and Costa de Almerimar</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TBvuUu3ddXg/TaiYxIUUyzI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/nJmFaipnEnU/s1600/Costa+de+Sol+Herradura+anchorage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TBvuUu3ddXg/TaiYxIUUyzI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/nJmFaipnEnU/s320/Costa+de+Sol+Herradura+anchorage.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our own anchorage at La Herradura in fine settled weather</i></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wme4Pe_sfOE/TaiY4Of41dI/AAAAAAAAA9c/13ZIn_gALCs/s1600/Costa+de+Sol+Herradura.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wme4Pe_sfOE/TaiY4Of41dI/AAAAAAAAA9c/13ZIn_gALCs/s320/Costa+de+Sol+Herradura.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><u><b>Almerimar : 10-23 May</b></u><br />
We next found ourselves at Almerimar marina. We just popped in to find out the costs, preparing ourselves for a quick departure based on the Estepona experience. We were amazed to find it was €9 per night (water and power extra), so we booked in for a couple of nights. This marina has 1000 berths in 3 large basins, surrounded by shops, apartments, beaches, restaurants. It is a boat city, but completely lacks character and atmosphere. We were pleased to be able to get wifi on board the boat, and that there was a huge well-stocked Mercadona supermarket on site. There is also a VHF net broadcast every morning, similar to that of Lagos, so you could keep up to date with events, buy sell and swap gear, and find out a daily weather report. This turned out to be immensely valuable as Cabo de Gata headland is the local nasty to be avoided in bad weather and almost impossible to round in a north easterly due to the sea-state and currents. Almerimar had us hostage for 14 nights in the end, as we waited for the right weather slot to move up the south east coast safely. <br />
A few Lagos boats arrived – Dawn Chaser, Roamer, Birvidik, and we made some new acquaintances – Pam and Dave on ‘Will You’ and Pete and Lyn on “Huit Huit” who were full of useful information. Pete and Lyn had cruised the Spanish coast and the Balearics several times so we had a pilot book party and made notes in our new pilot book from their suggestions as to where to head for, good anchoring spots and where to pick up water supplies. <br />
A German live-aboard was selling LED lights that he makes up himself to your specification – we had been searching for the right ones for sometime, so we availed ourselves of his services. LED lights use very little power, so they are great as anchor lights, and saloon lights, reading lights etc. If you are anchored and need to watch your power consumption vs. battery charging ability, LED lights are invaluable. All that we needed now was the right light shades …..<br />
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David, the weather man, introduced us to a couple of really useful weather sites:<br />
<a href="http://www.inm.es/">www.inm.es</a> the Spanish met office website and <a href="http://www.meteosim.com/">www.meteosim.com</a> . By studying the weather buoy data we could check whether the sea-state was suitable for departure, avoiding the hassle of leaving, having a nasty day on the water, only to have to return to Almerimar.<br />
We got a lot of jobs done on the boat, varnishing the woodwork and protecting the sails and ropes from chafe – it was a useful and cheap stopover, but finally a weather window developed and we were off like a shot.<br />
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We rounded Cabo de Gata in a still lumpy and rolly sea and even managed to sail in light winds. We had decided to head straight out to the Balearic Islands overnight as we were having such a nice sail in 8 knots of wind, with twin head sails poled out and no main sail. At about 2pm Stuart looked behind us and saw the water getting choppier, so we decided to drop the big lightweight hank-on genoa in case the wind speed was on the increase. At this point the Navtex spewed out a gale warning for all areas of the western Mediterranean. <br />
Luckily we got the lightweight genoa packed away and down inside in good time, but no sooner had we done that, we had to wind away the roller-furling genoa bit by bit. The wind swung around to the NW 120 degree swing, and increased to35 and peaked at 45 knots!!! We were running around closing hatches, and getting the spray hood up as we were being soaked by the spray of the rapidly building sea. This transformation from light wind ghosting to full stormy seas took about 45 minutes, a Mediterranean speciality. We decided to head into the lee of the mainland, as although we were in no danger, we didn’t know how long these conditions might last. We motored up into the lee of the headland and headed straight into a new cheap marina at Santa Pola, which had been recommended to us by ‘Will You’. We were very thankful that we had not been too far out to sea when this weather came through – it was a salutary lesson as to how quickly the Med weather can change. With no tides to overcome, the sea state changes and builds as rapidly as the wind speed increases, and then only dies away slowly after the wind has stopped. <br />
<u><b>Santa Pola marina</b></u> has only just opened and is almost empty. It was €11 a night, the pontoons very solid and the bathrooms luxurious. We were happy to tie up for a few days – first job being to wash the salt crystals off the outside of the boat. Santa Pola is a nice town, not touristy, and has Chinese shop warehouses where you can buy almost anything. Every town in Spain and Portugal has a Chinese shop – however small the village –well stocked with all sorts of tat, amongst which you can usually find something useful – a tool, a plastic tray for the fridge, a kitchen utensil. In Santa Pola we found 2B pencils for chart work at 35cents each, and some teak pencil holders for 65 cents, which Stuart is making into LED light shades! Bargains galore!<br />
Leaving the marina, and heading out from the mainland we had a rough and windy start to the 100 mile passage to the Balearics, thinking – here we go again! – But thankfully the wind moderated after a couple of hours and we motor-sailed overnight. Again it was a very uneventful passage, with just a few ships and fishing boats sighted. We take it in turns to be on watch for 2-4 hours at a time, for short trips overnight this is no problem, as you can catch up on sleep once you arrive. <br />
It took 24 days from Ceuta to reach the Balearic Islands. We were lucky to have anchored in settled weather when possible, and to find a couple of cheap marinas. The marina charges were due to increase to summer rates within a few days of our departure from each place, so we had got in just in time. Will we be so lucky in the Balearics, given all the tales of woe that we have heard from ‘helpful’ souls who wish to fill our heads with all sorts of information?</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-57127327954887772152007-05-15T11:18:00.000-07:002011-04-15T12:08:27.031-07:00Spain, Gibralter and Morocco<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><u><b>Ayamonte again</b></u><br />
Our arrival in Ayamonte co-incided happily with Semana Santa or Holy Week. The week is celebrated by a series of processions day and night throughout every Spanish town and village. After watching one of the processions from one of the 9 churches in the town of Ayamonte, which doesn’t even warrant its own sentence in the Rough Guide to Spain, we were so impressed with the spectacle that we hatched a plan to go and see Semana Santa in ‘the’ place to see it – Seville. It’s widely reputed that the only accommodation left in Seville in Holy Week is exceptionally expensive, so we planned to travel up by bus (2 hours) in the afternoon of Maundy Thursday, stay up all night as the Spanish do anyway, and travel back the following day. We put a few essentials in a small rucksack and set off on an adventure. <br />
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<u><b>An overland intermission in Seville (Maundy Thursday)</b></u><br />
On arrival in Seville it soon became apparent that the best bet was just to follow the streams of people who clearly knew where to head for to see the next procession. It was a great night, interspersed by warm-ups in bars with a few tapas to see us through the night. A hotel would certainly have been a waste of money, as we wouldn’t have seen much of it!<br />
It was lovely to see so many people, many of them teenagers and young adults, genuinely enjoying the spectacle of their religion. As each pasos (processional float) passed by, a reverent hush would descend on the crowd. We walked miles and stood for hours.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VStAjFFSP64/TaiOGJB064I/AAAAAAAAA8Q/dyKre8YIDSE/s1600/Ayamonte+GF+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VStAjFFSP64/TaiOGJB064I/AAAAAAAAA8Q/dyKre8YIDSE/s320/Ayamonte+GF+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RQQ1WC56ETM/TaiOOe2xKmI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/tDiE8QdgyCs/s1600/Ayamonte+HW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RQQ1WC56ETM/TaiOOe2xKmI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/tDiE8QdgyCs/s320/Ayamonte+HW.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aogAPkXz508/TaiPAAAF19I/AAAAAAAAA88/oZTZ9ZEmFbo/s1600/Seville+SS5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aogAPkXz508/TaiPAAAF19I/AAAAAAAAA88/oZTZ9ZEmFbo/s320/Seville+SS5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sGUdF-AzSZQ/TaiPCmZpcHI/AAAAAAAAA9A/btInY5ktBI8/s1600/Seville+SS7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sGUdF-AzSZQ/TaiPCmZpcHI/AAAAAAAAA9A/btInY5ktBI8/s320/Seville+SS7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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One procession we viewed had a full 1,700 participants slowly moving past in various religious costumes from the tall pointed hat brigade to fully armed roman centurion outfits, feathers galore. Daybreak seemed to arrive very quickly. All the kids were still up, in or following the processions, all well behaved, not a single drunk seen all night despite all the bars still being open. We left on the 10am bus, halfway through the 12 hour procession that had started at 2am and would not finish until lunchtime. Despite the rigors of being on their feet all this time, and lugging around heavy (1 Ton) pasos, and the band having been marching and playing throughout the parade and still with 3 hours to go, they were all in remarkably good spirits. For us it was time to take the bus back to Ayamonte for sleep.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jgrBifA2NAg/TaiPJzJSUGI/AAAAAAAAA9E/_-WTVLmZg4I/s1600/Seville+SS+Daybreak2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jgrBifA2NAg/TaiPJzJSUGI/AAAAAAAAA9E/_-WTVLmZg4I/s320/Seville+SS+Daybreak2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qOd9BDKYpyo/TaiPPja71JI/AAAAAAAAA9I/rXGJDqXjiVU/s1600/Seville+SS+Daybreak3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qOd9BDKYpyo/TaiPPja71JI/AAAAAAAAA9I/rXGJDqXjiVU/s320/Seville+SS+Daybreak3.jpg" width="162" /></a></div>Thanks to Wikipedia for the following explanation of Semana Santa in Seville for those interested in the background to the processions. Other Spanish cities have processions; Malaga is apparently the next best to Seville if you are passing through the area at Easter sometime.<br />
<i>‘Holy Week in Seville<br />
Seville arguably holds some of the most elaborate processions for Holy Week. A tradition that dates from Counterreformation times, or even earlier. The "Semana Santa en Sevilla" is notable for featuring the procession of "pasos", lifelike wood sculptures of individual scenes of the events that happened between Jesus' entry in Jerusalem and his burial, or images of the Virgin Mary showing restained grief for the torture and killing of her son. Some of the images are of great antiquity and artistic masterworks. These "pasos" (which usually weigh over a metric tonne) are physically carried on the neck of costaleros (literally "sack men", for its distinctive -and functional- headdress). The "costaleros" (from 24 to 48) are hidden inside the platform of the "paso", so it seems to walk alone. Historically dock workers were hired to carry the "pasos". From 1973 onward, that task has been universally taken over by the members of the confraternities who organize each procession.<br />
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The "pasos" are set up and maintained by hermandades and cofradías, religious brotherhoods, confraternities or sodalities, which precede the "pasos" (up to 3) dressed in penitential robes. Some of the processions are near 3000 persons each. In Seville, but for some officials, "costaleros", acolytes and a few other exceptions every participant must wear penitential robes and be hooded. A brass band may accompany the group, playing funereal religious hymns or "marchas" written for the occasion. Some processions are silent with no musical accompaniment. As each procession leaves its home church, called a salida, as well at its return (the entrada) and along the march route there are special extemporaneous songs offered by individuals in the crowd or a balcony. These songs are generically called saetas (arrows).<br />
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A total of 58 processions (as of 2007) occur during the week, from Palm Sunday through Easter Sunday morning. On Maundy Thursday there are two sets of processions. One group occurs during the afternoon and evening. The second set begins near midnight and continues until early afternoon on Good Friday. The most famous processions occur this night (the madrugá), including Jesus del Gran Poder, Esperanza - Macarena, and Esperanza - Triana.’</i><br />
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After all the excitement, we returned to Ayamonte to watch the smaller, but nonetheless elaborate processions over the weekend culminating in the colourful and upbeat Easter Sunday parade, where the penitents are not hooded and the ladies join the parade in traditional Andalucian headdresses. <br />
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We were ready to move on, having decided to enjoy the Costa de Luz for a while, which is reported to be the last delightful stretch of Spain before the Costas del Sol and Blanca, with glorious beaches around towns that still retain some of their original character. <br />
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<u><b>Isla Christina/Isla Canela</b></u><br />
Our first trip was just a few miles up the coast to free us from the tide constraints of the shallows outside Ayamonte. We approached Isla Christina marina, but were told that we were 40cm too long for their marina!!! We went across to Isla Canela in the same harbor, which is an up market apartment complex with absolutely no character at all. At least it was cheap. Just could not wait to get out of there!<br />
<u><b>Chipiona</b></u><br />
Next day we motored 50 miles in desperation to get to Chipiona. When we arrived, I thought that maybe all the people had been abducted by aliens – it was so quiet that nothing stirred! We stayed a couple of days here while we sorted out the phone, and did some shopping. It is a long and boring walk into the town. Once there, it was pleasant enough, the bars cheap and not too touristy. The beaches were lovely, and it had an air of a once popular tourist destination that has got lost along the way and is in a sleepy decline. <br />
<u><b>Rota</b></u><br />
We were soon ready for a move, and 15 miles to Rota was not too strenuous. <br />
Rota is at the north end of the Bay of Cadiz, and is better known for the huge US Naval and air force base opposite the marina. Once inside the marina, the only evidence of the base, was a few helicopter and planes overhead, but they were not too much of a distraction. The old town is lovely in the daytime, with a happy, Spanish feel to it. There’s plenty of shopping and bars to be enjoyed, and a very traditional bodega where you can sample all sorts of sherry from barrels at 40 cents a go. At night however the town was full of loud yanks, drinking and showing off their cars and stereos to young Spanish girls. <br />
There is a chain of government run marinas through Andalucía, (www.eppa.es) which are very cheap (€13.50 per night) and our choice of stop is largely determined by the availability of these marinas at the moment, particularly given our experience the next day….<br />
<u><b>El Puerto de Santa Maria</b></u><br />
Across the Bay of Cadiz we visited a private yacht-club for a change. It was lovely, although in a state of decay. There is a swimming pool there (empty) and tennis courts (full) and a bar on the river (very nice). The town was closed for the afternoon (Saturday), although it was very pleasant. It is where the sherry is brought down from Jerez to be stored and shipped. Fortunately all the bodegas were closed so we couldn’t get into trouble!! The downside of this place is the price - €35 per night – the most expensive yet of the whole trip. The friendly marinero(captain of the port), clearly felt sorry for us paupers, and gave us some freshly caught fish for our supper! And some advice on how to save some marina fee money (by lying!) which we will take up at later opportunities.<br />
We moved to a heavenly anchorage to the west of the river entrance and stayed for free – enjoying the tranquility after all the other boats had gone back to their marinas, leaving us to enjoy the views of the bay all by ourselves. <br />
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We were keen to spend a couple of days in the 3000 year old city of Cadiz. We could have done this by ferry from Rota or Santa Maria, but the last ferries left the town at 8pm, so we would have been unable to experience the nightlife of the city. Instead we approached this marina with some trepidation, as the pilot book could not have been more negative about its charms! It is true that it is in the middle of a building site, and the toilet block is some distance from the visitors berths, but it is cheap, half empty and only a 10 minute walk to the start of the old city and the bus station, with good connections to many other cities. We were very pleased to be here, as within a day our friends Davy and Kate from Roamer had joined us, and the wind started howling out of the Straits of Gibraltar, which it has now done for 7 days making any further progress east very uncomfortable if not nearly impossible. The wind in the Gibraltar straits , gateway to the Med, blows hard either west or east 300 out of 360 days. We couldn’t have been delayed in a nicer place though, and we managed a few trips out on the bus, to Seville again, and to Santa Maria on a day when it was open (and very pleasant!) and many days of wandering the endless ancient streets of Cadiz. Cadiz is one of the oldest cities in Spain and every kind of architecture from roman to new is crammed on the small peninsula. It is an incredible sight, plenty of decaying buildings as a result of the limestone used to build and it’s weakness to the attack of the salt air. There is more restoration going on in this tiny area than I have ever seen. A huge effort to shore up and preserve the front facades whilst completely rebuilding the insides of ancient apartment blocks and historic buildings will ensure that this special city retains its special character for future generations. Steph: My Spanish is coming on really well, as long as I don’t have to speak to anyone or to understand anything said to me! If we could communicate in writing we would get along just fine…… It’s not helped by the Andalusian accent, which doesn’t include most of the consonants at the end of the words! <br />
While we were enjoying a glass of something cold during a shopping trip one day in Cadiz, we heard lots of car horns and shouting and everyone seemed to be sporting the same yellow scarf. It transpired that this was a parade of cars and people announcing a general strike in the bar of Cadiz the following day. A huge motor parts factory – Delphi - had just gone into liquidation, and the strike appeared to be in support of the workers who had been laid off that day. We were prepared for disruption the next day, and unavailability of transport and services as you would expect in a general strike, but the day of the strike was supported by all workers in the area. Not a single bar, café, shop, office was open for the whole day. A few dispirited tourists wandered the deserted shopping streets, filled with uncollected rubbish. If they were in self-catering accommodation, they had no chance of anything to eat, no entertainment, not a single bar in which to rest. It was a phenomenal display of solidarity amongst the businesses, all content to forego a days business and pay to show their support of the Delphi workers – although to what gain it was we’re not so sure. The small Carrefour supermarket, being French and therefore disinterested opened for a few hours and we were able to stock up on a few supplies, such as beer, wine, vodka and bread! As there were no bars open in which to rest our weary legs, we just perched ourselves outside the supermarket for a little rest, and had a small can of beer to toast the cause!<br />
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At the moment we are waiting for the break in the weather to allow us to get to Barbate to await the right tide and wind to enter the straits. It is interesting to note that a lot of cruisers (many of whom do not seem to leave the marina in Lagos) advised us to lay up in a marina for the winter by November, but at that time, the weather was very benign and settled for 3 months until February. Since we have escaped and been on the move again, it has been the most unsettled weather that we have seen, as fronts and lows track across the south of the peninsula. <br />
Gibraltar marinas are allegedly full so we don’t yet know if we will be able to stop there or not. We also plan a visit to Ceuta – a small Spanish enclave in Morocco just across the narrow bit of the straits, before tracking as quickly as possible along the Costas to the Balearics. (23 April 2007). <br />
<b><u>Gibraltar</u></b><br />
After a day delay leaving Barbate for the easterly to cease, we poked our nose round the edge of the massive tunny net (Fixed Tuna nets forming about a 4 mile funnel across the bay, entrapping and coaxing schools of unsuspecting tuna – and dolphins - into the central trap where they are hauled out). We were headed in company with Roamer the 15 miles south to Tarifa and then east to Gibraltar. The 6 knot easterly that wafted around the coast south of Barbate developed to 23 knots off Tarifa but backed down to about 12 knots by Gib. The forecast was westerly but it just doesn’t always do what is expected. The land mass of Spain and Africa have huge influence on the weather systems here. Luckily an advance call had secured us the so called last berths in Gib marina and we were able to spend a few days exploring around. I can’t say it was fantastic and it was the first place we have seen drunken pub culture, the type that you know to keep one eye open for the start of a drunken fight, since leaving the UK. <br />
The airport is alongside the marina, and when I say along side I do mean the Runway is about 100 yards from the moored boats and if there is an aircraft taking off or landing you are not allowed to go near the end of the runway as there is a real danger of a collision with a plane and a mast.<br />
The thing that every tourist has to do in Gibraltar is go up the rock. Unfortunately the tourist hunters know it as well and they’re all there to take your cash and cart you there. 16 pounds will get you there by minibus, herded from point of interest to monkey to vantage point and back in about an hour, and they do try to sell you their trips. Less expensive is the cable car, at least allowing you the time you choose to spend, 8.50 Pounds each. We are not tight ( yes we are) but we found a route through the botanical gardens and up the road to the nature reserve toll gate, paid 50p for entrance and ascended the cliffs via the Mediterranean Steps, a route of some spectacular views around the south east face of the rock and up to the top. Don’t underestimate the climb though. It took us about 2 ½ hours and we could feel it for several days after. But we saw the monkeys and the views and even got ourselves locked in the top cable car / restaurant station when the Sunday shift went home for the day. We managed to climb around the locked gates and make our decent down the road this time and through the older parts of the city.<br />
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A day mooching round the shops where the girls stocked up with knickers and tinned meat from M&S and spirits and English stuff from Safeway’s (Now Morrison’s). Spirits were really cheap but wine is cheaper in Spain. 4 Jars of Vegemite, 500 teabags, Cheddar Cheese, Marmite, Diet Tonic, New Electric toothbrush, and 480 liters of diesel (30% cheaper than Spain) we were done with Gib. <br />
16 miles south is Ceuta. A brisk 28 knots of Westerly wind and east going tide gave us a quick but heavy trip across the shipping lanes that reportedly carry 25% of the worlds shipping. Personally I think we have seen more on some trips across the English Channel but not so concentrated and arguably less watchful or willing to alter course a few degrees to go around a small sailing yacht.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sailing south from the rock across the straits on a typical lively</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> day</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><u><b>Ceuta </b></u>is a Spanish enclave on the north coast of Morocco and our first new continent. Being Spanish makes the paperwork easy so it was our choice and quite a good one. Although it’s duty free the prices seem about the same for food as Spain. I believe electronics are cheaper although the choice is much better in duty free Gib. The market just opposite the marina is cheap and had wonderful fish and meat. Some Moroccan influence is visible in the market but it is very clean and we enjoyed a few hours buying little hand made mince things and marinated chicken and fantastic vegetables. We found eating out lacking in choice a bit and had our first meal in a dry restaurant. <br />
<u><b>Tetouan, Morocco</b></u><br />
Roamer caught us up again and with an Australian couple we had last seen in Cascais we decided on a trip into Morocco to Tetouan. Tetouan is about 40 miles over the border and a world apart from this Spanish enclave. Our trip started with a bus to the frontier and the unusual experience of form filling and officialdom associated with the border with Africa and Europe. Touts are everywhere and will sell you anything if you let them, even the official forms to hand over with your passport which are freely given to you by the passport control men. Once through the Spanish side we were encountered by the tour guides, helpful and full of information to help you through the border crossing and then offering assistance in an environment that is so different that it’s hard not to accept and so we did. The guide was courteous and arranged two taxis at 25 Euros return journey, explaining we must not pay them a penny till they delivered us back to the border in one piece. The journey took about 45 minutes to Tetouan. The taxis would not pass an MOT. There was a front seatbelt in one of them but the driver said it wasn’t necessary to put it on - actually there was no catch part so you couldn’t use it anyway. He kindly took the window winder off his door and put it in the back seat so the passengers could share it to adjust the airflow as required. We had to stop for diesel for the 1970s Mercedes but he refused to stop the engine whilst filling, presumably for fear of it not restarting. Our convoy of 2 screamed along past donkeys carrying loads and camels standing around, past road workers living in tents on the roadside and through road works indicated by big rocks placed in the road as warnings to swerve round. <br />
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Wow, what a place, streets often only a few feet wide and full of market stalls and little tiny rooms containing shoe makers, leather workers, bakers, clothes makers, you name it. Surprisingly there was virtually no arm grabbing and hassle to buy things( how much this would have happened without a guide we don’t know – on a couple of occasions he spoke a few sharp words to someone hanging around and they slunk off despondently!) . It seems that tourism really has not touched this place. It is all there for the people not for show. The honesty was amazing: One stall holder refused to sell me a chicken samosa as it was yesterdays and therefore not so safe for visitors to eat, presumably they are used to the bugs as he was quite happy to sell them to the locals. I bought a fresher one on the next stall to him whilst he simply smiled and said it was good I would like it better. We bought some spices and figs and others bought nuts and beans. Our guide became a little disappointed when we refused to buy carpets for the boats from one of the two tourist traps he took us to, the other being a Moroccan Pharmacy where we were dragged off for unwanted neck and back massages and then asked to ensure we tipped the masseur well. We did not and the guide was a little put out but we had tried to explain that we are not normal punters. By the end he got the message, possibly our purchases finally did the job of convincing him. Scraps of off-cuts of leather for anti chafe patches and meat mincer (the Aussie likes to make his own sausages).<br />
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The tannery was impressive, stinking pools of god knows what full of hides at various stages of fermentation, people in waders in yet more pools of dye and others scraping the unwanted fur off cow hides over an old log. This centuries-old industry thrived in the middle of the walled old city, 120,000 people living in homes, crammed with three generations of family, shared hosepipes in the alleys for water. In the alley to the tannery, amongst the wild cats were leather workers and oranges and vegetables piled on the ground, brought in from the mountains by little old wizened ladies, wooden crates of fish smoldered in the sun and old men sat drinking thick coffees and talking. The smells and sights, not all wonderful, almost overpowered your senses. <br />
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Lunch was in a lavishly decorated beautiful restaurant in the old town. Clearly there for the tourist as no locals were to be seen but the food was very Moroccan and probably more suitable to our unaccustomed digestive systems than some of the less classy establishments we would have no doubt chosen if the guide had not steered us in here ( for his commission no doubt). No women were seen in any café or restaurant in the town (other than the tourist traps). We were told that if we had entered them the 3 girls would have been refused service!! The guide spoke proudly of the tolerant nature of the people here and how they lived side by side; Jews and Muslims, synagogue next door to mosque. But it is a long way from Ceuta in terms of progress and desire to change and be part of the modern world – although they were quite happy to take Euros from us at Spanish prices for their goods in the tourist traps!<br />
5 hours after arriving the taxis were waiting for us and we were duly delivered back to the border and they were paid. Probably their lucky day judging by the number of taxies parked in huge ranks on the way to the frontier that obviously had not had work that day. The guide was paid and a small tip on top and after a reminder of do’s and don’ts for crossing the border he was off. We all agreed that the 35 Euros for the guide was worthwhile on the first trip but now we were seasoned Moroccan day trippers we would go independent next time and take our chances.<br />
</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-23008662422944420482007-03-22T11:08:00.000-07:002011-04-15T11:17:28.005-07:00Leaving Lagos, March 22 2007<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well, February just flew by, taking us a bit by surprise to tell the truth. We had expected to be long gone by the end of February, but the decks just continued to be scraped and caulked, a process that took up much more of our time than anticipated. However it is all done now, and by doing it ourselves we saved at least €4000 so we are well pleased with our efforts, and we hope that the black stuff stays in place when we head into the Med and the decks bake in the summer heat. <br />
Frustratingly the weather sensed that we were ready to leave and moved in with a week of frontal systems trailing down from the UK and destabilizing our lovely spring sunshine. But, eventually we managed to cut the umbilical cord to the pontoon, say goodbye to some friends and hasta luego (see you later) to others. …….<br />
<u><b>Alvor</b></u><br />
Once out of the marina we headed for the nearest anchorage at Alvor (a huge voyage of 3.5miles). Motoring in amongst the huge sand-dunes and hundreds of wading and migratory birds, to the fishing port was beautiful. You could spend weeks here at anchor – some even anchor their boats here for the winter and head back home, it is so well protected. We enjoyed a few days of chilling out here, staying clean by visiting the nearby sports centre for a swim in their fantastic new 25m pool. Unfortunately the village has sold its soul to the devil and the bars are full of the sort of English and Irish people that you really don’t want to meet on holiday, and the live music was even more terrible than that of Lagos ….. we would never have thought it was possible.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2lI6RGThRSE/TaiKPWEsE1I/AAAAAAAAA7w/Ra1vtogVxdA/s1600/04+Leaving-Lagos-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2lI6RGThRSE/TaiKPWEsE1I/AAAAAAAAA7w/Ra1vtogVxdA/s320/04+Leaving-Lagos-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><u><b>Portimao/Ferragudo</b></u><br />
After a few days we said adieu to Pam and Keith on Two Easy – who had also left Lagos for the quiet and calm of Alvor, not to mention a huge saving to the budget of around €20 per day. The disadvantage of Alvor is that the entrance is tidal so we just exited at high water and cruised along to Portimao/Ferragudo to anchor in the river opposite the tacky new marina buildings. The weather kept us there for a couple of days before we could be released to attempt a move to Albufiera or Vilamoura. However cold, strong easterly winds and the combined effects of a southerly and easterly sea drove us back to Portimao to lick our wounds. The following day we were rewarded for our patience with a downwind sail in an offshore force 5-6 over a flat sea that kept us flying along all the way to the Faro/Ohlao lagoon entrance. It was just too good to stop at Vilamoura!!!<br />
<u><b>Faro/Ohlao</b></u><br />
Turning to enter into the lagoon we had 32 knots of wind over the deck, no wonder we had a quick trip. We crept up the narrow channels of the lagoon to Olhao, where we were directed to anchor in the last space in the anchorage next to the marina. The marina was built a few years back, and still is in the process of development. Currently (March 2007) there is electricity on some pontoons, no water ( except by dinghy at the fishing boat marina) and no showers/toilets. The marina is full of local and long-term boats paying very cheap rates, and there is only one slot available for emergencies. <br />
It was no hardship to anchor in this small space though, as we had a fresh fish, meat and veg market 100m from our doorstep and a free internet connection (by putting the external wifi antenna in a round bottomed cooking pot pointing at the Algarve Digital connection on the wharf!! – this is a technique we learnt from a Dutch couple in Cascais)<br />
We could have anchored in the lagoon off Ilha Culatra, protected from any swell by the sand-spits all around, but the NW wind was cold and fierce and we were on mission to get to Spain by Easter so we pushed on. It is another anchorage where boats are left for the winter months while their owners go and visit their homelands…. As we were leaving, we met David and Liz on Kjemperjekk on their way into the lagoon – the only Lagos boat that we have seen in 2 weeks despite the number of boats leaving at around the same time, bound east for the Med. <br />
Ayamonte<br />
A short sail / motor found us at Ayamonte in Spain, at the entrance to the Guardiana river. It was fantastic to only pay 13 Euros per night and to go out for tapas again. Although Portugal was delightful, and the cost of living in Spain is higher, it is good to be able to explore another culture again, and to have different choices of food in restaurants, later hours and possibly to enjoy a more independent and thriving economy. Without wanting to knock the Portuguese, even in the smallest Spanish villages the mood seems to be more positive and upbeat. <br />
When we met Portuguese people we were impressed by their calm and tolerant nature, respectful and helpful. They seem to achieve great changes, albeit slowly, by persistent efforts of democratic action. Unfortunately the police state was overturned only 35 years ago, and some unbelievable bureaucracy persists in all areas of government agencies. As long as you do not have to deal with these agencies, Portugal is a heart-warmingly nice place to be, but it was time to move on. We arrived in Spain just 2 days short of spending 6 months in Portugal. After 6 months, you are in theory subject to a boat tax. We were informed that this is rarely enforced, and usually by a raid on a marina. The taxes are subject to a very complicated formula, but would only be around £40 a year. The worst aspect is the inconvenience, as the tax has to be paid on one day of the year, in the post office, on the same day that the annual road tax is due, and most post office officials appear to have gone to post office training camp with the UK PO of the 1970’s. One day we waited over an hour just to post a single letter to the UK and it appears that smiling and courtesy have been banned in post offices throughout the country.<br />
And another thing – spoken Portuguese is the most difficult language to understand and to speak. Despite a lot of effort, we failed miserably to communicate with local people outside of the tourist destinations. Now it’s time to start trying to speak Spanish again, after so many hours spent at night school…….<br />
On paying our fees at the Ayamonte marina office, we discovered that Matador has also been here before, in August 1997, on its previous voyage. Déjà vu of a different sort.<br />
After an overnight stop, we set off up the Guardiana river, which forms the border between Spain and Portugal. This creates endless possibilities for not knowing the correct time ( Spain is 1 hour ahead) and for creating offence by flying the wrong courtesy flag!<br />
<u><b>San Lucar (Spain) and Alcoutim (Portugal) </b></u><br />
At the entrance to the river is a low road bridge, which the pilot book claims has a clearance ‘reported to be 20m at high water’. The top of our mast is 17m high, so this resulted in a few minutes of buttock-clenching as the tide pushed us unrelentingly under the bridge. The view from the cockpit was not for the faint-hearted, and a huge sigh of relief resulted as we emerged unscathed the other side.<br />
We motored up the most un-spoilt, un-developed river that we have ever seen and anchored between the frontier villages 25km upstream at Alcoutim/San Lucar. A few fincas and quintas (small-holdings) scatter the waterfront, many of them taken over by English and Dutch families escaping the rat-race to till the land, replacing the old local families whose children have long-ago gone off to seek their fortunes in the same rat-race in the bigger towns and cities. The local action was between a few dogs patrolling the villages, but once ashore the villages had a quiet, laid-back character and a couple of well disguised bars contained the few locals who ventured out to watch football on the bar telly….<br />
We enjoyed a few beers with Robert, an English guy who bought a finca 15 years ago, before going off to enjoy the Caribbean and beyond in his Trintella 29. He entrusted us with his DVD collection to entertain us during the evenings in the river – after all, he knows how lively things get around here!<br />
The next day we climbed the Spanish side to the old fort with fantastic views of the river and the surrounding countryside. There is just nothing but rolling hills to see on both sides of the river. At some time hopefully, it will be made a national park on both sides of the river, to preserve the natural beauty of the area in both countries. <br />
There were many live-aboard boats left safely at anchor for months (years?) in the river, and not a single plastic fantastic production boat to be seen. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PeCJdZxf2Pc/TaiKQjsa_sI/AAAAAAAAA70/6eGCXdlF-s4/s1600/005+Leaving-Lagos-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PeCJdZxf2Pc/TaiKQjsa_sI/AAAAAAAAA70/6eGCXdlF-s4/s320/005+Leaving-Lagos-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nDrUSt8bwbA/TaiKRNUyxmI/AAAAAAAAA74/3SCCuBHeOJo/s1600/006+Leaving-Lagos-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nDrUSt8bwbA/TaiKRNUyxmI/AAAAAAAAA74/3SCCuBHeOJo/s1600/006+Leaving-Lagos-6.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--HicdolSM1k/TaiKRtXlqGI/AAAAAAAAA78/ADpxLkLfB4s/s1600/007+Leaving-Lagos-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--HicdolSM1k/TaiKRtXlqGI/AAAAAAAAA78/ADpxLkLfB4s/s1600/007+Leaving-Lagos-7.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lAdaMf89Myk/TaiKSWZ_jmI/AAAAAAAAA8A/bzOAJdyblsY/s1600/008+Leaving-Lagos-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lAdaMf89Myk/TaiKSWZ_jmI/AAAAAAAAA8A/bzOAJdyblsY/s1600/008+Leaving-Lagos-8.jpg" /></a></div><br />
We then moved upstream to Pomorao (Portugal), a tiny one-bar village left over from the mining of sulphur and manganese, which were exported in large ships in the late 1800’s. The river has silted considerably since then, and we hit several shallow patches approaching the village. We turned back and anchored half a mile below the village, unaware at the time that our attempts had been the subject of considerable amusement to the locals …….o barco azul ?? everyone said as they met us in the bar. Yes, we replied sheepishly as they nodded their heads knowingly. The town marina (pontoon) captain and also captain of the local tourist ferry, of course knew the channel through to the town quay and offered to show us through but we were just as happy at anchor ½ a mile down river in the tranquility of it all. It is perfectly possible to negotiate the shallows to reach the small pontoon on the village jetty and stay for some time for free.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UTYCFPjUhIo/TaiKTa8-DRI/AAAAAAAAA8E/cGdgsh_kh7c/s1600/009+Leaving-Lagos-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UTYCFPjUhIo/TaiKTa8-DRI/AAAAAAAAA8E/cGdgsh_kh7c/s320/009+Leaving-Lagos-9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The single bar was the cheapest yet – €1 for a wine and a beer together. If you want to be a member for the year to enjoy cheap drinking, free showers and hospitality it costs a whole €6 to be a member – very worthwhile we thought, although time-at-the-bar happened at around 8.45pm<br />
Having learned our lessons, we made our next exploration up the tiny Rio Vasco in the dinghy, and found some small native terrapins sunning themselves on the bank. Stuart did a bit of fishing – I was right to be pessimistic, and cooked up leftovers with lentils which was surprisingly yummy, to accompany our DVD-watching marathon before returning Roberts collection the next day.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5GP_GHN7Uiw/TaiKUtps2QI/AAAAAAAAA8I/ixhOhR9Tht8/s1600/010+Leaving-Lagos-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5GP_GHN7Uiw/TaiKUtps2QI/AAAAAAAAA8I/ixhOhR9Tht8/s320/010+Leaving-Lagos-10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>On returning downstream we dropped off the DVD’s and were greeted on the riverbank by Robert with a gift of a bucket-full of mandarins straight from the trees on his finca. They were heavenly. We can well understand the attraction of owning a small-holding on the riverbank with your yacht moored at the end of the garden, and wonder when we will see a place and people as naturally beautiful and open as this again.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rEHwJ2l-yCg/TaiKNAvMhhI/AAAAAAAAA7g/fx3NI3iFJQQ/s1600/011+Leaving-Lagos-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rEHwJ2l-yCg/TaiKNAvMhhI/AAAAAAAAA7g/fx3NI3iFJQQ/s320/011+Leaving-Lagos-11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This was really the end of Portugal for us and we had a fast sail under genoa back downstream to Ayamonte. The passing of the bridge was only slightly less worrying the second time around. </div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-54750952724948611562007-02-13T11:50:00.000-08:002011-04-14T09:43:11.218-07:00The great teak deck refit - What a way to spend Christmas ……and January ….and February…….<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tN_NuwwJgq8/TaXn2Fx0GFI/AAAAAAAAA6M/2-ldPMq8xQY/s1600/401+Matador+and+the+Circus+tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tN_NuwwJgq8/TaXn2Fx0GFI/AAAAAAAAA6M/2-ldPMq8xQY/s320/401+Matador+and+the+Circus+tent.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Matador in live-aboard mode. The full sun awning that we acquired with the boat served as a useful circus tent and also kept the dew off the decks while we started work.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>The decks required renovation, as many of the deck screws had lost their caps, the decks were worn in places, and the black caulking was falling out. We suspected that some of the screws had moved and corroded and were allowing tiny leaks into the lockers below. It would be impossible to trace which ones were troublesome as the water tracks along ribs in the structure of the boat, so the wet lockers may not be underneath the leaky screw. We were lucky as our decks are solid and not balsa core under the teak. Had the decks been a balsa core type this operation would have been more urgent as if water gets into the balsa it must be dried out before being re sealed or rot could develop resulting in spongy decks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FMxnPcEK1tQ/TaXn_AfT7NI/AAAAAAAAA6U/lhebsMS1ci0/s1600/403+Before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FMxnPcEK1tQ/TaXn_AfT7NI/AAAAAAAAA6U/lhebsMS1ci0/s320/403+Before.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Before – bare screwheads, worn teak and missing and untidy black caulking.</i></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PdlTCrRbHn0/TaXn4Ux78mI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/00OJxNdzk04/s1600/402+Before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PdlTCrRbHn0/TaXn4Ux78mI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/00OJxNdzk04/s320/402+Before.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Step 1<br />
First Steph uncapped and withdrew all the screws from the decks. The screws are only there to hold the deck in place when it is first laid – it is glued or epoxied in place so the screws are superfluous. Some screws had been replaced in the past with slightly longer ones that went down too far and pierced through the fiberglass decks, creating a pathway for sea-water and rain. <br />
One problem is that due to corrosion, about 10% of the screwheads would break off during this process and could not be withdrawn. Using a small plug-cutter on the drill it is possible to drill down around the shaft of the screw, leaving the screw standing with a hole around it. It was then possible to draw the screw using pliers. The really stubborn ones required the screw to be heated up using a small grindstone and a dremel, until the screw smoked. <br />
This heat softened the fiberglass around the screw, breaking its hold and it could be twisted and pulled out with pliers.<br />
Repeat 1000 times!!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XS1o6dR8mtY/TaXoALzfHcI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/5tfpYHunQZY/s1600/404+Removing+1000+screws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XS1o6dR8mtY/TaXoALzfHcI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/5tfpYHunQZY/s320/404+Removing+1000+screws.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The screws removed – about 10% of the heads snapped off due to corrosion – these had to be drilled out<br />
There were approximately 1000 screws in the decks!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9QbR_9Z2TLo/TaXoD0KV-lI/AAAAAAAAA6c/8jUBuoBkrUQ/s1600/405+Removing+1000+screws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9QbR_9Z2TLo/TaXoD0KV-lI/AAAAAAAAA6c/8jUBuoBkrUQ/s320/405+Removing+1000+screws.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Step 2 <br />
The holes were all drilled out to the same diameter to reveal the top of the fiberglass deck beneath the teak. We were relieved to see that the teak was about 8mm thick, so we know that we are OK to sand it. The most successful drill bit for this operation was a spade drill bit which Stuart had to grind down for a perfect fit for the new deck plugs. The pointed tip of the spade drill was placed in the old screw hole, thus centering the drill. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uxnpmGavT10/TaXoIlbUjXI/AAAAAAAAA6g/jisZ2Qu0byI/s1600/406+Drilling+out+the+holes+and+troublesome+screws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uxnpmGavT10/TaXoIlbUjXI/AAAAAAAAA6g/jisZ2Qu0byI/s320/406+Drilling+out+the+holes+and+troublesome+screws.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Step 3 <br />
Stuart filled the holes with a white thickened epoxy, using a syringe to inject each hole to a level approximately 2mm up the teak, effectively forming an epoxy nail.. Where holes penetrated the fiberglass deck, the epoxy runs into the holes and sets, sealing it from water ingress, Some holes required a further application.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7eC6xnKdVWY/TaXoKLt9dkI/AAAAAAAAA6k/5exAecwyPws/s1600/407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7eC6xnKdVWY/TaXoKLt9dkI/AAAAAAAAA6k/5exAecwyPws/s320/407.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rvmcc4YxGGw/TaXoM820b4I/AAAAAAAAA6o/toI_LVZ6c-E/s1600/408+A+drippy+hole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rvmcc4YxGGw/TaXoM820b4I/AAAAAAAAA6o/toI_LVZ6c-E/s320/408+A+drippy+hole.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The hole on the left shows that the epoxy has dribbled into the space below the fibreglass decks, indicating that this was one of the potentially leaky screw-holes. After leaving the first dose of epoxy to cure for 30minutes a second dose filled the holes and it looked like all the others. </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Step 4<br />
Once the epoxy had cured, the holes were recapped with teak plugs, which were glued or clear- epoxied into position. Stuart tried both techniques and found that, although a bit messy to work with, the epoxy worked better at filling any gaps around the teak plug. Overspill didn’t matter as once set the excess can be chiseled and sanded off. Where the extraction of the screw had spoiled the edges of the hole, a slightly larger hole was drilled and a larger plug made in order to make a good fit.<br />
The glue used was a one-part expanding polyurethane wood glue. You can find a type of this glue called Balcotan on the Robins timber website (although we used a local equivalent purchased from the local carpenter – we never found this product in chandleries, hardware shops or builders merchants despite them all being very well stocked).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qHX4rj3ctx0/TaXoOh2UiiI/AAAAAAAAA6s/WmYnuQBn0VA/s1600/409+Recapping+the+holes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qHX4rj3ctx0/TaXoOh2UiiI/AAAAAAAAA6s/WmYnuQBn0VA/s320/409+Recapping+the+holes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We made our own teak plugs out of a block of solid teak (50cm x 11cm x 6cm), using a plug cutter on the drill. Once the glue or epoxy was thoroughly hardened the plug and excess glue was chiseled level with the surface. Sanding later will remove the last little stains and blemishes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a48g-8KE5To/TaXrB4eDJGI/AAAAAAAAA6w/fYtUdCIU0nk/s1600/spotty+decks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a48g-8KE5To/TaXrB4eDJGI/AAAAAAAAA6w/fYtUdCIU0nk/s320/spotty+decks.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of Part 1 – a spotty deck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Next thrilling installment – the removal of the caulking, re-route the grooves and re-fill with new caulking – and Stuart's home-made tools……….and then for the final sanding………<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K8rfI5dFagE/TaXsWuVsdKI/AAAAAAAAA64/jtIuZPbQagU/s1600/Step+1+Cut+thru+the+old+black+stuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K8rfI5dFagE/TaXsWuVsdKI/AAAAAAAAA64/jtIuZPbQagU/s320/Step+1+Cut+thru+the+old+black+stuff.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step 1 Cut through the old caulking with a stanley knife</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E0rvhuLKcoE/TaXsX2rwjlI/AAAAAAAAA68/X4F7Ohvrd_Y/s1600/Step+2+scrape+out+the+old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E0rvhuLKcoE/TaXsX2rwjlI/AAAAAAAAA68/X4F7Ohvrd_Y/s320/Step+2+scrape+out+the+old.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step 2 Scrape out the old black stuff</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C7G2JWWwLvw/TaXsUoZNFnI/AAAAAAAAA60/hGfq0Vo5NWM/s1600/Step+3+scrape+out+the+old+with+the+tool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C7G2JWWwLvw/TaXsUoZNFnI/AAAAAAAAA60/hGfq0Vo5NWM/s320/Step+3+scrape+out+the+old+with+the+tool.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step 3 , scraping with a home made tool</i></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hE10xFEMr_U/TaXtkoPoy9I/AAAAAAAAA7I/c31HbsD6A4M/s1600/Step+3+the+tool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hE10xFEMr_U/TaXtkoPoy9I/AAAAAAAAA7I/c31HbsD6A4M/s320/Step+3+the+tool.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wnNUwa_udXQ/TaXtlsqn0dI/AAAAAAAAA7M/gzTFgmeJgaE/s1600/Step+4+and+file.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wnNUwa_udXQ/TaXtlsqn0dI/AAAAAAAAA7M/gzTFgmeJgaE/s320/Step+4+and+file.jpg" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step 4 Filing with a homemade file</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EiV84b5KEVY/TaXtpEN_6OI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/whmn5MLZwPs/s1600/Step+5++the+router.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EiV84b5KEVY/TaXtpEN_6OI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/whmn5MLZwPs/s320/Step+5++the+router.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step 5 Routing the grooves</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ybVDc70Jhzs/TaXtuyKIYYI/AAAAAAAAA7U/cvYcAHPOGS0/s1600/Step+6++Cleaned+and+primed+slots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ybVDc70Jhzs/TaXtuyKIYYI/AAAAAAAAA7U/cvYcAHPOGS0/s320/Step+6++Cleaned+and+primed+slots.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step 6 Cleaned and primed slots</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yYQs3XPE41k/TaXtxno4liI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/9YInNOQ6hQQ/s1600/Step+7+filling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yYQs3XPE41k/TaXtxno4liI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/9YInNOQ6hQQ/s320/Step+7+filling.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step7 Filling with DC280</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O9nhlDTis3I/TaXt0M4uLsI/AAAAAAAAA7c/nSD6_1I_z1g/s1600/Step+8+spreading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O9nhlDTis3I/TaXt0M4uLsI/AAAAAAAAA7c/nSD6_1I_z1g/s320/Step+8+spreading.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step 8 Spreading</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pJp05WAFKuQ/TaXthVeDCGI/AAAAAAAAA7A/3-dU3UGCHRI/s1600/Step+9+ready+for+sanding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="56" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pJp05WAFKuQ/TaXthVeDCGI/AAAAAAAAA7A/3-dU3UGCHRI/s320/Step+9+ready+for+sanding.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Step 9 Ready for sanding</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table> PS I now have a Fein Multi master machine which has attachments for removing caulking and seems to be the choice of many deck repairers. They are magnificent tools on a boat,not just for decks. </div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-33883224371892945502007-01-13T11:10:00.000-08:002011-04-14T09:42:47.704-07:00Lagos, Algarve - December 2006<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>They call this the velcro-strip here with good reason. We had a look at some of the other ports on the Algarve, and have spoken to many other live-aboards. The consensus is that Lagos is the best place to winter, close to bus and train stations and supermarkets, chandlery shops etc, so we have signed up to stay until February. It is now 14-18 degrees during the day, and it rains about every 3-4 days, but drys up very quickly after the deluges. The first rains of the winter cleared out the forests further up the mountains. The debris started to fill the marina, which is to the side of the river, as it got caught amongst the outer boats, causing huge rafts which threatened to snap the mooring lines. The ingenious marina staff drove a small boat around with a riot shield on the front, pulling the rafts off the boats using a small anchor and then pushing the rafts downriver out to sea.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lz19qJNa_lI/TaXi8FOjkKI/AAAAAAAAA4w/BOFhB2oTXYI/s1600/7a+Rain+in+Marina+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lz19qJNa_lI/TaXi8FOjkKI/AAAAAAAAA4w/BOFhB2oTXYI/s320/7a+Rain+in+Marina+II.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zq3sCtznfLA/TaXi-ZGnEVI/AAAAAAAAA40/JlDZPeP_6IY/s1600/7+Rain+in+Marina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zq3sCtznfLA/TaXi-ZGnEVI/AAAAAAAAA40/JlDZPeP_6IY/s320/7+Rain+in+Marina.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Winter storms bring trees downriver</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>We have a Christmas meal booked in our favourite restaurant with 2 other couples from the marina, and look forward to the Portuguese festivities over New Year. <br />
<br />
On dry days we continue to extract and plug all the leaky screws on the teak deck (about 1000 of them) and remove and reset the windows so that we will (hopefully) have dry lockers next year. See the technical bit for how we did it! (Matador – Decks)<br />
<br />
We hired a car while we had visitors last week, which enabled us to visit the mountains and the coast – all of which is very beautiful. There are plenty of opportunities for winter walks, cycles, and kayaking for which the mild autumnal weather is just perfect.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u0mg6RoqtMU/TaXjcT4tOjI/AAAAAAAAA44/uum0aX7K9xU/s1600/06+South+Portugal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u0mg6RoqtMU/TaXjcT4tOjI/AAAAAAAAA44/uum0aX7K9xU/s1600/06+South+Portugal.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0xttL_KxFxs/TaXjf1JjrzI/AAAAAAAAA48/DlcspYsb_S8/s1600/6+Pt+de+Piedade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0xttL_KxFxs/TaXjf1JjrzI/AAAAAAAAA48/DlcspYsb_S8/s320/6+Pt+de+Piedade.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0ZR864hgi9s/TaXjkDbNpoI/AAAAAAAAA5A/_NIAj7KfsG0/s1600/9+Kayaking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0ZR864hgi9s/TaXjkDbNpoI/AAAAAAAAA5A/_NIAj7KfsG0/s320/9+Kayaking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AePPH9Ni9Cw/TaXjmtTw0ZI/AAAAAAAAA5E/e1fF8ww8pCo/s1600/8+Kayaking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AePPH9Ni9Cw/TaXjmtTw0ZI/AAAAAAAAA5E/e1fF8ww8pCo/s320/8+Kayaking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZpwsL3XXL08/TaXjyDyn0fI/AAAAAAAAA5I/LrvzvCCUYsY/s1600/12+The+tourists+on+Meia+Praia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZpwsL3XXL08/TaXjyDyn0fI/AAAAAAAAA5I/LrvzvCCUYsY/s320/12+The+tourists+on+Meia+Praia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
<i>The tourists.......Steph’s mum and her friend Allison visit from Suffolk</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>We finally have (slow) wifi access on board in the marina, so life has improved considerably – how did we ever do without it! Hopefully you will find it much easier to get in touch with us for the time being. <br />
<br />
We met a German couple here a few weeks ago, who have cruised the Med for 6 months of the year for 6 years. They showed us lots of photos of places and gave us tips about where to anchor to avoid the expensive marina costs of the Western Med. Greece and Turkey are our intended destination as soon as weather allows in the Med, although the Balearics look really fantastic too. It seems that we were right to try and visit the Eastern Med before going further afield, as they showed us that it is possible to stay safely, sometimes even for free all year in some places in Greece and Turkey – it will certainly be a big help as our budget is really taking a hit in the Algarve, and the Western Med will be even worse with marinas costing more than a hotel room - 100 euros per night <br />
<br />
Merry Christmas <br />
A few more weeks along and we have been researching our plans for next year - our plans are not fixed in stone as we want to stay able to react to suggestions and information on route but as a general idea we intend to get on the move as soon as the spring weather allows - coast hopping down to the Med via Gibraltar. Then a fairly quick trip along the Spanish coast where the marinas are a fortune and quite full all year but jack up the rates in their high season which starts in some marinas as early as April or May. <br />
From there it will be out to the Balearic Islands where hopefully we can anchor most of the time. From there to Corsica and Sardinia and then possibly some of the Italian islands and on to Sicily . From there we get a bit vague and it will depend on the progress and weather we go on up to Croatia or head south to Malta and possibly Tunisia. We had hoped to get to Greece or even Turkey but looking at the distances and the speed we have started travelling at we’ll be surprised if they don’t have to wait for 2008 and 9 . We now can’t see ourselves getting out of the Med for about 2 to 3 years, there is just so much to see.<br />
<br />
Our Christmas day was a marathon meal at ‘Fernandos’ of 6 courses which took 5 hours to consume along with a few bottles of wine. The food was fantastic and only the third serving of roast pork and turkey along with another big dish of veggies defeated us. A doggie bag saw that the cats that live out in little houses near the harbour wall had Christmas as well.<br />
They were very appreciative – despite looking extremely well-fed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3uT2OFQfsxM/TaXkJSdVyhI/AAAAAAAAA5M/eLv25SotGGk/s1600/10+South+Portugal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="195" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3uT2OFQfsxM/TaXkJSdVyhI/AAAAAAAAA5M/eLv25SotGGk/s320/10+South+Portugal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Christmas dinner with friends from ‘Roamer’ and ‘Marlin’</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>After a walk to the beach and to feed the cats we met more friends in the bar on the marina and socialised till 4am. Boxing Day was to be a cruise to the next port for rum punch on the quay but a brisk wind from the very direction and a lumpy swell put an end to the cruise. We, like many others had spent a day preparing the boat to go to sea. It seems that we all start poking things in places that are fine in harbour but when you decide to go sailing you have to find all the things that will undoubtedly dislodge from their homes and projectile around the boat and either break or hide where you will never find them again. <br />
So after all the preparation it was down to the next pontoon and out with the Rum Punch and a jolly nice afternoon was had none the less.<br />
<br />
Next day we had some rain. Not much but it was a bit blowy and overcast. It’s the first clouds we have seen in nearly 3 weeks so we can’t really complain. The sun in the completely blue sky has kept the day temperature around 14 to 17 degrees , T-shirt and shorts most of the day and as the sun goes down the temperature falls very quickly and has actually given a frost on the pontoons a couple of times. We haven’t seen the frost as it is gone by 9.00am and we are never up in time to see that. The marina is a friendly place and we have met lots of interesting people here. Several are buying ruins in the country and rebuilding them as this is the place they choose to settle. They keep telling us that we will be back one day. We can’t say if they are wrong but there is a lot to see first and we can’t believe that this will be the only place that has what you would want to have if you are settling, although it certainly does offer a lot. The mountains are quite spectacular, the beaches beautiful and the climate pretty good. Although the seaside towns are dedicated to the hundreds of tourists and ex pats real Portugal can be found very easily. The standard of living is high and although there is poverty you don’t see it much at all. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0j6WkKOOhYM/TaXkv2JW4SI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/fLDleZJcxl0/s1600/11+South+Portugal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="183" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0j6WkKOOhYM/TaXkv2JW4SI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/fLDleZJcxl0/s320/11+South+Portugal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Barragem de Bravura </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hyYBJoQXFrA/TaXkwM67qHI/AAAAAAAAA5c/16L4zcOfagE/s1600/12+South+Portugal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hyYBJoQXFrA/TaXkwM67qHI/AAAAAAAAA5c/16L4zcOfagE/s1600/12+South+Portugal.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Spot the fishermen......?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hJDt_7th-3o/TaXk0YWHT2I/AAAAAAAAA5g/hBaR6kFxbSk/s1600/13+No+old+bad+fishermen+in+Portugal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hJDt_7th-3o/TaXk0YWHT2I/AAAAAAAAA5g/hBaR6kFxbSk/s320/13+No+old+bad+fishermen+in+Portugal.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xBKqhdNmcSc/TaXkvUnEbFI/AAAAAAAAA5U/4-nycKGCxzw/s1600/14+FISHERMEN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xBKqhdNmcSc/TaXkvUnEbFI/AAAAAAAAA5U/4-nycKGCxzw/s320/14+FISHERMEN.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lD-J8nHOCu0/TaXkqFw7PhI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/JZZLWRwbmSo/s1600/14+FISHERMEN+ZOOMED.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lD-J8nHOCu0/TaXkqFw7PhI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/JZZLWRwbmSo/s320/14+FISHERMEN+ZOOMED.jpg" width="208" /></a></div> Most of all the people are polite and friendly; they genuinely want to help whenever they can. A couple of days ago Steph was pushing her bike back with the shopping carefully balanced all over the place and a 20ish year old girl walking the opposite direction stopped and asked if she needed help to carry her shopping back. You wouldn’t get that in the UK if you had dropped it all over the ground.<br />
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<br />
They have their rules and regulations but the Algarvian people seem not to be so hung up about the rules and they just generally sort of follow them. There are some notable exceptions such as if you renovate an old dwelling you must allow the archaeologists in to dig about for relics. This can take as long as they like (they decide) and you pay them for their time. One couple decided enough was enough after two dog skeletons were all they had to show for 2 months digging and 2,000 euros wage bill. They will now be able to start their building work just as soon as they have finished washing and cleaning the bones and passing them back the authorities.<br />
<br />
You can get on the spot fines for traffic infringements if caught but you will have to find the correct policeman from one of the 5 or 6 different forces to decide you have done wrong. You will rarely see one after dark unless you know where their office is and they are generally not out looking for work.<br />
<br />
Despite the marina being quite expensive, the cost of eating and living is relatively low. You can eat a basic meal accompanied by a drink from about 5.5 euros and a good meal out including wine won’t set you back any more than 15 euros each. Wine is cheaper than beer, as low as about 50 cents a litre although we prefer to pay about 1 euro a litre as we are a bit fussy. Meat in the butcher is very high quality and if you want mince it’s made for you immediately straight from the beef steak in the counter, no extras from the floor, just pure good beef through the mincer and into a bag. There is a wide variety of fish but very little shellfish available which we have been surprised about. The local method for fish is simply to cover it in salt and throw it on the charcoal grill. On still evenings you can see the smoke rising above the town from all the charcoal fires outside the houses in the little back streets. The smell of sardines grilling permeates the air. One couple we know sat down to a delightful meal in a small garden restaurant area on the side of the road. They asked what there was to eat and the little lady pointed to the sardines - no English spoken here. A bit limited, they thought, but the sardines looked good, so they accepted and ate well with a second helping provided with wine. On coming to the end of their meal they offered some money which was accepted with a kind of bewilderment. It then gradually dawned on them that this wasn’t a restaurant at all but a private garden and they had just eaten the family supper. Another example of how the Portuguese people can’t do enough to help you.<br />
<br />
We are looking forward to the spring where the already breathtaking scenery will come into flower and it will start to warm up. We also are looking forward to the New Year fireworks on the harbour and a few days later the Dakar rally passes through the next town with a night stage locally. That is the Paris Dakar rally only this year it starts from Lisbon. That should be quite exciting.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year !!!<br />
Well, the fireworks were a disappointment, but we could see the fireworks for the next 2 towns in the distance which were spectacular – you win some and lose some. <br />
<br />
The glowing champagne flutes are still going strong (a wedding present from Sue) and had another outing to see in the New Year – they glow a weird radioactive-looking blue when liquid is in the glass. Sort of off-putting, but wonderfully tacky!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xtsOB4ENLrk/TaXlaenc6RI/AAAAAAAAA5k/ui3nTbYCSO4/s1600/16+South+Portugal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xtsOB4ENLrk/TaXlaenc6RI/AAAAAAAAA5k/ui3nTbYCSO4/s1600/16+South+Portugal.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Back in one of the local English bars a riotous evening was had by all, mostly by the owners of the bar. <br />
The bar staff had to break up a fight between the owner and a (now ex-) member of staff. Later the owner was so pickled that he went outside into the cold air and fell over cutting his top lip wide open. While he was being attended to and waiting for the Bombeiros (firemen with first-aid training in ambulances) his wife toddled out into the night air to see how he was and also fell over bloodying her nose.<br />
It’s the first time we’ve known a bar-manager to consider banning his employers from the bar for drunken behaviour. <br />
<br />
<br />
New Year’s Day was much calmer - after a late start we cycled to Porto do Mos – about 8km west of Lagos and out of the easterly breeze. We sat on the beach with all the tourists and sun-bathed – thinking of Old Blighty and the gales and the cancelled New Year fireworks and thought ourselves extremely fortunate!!<br />
The glorious weather continues into 2007……….<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yHQ14PqiHJI/TaXluZmdo2I/AAAAAAAAA5o/Cl4vX-By_pI/s1600/17+South+Portugal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="109" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yHQ14PqiHJI/TaXluZmdo2I/AAAAAAAAA5o/Cl4vX-By_pI/s320/17+South+Portugal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Flamingos at nearby Alvor ..... they are white because they do not eat shrimps here...</i></td></tr>
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The Lisbon-Dakar Rally passes through nearby Portimao before crossing to Africa for the tough stuff – some look like they might not get that far...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cg9cBxDLWLk/TaXmBNzQXyI/AAAAAAAAA54/MtFfKyi1Dsk/s1600/20+Dakar+rally3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cg9cBxDLWLk/TaXmBNzQXyI/AAAAAAAAA54/MtFfKyi1Dsk/s1600/20+Dakar+rally3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Stuart’s birthday – another excuse to eat out ..... with friends from Charluce, Marlin, Two Easy, Roamer and Noble Warrior. ...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S9_oOWY15BU/TaXmSTAFZyI/AAAAAAAAA58/KkKm_WJoXD8/s1600/22+lagos+christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S9_oOWY15BU/TaXmSTAFZyI/AAAAAAAAA58/KkKm_WJoXD8/s1600/22+lagos+christmas.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And to work off the excesses we now have our own beach volleyball club twice a week:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IEGDjR5Li1Y/TaXmm9NO6wI/AAAAAAAAA6A/p5nk22mDQk4/s1600/Beach+Volley+ball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IEGDjR5Li1Y/TaXmm9NO6wI/AAAAAAAAA6A/p5nk22mDQk4/s320/Beach+Volley+ball.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The beautiful beaches of the west coast on one of our regular walks:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WS4obJQ-pWI/TaXmqy_6W3I/AAAAAAAAA6E/7kfLn7_oeqo/s1600/West+Coast+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WS4obJQ-pWI/TaXmqy_6W3I/AAAAAAAAA6E/7kfLn7_oeqo/s320/West+Coast+Beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-81117418060381020522006-11-01T10:50:00.000-08:002011-04-20T11:38:52.139-07:00Lagos, Algarve. 1st November 2006<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Yep we have finally made the Algarve in the south of Portugal. On the whole the trip has been a good one but we have had to duck and dive from un-typical weather systems from across the Atlantic. Cascais saw us holed up for 3 weeks sheltering from 5.5m swells and winds from the south to south west up to force 8 or more. The wind should be North and force 3 but there we go. <br />
The trip from Cascais was a fantastic sail for the first 20 miles but then the wind went through 180 degrees, then another 180 degrees 10 mins later, and then to nothing - meaning a motor in little wind to Sines. <br />
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<u><b>Sines </b></u><br />
Sines is a pleasant old, small town with a big port and oil refinery as well as a well set up and very modern , clean marina and comfortable anchorage beside the marina. We stayed only one night as more poor weather was expected to make the marina and anchorage uncomfortable and the trip south impossible, which could result in a reverse trip back to Cascais , some 60 miles and not one we wanted to repeat. We did have time to indulge our favourite pastime and search out a local restaurant for a simple lunch. The menu consisting of BBQ Chicken or Bacalau, a re-hydrated dried cod found all around Portugal. We opted for the chicken, as the smells of it grilling on open coals in the front window had first tickled our taste buds. The restaurant had 3 long benches at which were placed stools and paper place mats. Ordering was by calling over to the owner /cook and saying Frango ( chicken). A delightful and tasty chicken and chips accompanied by a generous green and tomato salad, ¾ l carafe of wine 1 beer , two coffees and a delicious pudim flam. Total cost 17 euros for the two of us, about 12 pounds. We left Sines harbour at 10pm the following night for the trip 75 miles south to the Cabo SaoVicente (Cape St Vincent) and around the corner to Lagos and the Algarve coast. We sailed in the company of an Irish yacht “ Noble Warrior” . This was his 3rd attempt to round the cape as he had twice met 35 and 48 knot headwinds on the headland and been forced to sail the 60 miles back to Sines- all this single handed. The trip was to be a night motor to the cape and a rounding in early morning before the wind could get thermal assistance and hopefully an easier rounding would be had. This is one of the first night trips we have attempted on the Portuguese coast due to the huge numbers of nets and pots encountered along this unforgiving coast. One and a half hours out into the night and we got a call from Paul on Noble Warrior to say his engine had overheated and stopped. We rounded back and stood by ready to tow him back to port but he was able to establish the cause and after about an hour we were back on our way.<br />
The night was completely calm and partially cloudy but the moon had gone down and it was quite dark indeed. This was a bonus as at about 2 am we got dolphins. Dolphins in the day are great but dolphins in the dark are spectacular. Brilliant green underwater torpedoes coming from left and right straight at the boat, then a jump and a green splash and on the bow and along the sides of the boat they play, squeaking and leaping and demonstrating the agility and speed they possess. I think dolphins take to bow riding (playing in the pressure wave of the boat) like humans take to skiing. We had their company for a good hour when suddenly thud, graunch. The engine slams to a stop, alarms buzzing at ear piercing frequency and we are all alone in the black inky Atlantic. A glance with a torch soon identified the problem as a large piece of old discarded trawler net. I know fishermen live a tough and dangerous life but they take life from the sea and leave rubbish in their wake. I am afraid I have yet to see a fishing harbour that is not polluted with polystyrene, plastic bags and of course rope and nets.<br />
It left us in a situation far from perfect, 35 miles south of the nearest port, 7 miles off the Atlantic coast with no engine and no wind to sail even if we could make any way with a large piece of fishing net firmly attached to our prop. We inflated and launched the dingy and using boathook and cutter we attempted to try to cut the net loose but in the dark and from the dingy it was a futile task so we tied the trailing ends of the net to ropes and pulled them as high up the side of the boat as possible to reduce the drag and accepted the kind offer of a tow from Paul on Noble Warrior. Time now 5am and Steph took the helm under tow and I tried to get some rest. I knew I needed to dive as soon as possible as we could only make about 3.5 knots and there was no guarantee that we were not going to see 30 knots of wind on the nose at the cape. I didn’t want to be under tow back north after all this. As soon as it was dawn we dropped the tow and lay out the drogue from the bow to stabilise the boat as much as possible then donned a wetsuit and scuba gear. Safety line attached and bicycle helmet on head I went under the boat armed with the bread knife which I had found was the quickest knife at cutting through the net.<br />
Fortunately the waves were still very small so the boat remained relatively steady and the underwater operations were completed in about 10 minutes. I was pleased to be out though. <br />
<br />
The prop free we hauled the dingy back on deck and tentatively fired up the engine, all seemed ok and I could only detect a slight vibration which would hopefully suggest that not too much damage is done but time will tell on the bearings. Another dive will be necessary as a precaution and further check. The rest of the trip was uneventful except for more dolphins and some stunning views of the cape. There was one particular dolphin, we named slapper, as he seemed to enjoy jumping and landing on his side to create the biggest possible splash of water. Either he had something wrong with him, or he was demonstrating his particular trick to impress us. <br />
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Fortunately the wind was kind despite our late arrival and we had a very pleasant sail from the cape to Lagos, along a pretty coast, not unlike the Dorset coast around Poole to St Albans head. Looking at the photos you may wonder what the fuss is about, but a 15m yacht arriving 2 days prior to this was surfing down 2m waves into the narrow harbour entrance!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bBJ8iK-N4jg/TaXhyaOQLqI/AAAAAAAAA4c/ujZ7GOecggQ/s1600/01+Cape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bBJ8iK-N4jg/TaXhyaOQLqI/AAAAAAAAA4c/ujZ7GOecggQ/s320/01+Cape.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cape St Vincent</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><b><u>Lagos </u></b><br />
We were met on the pontoon by enthusiastic English liveaboards. Lagos is a large marina with a considerable English liveaboard community. They have their own net, (radio news and assistance session) 3 times a week on the VHF where help finding services, spares or medical assistance is available. Also you can learn about the bridge evenings and card-making lessons – can’t wait!<br />
<br />
Day one and a good part of day two have been swallowed by cleaning the boat - outside and inside. The three weeks in Cascais where the spray from the massive waves continually poured over the harbour wall has covered the boat in salt and muck which feels sticky and never really dries. It gets inside the boat and then it feels damp so a good clean is a necessary evil.<br />
<br />
After working all day, we had a few beers and a great pizza with a Swedish couple on a similar trip to us, so got up a bit late this morning. Here we are enjoying the rain again. It’s due to get better and despite the squalls it’s still in the early to mid 20s so still in shorts and t shirts. Life’s not so bad really!!<br />
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We also celebrated by dumping the fishing net in the commercial waste bins – where it should have gone in the first place!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vRFnYQq7lJY/TaXhzgq9NoI/AAAAAAAAA4g/IyQ9mI3gXwc/s1600/02+fishing+net.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vRFnYQq7lJY/TaXhzgq9NoI/AAAAAAAAA4g/IyQ9mI3gXwc/s320/02+fishing+net.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The net we removed from our prop!</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The liveaboards have organised a ‘cruising symposium’ next Wednesday, so we may well hang around here for that. Between all the boats moored in this marina, they have probably covered much of the world, so we can hope to pick up on some advice about where to go and more importantly where not to go………it’s all too easy just to tie up here and not leave until the spring!!! Before we know it we’ll be going to bridge lessons!!!<br />
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<br />
If anyone would like to come and visit us while we are in the Algarve, it is an ideal time to do so. Flights to Faro are very cheap, and there is a railway line that runs along the coastal resorts with a train every hour. The water here is still 22 degrees and the sun is out today – it’s about 24 degrees. Maybe the perfect antidote to overnight frosts and winter gales. <br />
(November 06)</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-45719374302954577362006-10-10T10:39:00.000-07:002011-04-14T09:41:41.212-07:00North Portugal, September 2006<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5KlBaL5K3E/TaXb2V18lUI/AAAAAAAAA3I/jiN8o6N101I/s1600/Picture+1+Basilica+Viana+do+Castelo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5KlBaL5K3E/TaXb2V18lUI/AAAAAAAAA3I/jiN8o6N101I/s320/Picture+1+Basilica+Viana+do+Castelo.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Basilica, Viano de Castello, Portugal</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Weird to arrive in a country where neither of us speak or understand the lingo. We were told that it doesn’t matter as everyone speaks English here, but the first person to greet us, was a customs man who didn’t! In Portugal you have to clear customs and immigration at every port, even if you come from the EU and even though you have come from another Portuguese port. We were met on the pontoon and he indicated that we should go with great haste to the office and present our papers (insurance, passports, registration), which we did as soon as we had tied up. <br />
Viana is a tiny harbour with nowhere to anchor so we were pleased that we hadn’t sat out hurricane Gordon here. We went aboard our neighbours boat – Moonya, for a couple of drinks and they ended up sharing their dinner with us(including freshly baked bread). Tracy and Paul only took up sailing 14 months ago and have bravely set off in their Moody 42 to learn as they go along. Unfortunately they had been in Muros with no forecast just as Gordon was approaching and despite laying all their chain out, they started to drag their anchor. After motoring for an hour or so to keep his position and making no headway into the 80 mile/hour winds the engine overheated and they dragged onto the mud. Luckily they went aground at low water, and floated off without incident once the wind abated and the tide came in. They haven’t been put off sailing yet!<br />
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There is an imposing basilica at the top of about 600 steps, which beckoned us for exercise the next day. There was a clear bright blue sky, so it was a hot and sweaty climb, but well worth it for the views out over the town and coast. <br />
Gazing south along the coast, we remembered that we had to put some more miles in to get ahead of the autumnal weather, so we scooted back down the steps and through the town and set off in the afternoon without doing justice to the other sights in Viana. <br />
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We left the marina in bright sunshine as the whole morning had been but before the harbour entrance (1/2 mile) the fog suddenly closed in. We couldn’t see the channel markers or the harbour wall. Radar is a god-send in this situation and we were able to extricate ourselves into open water but the hope of much improvement shortly was halted by a radio call to a friend’s yacht ½ hour ahead. Visibility had improved to 1-200 yards. Entering ports in this visibility is not enjoyable so we pressed on and were rewarded with clear air later and even some downwind sailing until the wind failed and the iron sails were out again.<br />
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<u><b>Leixoes, Porto, Regua, 26th September </b></u><br />
We had been warned that Leixoes was not a nice port and that being next to the docks and the oil refinery, it certainly lacked charm and cleaniness. The swell manages to come right around the corner into the marina at all times, making the ropes squeek and graunch constantly. Had we known what we know now, we would have stopped at Povoa de Varzim, which is a new marina, albeit with a difficult entrance in swell. Porto’s super-duper new tram line has been extended all the way to Povoa now, and is a quick and easy way to visit the city. <br />
We visited Leixoes (as do most cruisers) as a means to see Porto. This involves a bus journey of 1 hour , or bus 10 minutes, then tram 30 minutes to the city centre. <br />
Porto is a fascinating city tumbling down the sides of the hill to the river Duoro, showing considerable wealth and poverty side by side. After a cheap meal on the waterside we set off across the bridge to Vila Nova de Gaia to survey the port wine lodges. We chose to visit Rozes, and a French man gave us a free tour of the lodge and five samples of port. <br />
We purchased a tawny and went in search of another tour to see the differences. Kopke was not such an interesting tour, but we still enjoyed some more samples. <br />
Feeling overheated, dehydrated and pickled we stumbled back to the bus to return to the gently swaying boat. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NHoDPU-OlNE/TaXb5ObVgpI/AAAAAAAAA3M/WHM8HAcN0IE/s1600/Picture+2+Porto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NHoDPU-OlNE/TaXb5ObVgpI/AAAAAAAAA3M/WHM8HAcN0IE/s320/Picture+2+Porto.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Porto river</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The forecast was rapidly deteriorating again, so we prepared for a stay of a few days, doing touristy things. Not only do the winds kick up a big sea here, but these waves make entry to many of the ports difficult, dangerous or impossible. The ports are about 60 miles apart- a 12 hour journey, equivalent to crossing the English Channel. We prefer to travel in daylight due to the abundance of pots and fishing nets laid out with barely visible marker flags. This gives us a narrow window of opportunity, as the days are shorter this late on in the season. We were constantly assured by other cruisers that we were not particularly late to travel this part of the coast, but it is not an easy coast-line to traverse. <br />
Each time we want to move on we have to wait for wind, swell, fog and rain to clear, and have 12 hours of daylight for each trip!<br />
<br />
The highlight of our stay near Porto, was a daytrip up the Douro valley by train. As you ascend slowly to Regua, the trainline follows the path of the river, and the scenery becomes increasing green and terraced, as you enter the wine growing regions that provide the grapes for the port wine. (Portugal is the 6th largest wine producing country in the world- where does it all go?! ) As we arrived a Regua, we found a steam train preparing to leave the station. After a couple of enquiries we procured a ticket to travel further up the valley on this train to Tua, and return an hour later. It was a fabulous trip, made in old wooden carriages pulled by the 1926 steam locomotive, and accompanied by Portuguese music and dancing. We were totally unprepared for the soot and dirt though – we were served a tiny meat sandwich and one glass of port on the trip, the glass rapidly filled with so much dirt that it was undrinkable. <br />
We arrived back in Regua 2 hours later, absolutely covered in tiny black specks and a greasy black film. As the marina only had hot water 50% of the time in the showers- we were really in luck that day, and enjoyed hot showers back at the boat. The next day was spent washing our clothes from the day before!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZlcXfkS14Qo/TaXb51aukOI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/qr1sSqgo0bw/s1600/Picture+3+douro+train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZlcXfkS14Qo/TaXb51aukOI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/qr1sSqgo0bw/s320/Picture+3+douro+train.jpg" width="305" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hzLbDT4pA-k/TaXcAUOFhKI/AAAAAAAAA3c/dEi5G86A3mw/s1600/Picture+6+douro+train+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hzLbDT4pA-k/TaXcAUOFhKI/AAAAAAAAA3c/dEi5G86A3mw/s320/Picture+6+douro+train+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JUwizfjAuBs/TaXcBNmK96I/AAAAAAAAA3g/-Z-OCAl1840/s1600/Picture+7+douro+train+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JUwizfjAuBs/TaXcBNmK96I/AAAAAAAAA3g/-Z-OCAl1840/s320/Picture+7+douro+train+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sooty Port</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sH92JKTfV7U/TaXcDF0rVEI/AAAAAAAAA3k/6aTA5M_QeRE/s1600/Picture+7+douro+train+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sH92JKTfV7U/TaXcDF0rVEI/AAAAAAAAA3k/6aTA5M_QeRE/s320/Picture+7+douro+train+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Tiles at the railway station</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>The low point of the stay was a trauma for all of the cruisers there. Late one night, in about 30 knots of wind, a 36’ Spanish sailing yacht hit the rocks on the outer rocks of the port. We heard the noise of a helicopter searching among the waves crashing on the rocks. At first we didn’t know what was going on, so we walked around the corner to the beach, where a few people had gathered, now 1am. The boat was already completely broken up on the beach, just tanks and pieces of GRP and wood, no larger than 1m bits – the police trying to find something to identify the boat. <br />
By the morning they had only found 1 of the 2 bodies. No-one seemed to be able to say what had happened. It seems unlikely in this day and age, that the skipper would have misjudged the entrance, and with GPS it’s unlikely that they didn’t know where they were. There is a big question mark as to whether there was a Mayday call, and if so, whether the Portuguese authorities responded to it. It was certainly a sobering experience, and cast an even gloomier mood over all of us holed up in the marina. <br />
The following night a Norwegian yacht called up for help with a tow into the port, as their engine was out of action, and there was not enough wind to sail. As the swell was still significant, we didn’t feel that it was safe for them to drift towards the entrance, and suggested they contact port control for assistance. The response by port control was somewhat reluctant, but eventually they dispatched a pilot boat to tow them in. The rope provided by the pilot boat snapped – in no wind, towing a 30’ yacht!<br />
It’s a story that we have heard reported by other yachts this year – engine immobilised by fishing nets and calling for help, another yacht virtually outside another port found that no-one responded to their pan-pan at 3am. They were unable to contact anyone for a tow until 7am! We towed a German yacht into Cascais marina that was waiting for parts for his engine to arrive, with rapidly deteriorating weather conditions. The marina are ‘not allowed’ to undertake a tow outside of the marina, and the maritime police will only assist if life is in danger!! <br />
We forget how fortunate we are in the UK to have a reliable coastguard, and the RNLI, and a 24 hour listening watch on VHF. It just goes to show that you really have to be self reliant in this area, as no doubt in many other parts of the world. Somehow in the EU we expect something more, particularly as there is always a glut of officials at every port 24 hours a day to routinely check the papers of every single boat (including the Portuguese ones) at the end of every trip. We will be very happy to put this Atlantic coast behind us, and it just goes to show how much safer ocean sailing is, as all these problems occur where water meets land!<br />
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<u><b>Figuera da Foz 4th October </b></u><br />
Finally escaped from the depression of Leixoes marina, we motored at full speed for 11½ hours to arrive at dusk. Nice marina, and facilities, but we took advantage of a second day of good weather to press on south.<br />
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<u><b>Nazare. Batahla, Alcobaca - 6th October </b></u><br />
At last a sunny force 4 westerly wind restored our spirits and we arrived in Nazare, a tiny port with a couple of pontoons nestled among the fishing boats. We arrived at dusk, and had barely tied the boat alongside when we were summoned to the offices of the policia maritime. There were at least 3 of them there busily employed in watching television. After completing the required form, we were directed up the road, about 150m to a hut where we could collect a security pass to access the pontoon that we had just left. Again we trundled along, to fill in another form, and pay 20 euros deposit before we could return to our boat. The harbour office was not open until the next day – it is run by an enthusiastic and helpful English couple, but is not involved in taking money for berthing or dealing with the official side of the business. There is a huge pile of books available for swapping and they helpfully provided us with bus timetables to visit nearby Batahla and Alcabaca, which we did in a one day round trip.<br />
Batalha (Battle abbey) was built to commemorate the victory of the Portuguese (assisted by English longbowmen) over the Spain invasion in 1385. The abbey contains the tomb of Prince Henry the Navigator who guided ships in the discovery of Maderia and the Azores. We hoped that some of his navigational prowess might rub off. <br />
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Alcobaca is the home of a vast Cistercian monastery founded in 1153. The monastery was apparently reknowned for its hospitality and generosity, decadence and ‘gormandizing…..fumes of banquets and incense…..fat waddling monks’.<br />
The kitchen of the monastery has vast chimneys and marble tables. A stream still runs through the kitchen, ensuring a supply of the freshest fish in its day. The monks were only allowed access to the refectory via a tiny slim door – if they were too fat to pass through, they had to fast until they could hold in their tummies enough to squeeze through the gap. Stuart took up the challenge – see for yourselves!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mbG58cg6P7Y/TaXcFJ7_RvI/AAAAAAAAA3o/xgZeTTR3ZdM/s1600/Picture+8+Alcabaca+-+a+river+runs+thru+it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mbG58cg6P7Y/TaXcFJ7_RvI/AAAAAAAAA3o/xgZeTTR3ZdM/s320/Picture+8+Alcabaca+-+a+river+runs+thru+it.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The trout river runs through the kitchen</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fhcGqlAS4Zs/TaXcHImXpwI/AAAAAAAAA3s/TlVYJkQkgOc/s1600/Picture+9+Alcabaca+-+the+monks+galley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fhcGqlAS4Zs/TaXcHImXpwI/AAAAAAAAA3s/TlVYJkQkgOc/s320/Picture+9+Alcabaca+-+the+monks+galley.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The kitchen tables</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NTX0tDVGVXg/TaXcIjfbQuI/AAAAAAAAA3w/SmAWzcEbzqA/s1600/Picture+10+Alcabaca+-+the+monks+door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NTX0tDVGVXg/TaXcIjfbQuI/AAAAAAAAA3w/SmAWzcEbzqA/s320/Picture+10+Alcabaca+-+the+monks+door.jpg" width="154" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Will he fit or should he diet?</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
After delaying our departure for another day due to fog, we spent the day up in the old town of Sitio teetering dangerously out literally over cliffs worn away by the forces of nature, above Nazare. Great views but burgeoning with shops selling all sorts of tourist tat. We think they should close down the shops and save the weight of all the ponchos, toy guitars, and all sorts of tourist-trinkets.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LswX76h8-e0/TaXcMdKnp_I/AAAAAAAAA30/wcoEiX1PYxA/s1600/Picture+11+Sitio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LswX76h8-e0/TaXcMdKnp_I/AAAAAAAAA30/wcoEiX1PYxA/s320/Picture+11+Sitio.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sitio hovers on the edge of the cliff</i></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FgY8rAwQUHI/TaXcPuEhbuI/AAAAAAAAA34/Hlf9ESkwcG0/s1600/Picture+12+Sitio+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FgY8rAwQUHI/TaXcPuEhbuI/AAAAAAAAA34/Hlf9ESkwcG0/s320/Picture+12+Sitio+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The benefit of being tied up amongst the fishing boats, was the proximity of the fish auction. The fishing boats arrive at the end of their day at about 7pm-11pm. As the boats are unloaded and the catch sorted into batches for the auction on the quayside, the ones that are too little or too big are thrown on the ground, and the canny locals are seen with huge carrier bags full of sardines picked up for a free feast ( or served to you grilled in the restaurants more like!)<br />
The auction takes place as soon as enough fish are assembled onto the conveyor belts, and bidding takes place on a tiny electronic handheld gadget. Behind the auction the fish are loaded in ice and trucked off in vans to the various fishmongers and restaurateurs, some of them international. You can’t get fresher than that, even if you do pick the catch up off the floor! Most of the catch we saw were sardines and mackerel, but there were a few monsters passing through the auction. It is amazing that there are any sardines left in the sea at all!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Szf_9sum6Zw/TaXcVlZ4omI/AAAAAAAAA4A/3vv4D3f0pIU/s1600/Picture+14+fish+auction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Szf_9sum6Zw/TaXcVlZ4omI/AAAAAAAAA4A/3vv4D3f0pIU/s320/Picture+14+fish+auction.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nazare fish market</i></td></tr>
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<u><b>8th October -26th – and still waiting to leave……<br />
Cascais, Lisbon, Sintra</b></u><br />
<br />
It was a landmark for us to arrive in Cascais, on the outskirts of Lisbon. We had been aiming to arrive by mid-September, but the benefit of arriving in October is that the marina costs 20 euros rather than 50 euros a night. Some friends spent 18 days waiting for a weather slot here in high season – that’s 900 euros !!!!!<br />
We anchored peacefully in the bay outside the marina, for the first week until we were forced into the marina by forecasts of gales. At least we kept the costs down a bit though. <br />
The anchorage was very secure and we were happy to leave the boat to visit Lisbon on the ridiculously cheap modern train (1.65euros ). Lisbon was grimy and dirty, but with options to ride on the old trams, cheap lunch and shopping for bargains, we were quite content. We spent another whole day visiting chandleries (yawn) and finished the day off by visiting the Mosteiro de Jeronimos at Belem – with its quite amazing church. The richly embellished tomb of Vasco da Gama is here, he was responsible for making Portugal rich in 1497 by sailing around the Cape of Good Hope and beyond, thereby opening up the spice routes to India. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aefDnKBFicQ/TaXcTQaiZ_I/AAAAAAAAA38/v7eo6tQlz4o/s1600/Picture+13+lisbon+trams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aefDnKBFicQ/TaXcTQaiZ_I/AAAAAAAAA38/v7eo6tQlz4o/s320/Picture+13+lisbon+trams.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lisbon trams</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>On another bright blue, hot sunny day (difficult to imagine that right now!) we took the coastal bus round Cabo da Roca – the most western point of Europe, and up to the old town of Sintra in the hills. Right at the top of the hill is the Palacio da Pena, a funky, brightly-coloured, bizarre, gothic style palace, set right on top of the hills, commanding superb views of the surrounding countryside and coast, every room filled with weird and wonderful furniture, paintings, sculpture. It was left in a hurry by the royal family in 1910 when they fled the country, following a joint revolt of the army and navy. After that we walked down through the gardens and down to the town. The descent took about an hour so we were very pleased with our choice to have taken the bus to the top! The thoughtful monarchs even had a castle built for their ducks!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6Zk-m4fsBTo/TaXcblsytBI/AAAAAAAAA4I/qnc2m4rfHdQ/s1600/Picture+16+Sintra+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6Zk-m4fsBTo/TaXcblsytBI/AAAAAAAAA4I/qnc2m4rfHdQ/s320/Picture+16+Sintra+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sintra castle</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-giHYHTf3zVc/TaXceMWxeaI/AAAAAAAAA4M/hzKAAHX55B8/s1600/Picture+17+Sintra+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-giHYHTf3zVc/TaXceMWxeaI/AAAAAAAAA4M/hzKAAHX55B8/s320/Picture+17+Sintra+3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DDwLjzNWnrM/TaXchD6nuyI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/o1PH_3e09uM/s1600/Picture+18+Sintra+4+duck+castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DDwLjzNWnrM/TaXchD6nuyI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/o1PH_3e09uM/s320/Picture+18+Sintra+4+duck+castle.jpg" width="183" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The duck pond!</i></td></tr>
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Shortly after our sightseeing expeditions, the weather turned sour and all the boats left the anchorage for the safety of the marina - very nice with good facilities, but the wifi is broken and doesn’t show signs that it will ever be fixed. We have been tied up here for 11 nights as depressions and fronts sweep their way across the coast. There are about 30 liveaboard boats here, 4 of us British, the others mainly Norwegian, Dutch, German, American. There are plenty of social opportunities for late night drinking sessions, everyone waiting to head south to the Algarve or south-west to Madeira. We are about 50m from the (thankfully) very sturdy harbour wall, which is all that stands between us and the 6m waves breaking as they arrive from the Atlantic. When it is not raining there is constant haze of sea-spray in the marina, making it impossible keep anything dry. <br />
Being in port for too long drives you to drink and strange behaviour – the Norwegians had races in their rubber dinghies converted to sailing boats! Nutters!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D6EiRHsQkxI/TaXci3rp3KI/AAAAAAAAA4U/R2Fj_V640js/s1600/Picture+19+mad+norwegians.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D6EiRHsQkxI/TaXci3rp3KI/AAAAAAAAA4U/R2Fj_V640js/s320/Picture+19+mad+norwegians.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The forecast for tomorrow is the best it has been for ages, so there will be a mass exodus of boats moving onto the next port of call. As for our plans for the Canaries, we go from hot to cold about the trip. Some say the trip back is a problem and we don't want to be too delayed getting into the Med. The weather has been abnormal here and the sea is terrible for the trip south at present but it may well improve and then we will see. We have considered going round to the Algarve for the winter and even a trip to Africa and on to Canaries that way, or just staying somewhere in the Algarve / Spain coast as we are told it is quite nice but obviously not as hot and the work we want to do on the boat will take longer. On the plus side of staying on the mainland, there is more to see and spares will be easier and it gets us into the Med probably a month earlier than returning from the Canaries. So the jury is still out and we will keep you posted as the plans come together.<br />
<br />
Today the weather is starting to improve and the sun has come out 2 or 3 times. The waves are about 4 to 6 m high. on the outside of the Marina and it looks pretty impressive when we can see the safe water buoys , which indicated us the safe distance off the marina wall on our arrival , literally disappearing under about 20 foot breaking waves.<br />
<br />
We think it will all start to moderate tonight and tomorrow it could well look quite normal by tomorrow. Several other boats are preparing to leave tomorrow both to Madeira and south. We will see - it's not the first time they have said they are leaving; some have even gone and turned back!</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-3866314253010752972006-09-25T10:17:00.000-07:002011-04-14T09:40:56.823-07:00Rias Bajas – La Coruna to Bayona (26th August to 25th September 2006)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well, we planned to spend a good part of our trip this year in the Galician Rias (deep rivers in the forested hills of the NW corner of Spain), but we weren’t prepared for the temperature of the water, or the English weather. The views were truly breathtaking though, and anyone with an eye for business may consider the option of running a charter business here. We believe that this is the clear objective of the Galician powers-that-be at the moment, as everywhere there are new breakwaters, and promises of new marinas. Don’t let this put you off though, there are still so many unadulterated anchorages to choose from, that it will be many years, if they ever get around to it at all, before it becomes the Sunsail-esque equivalent of the Solent. At the moment you can easily miss your cruising friend in between ports and anchorages as you pass each other in this gigantic cruising ground. <br />
<br />
We spent almost a week in A Coruna, as we discovered that we had exhausted our old starter batteries and needed to replace them. See 'Not so Technical' below. It did give us plenty of time to explore the town and bars and restaurants and to start to feel at home in Galicia.<br />
We continued our impromptu tour of local fiestas, arriving at Ares across the Ria from Coruna, in time for their annual celebration. The band started at midnight with kids sleeping in their seats outside and large, free, bowls of mussels for which the Rias are famous. I haven’t seen such large and succulent mussels in abundance since my early days in New Zealand. They tasted great!<br />
<br />
We visited Lage. A small fishing and developing tourist village with a beautiful sweeping golden beach. Unfortunately the Ocean currents made the water so cold, even Stuart could not wade out to wet his nether regions! They just went higher and higher until he had to give up and get out!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iceHbz5HfqI/TaXYi0RKYQI/AAAAAAAAA2c/zomdzegd_so/s1600/Lage+Spanis+Rias.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iceHbz5HfqI/TaXYi0RKYQI/AAAAAAAAA2c/zomdzegd_so/s320/Lage+Spanis+Rias.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>From here we went swiftly onto Camarinas, well known amongst the cruising folk as a beautiful ria. There appeared to be plenty of opportunities to kayak to your own private beach here, and walk in the pine forested slopes, but we were surrounded by grey mullet. The water was so thick with them, particularly in the port that you could almost walk across the water on their backs. As we have come to learn, no-one in Spain eats grey mullet, as they eat sewage and are nature’s way of cleaning up the water. This, combined with the noxious wiff from the fish cannery at night, made us question our motivation of enjoying a late summer swim and kayaking in the ria, and we moved swiftly on. Outside of the town itself the ria is beautiful and looking back it was a shame we didn’t spend a bit longer exploring the outer reaches and bays within. <br />
<br />
We entered the next ria, Ria de Mouros, with towering pine forested hills all around. Another lovely beach which was much warmer and swimming was pleasant. First we anchored off a beach, but moved on the next evening due to fishing boat activity – pulling up our tripping line (attached to the anchor) as they pulled their fishing pots, circling the boats in the anchorage.<br />
Off we went to Muros town, an unadulterated anchorage off a fascinating town. Surrounded by cockle pickers on the beach every morning, 100m off our stern, it gave us a rare opportunity to observe real Galician life at work – no illegal Chinese immigrants here it seems. A heavy evening spent here drinking with a couple from London meant a day of not a lot the next day. The day after that we ventured over to Portosin marina (expensive but exceptionally clean with an excellent restaurant and other facilities.) and a trip on the bikes to visit the old town of Noia about 5 miles round the ria, but one you cannot now get to by yacht because of silting of the entrance.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3RldXLL4ZGk/TaXY2VX1OeI/AAAAAAAAA2g/D3HzJ-4N79w/s1600/Picture+2+Muros+Fog+rolling+in.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3RldXLL4ZGk/TaXY2VX1OeI/AAAAAAAAA2g/D3HzJ-4N79w/s320/Picture+2+Muros+Fog+rolling+in.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muros</td></tr>
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<br />
We moved onto Ria Arosa. Not a long trip but one in thick fog, our least favorite conditions. But once a mile or so into the Ria using a combination of GPS and Radar and the odd glimpse of solid objects, the fog cleared revealing yet another expanse of islands, golden beaches and small ports serving the hundreds of mussel rafts, common throughout the Rias. We were running low on diesel by now – in Spain and France leisure yachts have to pay duty on diesel, so must find a different source of fuel to that of the fishing boats, whose red diesel is duty free and always available in fishing ports.<br />
<br />
We entered a brand new marina, which looked promising as it had a diesel (Repsol) sign and pump, inside the marina. Unfortunately we found that this is only for fishing boats (even though there were none there, nor could they get to the pump). We were directed to the next port along – Cabo Cruz – where you can snuggle up amongst the huge fishing boats on the wall and wake someone up to receive some duty-paid diesel (Gasoil/Gasoleo A). A bizarre contradiction….not a single pleasure boat is based in this port. However the diesel was very clean and courteously served. 40 minutes after filling, we were back anchoring outside the previous marina, with no need to go inside and pay for the night.<br />
<br />
A couple of days spent avoiding the rain and shopping in the open market stalls. Old ladies dressed in black with wicker baskets selling fresh produce from the individual small holdings out in the hills surrounding the Ria. Of course, there was a good sized fish market and I bought my first mussels of the trip for cooking on the boat. Steph doesn’t eat shellfish so it’s easier to eat them in a restaurant but I enjoyed a ½ Kilo and vowed to buy ¾ Kg next time.<br />
<br />
We next sailed on down past Isla Ons at the entrance of the Ria de Pontevedra, which we did not enter, and onto Iles Cies at entrance of the last of the Galician rias – Ria de Vigo.<br />
These islands are the most beautiful place that we have visited so far. We anchored up and were rapidly boarded by customs officials in a hurry to get their paperwork completed. They have a completely inappropriate boat for the purpose, pointing their bow directly at ours to transfer the officials – inevitably taking off part of our toe-rail (wooden edging) at the bow of the boat. They were most apologetic, and being the only boat in Spanish waters that doesn’t have to carry it’s insurance details on board, they gave us a phone number to ring to speak to their boss, who would be in the office the next day. As our toe-rail needs replacing anyway, we saved ourselves the bother and inconvenience and Stu made a temporary repair. We were just pleased that they hadn’t punctured a hole in the side of the bow, which would have kept us from sailing for some time!<br />
The official form was duly completed – we are used to the questions now, as they are the same ones on the form we fill in at every port and harbour in Spain (and now Portugal). <br />
How many masts? Do we have radar? Do we have VHF? How many on board? Give passport numbers, sign form , and they are happy as Larry and disappear off. They don’t show the slightest interest in looking inside the boat, or asking anything like – Are you carrying any drugs or illegal immigrants?<br />
<br />
We didn’t let the incident, or the ensuing rolly night at anchor affect our enjoyment of the islands. In the morning we prepared for a walk around the island, and went ashore in the dinghy. Although we had a plan for landing in the surf, it didn’t quite happen as we intended and Steph sported squelchy shorts all around the island – Stuart of course was completely dry. We climbed to the top of the fairy-tale-castle-like lighthouse, for phenomenal views of this wild coast in all directions.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><u><b><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4iggV2c69Z4/TaXZcPGd0_I/AAAAAAAAA2s/HetzdeBh0T4/s1600/03+rias-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4iggV2c69Z4/TaXZcPGd0_I/AAAAAAAAA2s/HetzdeBh0T4/s320/03+rias-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></u></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><u><b>Iles Cies</b></u></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EQdNx43ZO-4/TaXZdomSF8I/AAAAAAAAA2w/nf47_JYzLD4/s1600/04+rias-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EQdNx43ZO-4/TaXZdomSF8I/AAAAAAAAA2w/nf47_JYzLD4/s320/04+rias-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qZEWbVede6s/TaXZeaDT5SI/AAAAAAAAA20/XUw5vGAPBcU/s1600/05+rias-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qZEWbVede6s/TaXZeaDT5SI/AAAAAAAAA20/XUw5vGAPBcU/s320/05+rias-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SOXd8d9W8K8/TaXZe9jgOUI/AAAAAAAAA24/6GK7aAtqvHM/s1600/06+rias-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SOXd8d9W8K8/TaXZe9jgOUI/AAAAAAAAA24/6GK7aAtqvHM/s320/06+rias-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After this, Steph was almost dry, but repeated the soaking experience getting into the dinghy and out of the surf to get back to the boat – plus several bruises from climbing in over the back of the dinghy! Stuart was still completely dry once again!<br />
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We sailed on, and into the Bayona Yacht Club, set in the grounds of a castle, which has been converted into a luxury parador (Hotel). We made the most of being temporary members of the yacht, which we were told is one of the top four prestigious yacht clubs in Europe. It certainly was full of beautiful ladies-that-lunch who looked like they had never set foot on a yacht, except for perhaps the odd motor-yacht cocktail party.<br />
Apparently, to be a member here is only possible by invite, and by paying around 20,000 Euros joining fee, followed by 70E a month, and then your berthing fee on top of that if you do keep a boat there. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pYdBZfiPbqE/TaXZgcfx04I/AAAAAAAAA28/hIk9RDcbgIA/s1600/07+rias-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pYdBZfiPbqE/TaXZgcfx04I/AAAAAAAAA28/hIk9RDcbgIA/s320/07+rias-7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bayona Yacht Club</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K57kl0XhdT4/TaXZhR0dkAI/AAAAAAAAA3A/PkH3g07k_9c/s1600/08+rias-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K57kl0XhdT4/TaXZhR0dkAI/AAAAAAAAA3A/PkH3g07k_9c/s320/08+rias-8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After a couple of days exploring the castle grounds and the bars of Bayona, we attempted to leave on the Monday morning. After motoring slowly forward at half speed in blind fog for an hour, we decided that our nerves couldn’t take anymore and we turned back in to the port. Despite radar, we had 2 extremely close encounters with fishing boats, who go about their normal business at full speed in any conditions. It was not for the faint hearted! To turn back was the right choice, as the fog continued to roll in for the next 12 hours.<br />
<br />
To save our budget we anchored off the marina, giving up our opportunities to lounge around the yacht club. Here we met all sorts of interesting cruising folk, from 30’ to 60’ boats, some without engines (out of choice), one waiting weeks for a new gearbox to arrive. We felt comfortable that we are not particularly late in the season, as there are plenty of others out there, and many still just arriving from their Biscay crossing. <br />
<br />
The next day brought bad news from the marina. The red cross had issued a bad weather warning to all ports for 48 hours time. We had to make a decision as to where to head to in the next 24 hours that would be able to see us through some strong winds. A bit more investigation in internet cafes revealed the cause of the problem to be Hurricane Gordon lurking out in mid-Atlantic, with an indeterminate path headed somewhere on the Galician or Portuguese coast. We decided to stay put in Bayona, as there was an anchorage, marina, and buoys to choose from, and the reefs around the entrance make the bay very protected from swell, with high hills to protect us from south and west.<br />
Several large container ships came in and anchored behind the Iles Cies, so we knew we were in for a biggy.<br />
We waited slightly anxiously for more news, and the next 2 days were hot and sunny, force 3-4 perfect sailing weather. Gordon did a bit of damage to one of the Azores islands, before losing it’s hurricane status in the cold water of the Galician waters. It finally hit at 5am in the morning, with gusts of 65 knots (mph) in Bayona. The centre of the storm passed about 60 miles north of us with gusts of 80 knots (mph). Some damage was done to buildings, but it was not a bad as had been expected. <br />
We sat out the storm in the marina, watching the piles shaking back and forth and wondering what would happen if the forecasted Storm Force 11 reached us, as it didn’t seem that the pontoons would take too much more battering. <br />
With hindsight (what a wonderful thing), we should have stayed at anchor, where we would not have been snatching at our ropes and cleats. Our biggest worry would have been the boats without engines, as if they dragged their anchors they would not have been able to do anything about it, and there was not really enough room for all of us out in the anchorage to put out the necessary lengths of chain. <br />
<br />
Apparently ex-hurricanes are full of energy that needs to be dissipated in wind, rain and thunderstorms. This is exactly what Gordon did over the next 3 days. <br />
We pottered in internet cafes, and bars and shops. When it rained the locals would shake their heads and say that they couldn’t believe what bad weather they were having. <br />
In between rain showers we walked around the coast and went ‘Up the Virgin’.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oo_0PcoGEKg/TaXZbmUgyGI/AAAAAAAAA2o/Q1GvSMrwJ8Q/s1600/10+rias-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oo_0PcoGEKg/TaXZbmUgyGI/AAAAAAAAA2o/Q1GvSMrwJ8Q/s320/10+rias-10.jpg" width="249" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Can you spot me in the little boat she is holding?</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>This statue is perched on the headland, and you can climb up inside the virgin , to emerge through a tiny hole to stand in the boat that she holds in her right hand. It was particularly windy, so hanging on with both hands was in order. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6Aut3C3cq6k/TaXZbKrQZ0I/AAAAAAAAA2k/mrfeIDgwbdQ/s1600/09+rias-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6Aut3C3cq6k/TaXZbKrQZ0I/AAAAAAAAA2k/mrfeIDgwbdQ/s320/09+rias-9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We haven’t mentioned anything about the forest fires in the Rias. Before we arrived in Spain, there had been no rain for 3 months (!). This combined with the bizarre behaviour of some out-of-work firemen and other arsonists (one of them 91 years old) led to huge forest fires throughout the rias. They lost about 7% of their forested area, and there were many fatalities. In August, it was common to see seaplanes sweeping down into the rias to collect water to drop in the hills, and every few days we would see a new plume of smoke rising in the distance. <br />
A German chemical factory burned down at the top of one of the rivers, leeching toluene and other nasties into the water. It was rapidly dealt with by carbon filters, and followed by an emergency plan to tunnel the course of the river around the polluted section. <br />
<br />
For Galicia to be hit by a hurricane after all this bad luck, seems to be really unfair, but at least the damage was slight compared to what could have been. Hurricane Helene lurked in the Atlantic for a while, threatening a similar course, but thankfully lost its power and buggered off to Ireland. <br />
The strong winds swept the ash off the hills and the rain brought it all down, so for a few days we had black decks and black feet. <br />
<br />
At last, after 10 days we left Bayona, and had a lovely sail down the coast, accompanied by dolphins across the border into Portugal. We were very pleased to hoist our Portuguese courtesy flag, as we were excited to be entering a new country and heading south towards better weather. We really enjoyed the Rias, and would urge anyone to head their, as it is wonderful sailing playground, with a beach for everyone, and lots of opportunities for cycling and walking. For the Galicians, they say that 2006 has been a year to forget!<br />
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<u><b>Not So Technical.Getting new batteries in La Coruna.</b></u><br />
So I’m sitting in a beautiful bay surrounded by spectacular rocky coast enclosing a golden sand beached bay and a small town offering a couple of bars and restaurants in the Rias of Galicia. It’s 8:30 in the evening and about 25 degrees and sunny. It’s what we came here for and hope to see a lot more of, but don’t get the impression that it’s all swilling sun downers and sunbathing. There is always maintenance to do. <br />
<br />
Three days ago, fortunately in La Coruna, the largest city in the area, we returned to the boat to the gas alarm screaming. First checks confirmed the gas shut off at bottle and no smell. Reset the gas alarm to find “No 2” sensor, the deepest in the bilge will not reset. No obvious cause. Floor uplifted and sensor inspected for damage , none found and it restarted only to fail again 1 hour later. Next afternoon after removing the loo/shower floors for varnishing, (a result of a complaint re the condition of the on shore showers in the marina) and exposing areas of the shower tray clearly not ventilated or drying, we both smelt a progressively worse smell like dirty drains and sulphur. Cleaning the area didn’t seem to improve the situation and it continued to get worse.<br />
<br />
More sniffing and opening of lockers finally revealed the source of the smell. The engine starter batteries had a dead cell and were overheating on the shore charger, creating Explosive!!! gases. Ventilation and disconnection sorted out the smell and gas but it still left us with no starter batteries, so to the guts of the story.<br />
<br />
What we need is 2 x 105 to 110 amp Hour Engine cranking batteries. I want sealed, i.e. ideally Glass filled high performance batteries or at least Gel.<br />
<br />
What is involved .<br />
(1) Get the words you will need, Baterias, etc.<br />
(2) Find out a potential supplier <br />
(3) Get to the supplier and explain the situation.<br />
<br />
We did all of the above in about ½ a day and a visit into the warehouse revealed 2 types of battery available. Traditional car batteries, 2 of, ( possibly Recreational ) and a sealed battery, 1 of, similar to the average boat battery from the average UK chandler. <br />
<br />
The size available was max 75 amp. 2 Baterias of the sealed variety were ordered for delivery to the marina that evening. The price was equivalent to the most hi-tec available in the UK. They did arrive and on time so no complaints but on removing the shrink wrapping they exposed themselves as normal push on cap lead acid, not what we had ordered.<br />
<br />
Day 2. Discussion with shop to explain situation. To their credit they worked hard to try to rectify the situation but to no avail. We went to another car / truck battery supplier whilst this was proceeding and explained what we wanted. In this part of Spain, sealed means there is a cap on it!. Gel was a concept that the specialist had heard of but none of the 3 suppliers he called could supply anything over 75 amps and , you guessed it I didn’t bother trying to explain AGM ( absorbed Glass Matt) and Red flash micro technology.<br />
<br />
The result: 2 days delay in leaving port. 2 admittedly heavy duty cranking batteries and 430 euros (!!) less in the wallet. But we are sailing again!<br />
<br />
What would have been the result in a smaller port?</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-72355801014426200962006-08-26T10:05:00.000-07:002011-04-14T09:40:32.901-07:00North Spain, August 2006<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The seas flattened out around the NW point of Spain, and hopefully we are rid of the steep lumpy seas of Biscay and into kinder, more regular waves from the Atlantic. We tightened the rig up a few notches – quite normal to have to do this after 1000 miles of having a new rig – and the boat is so much better behaved as a result, coping with head winds and waves much better than before.<br />
We were rewarded by being joined by about 50 dolphins all around the boat, some deciding to ride the bow wave of the yacht, and happily chirping away at us in dolphinese while we held on tightly at the bow to watch them. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RbNIKelyzSY/TaXW4ZrSmFI/AAAAAAAAA2I/GQ10BvTIhA0/s1600/06+dolphins+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RbNIKelyzSY/TaXW4ZrSmFI/AAAAAAAAA2I/GQ10BvTIhA0/s320/06+dolphins+.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>La Coruna offers lots of entertainment for a few days, to replace our batteries (literally), and mend a few bits of boat. The marina is lovely, and in a great position, but the showers are truly appalling, so it has become a motivating factor to sort out our on-board showering facilities. Stuart has set to with the epoxy to sort the woodwork, and Steph has varnished/oiled the wooden shower trays, so it will all be ready to go for when we have left La Coruna. No doubt the next shower facilities will be gleaming marble and gold plated taps!<br />
<br />
On our day off, we visited Santiago de Compostela, about 45 minutes away by train.<br />
It was fantastic to see the city that I’d read about and to see the Parador. It’s a great city to wander around the old streets, and to take in the history of the popular pilgrimage that finishes here with a reward of only spending half your time in purgatory. If you complete the pilgrimage in a holy year, 2004, 2010 then you get let off of purgatory entirely.<br />
For more background to this pilgrimage read Spanish Steps by Tim Moore, a very entertaining read about his travels with a donkey, including lots of really bad donkey jokes. <br />
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I think we need a bit more practice with panoramic shots:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C8lbyEODNnA/TaXW5kgeVHI/AAAAAAAAA2M/zqaw-saYhrc/s1600/07+santiago+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="96" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C8lbyEODNnA/TaXW5kgeVHI/AAAAAAAAA2M/zqaw-saYhrc/s400/07+santiago+.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>It is a real challenge everyday to try and communicate to get what you want, and to find parts or equipment when there is a language barrier – for many of the locals, Spanish is their second language after Gallego, and possibly French, so it no wonder that they may not speak English. They are just as likely to receive customers from Scandinavia, Netherlands, France, Italy. Even the Spanish dictionary is not much help, as the words often do not remotely resemble the Gallego equivalent. <br />
<br />
So far we have sampled lots of yummy cuisine – amongst our favorites are chipirones (baby squid in it’s ink) and Pimientos de Padron (tiny green peppers fried in salt and olive oil, mostly benign but with the occasional hot one to surprise you). Luckily we were warned about the ‘percebes’ – or goose barnacles. They are a local specialty collected from the waters edge at great risk from big waves and are accordingly very expensive. Just because they are a speciality does not mean that we are going to try them though, maybe you can see from the picture why we’ve not bothered to try them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xtHWRukUC8o/TaXW7rAEdJI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/5wHSCwUK67w/s1600/08+food+rtoc-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xtHWRukUC8o/TaXW7rAEdJI/AAAAAAAAA2Q/5wHSCwUK67w/s320/08+food+rtoc-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We discovered more local customs, including a bar serving only sweet red wine ( a bit like sherry) in small pouring bottles served with peanuts fresh in their shells. The shells are rapidly disposed of, creating an entire layer of peanut shells on the floor of the bar. The guy we are sharing a drink with is Bert, a grandfather from Netherlands, who is single handed in a 40 footer. He has crossed the Atlantic alone, more times than we’ve crossed the channel – a real inspiration, and a beautiful boat. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TFi8zGD2jdY/TaXW9A-uxcI/AAAAAAAAA2U/AaDdh-7zTIU/s1600/09+bar+a+coruna+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TFi8zGD2jdY/TaXW9A-uxcI/AAAAAAAAA2U/AaDdh-7zTIU/s320/09+bar+a+coruna+.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l7x6zxFzAlk/TaXW-BuyWkI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/Mu4sgof5HUY/s1600/10+bar+a+coruna+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l7x6zxFzAlk/TaXW-BuyWkI/AAAAAAAAA2Y/Mu4sgof5HUY/s320/10+bar+a+coruna+.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After the tourist bars close, we discovered that the locals head up to the old town for more drinking at the weekend – but seldom in bars. They take a picnic and their supply of alcohol and sit around in groups in a park just beneath a row of attractive looking bars that are almost empty. <br />
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During our walk we discovered why there are so many wrecks marked on the chart as we viewed the lower 30 feet of the lighthouse.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uS2mlQnKRxg/TaXW3ZHNNKI/AAAAAAAAA2E/QwkaqZy1eB0/s1600/11+a+coruna+LH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uS2mlQnKRxg/TaXW3ZHNNKI/AAAAAAAAA2E/QwkaqZy1eB0/s320/11+a+coruna+LH.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>Moving Weather, our weather forecasting program that we subscribe to, predicts that the low cloud will clear on Wednesday, so hopefully if our new starting batteries are installed, we will be off shortly after that to explore the Rias Bajas for a couple of weeks. </div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-13292992677957294572006-08-15T09:58:00.000-07:002011-04-14T09:39:40.973-07:00Gijon, North Spain, August 2006<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>After a couple of days of battering by wind and waves day and night from La Rochelle we arrived in Gijon in North Spain – pronounced something like hee-hon – try saying it without sounding like a donkey! We were approached and boarded by Spanish customs officials who spoke no English at all. We filled in their form as requested and they went away quite happy. They assured us that this was entirely routine, but we never came across any other boats that had been welcomed this way!<br />
<br />
On arrival, we jumped ship and went to a bar to try and regain our senses and land legs. All around people were buying a bottle of cider with one glass between them. It would be poured from a great height, often without looking at the glass. This resulted in much spillage. The glass was then passed to someone, who would gulp it down except for the dregs, which would be swilled around the glass and chucked on the ground before passing the glass back to the pourer. This strange behaviour was all around, and we later discovered that it was fiesta time here, and is a local custom. Pouring the cider from a height makes it fizz momentarily and taste acceptable. It’s traditional to share one glass so the dregs are swilled around to clean the glass before it is passed on to the next drinker.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AklVZ36lTy0/TaXVBnaMOMI/AAAAAAAAA1w/ipBQTEvhcbE/s1600/02+Gijon-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AklVZ36lTy0/TaXVBnaMOMI/AAAAAAAAA1w/ipBQTEvhcbE/s320/02+Gijon-2.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oJFjBJHTKpE/TaXVCRnXZmI/AAAAAAAAA10/yvxMbMyZOqc/s1600/01+Gijon-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oJFjBJHTKpE/TaXVCRnXZmI/AAAAAAAAA10/yvxMbMyZOqc/s320/01+Gijon-1.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>The following two days we made the most of arriving during the fiesta, and attended the firework display on a Monday at midnight on the beach. It was an awesome display of 45 minutes, some of the best fireworks we’ve ever seen. There was an intermission of 10 minutes during the show, which turned out to be a problem with one set of fireworks. We were treated to the missing ones at 2pm the next day – which didn’t quite have the same effect.<br />
There was music for free in the square and down by the port, a huge stage set up with a Riverdance show and various other free gigs. These went on until well into the small hours. We retired to bed about 3am, but the town was still heaving with people of all ages, mostly drinking cider and spilling it in the streets. We didn’t witness a single episode of drunken misbehaviour and the atmosphere was very convivial. <br />
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On the way to Gijon, Stuart caught an enormous tuna (actually a bonito) which he butchered on the foredeck with lots of mess and scales running down the sides of the deck. We let the boat drift while he got it aboard and did his dastardly deeds with it, and it was two hours before we were able to set sail again, with it safely in manageable size pieces ready for the fridge. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uDAMDEyc9I4/TaXVUHDtgKI/AAAAAAAAA14/bw0FntvVLwU/s1600/03+Gijon-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uDAMDEyc9I4/TaXVUHDtgKI/AAAAAAAAA14/bw0FntvVLwU/s320/03+Gijon-3.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>Stuart made lots of friends in Gijon by distributing huge tuna steaks to the other cruisers there. It was probably around 20-25 kilos. In France bonito was selling in the markets for around 28 Euros/kilo, so it was an impressive catch. We ate tuna for days and days after this, our favourite solutions to tuna overload being green thai curry, and portugese fish stew (Caldeira). <br />
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The cost of living is much lower than in France here- we were starting to wonder if our budget was up to the task when we shopped in the supermarkets. The meat is much better quality here and about ¼ of the price. The wine is abundant, cheap and excellent quality. What more could you want in life??<br />
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<u><b>Ribadeo</b></u><br />
Onto Ribadeo next, about 75 miles along the coast. Another boisterous sail with head winds, or now winds and steep short seas, just like the English channel.<br />
The town was OK but a bit run-down, with an annoying swell in the marina (run by the yacht club). Whatever we did with fenders and lines we snatched and jolted around and rubbed fenders with our neighbours. Helen and Matthew joined us for a night on their way home from Pontevendra to the airport. Matthew (8) ran around the boat like a mad thing, pressing every button and pulling every rope he could find – a great adventure playground – while we held our breath and hoped that nothing vital was being activated (like the EPIRB!)<br />
We found a fantastic typically Spanish restaurant with the usual bright lights and immaculately clean kitchen. Helen brought us news that the rain that we found annoying and persistent was very welcome in the region, as they had not had any for 3 months before we arrived. This, combined with some bizarre arson attacks had resulted in terrible forest fires all over Galicia, with loss of life and homes on a scale so huge, that satellite pictures show the smoke streaming out into the Atlantic. <br />
<br />
After seeing Helen off to the airport the next day there was an absolute downpour. The steep alleys and streets were streaming with water, the drain covers disgorging their rotting contents. We were quite safe aboard our ark, but the wiff was becoming quite nasty, and we discovered that what had appeared to be just a pile (wide metal vertical pole) in the marina turned out to be the overflow pipe. We named it ‘Pissypoo’ fountain when we saw what was surrounding our ark!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u><b><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O8g65yb3loE/TaXVu2nFohI/AAAAAAAAA18/EKx-9rWBdKA/s1600/04+Gijon-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O8g65yb3loE/TaXVu2nFohI/AAAAAAAAA18/EKx-9rWBdKA/s320/04+Gijon-4.jpg" width="244" /></a></b></u></div><u><b>Viveiro</b></u><br />
Moving swiftly on we sailed 35miles to Viveiro, a pleasant old town with a new marina and a friendly harbourmaster. We spent an hour in his office to do our paperwork (one form) and receive Spanish lessons and a comprehensive knowledge of nearby anchoring possibilities. Met lots of cruisers here, including Dutch and Danish cruisers and a couple heading back home after their yearly cruise of the region. Andy and Carolyn on Trio gave us lots of information about the cuisine and the areas not to be missed and we seriously took advantage of their extensive drinks locker during one pleasant afternoon aboard. <br />
On Monday and Tuesday evenings there was free live music in the town square, for which all the locals turned out. Everyone brings their kids out until late in the evening, and no-one would think about eating before 10pm. We were clearly born to live in Spain, as our bodyclocks have been synchronized to Spanish time for as long as we remember – even as a child, it never felt right to eat at 1pm and 7pm. We’d frequently find ourselves the last customers in a restaurant, or having to negotiate a table before the kitchens closed in the UK and in France.<br />
Peter joined us on Tuesday for a few days. Unfortunately we thought that it would be a simple connection to Asturias airport where there is a nearby train station. Of course the last train of the day departed 10 minutes before he landed, so the only option was an expensive taxi ride. <br />
We motored around the corner to El Barquero. Here we found a picturesque beach with virtually no-one around, under the ruins of probably an old fish factory. The sand was so white and the water so clear, we had an easy view of shoals of tiny sardines chasing around making the water choppy with their activities and heaps of other fish that avoided Stuart and Peters’ attempts to land them. Steph was quite content with a rest from fish for a while as the tuna had only just been consumed, and we were quite keen for a change of diet. <br />
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After a morning swim to the beach, we sailed off to La Cedeira. Again, no winds/head winds and a lumpy sea and we were pleased to arrive in this fishing village. We anchored behind the breakwater near ‘Offski’ a Glaswegian boat off to the Med. The town was a disappointment in every way. We found it hard to find a decent restaurant, the beach was quite dirty, the weather terrible and Peter could find no way out of the place without another expensive taxi ride (and it was touch-and-go as to whether anyone would take him).<br />
After seeing Peter off in his taxi, La Cedeira’s parting shot was an anchor fouled by the most humungous fishermans anchor/mooring we have ever seen, complete with 2 other anchors that had met the same fate as ours. Now we understood why we had held our position so well in the 25 knot winds that we had in the rain-storms!<br />
Our powerful windlass brought the mass of steel to a couple of feet below the surface of the water, so we could see what was what. You would have to be mad to get in the water to sort it out, as it was all hanging in a tangle of fishing net off the flukes of our anchor, ready to take you down with it, should it decide to drop off at any moment. <br />
Luckily we managed to manoeuver the tripping line/anchor chain up and down to free ourselves of this mess and got ourselves free of La Cedeira in favour of La Coruna. </div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4253680660912564278.post-53185170945409947102006-08-01T09:50:00.000-07:002011-04-14T09:39:09.485-07:00La Trinite & Carnac, Iles Houat & Yeu, La Rochelle, August 2006<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Two weeks into our trip and we are still in holiday mode. We went for a cycle tour along the waterfront to Carnac, a huge holiday resort with enormous sandy beaches, zillions of restaurants, bars and tourists. We continued through the town and out along the route that takes you past most of the ‘Alignements’.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UxhkwWy3Mcw/TaXTvagaQ8I/AAAAAAAAA1s/gYAtFADNSXY/s1600/Picture+1+-+a+load+of+old+rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UxhkwWy3Mcw/TaXTvagaQ8I/AAAAAAAAA1s/gYAtFADNSXY/s320/Picture+1+-+a+load+of+old+rocks.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>These are menhirs or prehistoric standing stones, predating Stonehenge and numbering over 2000. They stand line upon line running roughly NE/SW. No-one knows whether these were for astronomical measurements or territorial markers, but they are very impressive. <br />
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Back at La Trinite we picked up washing from the laverie- found we’d well ripped off and it cost much more than we anticipated – from now on its laundry in a bucket!<br />
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In the morning we nipped up to the Capitanerie to pay our bills and found it was market day, so we had a quick visit. Not having time to look around and compare prices we spent loads of money. Not surprising, as the stall-holders have a never ending supply of tourists to rip off and we are not yet streetwise enough to negotiate or compare prices. Anyway it was a valuable lesson learned, and a hot sunny morning with a force 4 wind blowing so we were happy to slip our lines and head out to sea again, away from cars, tourists and rip-offs.<br />
We had a fantastic sail into the Gulfe de Morbihan – a huge inland sea ( a bit like Poole Harbour) with about 60 islands. 30 of these are owned by film stars, some are holiday resorts and some are uninhabited. The navigation around the islands was tricky, but good fun and we anchored for the evening in a beautiful bay off the Ile d’Arz. We cooked up the last of our frozen food from the UK and gazed out over a sailing playground. There are thousands of people sailing here, it seems that everyone in South Brittany must own a sailing boat and be out on it every day. Despite this there is plenty of room for everyone and our anchorage was certainly not crowded. We would thoroughly recommend this area to anyone who sails- it would be relatively easy to enjoy some time here in a 2-3 week break – bring (or buy) a detailed chart of the bay to make the most of it. <br />
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After dinner we went up to the village called The Bourg for a nightcap – at about 10pm there were just enough people in the pleasant bar to make it lively but not packed. <br />
Ile d’Arz, and no doubt the other holiday islands, have something for everyone, and a laid back holiday feel, much like the Isles of Scilly, full of well dispersed holiday accommodation, but retaining it’s character and dignity.<br />
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Next morning, after a swim, we went for a walk right around the island and then headed off for an evening sail to one of the small islands about 10miles off the Brittany shore – hoping that no-one else had discovered it yet! Wishful thinking!<br />
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Stuart put his fishing gear together, so the pressure was on him to perform. Steph had a backup plan for dinner, just in case. <br />
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As we approached Ile Houat we were astounded to see the number of masts in the anchorage. We had previously decided against the small harbour as it could be like the last Island harbour so we browsed the chart for an anchorage that might be a bit more secluded. Well, We have never seen so many boats at anchor in one place – Studland beer festival just comes no-where near! To be fair the bay was huge (Treac’h er Gourhed) and we anchored in shallow water about ½ mile from the beach. A swim would have been great, but for the thought of 239 boats that we could see, (Stuart counted them) most of which would be without holding tanks!<br />
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Ile Houat and it’s neighbour Ile Hoedic were really beautiful and in settled weather outside of July/August they would be well worth a longer visit. The water was crystal clear and we could see the bottom some 5 to 6 m down.<br />
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We moved on the next day, and anchored off Ile d’Yeu. This looked like a fascinating island, not even mentioned in the Rough Guide. We passed the remains of an old castle perched on the edge of a cliff, and some tiny anchorages, no more than a crack in the cliffs, where a handful of brave yachts were anchored in amongst the rocks. Without local knowledge we headed for a safer option described in the pilot book– Anse de Vieilles. Again, lots of yachts and we were a long way out. We ate the fish that Stuart caught – probably a bass. It was a reasonable size fish and must have been strong as we were doing more than 5 knots when he took the bait. <br />
Steph flapped about as much as the fish when Stuart tried to put it on the cockpit floor to do his dastardly deeds to it. Stuart and fish were sent up to the foredeck until it resembled something that might be served in a restaurant! <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xollOYxfRas/TaXTdi3g7tI/AAAAAAAAA1k/wkzQD6O23MM/s1600/Stu+and+his+first+fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xollOYxfRas/TaXTdi3g7tI/AAAAAAAAA1k/wkzQD6O23MM/s320/Stu+and+his+first+fish.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Stu's first tiddler</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Our plan to explore Ile D’Yeu the next day was foiled by a fine breeze popping up, that was just too good to miss. So we upped anchor and set off south towards La Rochelle. We are keen to spend as much time in the Spanish Rias as possible, and getting to La Rochelle is a milestone that we wanted to reach as soon as possible. <br />
We arrived at low water, too low for us to risk entering the shallow entrance, so we anchored off the port and spent a very uncomfortable night rolling from side to side in the tide. <br />
An early start the next day rewarded us with a place in the Minimes marina, which appears to have everything – shorepower, wifi and free tricycles for shopping. We walked up to the old town – very busy as the QE2 was visiting. <br />
It is a fascinating city with well preserved 18th century timbered houses lining the main shopping centre. We had a walk around the ramparts and the old port – a real lively atmosphere. The weather is perfect, sunny with a warm dry breeze. <br />
We have a day or two of work to do sorting out various bits of the boat that need improvement. There are 4 chandleries within ½ mile, so this seems the ideal time to get on with a few chores. It is all hard work really!!<br />
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First on the list was a trip up the mast to remove the wind speed sensor/ paddle for overhaul as it had stopped working and afterwards another trip up to re attach it. This just delayed the worst of the jobs, dismantle the loo pump which had become chocked up with calcium, this requires disconnecting and removing the pump to the pontoon for disassembly and cleaning and replacement of a valve or two. It is a smelly and disagreeable job but the reward is a toilet that works better and doesn’t blow back (I’ll leave that to your imagination). These jobs plus washing the sheets in a bucket and drying in the wind, took most of the day, A mooch round the bars is required before the night is at an end.<br />
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Great Place in the evening. Street entertainers all over the sea front and crowds of spectators. Good atmosphere. We will be back there tonight as well. Today was shopping day. Veg and fruit from the Market then Lunch and back to the boat to unload before a trip to the chandelery to replace some spares used. ( no use there wound up ordering them from the UK). Then we borrowed a crazy sort of a tricycle thing with a box arrangement on the front, terrible brakes and horrible to steer, Rode the thing to the supermarket, about 1 ½ miles away and stocked up. The ride back, fully loaded was not for the unfit or the faint hearted . 50 Kg of out of control beer and bog rolls at rush hour, in the city traffic kept me on the edge of the seat ready to jump at any moment. Back now and looking forward to a well earned meal out to say farewell to La Rochelle.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wdg7xEjMH9M/TaXTsKmNhgI/AAAAAAAAA1o/gqY38GIWxW4/s1600/LaRochelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wdg7xEjMH9M/TaXTsKmNhgI/AAAAAAAAA1o/gqY38GIWxW4/s320/LaRochelle.jpg" width="292" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Rochelle transport</td></tr>
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</div>Steph and Stuart Mortonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07806670049135467859noreply@blogger.com0