The Tuscan Islands, September 2007

Approaching Marina di Campo, South Elba

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The view from the top to both sides of the island

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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