Corsica to Marina di Ragusa, Sicily ~ our winter home

Having bid a fond farewell to Mike's fellow divers, we were delighted to be joined by Charlie Stott for our passage to Sicily - it was now late September and the weather was becoming unsettled.  We needed to head South!

On 22nd September we escaped the clutches of Calvi Marina just before they charged us for another night & had a shake-down evening cruise for Charlie, to Cala Porto Vecchio - a couple of hours under sail.

We  had a variable few days - quite a bit of  motoring necessary but also some enjoyable sailing, including using the cruising chute, as we made our way to the South of Corsica, through the Straits of Bonifacio and down through the Maddalena Islands off NE Sardinia - province of the super-rich during the season and, apparently, then like a motorway filled with undisciplined drivers.  But mercifully quiet and very beautiful in late September.

By the 27th we were in Arbatax, about half way down E. Sardinia - we went into the friendly,  slightly ramshackle Marina there,  ashore for [limited] stores and Charlie kindly gave the mate a night off with a fun dinner ashore.

The 28th - Mike's actual birthday!  The dry ship rule was broken by a modest beer at lunch time  ~

 ~ and a lovely bunch of cards produced by Charlie

was that 70 or 17????

A couple of nights' sailing made the distance to Trapani, NW Sicily. 

 This little fellow landed on the quarter deck and stayed with us most of the night - we hope he was near enough to land when he took off - he slept for about 3 hours, but we couldn't persuade him to take any food or water 

 No such difficulties with the skipper and crew!

A first attempt at bread-making for Charlie - with excellent results

The final 24 hours found Mike stricken by some horrid virus, confined to his bunk with a high temperature - I was extremely grateful for Charlie's cheerful, competent help and advice. Happily, the bug was short-lived and the skipper was feeling a lot better by the time we tied up in Trapani.

There were strong South-Easterlies for the next few days, which quickly build unpleasant seas in the narrow channel between Africa & Sicily, so we stayed at anchor for 5 days 

An overnight sail - not much shipping except a pretty close inspection by an Italian patrol boat in the middle of the night. [At this time there was much on the news about refugees getting into anything that could float to try the crossing, often with disastrous results]  Mike shone our searchlight at the call-sign on the mainsail and then onto our Blue Ensign - at that, obviously, they sped off.....  They did return when I was on watch, but not so close.  On the 8th October we were led into the marina by the "marinieros" [shallow entrance, most advisable] and shown our winter home.  The marina covers a large area - our bikes will be invaluable - and has a friendly, helpful office, decent showers & loos and a large liveaboard community in winter.

Lisbon to Sicily may not be the longest distance achieved by a yacht in 5 months, but we'd seen a great variety of places, had some frustrating hold-ups, some good sailing, too much motoring when trying to meet deadlines [a lesson now learned.....], good fun with friends and remarkably little hassle from officials.  We got used to wonderful markets, friendly locals and a great deal of sunshine. Our cockpit awning is invaluable, as is our "breeze bandit".  A long list of jobs and several must-haves [including a snuffer for the cruising chute] or would-likes for 2014 emerged, so we settled down in Sicily.

[Oh, and Mike had yet another, wonderful, birthday party - this time in London, hosted by our children, in late October] 

Reunion in Calvi

Corsica, September 2013

Our intended landfall, Baia Galeria, was  untenable as an anchorage as the wind suddenly increased and blew steadily from the South West, so we altered course and headed up the absolutely stunning West coast, under sail at last!  And found a brilliant anchorage, La Ravellata, only open to the North, just round the point from Calvi.  We spent an enjoyable few days here, totally sheltered from the persistent Southerlies (6 - 8), with a good beach at the head of the bay and plenty to watch. 

And the awards go to:

• Simon, for valiantly putting up with the longest steam we have made in Stravaigin so far – just about the entire 235 miles from Menorca to Corsica -  even managing to admire the moon on the glassy sea, enjoy the dolphins at night and remain alert at all times.  By far the most philosophical person on board – the skipper thinking about all those engine hours and all that diesel, the mate getting hotter and hotter and crosser & crosser as sleep eluded her and the galley became like an oven.

•  The young, blonde-ish woman in Calvi Port Office, for being the rudest marina employee we have ever encountered. By miles. Earlier, Mike and I had been given a price by another girl – this one quoted over a third more.  When I protested, she told me we had lied before [they work it out in square meters – I suppose we have to be grateful they don’t add weight and draft] and, glaring angrily, said “If you want a cheaper price, get a smaller boat”.   

And the most important one:

 

Bryan and John, with their wives Liz & Jos for making the convoluted trips from USA & Dorset [Corsica closes in early September….]  to join Mike in celebrating his 70^th birthday and their 48 years of friendship. 

Four candidates passed the 1965 Clearance Diving Long Course, out of 12 who started – one died some years ago, sadly, so they really are the last three standing!  6 days of reminiscence, backchat and nonsense followed, with a background of good dinners, plenty of wine and some breathtaking road trips round the island.  

The highlight of the week was taking Stravaigin out into Calvi Bay, securing the Avon with Bryan and camera to a rickety pontoon, then putting the boat through her  paces [John at the helm, Mike on the foredeck, Jos & I handling the odd sheet] in 25 knots of wind.  For me, it was wonderful to sit back and watch the years just fall away from the trio.

Menorca

We left Bonaire Marina for what appeared an attractive anchorage just inside Baia Pollensa – Cala Pinar. 

The log reads:  “Thunder, lightning, rain, nuisance swell at anchor”.  By the following day we were dragging, scratchy from lack of sleep and further  irritated by  leaks round hatches and binnacle [after a long, hot, dry summer] and returned to anchor just outside Bonaire for a second rainy night.

But on the 27^th, the clouds blew away

  

& we headed for Menorca – about 28 miles to Cala Son Saura, a few miles SE of Ciudadella.  A most attractive, wide Cala off a sandy beach,  not a house in sight – and those who did come to the beach had to park about a kilometre away.  Much flatter than Mallorca, the whole feel of its close neighbour was completely different.

We were running a bit low on fruit & veg, and the skipper proposed that I should be rowed ashore, with  bike, to find the road shown on the chart, leading to a village where there were “supplies” – Porto Tamarind – about 4 km to the West.   Despite continuously looking to my left as I pedalled along the stony track, no such road appeared, so eventually I carried on [after a moment’s excitement when I spotted an awning over a table by a van, at a road junction– would this be a smiling, mahogany-faced farmer’s wife with wonderful home grown produce  - perhaps even honey -  on sale?  No, it was the trappings of a car park attendant – complete with LED signs announcing which beach car parks were full.  Extraordinary.]  to Ciudadella – 12 km – where the necessary supplies were obtained and a welcome tortilla & orange juice acquired in a shady square before heading back.  The road to Porto Tamarind must only exist from Ciudadella.    I was surprised to see several herds of healthy looking dairy cattle – the land was exceptionally stony & didn’t look capable of producing the necessary feed – but we learned later that Menorcan milk and cheese are excellent & they are justly proud of them.  So a rather longer trip than anticipated on a very hot day, but an interesting one!

After a couple of nights in Son Saura, we had a fine reach up the coast towards Mahon, finding ourselves amidst the end of a classic yacht race.    There was a brisk breeze by then, and seeing these beautiful ladies flying along under full sail was a privilege which brought a lump to my throat [and, I suspect, the skipper’s]. ……Mahon Harbour

………
…. After crossing the finishing line they all sailed into Mahon Harbour

while we went to anchor in Cala Taulera – a perfect anchorage to the East of Isla Lazaretto [where the poor victims of cholera and yellow fever used to be incarcerated] in the harbour, surrounded by tremendous fortifications. …………

 

This haven is actually now “forbidden” which is outrageous.

It is not off a bathing beach, does not have a posidonia bed [sea grass which is viewed as a precious marine environment where former anchorages are now buoyed – and you pay!]  is not in a shipping lane [being some 5m deep!], and has a clearly marked  channel down one side for small vessels.  However, reports on the Cruising Association forum and advice from Bruce & Becky on Plane Song revealed that we were unlikely to be turfed out at a weekend and, although a single port official came by, this proved to be the case.

The skipper, indifferent to the fact that he is about to be 70, dived on the hull [he has his full set and a compressor on board] and cleaned it – not quite weed, but certainly a great deal of slime.  I’m sure Stravaigin is now going faster!  He slept exceptionally well that night.

On Monday the official returned with his boss and, still unfailingly courteous, admitted that it was purely because the Marinas needed the business.   We had to pay a €7.20 “Anchor Tax”  [new one on us!] but he kindly let us know [the boss didn’t speak English…..] that as long as we were gone by 0800 on Tuesday, no-one would be any the wiser, as they had work in another part of the harbour for the rest of the day.

Embarrassed to report that the skipper and mate of another UK boat were very rude to him, both shouting abuse for some time.  They were liveaboards, just back from Sardinia [but with the benefit of two nights’ sleep], so really should have known better.  We saw the official later in the week, and Mike apologised behalf of the British – he smiled sweetly and said “Oh, well, not everyone can be polite”

So we weighed around 0730 and were just heading towards the channel when a French skipper whistled us up – he had managed to put himself “a little” aground & just needed a gentle tow for 2 metres.  He was lucky – there wasn’t another soul about!  He did tell us that the channel round the back of Lazaretto was only 2.3m which is exactly our draught!  So we went the long way round into Mahon harbour proper.

It now being September, when the islands empty of holiday makers like water down a drain, the prices in Marina Mahon were not actually too bad [and they weren’t worried that we arrived shortly after 0800…] – we even negotiated a discount for the third night!  And we had some extremely classy neighbours…

…  It is a fascinating port, well worth a visit, not only for the extraordinary natural harbour, but for the Moor-influenced historic centre and we were quite happy to do the normal maintenance and then explore whilst waiting for Simon to join us.

We even cycled out to Lidl to stock up on Mueseli & chocolate!  The main market was a bit of a let-down, the prices aimed at tourists and the stock disappointing, but the fish market was good.  I discovered a good fruiteria not far from the marina whose prices were much better!