Saturday, February 22, 2003

2003, Turkey, Greece, Croatia, Italy, Malta

To all of my friends, family and anyone else that reads this, I wish you the very best during the 2003 Holiday season and in all of 2004.

I apologize for the length of this writing, I have checked it several times and do not know what else I can leave out. The distance from my last winter home of Marmaris, Turkey to this years winter home in Malta is only 675 miles, yet the distance moved has been nearly two thousand miles. Much more if you count the tacks. This has been an interesting and eventful year, including Turkey, more of Greece, Croatia, Italy, Sicily and Malta. It is also the year I quit smoking. That decision was made while I was still in Turkey, the last cheap cigs I would see for some time, so it made sense to stop when I left there 25 April. The down side of that is the weight that has piled on. In the first couple of months I put on 35 pounds, which leveled off and is slowly going the other way. I do not like to carry the extra weight so I’m trying hard to get rid of it. I had 14 crew over the year, the longest was seven weeks. The year has been unproductive in finding a cruising partner. I have spent literally thousands of hours on emails. Three women did come for a test ride, one was a good match but she changed her mind after she left.

The time I spent in Turkey since my last update was spent on land travel, repairs and moving the boat. Winter is the time of storms in the Mediterranean I was at about the same latitude as St Louis, so the weather was not tropical. I purchased and used a heater for the boat, something I have not needed before. The frequency of low pressure systems was six days, it would blow for three days from the south, then get nice for three days then blow again, each time required moving the boat to the other side of the bay, I actually wore a path across the bay, really.

Entry into Turkey is straightforward, a US twenty five dollar cruising permit, valid for six months and a US hundred dollar visa, which is good for three months, marina fees are very negotiable depending on the length of stay. Haul out, services and chandleries are readily available. The cost of services is low, so is the quality, so beware.

The winter storms bring a south wind, gusting to mid forties, the highest gust I saw was 57, for a few days makes things interesting. For safety sake I needed to stay on the south side of the bay during the southerly blows. My curiosity of the cold temperature every time the wind went to the north was satisfied within a half hour of leaving Marmaris by bus on one of my many trips into the countryside. Snow capped mountains hold enough cold to make a downhill skier shiver. The terrain is mountainous, with the road switching back and forth on the grade, a distance of 200 kilometers, 120 miles, to Izmir, takes four and a half hours of travel by bus. At a cost of thirteen million Turkish Lera, about eight dollars and they run on time.

Hotels are everywhere and pretty cheap, I paid from ten to twenty dollars a night for rooms which includes breakfast. I traveled with Leah. At the pension, in Selcuk, the owners adopted us and provided transport to many of the local attractions. As we was there during the off season, and of course there is a war on, very few tourists are around, which made us a prime target for every hawker trying to sell something, anything. The people running the hostels, where we stayed, were trying to get us to stay longer, take side trips, relax longer, anything to have us stay more nights.

Our travels took us to Izmir and Selcuk. Each is a good center from which to see the sites in the area. The ancient city of Ephesus was the highlight. Dating to 1,000 BC, it was the capital of the Roman province of Asia Minor and home for more than one hundred thousand people. It was later occupied by the Greeks, Italians, Ottomans and anyone else strong enough to hold on to it. These sites were the scenes for many speeches by politicians and religious leaders of the time, battles, wars, sieges and just outright abstinence. Their civilization was so advanced they even had hot and cold running water in the homes of the rich guys. An ingenious system for catching water, to be held in cisterns, and aqua ducts bringing water down from the hillsides allowed them to be extravagant with this valuable resource in an arid area where rainfall in the summer months is nonexistent. The baths were heated by slaves feeding a fire in an adjacent building with steam ducted into the baths by clay pipes. This is also the site of the first known billboard, touting a house of ill repute, it was a man chipped stone at the entrance of the town, giving directions to the brothel.

The next highlight of the trip was a day of camel wrestling. No, I did not wrestle with a camel, they are pitted against each other. The event is held annually during the camel rut, mating season, in January, consequently few tourists. The stadium is at the base of a hill upon which sat four to five thousand locals, drinking Raci, the Turkish version of Ouzo, grilling for themselves, buying food from the many vendors, drinking beer brought around by enterprising ten year old boys, dancing in the isles to the many bands roaming around playing for anyone willing to tip them. The entire area is pounding with drum enhanced music by these groups. Be careful not to tip too much, the flute player will play loudly into your ear, a treat I guess. It all looked strikingly like a softball tournament or pre football game tailgate party.

Parading a female, in heat, camel, through the holding area of muzzled combatants, excites them to do battle, drooling and slobbering, by the camels not the handlers, is a sign they are ready to begin, a lot like any Saturday night at the disco. In colorful gear for hauling things and people they have their muzzles removed and are turned loose to push each other around, slobber, spit and bite. The first to cry out or whose head is pinned to the ground is the looser. Then in rush the handlers and a lot of help, to hobble and pull, trying to get the two camels apart which is not easily done as they want to continue.

Another interesting sight, near Selcuk, is the home of Mary, the virgin mother. From the cross Jesus entrusted St John, with custody of Mary, I have forgotten my Bible stories, what happened to Joseph. She is reported to have accompanied St John to the area and lived out her life, after the death of her Son. The Basilica of St John, outside Selcuk, was built after the death of St John, to house his burial chamber and remains. St John later became the inspiration for the Knights of St John, defenders of the Faith, righters of wrong for hundreds of years during the Crusades. Beware the sellers of antique money, they are everywhere trying to sell old Roman coins, some will tell you they are copies, others claim them to be the real McCoy.

A visit to Sirince, a Greek mountain village, occupied until the population exchange, sirca 1930's, is a must while in the area. In the exchange three hundred thousand Greeks were made to leave Turkey and one million Turks were made to leave Greece. The same situation on Cypress has not been resolved to this day. The village remains as it was, with government restrictions on any new building or remodeling, white buildings with red clay tile roofs, many fruit orchards whose fruit is turned into wonderfully sweet wine, nearly as good as my ex mother in law’s, to be sold to the tourists during the summer. The valleys between the hills mountains are very agricultural, small fields of olive trees, cotton, citrus, small grains and corn mixed with apple, apricot and peach trees thrown in for good measure. Of course, sheep and goats are everywhere, cattle are less so but are there. Funny, we did not see any camels out in the countryside, only at the wrestling, perhaps they are kept in better quarters.

Quarrying of Marble is big business in Turkey, enjoying a good reputation in the world market. Most is done in open pit quarries, yet some is still done underground. Tailing piles and broken pieces can be seen all over the hillsides. Marble is so common here they use it for flagstone walkways, curbing, wall building material, table and bench tops, as well as floors and patios.

Turkish carpets are big business. There are so many carpet sellers it is amazing any of them can make any money at it, perhaps that will tell you how much markup is there. Women and girls in the villages hand make most of them and a knowledgeable seller can tell in which village a particular carpet was made by the colors and designs. Older carpets were all dyed with natural dyes from local plants, bugs, worms, seeds, shells and dirt. Quality and styles vary greatly. I have been told that a good quality, hand tied wool carpet will last one hundred years and each store has a few claiming them to be that old. Yes, they even sell second hand ones, at a higher price than the new.

On another road trip with Carmella we visited Pamukkale which is one of the seven wonders of the natural world, is an area of leakage of subsurface minerals washing out in spring water, originating from the distant snow capped mountains’ spring melt, then oozing out of the ground and flowing down a hill, perhaps a thousand feet tall and about a half mile long. For the last several thousand years the water flows, and then evaporates leaving the minerals behind, building a series of terraced, shallow, blue water ponds encircled by low, snow white containment walls. It is absolutely beautiful. The water close to the source is very warm, cooling as it runs down the hill. Previously tourists were allowed to walk on all of the surfaces and take a dip in the ponds. This has caused many problems for Ma to keep up her project. The white surface is stained by human body oils, tanning oils, soaps and shampoo causing it to turn brown and look dirty, much like a small downhill ski area in spring. The terraces which are kept white by a fresh deposit of minerals, and if the water flow stops will turn brown. With reduced water flow the last few years, caused by reduced snowfall several years earlier, to keep the appearance the managers are alternately directing water onto different areas to keep it all white and shiny. They have also poured concrete retaining walls, which now are slowly being covered with the same white crust, seems like cheating, a natural wonder should be natural. The area was used by the ancients for its therapeutic value, like a great big hot tub, so the top of the hill is covered with the ruins of an ancient city. The remains of several temples, theaters, stadium along with the homes and shops that were needed to provide the commerce of a city can be seen where they fell, the tumbled columns lying around give an idea of the opulence of the place. A hotel has been built on the top of the hill, encircling the warm pools of mineral rich water where the high rollers can have a dip. Tourists are brought in by tour buses, even now, during the off season there are many per day, each bus carrying only a few people. The pictures on the post cards show crowds swarming over the entire surface.

As with most places the pension had a resident kitten and a dog with puppies that are hard to resist. The mama dog decided we could not find the terraces on our own and accompanied us to the site, stayed with us the whole day, much to the dismay of the security people, then would not return with us at the end of the day. I was very concerned I had lost someone's dog, Yeah right, she was home before we were, she looked rather embarrassed as she greeted me with the same friendly welcome I had enjoyed earlier.

During the summer Marmaris is a tourist center, during the winter it is nearly barren. A sand beach is a rarity in the Mediterranean, far more common are the pebble, stone or solid rock coastlines. Walking along the beach front sidewalk, seeing the closed, side by side, tourist shops, shopping centers, bungee jumping cranes, water activities, bars, discos, restaurants and hotels bring imaginings of the summer activity, when the area is overwhelmed with thousands of drunken, horny and fun seeking holiday makers. Many of the bars identify with a nationality, The Ozzie Bar, The Irish Bar, Germanys Finest, Real English Pub. The restaurant signs offer European menu, authentic Turkish food, Italian, Thai and every specialty you can dream about. The Turkish food I have tried is basic stuff, a little meat, a little vegetable, with a lot of grease over rice. Several of the veggies I do not recognize. The beach is certainly not the most impressive I have seen, yet I have seen posters, with pictures taken during the summer showing the thousands of symmetrically aligned umbrellas, in groups of colors indicating separate ownership, rented for the cost of three million Turkish Lira, about two dollars, per day, keeping the hot sun off the bleached white, turning to pink, then to lobster red, European tourists. In every tourist area I have visited, the locals can accurately guess the length of time a tourist has been in the area based on the quality of the tan. When I walk around in the summer, I have often been asked if I live here.

The money here is a real hoot. With an exchange rate of one point five million Turkish Lira to the dollar, it is the worst exchange I have seen. Anyone can be a millionaire here, one dollar will do it, walking around with a hundred million in your pocket is not unusual. A pack of US cigs is one point six mil, one dollar, a Big Mac, four million, just under three dollars, bus fare to Izmir, about two hundred klicks, nine million, about six dollars, internet is one point five, about a buck, per hour, fuel one point two, eighty cents per liter, four and a half hours, over two days, at the Dentist cost one hundred sixty seven mil, about a hundred ten dollars.

The only attraction I have found in Marmaris is the remains of an old defensive castle, not large by any means, yet it protected the harbor and bay with cannons. The tourist boats, 'caliques', take you to your own private beach, one you need to share with anyone else that has five bucks, ferries to take people between towns, islands and Greece as well as live aboard 'cruise boats' are all tied to the quay awaiting the next season. The sounds of saws and hammers and the smell of fresh varnish and paint evidence the refurbishing going on. The off season is not only a time to relax.

Most of the off lying islands were taken from Turkey after the First World War. Having aligned with the Axis was a mistake, Turkey learned and sided with the allies in the Second and have been allies of the US since, which will likely keep them out of the European Union for many years. Much of the land Turkey previously claimed is now under the control of other countries. Given the lack of islands, their ferry system is not as extensive as that of Greece, which has hundreds of inhabited islands. None of the larger Greek ferries will come to Turkey, so all movement between Greece and Turkey is on Turkish and smaller, private, Greek ferries. The thirty five mile, forty five minute, Marmaris to Rhodes Greece, fare, fifty five million, about forty dollars, is more than the three hundred mile, twenty three hour, Rhodes to Athens, fare, about thirty five Euro.

The Turkish bus system seems to be well established and reasonably priced. Smaller mini buses carry the locals, larger, older buses connect the cities and private companies run modern, well equipped, comfortable buses between cities at a higher price. Paying the higher price is well advised as accidents with the older and smaller buses claim the lives of hundreds, every year. So do our freeways.

Many of the larger hotels are under renovation. Small, home made hoists and elevators are dropping construction debris from the upper floors, to be hand carried to the piles of rubble, then hand loaded into trucks to be hauled away. Store fronts are torn away for the facelift. I suppose they have but a few months to get all of this work done and I was told that anything not finished by 1 May could not be completed until the following off season. The sounds of hammers, jack hammers, backhoes and cranes removing the old, to be replaced by the new, are everywhere. New larger hotels are under construction. The smaller hotels, pensions, rooming houses and hostels must not make enough money to put it back into the building, sooner or later their property will be bought out for a larger complex.

Nearly daily flyovers, by military jet fighters, are reminders that this is near an unstable area. I do not know my airplanes well enough to identify them and can't see any national identification, so I do not know if they are national, US or allies.

There are many chandleries, handling many of the things required by the extensive charter fleets based here. The Moorings, Sunsail and many local operators have boats here for rent. The coast of Turkey is a wonderful cruising area. Many small coves and bays along the coast provide protection from the weather. I would like to see some of it during summer, yet that would require another year in the Mediterranean

One day as I was walking back from town, I noticed a large crowd gathering at the water’s edge. When I got closer, I could see the dinghy of one of the cruisers with three men in it, they were dragging a man out of the water, into the dinghy. He didn't seem to be helping, or hindering or moving at all. I assumed a drowning victim. They were able to pull the fully clothed body into the dinghy, and then with help from the people on the quay dragged him up onto the wall, laying him on his back, still unmoving. Someone grabbed his feet and began to elevate them. I thought, well if his stomach is full of water, it will soon be in his lungs. After about a minute of holding his legs up he started to move, they dropped his feet and he sat up, starting to yell and thrash about. It was at this time the police arrived, they went directly to the man, who was now trying to stand, continuing to yell, in Turkish, of course. For the next half hour he was yelling and gesticulating wildly. The crowd soon started to disburse, yet the man continued to yell. Another twenty minutes and he was allowed to merely walk away. I have no idea if he was pushed, jumped, slipped or tried to commit suicide.

On several mornings I noticed a man in a long, twenty feet, narrow, wooden, fishing boat, poling himself around the shallows. He was using a pole of fifteen feet in length, alternating ends, gently pushing himself around. Then one time he brought up the pole and attached to the end was an octopus, which he took off and placed in a bucket. Octopuses are a large segment of the seafood diet, here and in Greece. The after catch ritual includes slamming the body onto a rock or concrete for several minutes, I have been told to tenderize the meat. I was amazed that the octopus would attach itself to the end of a pole, yet there it was. Several mornings of this went by, with him occasionally bring up another catch. Today he poled by very near to me and I could see how he did it. Attached to the end of the pole was a small spear head, he was poling around until he saw an octopus on the bottom, position himself over it and jab it with the spear, dinner. Other fishermen would stand on the quay casting a line tied to a chicken foot, not the leg that we eat, the foot. They would frequently pull in an octopus that would grab the chicken leg and refuse to let go, even after being thrown onto the concrete quay. There was no hook or need of a hook on the end of the line.

This is one of many stories of the wind conditions in Marmaris. Well, I like morning surprises, but not this kind, the wind god has made another appearance, 2 January. Only this time it did not tell me it was coming, the barometer had not dropped, it has now, and is still dropping so I expect this to last, no cirrus clouds in the days leading up to now, clear blue sky but at 0530 I was awakened by the wind generator. It is my wind alarm. With winds gusting more than 25 knots or sustained of 30 or more it makes so much noise it wakes me. It did and I got up. The wind was less than 20 but gusting more than 25, therefore the noise. It was also blowing me toward shore, only fifty feet away. In the next half hour it increased to gusts of 35 and while sitting in the cockpit keeping an eye on things, riding 4 foot waves increasing the strain on the anchor, I began to drag anchor, I started the engines. Before I could cast off the stern anchor, which I had to leave, I had dragged to within 20 feet of the wave splashed concrete wall behind me and finding a table size piece of carpet fouling my anchor. I was able to slowly move away from the wall. My small engines do not like to head into 35 knots of wind, and with dirty propellers, from sitting for a couple of weeks, it was slow. While motoring across the bay, to the windward side, the wind went to 40 knots. It took me over an hour to go a mile and a half. So, now I’m sitting here writing this, while watching the wind pick water off the tops of waves and tumbling it down wind like the dust and debris in a dirt devil crossing a parking lot. That blow lasted three days.

The sea bottom on the north, town side, of the bay is not good holding. Consisting of head sized stones and small rocks, covered with plastic sheets, pieces of carpet, plastic pipes and other debris an anchor has difficulty digging in. In only 12 feet of water I had out 150 feet of chain and my largest anchor, should have had two. The problem with anchoring in the sheltered cove on the south side of the bay, behind a hill, is that the bottom drops off very quickly. One hundred feet from shore it is three to six feet deep, two hundred feet from shore it is 60. So I’m setting an anchor on a hillside which will easily pull loose. This can be solved by putting one anchor in shallow water, but then I will go right up on the rocks with a wind shift. So, I set one anchor in shallow water, back off and set another in deep water, when the wind increases I set a third. This combination lets me sleep at night.

This describes another session with a pressure system. I have two anchors down with sustained wind of eight knots and gusts of 20, 30, when it hits 40 I lay a third anchor. Hiding behind a hill I expect swirling of the wind around the hill, yet it is blocking off the hardest winds and being close to land, there is no wave action. The highest wind gust I noted on the anemometer was 47 knots, I believe there were higher, I just did not see them. Anything not tied down was going to blow away, which is why I normally tie everything down. I watched as one of the storage boxes, lashed on deck, lifted, turned upside down, and settled in it’s former location but upside down, it has been there for years, even in more than 50 knots of wind and has never moved, when I tried to turn it right side up again, the lines were too short to pick up, I needed to untie them, how did the wind do this. This is safe, just noisy. Now I just hope the wind does not switch direction, it would take me awhile to pick up three anchors and move. As this wind originates over the north coast of Africa it brings with it, heat, yeah, shorts and a tee shirt are enough in the evening. It also brings Sahara desert dust, a thin layer of fine, brown dust now covers the entire boat, especially in the cockpit, where the wind swirls and leaves it’s dirt behind, after a rain the boat is dirty, I will need a clean water rinse soon. A good day, or days, to read a book and I think I will make cookies.

After a day and a half of wind, the thunder can be heard in the distance, I expect rain and surely will not be disappointed. The rain starts out slowly, after the dust has been rinsed off the Bimini, I will put out the clothes washing buckets. With the bottom of the clouds engulfing the highest parts of the hills, leaving fog in the valleys and lightning striking all around, the rain starts, just a drizzle at first, then a downpour like I have not seen since the tropics. White walls of water, moving horizontally with the wind, obscuring vision of anything beyond the bow. At times of little wind, the rain is white tendrils hanging from the cloud, dancing back and forth with the wind. A near constant drizzle, with heavy showers alternating with high wind continues, the laundry buckets are full, trouble is the water is dirty and the poor dinghy had six inches of water in it this morning, yeah I know six inches in the morning doesn't sound like much. Sometimes when the wind subsides or comes from a different direction the boat will turn, allowing the rain to be driven into the cockpit and saloon, in the first day I made three revolutions, which I unwrapafter the wind drops off, using the engines to turn the boat the other way. Having the ropes of the second and third anchors wrapped around the chain of the first will cause chafe. The baro has started to rise, the wind gusts are less often, and less severe, so perhaps this will end soon, three days is enough.

Because it has been over a year since my last haul out and bottom job, my bottom is getting furry and lumpy. I hate to have a lumpy bottom. It slows me down and makes the engines work too hard. So, I have needed to get it done. One way is to haul the boat, pressure wash the bottom and put on new anti fouling paint. Because the paint is in good condition, I feel I can get another year out of it. The reason I have so much growth is from going through the Suez Canal. The ports are very dirty. That dirt adheres to the bottom of the boat and gives the growth a foot hold. When I’m in warmer water, I get in and scrape the lumps off at least once a month. The water temp in the Mediterranean is not conducive to being in the water that much, especially during the winter. The other problem is neither Greece nor Turkey allows the use of scuba bottles. Which makes me uncomfortable diving to do the work. I came up with the idea that chlorine bleach is very effective at killing the growth. The problem is how to keep the bleach in contact with the bottom for the length of time required to be effective. This is what I tried, buy a plastic sheet, forty five feet long, large enough to cover the entire bottom of one hull. OK, so how do you get a large sheet of plastic under the boat? plastic floats. So, I ran lines down both sides of the plastic, attached floats to the lines, to support the edges, then placed dive weights, connected to lines to lift the weights later, in the center of the plastic, to cause it to sink. Then I only need to gently pull the sheet under the boat, from the stern, secure the sheet, then lift the weights to let the sheet float up. When all of this is done, I can pour the household bleach between the sheet and the hull.

Sounds like a good idea, right. I went to the weather side of the bay, to limit any wind effect, then started to lay out my plan. Before I was half way through the rain started. OK, I'll just wait it out. It didn't stop. So because it is getting late in the day, I put on the rain gear and get to work. With a few problems, caused by the light wind that came with the rain, I was able to get the whole thing secured before dark. As a test I poured in a half gallon of bleach, only in the forward section and went in to make dinner. The next morning I checked the test area and everything was dead, great. Pour in the two gallons I felt it would need and do something else for a few hours. Yes, yes, it worked very well. But, during the night the wind has reversed direction, now I’m on the lea side of the bay, the wind is light, but increasing slightly. So, now the other hull. Drop in the weights to sink the center and gently pull the sheet out the stern, switch the lines and pull it back under the other side. While I was pulling out the sheet, the wind kept getting stronger and the boat was starting to swing. For three hours I tried to get the sheet under the other hull. You know how difficult it can be to dress an infant for cold weather? The fingers and toes, hands and feet, knee and elbows, hips and shoulders all catch as the uncooperative infant is covered. I have rudders, propellers, keels and all those barnacle bodies each taking their turn at grabbing the plastic. Now compound that with the boat swinging in the wind, add a tide current and the sheet of plastic is swinging behind the boat like the tail of a happy puppy. Forget it, you can't get the sheet in. Perhaps tomorrow.

The next morning followed a night of very little wind so, I will try again. After three hours of slipping on my plastic nylons I finally had it and the bleach in place on the second hull. Now I need to illegally gear up with scuba equipment and get into the fifty degree water to scrape off the dead barnacle bodies from the first hull. The whole purpose of the exercise is to remove the dead barnacle bodies from the hull and propellers. The growth was obvious, even from above, but underwater it was even more pronounced.

Two tanks of air, a little more than two hours in the water and I had the first hull done. Now I realize how little real exercise I have been getting lately. Trying to follow the swinging boat required a lot of swimming, pushing against the scraper, which naturally pushes me away from the boat, remember that for every action is an equal and opposite reaction lesson, and constantly needing to adjust depth really did me in. A few Charlie horses while in the water and many aches and pains after I got out showed my poor conditioning. After filling my tanks from the onboard compressor I will go back into the water and do the second hull. Then I can look forward to getting the engines adjusted.

25 April is the date I left Turkey, next stop Greece to pick up Pam, Rose and Tom the first crew of the summer. We will depart Rhodos, Greece 5 May, moving across the Greek Islands, through the Corinthian Canal, into the Ionian Islands. As Greece is in the EU, the Euro is the money. Last year the exchange was One Euro cost a dollar fourteen/fifteen. The Tourist exchange offices do not give even that rate, use your card at the ATM. Entry was one hundred forty for the cruising permit, valid for six months, a few other fees and taxes add up to a hundred sixty. Fuel costs sixty five to eighty five cents per liter. Tying to the wall in most Greek towns will cost between three and a half to eight Euros per night. Between last year and this, the Greeks have come up with a fourteen day week. When you check in the day is from midnight to midnight. That means that if you arrive at 1700, you pay for one day to midnight, then for another after midnight to morning. When you check into the next place it is the same, you will pay for two days for each day. No amount of arguing will change anything.

After the Corinthian Canal I have been through the three great canals of the world, Panama, Suez and Corinthian. The Corinthian is the shortest and most expensive at forty five Euros per mile, good thing it is only three miles. Our passage from Aegina to the entrance to the canal provided my first dolphin sighting this year. They are not common in the Mediterranean any longer. The fishermen’s nets have ravaged the once common animals. After the Corinthian Canal we continued northwest into the Gulf of Corinth. The wind is constantly from the northwest, so we have been tacking, and tacking and tacking into twenty to forty five knots of wind. Some days we only have twenty miles made good, which is toward our destination. We have planned a stop at Galaxidi, a lovely spot set deep into a sheltered bay, from where we traveled by bus to the ancient city of Delphi. In early times it was known as the navel of the world. Having been established here when Zeus released two eagles, from opposite sides of the world and they met here, so the city was built, high on the side of a mountain and overlooking the Gulf of Corinth. This was the location of the fortune teller of old, called the Oracle. This woman was fed drugs and she spoke in tongues, interpreted by the priests, who then told the rich guys, who paid for this advice, what she had said, usually what they wanted to hear. By design the advice was ambiguous enough to be accepted in a way desired by the purchaser. One time a king questioned whether he should invade the neighboring kingdom. He was told that if he invaded a very powerful king would be defeated, he did and it happened, he was defeated.
We next stopped at Navpaktos, a wonderful, very small harbor, we actually anchored within the walls a Venetian castle built to protect the Gulf of Corinth. The castle towers above the waterfront with portals for cannons all aimed at the strait. Here the Greek government is building a bridge to cross the mile plus width of the strait, connecting Peloponnese with mainland Greece, saving two hundred land miles and putting the ferry men out of business. With our last stop at Oxia, we are now out of the Gulfs of Corinth and Patras and into the Ionian Sea. Our first stop will be Ithaca, home of Homer, author of the Odyssey, and setting for many of the outlandish, fanciful and exciting tales.

The Greek Ionian Sea Islands are higher, wetter, greener than the Aegean Islands, the water is clearer and the Meltimi, summer wind, does not blow here. I can see why there are sooooo many charter boats here. Large groups of flotilla boats, this is where raw beginners can charter a boat, are guided around the islands by a mother hen, told where to anchor and assisted into all of the harbors. It is a non threatening way for newbees to get a taste of cruising. It also provides lots of entertainment watching them come into harbor and try to back up to the wall. The wind pattern has for the most part been convection, blowing the strongest in the hottest part of the day, with none at night and little morning and evening. The stronger afternoon wind always comes from the northwest, of course, it is the direction I want to go. It also changes direction with the land and sea breezes. I have found the best I can do is motor during the morning calm, as far as I can go before the stronger wind shows up, somewhere between 1030 and 1400, then I need to begin tacking into the wind and looking for a spot to stop. Many of the islands are separated from the mainland of Greece by little water, sometimes less than a mile, others more than ten, this limits tacking space.

After the stronger wind started, when I found an anchorage, I would stop. After leaving Cephalonia my next island was Levkos, or Levkada, depending on the name on your atlas, I stopped at three places on the island, moving each morning until I reached Levkos Town. A canal has been maintained here since it was first dug, by hand, in 400 BC, through the salt flats and marshes, then the last bit of land about 300 yards wide. You have to hand it to the old guys, they were very good engineers. By splitting the peninsula they created the island of Levkos and shortened the sea distance for their coastal fleet.

Well, July 1, I have made Corfu. The Bali of the Mediterranean Sea, heavily touristed, sun worshipers from all over Europe flock here for the summer, to lie on the stony beaches and burn every part of their bodies, yes, every part. The locals have been telling me that it has been unusually hot and I thought it was just me. Mid to upper eighties for nighttime lows and well into the hundreds for the day is quite warm, and the humidity has also been very high, with haze obscuring islands only five miles away and the sun rarely obscured by clouds. At least the water is getting warm enough to swim. You may recall that thirteen thousand old people died in France from the heat this summer. I will stay here for a couple of weeks, then on to Croatia. The problem I will face in that passage is that it is more than one night, could be as many as three, depending on wind, I do not have crew lined up for that period of time, I will not be able to hug the coastline as this is Albania, one of the few lawless places left in the Mediterranean complete with pirates. The normal wisdom is to cross to Italy on one tack, spend a night or two, then another tack across to arrive in Croatia.

While in Corfu one of my internet ads yielded crew and Andrea joined me. We set out in calm conditions with a forecast of southerly wind, to do the last and longest leg, one hundred fifty miles from Otronto, Italy to Dubrovnic. In perfect conditions a single night will get us there, I also set waypoints for other Croatian stops south of Dubrovnic, if necessary. By mid morning the wind had built to sailing strength, but barely, from the NW, so we set sail and were on our way, on course and were able to shut off the engine. By mid afternoon the wind had shifted more to the north, which caused us to fall off course and begin to head more toward Albania, given that it is thirty miles away allows us to continue sailing. The wind continued to switch to the NE, we then tacked and sailed back toward Italy. The last chance to change our mind was to go into Brindisi, Italy, from there the Italian coast goes westward. Late afternoon a cold front passed, the wind picked up to twenties, great sailing, then did an abrupt switch in direction to the northeast, we tacked, it blew from the new direction for a couple of hours, then died. We spent the balance of the day and into the night on long tacks, always gaining distance to our destination, just not at it, in late afternoon we again started the engine to motorsail, a way of sailing faster in light air than we could by sail alone.

The next morning we still were receiving a forecast for southerly wind and it finally arrived. After three hours of easterly wind of twenty knots, again great sailing, the wind went behind us, set the spinnaker and we will make great time, it lasted for an hour. Take down the spinnaker, then take down the main, the wind is still dying, change course directly to our destination and motor along. The problem now is with all of that tacking and changing direction we do not have enough day left to get there motoring. Cavtat, one of those spots along the Croatian coast that was earlier chosen as a possible stop, south of Dubrovnic, will provide an anchorage for the night.

The highlights of Croatia were Dubrovnic, Split, Trogir, Hvar, Korcula and of course the islands and warm clear water. The money is the Kuna, the exchange about six point six something to the dollar. Entry was easy, pay a couple hundred dollars and you are set for a year. They know the cruisers will only be here for the summer. Diesel is about eighty cents US per liter, docking, in the government marinas, is huge, at thirty to eighty dollars per night, Mediterranean moored to a wall can occasionally be found for twenty dollars. Eating fish ashore can be a fright; possibly fresh fish can cost thirty dollars per kilo. It is less than likely to be fresh or local. I did not use a room anywhere, but was told it is reasonable, depends on time of year, twenty to a hundred dollars. During the peak season a minimum three nights is charged. Mary Helen joined me in Split, then Rod a couple weeks later.

Dubrovnic is wonderful, the ancient walled city, read castle, offers the imagination a chance to live in earlier times. By taking the mile walk around the top of the defensive walls, you can see the problems of defending such a place. Dubrovnic has been destroyed repeatedly over the years by attacks of invaders, earthquakes and lastly their own government troops using modern artillery. The resilience of the people to again rebuild is to be admired. Go to www.htz.hr, for an idea of how it looks today.

After a stop at Mijet I’m now in Korcula town on the island of Korcula. Nice sheltered bay and access to another medieval walled city. I will go in and look for internet and get bred, I mean bread, I can only hope for that. Korcula is the birthplace and childhood home of Marco Polo, the old guy that first told of seeing China while adventuring around chasing fame, fortune and women. The walled town at Korcula is smaller than most, yet it has its own charm. The narrow winding streets, small shops and the copious use of marble for building material give it that antique look. Most of the tourist junk kiosks are kept outside of the walls, and I take this as a plus.

Given that most of the boats are charterers, anchoring is always entertaining. However, in this case they all came in during calm weather, dropped anchor, backed up to the shore and set a sternline, seldom setting the anchor. Given a line of about fifteen side by side by side sailboats, each with an anchor and sternline holding them apart. All of this works well, as long as the wind does not blow. Well at 0430 what do you suppose happens, yep gusts to twenty seven knots, from the side. Boats were blowing down on each other, starting engines to hold themselves offshore, forgetting that the sternline is still there, pick up the sternline with the propeller, kill the engine and lean heavily on the boat next door until you pull their anchor loose. In all of this mess were two liveaboards, who knew enough to set their anchor and held just fine. The other liveaboard had a boat leaning on them for half an hour while the prop was cleared of the line. I was fortunate. The boat up wind from me had a bow thruster. Using this he was able to hold his bow away from me until the boat upwind of him was able to get his prop cleared and get out of the way, before he also pulled out. The rest of the night all of these boats circled the anchorage, like cattle mingling in a pen, waiting for daylight so they could find and retrieve their lines before heading for a safer anchorage, which means one where the wind does not blow.

The next planned stop will be the town of Hvar, on the island of Hvar, they show little imagination in these names, which is only 12 miles. I will spend a few days in Hvar, then on to Split. The day after I arrived at Hvar the wind came up and made the anchorage unpleasant so I moved out to a protected bay for the next few days. It turned out to be a very nice place, the beach viewing was wonderful and I was adopted by an Austrian couple on a stink pot, motor boat. I think he was in need of a drinking partner, and he drank a lot, beginning early in the day and going until late. I’m so out of practice I cannot do this any longer.

I arrived Split 28 July, awaiting crew on 2 Aug. From here the plan is to continue north through the Croatian Islands, hopefully all the way to Venice, then back south, staying ahead of winter. Split has some interesting history, including a retirement palace for Roman rulers that were not knifed or poisoned. The palace is four city blocks square and is quite a sight, with lots of big Bronze statues by a local kid made good. During a few days of waiting at the city wall in Split, for the next crew, I was approached by a young couple, one Canadian and the other American that wanted to go sailing. I explained to them I had crew on the way, but could offer them a few days. So after Mary Helen crew arrived, the four of us went out to see the islands. I needed to be back in Split in a week for Rod, so we needed to move pretty quickly. Always with new crew there is the need to see, do, sail, move and enjoy as much as possible in a short time. Consequently I do not have much time to read a book, read or reply to my emails or mostly relax. Planning the next day and then moving the boat takes all of my time. We spent a pleasant few days seeing some of the more remote islands, then back to Split. The young couple decided to stay at one of the outer islands and move on from there. The quaint towns of Stari Grad and Vis and the naturist reserve, read nudist beaches, on the Pakleni islands were high points of the week. I think Mary Helen was embarrassed.

After the arrival of Rod it is off again. Now we have two weeks to get to Zadar, about 90 miles, we should not have any difficulty in doing this. I wonder what we will find between here and there. Other cruisers had been telling me about an interesting site only a few miles up to coast. We decided to stop there and found a real gem. The town of Trogir is listed as a UNESCO hysterical heritage site. Within the defensive walls are ancient buildings, churches and a museum. A highly recommended stop.

After a couple of nights at remote anchorages our next planned stop is at Krak National Park. Here we found a river leading inland from the sea, connecting to a brackish lake, which connects to another river, which is fed by a river flowing over a spread out series of waterfalls. All fresh water, yeah, perhaps some of the marine growth will die off, I need anti fouling.

Having entered the Kornati National Park, we are finding the cruising area for which Croatia has become famous. Additionally by being here during August, vacation time for most of Italy, much of Germany, plus the cruising boats, this is a very busy area. Finding a secluded anchorage is nearly impossible. When we do find one other boats see us in there and come in to investigate. Grandma always said, there is always room for one more. Of course, email is non existent, there are only small villages that have survived. The water clarity is very good, the fish non existent, the islands are dry barren rocks, yet have a rugged beauty of their own.

The final stop along the Croatian coast was Pula, where Rod left. The claim to fame for Pula is a coliseum that is in better condition than the one in Rome.

The next stop was Venice, what a city, I’m so glad I saw it. One of the major tourist attractions of the world is Venice, Italy plan to see it in your lifetime. During the period of 800AD to 1700AD it was a world power, especially in naval power. Many of the castles and fortresses in the Mediterranean and most in the Adriatic Sea were built by the Venetians. Venice is actually several different islands within a lagoon, each with its own town. Most cruisers plan to be in Venice during August. This allows marina space when the Italians are on vacation. I did not enter Italy, the officials do not want to be bothered. Marina fees in Venice will be about three Euro, per day, per meter of length. Italy is on the Euro.

Given the small land mass, consequently an inability to feed itself, the fact that Venice became a world power is hard to accept. Venice survived by conquering and exploiting the resources of other places. Nearly the entire Adriatic was denuded of trees, from which it has not recovered, to provide wood for shipbuilding and charcoal for the endless appetite of the metal workers, glass blowers, galleys, restaurants and palace heating of Venice. Venice was founded by escapees from the fall of Rome. When the barbarians moved in many of the scholars fled, taking with them the knowledge and desire for conquest. Venice soon grew to be a power that lasted longer than the Roman Empire itself. No one seems to know why it was not bombed during either of the big ones, a very fortunate turn of events, such a treasure needs to be protected.

While the global warming advocates are offering that warming is the cause of flooding of Venice, really it is caused by settling. As Venice is tidal, it is subject to the monthly fluctuations of water height, high tides have been flooding St Marks square for sometime, due to the lowering of the buildings and plaza, that has not changed and many efforts are being undertaken to reduce the damage done by this daily flooding. Given that the world sea heights have risen by three hundred feet in the last ten thousand years we could lose Venice entirely. RPhurst was tied to moorings, just off the Grand Canal, literally in the morning shadow of St Marks Square. The wake from all of the water traffic was disruptive yet acceptable given the location.

My first view of St Marks square, a very large plaza, surrounded on three sides by gothic looking buildings, on the fourth by St Marks Basilica and the Palace of the Doge, was at night. Several lounge bands are doing the old favorites, the Danube Waltz along with the favorites of the old guys that wrote music in that period. I consider myself fortunate to have done the waltz with Mary Helen in St Marks square. The palaces, churches, fountains and monuments are impressive, all decorated with sculpture that captivate the eye. When walking around Venice do not forget your camera. There is a photo op at every turn and you may not be able to find your way back. There are no cars, motor bikes or trucks in Venice, everything is done by boat. Buses and Taxis are on the main waterways, garbage, that which is not thrown into the canal, supplies, groceries, building materials are all carried by water. Walking is the norm. Rarely in other places do you see the obvious high rollers dragging their own luggage down the sidewalk. Most of the highest priced hotels have water access. The Gondoliers ply all of the smaller and connecting waterways. They have begun charging ridiculous prices, sixty to a hundred dollars per hour, there are literally hundreds of them, tied to the wall at curves intersections close to major sidewalk bridge crossings, most spending their time hustling the tourists, or at the least the women.

There are so many wonderful things to see in Venice it is hard to list them all here. Everyone that goes to Venice sees something different, yet the highlights are St Marks Square, St Marks Basilica, the Palace of the Doge and the many grand churches everywhere. Of all the places I have seen, Venice is number one of my recommendations of places to see, it is that good, if you like old piles of rock, many of them have man made chips in them. It is not ancient, AD 800-1700, so go there for the more modern depiction of the arts. It is very expensive. I found many places to buy an overpriced sandwich, I had trouble finding a loaf of bread.

As each rich guy moved into town he felt it necessary to build his own church, larger and more opulent than any built before. When they built the Basilica of St Mark, it could not be surpassed. Even St Peters Basilica at the Vatican is not better. The entire interior is covered with mosaic depictions of Biblical scenes. While Napoleon was there, he felt the bronze horses on top to the Basilica would look better in Paris, a couple hundred years of bitching and they were returned by the Austrians, now are housed in a museum, the copies are still on top of the roof.

St Marks square is made up of three sides. Two built originally and the third, a huge dance hall, built by Napoleon when he came through. Of course the French could not lower themselves to using the same design and decor as the original, built theirs so that it does not match the lines in the corner where they meet, nor does it have the same number of floors, so the levels do not match either. The observation tower stood for several hundred years, then in the early 1900s, one minute it was there, then next gone, fell into a pile, they put it back up and hope for the best. The famous leaning tower at Pisa is not the only example of Italian tower workmanship. There are other examples in Venice and more around Italy. Seems straight towers are a real challenge for Italians.

While tied to the moorings in Venice I made a side trip with Mary Helen to San Marino. This is a country within a country, occupying only a few square miles, inland from the coast of Italy. This was land given long ago by an important old guy, to someone that had done him a favor. From that time it has been a separate country. It consists of little more than one main town, and its tourist draw, three, built in the fifteen hundreds, Disney style, or should I say Disney copied, castles nestled on the top of and hanging from the sides of the most inaccessible tower of rock you can imagine. Until recently the only way to get to the top was climb, as the old guys did, or take the cable car, now a road has been built and the tour buses take you nearly to the top. The castle is surrounded by and filled with all of the tourist junk kiosks you find at any good Renaissance Festival. It has an Army, they dress in medieval costumes and shoot crossbows, mainly in competitions, they are very good and the ever present politicians. What can a country of only a few square miles have for a legislature to discuss? It is a duty free port; so much of the surrounding Italian population goes to the one main town to shop. It is made up of large factory outlets and seems very prosperous. It is a cute, interesting and great place to see.

After Pam rejoined me in Venice I followed the same route south through Croatia, stopping at most of the same towns and islands, so she could see the same sites. The east and south coast of Italy are not as scenic, or perhaps I’m spoiled. Much to my dismay, during the two weeks I was in Venice the weather pattern changed. The whole summer was spent beating to weather into northwest wind. As soon as I left Venice the wind had gone to southwest, now I beat to weather everyday while going south.

Wind was becoming an issue during October. Long distances between safe harbors in Italy require more planning and better choices. I now had Carmella and Ian as crew, we hopped from town to town when the wind would allow, until we arrived at Rochelle Ionica. Here the weather forecast was for several days of gale force southwest wind, the direction I wish to move, so what can I do for a few days. Get on the train and go to Rome along with the Carmella and Ian that are leaving. I will be planning to be there for a longer period next summer, so this could be a great expedition scouting trip. The tracks followed the coastline for much of the distance, and changing trains in Reggio, provided great views of the coastline and mountains falling into the sea. This also gave me a chance to see the coastline with the purpose of having some idea of shelter. There is none. Given a southerly wind the entire coast is a lee shore with few bays and no shelter.

I was aware that Sicily is close to Italy, yet seeing the island across the Messina Strait gives a better perspective, it almost seems you could reach across and touch it.

The time in Rome was a rush. Trying to see a bit of the city while dodging rain can be a challenge. Carmella and I boarded a tour bus, which travels a circuit of the sites, get on or off where you want and get back on later. Once around the route to get an idea of what was best. We chose the Vatican. I have always wanted to see the Sistine Chapel. The Vatican City is so large it would require more than a day to see it all, save part for next time. I did get into St Peters Basilica, great, and the museum, which includes the Sistine and other famous paintings on the ceiling, also great. There is so much art, painting, sculpting, piling of rocks, I’m always impressed by the engineering of the old guys. They did not have cranes, chains, cables, all of the work was done with A-frames, sisal rope, leverage and manual labor, incredible, or did ET lend a hand. Being inside was a good idea as it rained all day, all of this foul weather pattern is what was giving the high winds I was avoiding. Much more about Rome next year.

For the trip back to Rochelle Ionica I chose a different train route. This time I was more in the interior farm country, crossing the north south spine of mountains, much of the trip was spent going through tunnels. Yet, many small towns could be seen hanging from the hillsides. Small fields of grains, vines and corn along with the animals for food. The interior is very green, lush and seems to be well utilized, even the hillsides were terraced for additional planting area.

Nine days of gale force wind was enough. The sea built to the point an escape from Rochelle Ionica would have been impossible. Being another, as I was told, project given to the mafia, this large, sheltered facility is not finished. The docks are in, the water and electric are installed onto the dock, it is just not hooked up. The break wall is in, and a nice one it is, but the entrance is not dredged and a large sand bar is silting across the entrance. When the wind blows from the south the waves break over the shallow bar and roll all the way to the beach precluding ingress or egress. The facility is intended to be more military, Coast Guard and Customs have boats here and they have an accumulation of large wooden fishing vessels either hauled out or tied to the dock. I was told these have been confiscated, mostly from Albanians and Africans. One of the boats was found to have a crew of 160, clearly far more than is necessary for the operation of the boat, also clearly a human smuggling ring. The most obvious tourist attraction is the castle church built on top of and hanging from the side of a rock promontory. Given an EU grant of 22 million Euros for refurbishment, all that has been done is to place scaffolding around most of the site. It appears they will not meet the June 03 completion date. If ever I was to consider a business venture, it will be scaffolding rental in Italy. Many of the monuments, churches, old buildings all have scaffolding erected around them, no one is working, they just have the scaffolding up, oh yeah and the sign stating the amount of the EU grant for the restoration work, along with a completion date, often already past. Much of the scaffolding has been there so long even the treated bolts have rusted, that takes years.

All of Calabria, the Provence which is the foot portion of Italy, is quite poor, heavily controlled by the mafia and is very underdeveloped. Really too bad, the scenery is some of the best I have seen in Italy. Lush green mountains falling directly into the sea, valleys full of agriculture, rugged peaks tell of a violent beginning. Much appears to be of volcanic origin, easily eroding leaving a stark and forlorn view. The coast is shallow and heavily silted by the run off of all this fine material carried to the sea by rivers running from the peaks then spread by the current which constantly washes this coast.

The 90 mile passage from Rochelle to Sicily, a town called Taormina, needed to be done as an overnight as there are no safe places to stop after Rochelle. This was one of the best sails I have had in sometime. Not without challenges, just very nice. I met Dennis, an Irish journalist working in Italy, who has a boat in the marina at Rochelle. We began to talk and he indicated interest in riding on a cat, so, we discussed my plans and he decided to join me for the trip to Sicily, then he will go back to his job in Rome. Many of the erroneous criticisms of catamarans were dispelled on this trip, I think we have a convert. He was impressed with the ride in lumpy seas, a large amount of room, stability, our ability to heave to and of course the speed.

Most of the sailing I have done lately has been with the wind on the nose. Having watched the forecast for several days telling of strong southwest wind to subside and the conditions switch to strong northwest, then dying over the following several days. As the coast along the foot of Italy is northeast to southwest, this should give us high wind, good for sailing, and flat seas, good for people. As we left Rochelle the wind was southeast, go figure, I felt it was a sea breeze, yet we put up the spinnaker and looked forward to a downwind ride. It was a sea breeze, within an hour the wind had backed around the northwest, where it was supposed to be and strengthened, this caused the spinnaker to come down and put up the main. With the 18-25 knot wind on the beam, from the side, this is the best sailing we can do, often doing more than nine knots, the concern was we would reach Sicily in the dark. The distance remaining minimized those thoughts, too much can happen in that amount of time.

When we reach the flat part of the toe of Italy, imagine navigation by anatomy, we changed course to a westward direction. This is the halfway point, done too quickly 45 miles in six hours. This I feared would put the wind on the nose, it did, however, it was very light, so we motor sailed for another hour while the wind moved slowly to the north and back onto our beam, a good time to run the watermaker. It also began to build. Again the concern that we would arrive before morning. We now had our first look at the towering peak of Mount Etna, back lit by the blazing red of the setting sun, what better way to first see an active volcano.

Before entering the Strait of Messina, I felt we were far ahead of schedule, so we moved close into shore and hove to. This is a maneuver of changing your sail shape, which stops the boat, without anchoring, which cannot be done because it is deep right up to shore, and it is dark, I will not close on land I cannot see. We stayed this way for six hours moving only one knot, before moving again into the Strait for the 30 mile crossing to Sicily. OK so now comes the challenging part. While hove too, I had reefed the boat to the smallest sails I have, a necessity for heaving to, while hove to the wind increased to 25-35 knots, still from the northwest and to our advantage, so at 0200 I changed the shape of the sails and off we go. So now you need to add the boat speed to the wind speed and we find ourselves in 40 knots of wind, again we would arrive before daylight. The sea state did not build until we were in the open of the Strait, even then it was not more than eight feet. As it turned out the last 12 miles the wind lessened to the high teens, so with the smaller sails we slowed to a speed that would put is in after daylight. Anchor the boat, have some coffee, take a shower and get some sleep. Next we need to find a dock to let Dennis off the boat so he can catch a train to Rome.

I’m now anchored at the base of the smoking peak of Mt Etna. Clearly this volcano has been building Sicily for a very long time. A few weeks following this coast southwest, then the 60 mile crossing, should put me in Malta about 1 December.

The challenge in Sicily has been to stay dry. The high winds that brought me here also brought a different weather pattern. One rainy day I simply walked to the bus stop and got onto a bus, I really did not care where it went, it merely provided an opportunity to see some of the countryside. After a few days of heavy overcast and intermittent rain the weather seemed to be clearing, so I thought I would see the local site, Taormina. Again I walked to the bus stop, noticing police cars and police at a few of the intersections, to wait for the bus that would take me up the hill. When it arrived, I boarded, paid my fee and sat back to enjoy the ride. Less than a mile later the bus came to a stop. An officer approached the bus and an animated discussion took place between the officer and the driver. Not knowing any Italian I had no idea what was going on, but a few minutes later we were again on the move, about a block, where another police car had traffic stopped. Here the driver simply stated in English, stopped. I waited for a half hour before I gave up and got off the bus, walked to the internet cafe to do email. When I came out the traffic had cleared, so I walked to the bus stop, boarded the next bus, which of course, would not honor my ticket from the previous stalled bus. I never found out what was happening, perhaps politicians on parade.

I’m amazed at the skill of the bus drivers in Italy. The small cars do not give an inch, when room does not allow parking by the curb, they simply diagonal in as far as they fit and let the rest stick out into the street. With the narrow streets this does not leave much room. Several times I have anticipated the crunching sound of body parts. Gridlock is the norm, everyone that can get into the intersection does, then they wait for traffic ahead of them to move, eventually it does, however, none of the cross traffic can move, each side takes its turn at holding the intersection. The horns do not start for at least ten seconds after the flow stops. The cars in Europe are indeed small. One, called a Smart car, is no longer than a regular car is wide. Another, the Fiat 500 would easily have fit into the trunk of our family 1958 Packard.

Another of the many places that have claimed to have been the center of the world is Taormina. Extensively settled by the Greeks in the forth century BC, it was known as a stronghold and cultural site. Built far up from the coast, some of it hangs from the sides of hills, the rest is built into a valley formed by lava flowing from Mt Etna, which provides a scenic backdrop for the remaining Greek Theater. The entire area has been overrun with tourist junk shops, tee shirts, post cards, ceramics, jewelry and candy stores are sandwiched between restaurants all occupying the ground floor of the ancient stone buildings that are the attraction. The periphery is made up of very high priced hotels, lots and lots of hotels, some are even connected to the beach by a cable car. We can't have the tourists walking to the beach for their exercise. Another old site is the bath, which is built on a small island, connected to the mainland by a sand bar.

Many impressive old piles of rock are evidence of the hundreds of years of development, while allegiances changed with the political climate and which group of invaders was in control. As in all of the Mediterranean, control was in constant contest, invasions and wars were the norms. Seems we have not learned that much over the past few thousand years. I will move down the coast while the weather is clear and settled, my next stop will be Riposto, then on to Catania. One of these places I need to arrange a trip up to the summit of Mt Etna, a clear day would be nice. The snow is all gone, for how long???

The trip to Riposto was short and uneventful, more a reason to run the watermaker. Riposto is not a highpoint. On arrival I was approached by the dock boys from the marina in their dinghy, with the entire available wall I did not see the sense in going into the marina. They followed me around to tell me everywhere I tried to tie was the marina. I finally anchored outside the break wall, launched the dinghy, rowed ashore and walked to the Port Captains office. He told me where I could tie up and wanted to see all of my papers which I had not brought. Many of these guys want to see all of the papers, not just the one issued by their counterpart, who issued the sailing permission, who had seen all of the papers in order to issue the sailing permit. Guess everyone must justify their job. I asked for directions to find an internet cafe and was told there is none, I saw a sign for one posted at a bus stop, so I walked for more than two hours trying to find that internet cafe. The tourist information office said at the train station, the train station said there is not one. I gave up and while walking back to the boat I found one, not more than 100 yards from the entrance to the harbor. It has a fast connection and is quite reasonable. Riposto is in serious financial trouble. Fifty percent of the store fronts are closed with for sale signs in them, of the ones obviously open, are not, the doors are closed and the lights are off. The place is very run down. I did find a very good fish and produce market, seems the locals must eat also. I will provision and get out of here in a day or two. That will depend on the weather, which is clouding over and threatening to change. Just so the wind does not go strong to the south. Trapped in one harbor for nine days, Rochelle Ionica, was enough. The next stop will be Catania, a much larger town but first Mt Etna.

Wow and double wow, I have seen several active and dormant volcanos along the way. Some still venting sulphurous vapors which form fantastic crystals at the vent mouth, some bubbling mud from a long ago used connection to the heat. Many times I have taken a trip into the caldera, the collapsed cavity formed by the shrinking of the lava bulge, of volcanos several centuries old. I have seen the orange glow from the top of islands under construction, from this distance. Never have I seen the fresh, raw, rugged and awesome sight of the leftovers from rivers of lava flowing miles down a hill side, only months old. Someday I will see Hawaii, it is the same.

After nearly two weeks of cloudy, rainy, dreary weather, a couple of times the summit was snow covered, Saturday began to clear, so I felt Sunday would be my best chance to see the top of Mt. Etna. Excursions are available to the passengers of the many cruise ships that call here, for a trip to the top of Etna. There is also a local bus, which makes the same trip at a fraction of the cost. I opted for the local bus. The peak of Etna is 3,340 meters, about ten thousand feet, at nearly 200 miles around, at the base, is the largest volcano in Europe. Volcanologists, the guys that sit around and talk about volcanoes, estimate the amount of material that has been regurgitated from Etna is six hundred cubic miles, it is hard to imagine that amount of stuff. The eastern coastline of Sicily clearly demonstrates the fact that it is volcanic in origin. The coastline is a constant reminder of lava flow. The cities and towns also evidence this fact by using lava and basalt, which is the stone which forms below the molten lava, for road paving stone, building blocks for buildings, fences and monuments. As lava is quite porous and soft, it is not well suited for building blocks, it erodes too quickly, there is much evidence that the more frugal builders did use it, whatever, it will last his lifetime. Basalt is much better, it is not as dense or strong as granite, but it does better than lava. Along with buildings it is used extensively in the building of the old roads. The new ones are blacktop, petroleum, tar, is much cheaper than the labor to quarry the basalt. In all of my travels around the Mediterranean, the usual and customary building material has been marble, marble roads, curbs, buildings, monuments, walkways, everywhere marble, all the walkways polished from years of foot traffic, here it is the fine black dust of lava and basalt.

During the time I have been here, I have noticed a fine black powder everywhere. I thought perhaps the larger buildings use coal for heating and this was the residue from filling the bins. The boat is often covered with a layer of this stuff. After my trip to the top I now know it is the result of the huffing and puffing of the volcano. Also, frequently the odor of hot, yes it does have an odor, is noticeable. On clear occasions the summit can be seen emitting smoke, which carries these odors and a rich volcanic ash that covers the farm land. Another source of the black dust is merely the buildings eroding away.

Mt. Etna has produced several spectacular eruptions, most notable in recorded time was 1669, when the lava flow reached the city of Catania, thirty miles away, covering much of the city. After nearly thirty years of digging out and rebuilding; Catania was struck by a massive earthquake in 1693, which destroyed nearly everything. Consequently, few old ruins exist; there are a few, excavated from under several feet of lava, but only a few. Most of the things worth seeing are only a few hundred years old. Many smaller eruptions have occurred in this century, the latest ending January 03, partly why the damage is so fresh. During some of these, man has tried to affect the coarse of the flow, on a very small scale there has been some success in saving towns or buildings, in the others, all was lost. The lower one half of the mountain is so old that it now raises large tracts of timber, Sicily is an exporter of lumber, the middle one third is in transition. Wind and water are eroding the lava deposits, breaking it down to a fine black powder that makes fertile farmland. The top one forth is inhospitable and dangerous. With frequent small eruptions, which cannot be predicted, warnings are given to the tourists. Even with these warnings nearly each top blowing takes the lives of tourists not possessing the sense to stay away from the ridge.

The bus trip up the mountain wraps around hundreds of smaller vents. Most of these are larger than the largest hill in Minnesota. There are surely thousands covered by subsequent lava flows. I’m glad the weather finally cleared for this trip as it is soon time to move on. Next spring when I pass through here the summit will certainly be covered with deep snow, not the best hiking conditions.

The next stop is Siracusa, only a short move down the coast from Catania. After 10 days there I was ready to move, besides during my last visit to the internet cafĂ© when I checked the weather online site and found that the wind was to go to the south and strengthen. So, it was go now or I would be wind bound for a few more days. Of course after seeing Mt Etna, what was left for me to see. If you are ever wondering what weather conditions I’m having in the Med, go to www.weatheronline.co.uk, then select sailing, then select the area where I am. It will give a seven day forecast for the wind.

I have many standing rules on this boat, and few leave any room for alternative or discussion. One of these is to NEVER listen to, take direction from or pay any attention to the locals while I’m entering an unknown harbor, bay, marina. I have too many horrible experiences where things are not as they seem. I have also read stories where the Italians, yes they are the worst, will untie your boat during your absence, move it to the wall on the other side of the harbor and file a salvage claim, arguing your boat was in danger. They have also been known to run between a boat towing it’s dinghy and the dinghy, cutting the rope, called a painter, that tows the dinghy. If they can get to it before you do it is theirs as salvage. Siracusa has two harbors, a large one that is open to the south, the direction of the predicted wind and a much smaller one that is well protected from every direction. While entering the small harbor, a local walked out on the dock and started blowing a whistle, not a whistle like we use for sporting events but one that sounds like a European siren. I ignored him while I looked around the harbor, watching my forward looking sonar. I had no intention of tying to his dock anyway. While I was turning away from his dock he began to blow the whistle with greater urgency while pointing at the edge of his dock, I suppose he was watching a customer get away or worse yet go to one of his competitors. Well, I had a memory lapse, a brain fart, cruisehymers set in or whatever mental deficiency that causes us to do things we should never do. I remember one time I was driving my car in an unfamiliar town, sitting at a red light, waiting for it to change, the car behind me began to honk his horn, perhaps he had some sort of emergency, so I crossed the walk trying to move to the side for him to get by, I was nearly smashed by a pickup truck turning the corner at a high rate of speed, then I needed to listen to his honking, I knew better. Well here I knew better also, but I still did it. I turned the boat back, watching the hand pointing, indicating I should tie up to his dock here, then pointing straight out from the dock, which would be the normal direction for the boat to approach, during all of this I was not watching the depth sounders, until I hit the rocks. Yup, he directed me right into the shallow water not shown on the charts. I was pissed. The tide in the Mediterranean is negligible, less than a foot, yet it is there. I tried to back off the rocks without success. I then noticed the oil stain on the break wall rocks, which showed me that I was at or about low tide. The right choice was to wait until the water lifted me off the rocks and I could simply motor away. The problem was it was only three hours to dark. After a short time two separate locals came out to offer a tow, neither spoke any English, I do not speak Italian, so there was no way to determine how much they would charge, whether they would file a salvage claim, also, with the tide falling, which I had determined by the boat lifting out of the water I did not wish to damage the bottom of my keels, the lowest part that hits bottom first, I declined.

After about an hour the southerly wind began, of course, this would blow me farther up on the rocks with every boat wake. I used the dinghy to put out two anchors and winched the roads, anchor line, tight to hold me where I was. This is called kedging. While I waited, I checked the bilges to be sure I was not taking water. Six hours after I went aground, I was again floating, yet I could not move backward, I was loose of the bottom, just could not back up. I got out the underwater light, got into the dinghy and went around the boat to see what was holding me. This bay, like all others in most places of the world is the receptacle for the sewerage of the city, so the water clarity is not good, yet I could see well enough to see that the bottom of the keels were clear of the bottom, I knew that. The problem was I had backed into another rock with one keel. I got back on board, loosened my anchor rodes, allowing the boat to move forward, then used the motors to rotate the boat to clear the rock behind me, yup, slid right out of there. I did not even need to reset my anchors because they were put out far enough to have a good hold of the bottom, I will check for the damage when I’m in cleaner water, there should not be any. The next morning I straightened everything out and set a third anchor to hold me into the sun so the solar panels will recharge my batteries and the solar water heater is faced to the sun for warm showers.

The trip from Siracusa to Malta is expected to take two days. I watched the weather for a week and determined that my opportunity for favorable wind was Thursday, Friday, Saturday and perhaps Sunday. When I checked on Wednesday, the forecast had backed off by a day. As I needed to move south southwest, I wanted the wind to be anything in the north, or east or west. The prevailing wind for this time of year is southwest. The first day would be Siracusa to Ragossa, 26 miles, on the extreme south coast of Sicily, this will allow the shortest possible distance to Malta, 55 miles. With any luck I can do this in one day. Remember that I have less than eleven hours of daylight now.

The move to Ragossa was uneventful, the wind was mostly on the beam, from the side, or slightly behind, this bodes well for the longer passage. When the clouds of the last eight days lifted, there was the snow covered peak of Mt Etna, I guess I did the summit at the right time, it would be cold and wet up there now. On arrival at Ragossa I anchored in a place that will allow a night departure. I will need to leave very early to assure a daylight arrival. Twice during the night the wind woke me, I’m always nervous as a whore in church with a newly set anchor, it was blowing low twenties from the northwest, great, just what I want. When the alarm went off at 0430 I was ready, let's go. In the early morning hours the wind was nearly nothing so I motored out of the anchorage and headed for Malta. On leaving the shelter the wind began, lightly but from the northwest. I was not five miles from shore and it died altogether, this was not good.

Usually when the wind dies, that means it is going to shift to another direction. Yup, it did, went to the southwest, exactly the direction I need to go. From that light beginning, it built to a high of twenty eight knots, always blowing directly from Malta. Just before half way I nearly turned back, about that time it picked up speed and shifted to a direction that allowed me to make straight at Malta, maybe I will make it, I reefed the sails, made them smaller. That lasted for an hour, just long enough to get too far to turn back, I hate, really hate to enter an unknown harbor after dark, the only time I will is if it is a commercial harbor that is properly lit and kept clear of hazards. I took the reef out of the sails.

As I was not able to make my heading, direction, I was not going to make Malta during daylight. Again fifteen miles from Malta the wind picked up speed and shifted, which again allowed me to aim straight at Malta, again reef the sails. This carried me to about three miles from the harbor entrance, just as the sun was going down, the wind again shifted, this time against me, I needed to tack the rest of the way into the harbor because the wind strength was too high to motor into, I’m faster sailing. To add insult to injury, all day the Italian weather was giving northwest gale warnings and the weather forecast from Malta is for moderate wind from the northwest, if I had that I would have been in by 1400. I finally pulled in and tied up to the Customs dock about an hour after dark, do the clear in formalities and find an anchorage for the night. The Maltese agents have spread the word that an agent is required to check into Malta, not so, the Customs officers are helpful and the process is painless, free and only takes minutes. The money is the Maltese Pound, 2.85 dollars buys one pound. Malta is quite expensive.

From what I can see, Valleta, the capital of Malta, is a large modern city, mixed with the ancient. Malta has held a strategic position in the Mediterranean for thousands of years. Consequently it has castles, old churches and lots of old buildings, hopefully internet. I will remain here as long as it stays warm. If I get too cold I will move to Tunisia, on the north coast of Africa, it may be warmer. Malta was the last settlement for the Knights of St John, the same ones that built the wonderful castle on Rhodes, Greece. They again built defensive fortresses here. Those guys were really into building. For good reason, they also spent a lot of time antagonizing shipping, read piracy. They were kicked out of Rhodes by the Ottoman Turks, after a six month siege that pitted six hundred Knights against a hundred thousand Turks, and then in Malta, with five hundred forty knights and four thousand mercenaries withstood a siege by fifty thousand of the same Turks, until help arrived from Sicily. The Turks had planned to use Malta as a stepping stone to invade Europe. The defense of Malta may have saved all of Europe from the Turks.

The plan is to leave here about April, see the west coast of Italy and offshore islands through mid July, then the south coast of Spain and offshore islands, arriving at the Canaries about October to prepare for the Atlantic crossing in December.

As always, I enjoy hearing from you, if you enjoy receiving these missives let me know, if you do not wish to receive them let me know and I will take you off my list, if you wish to join me, let me know.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Your friend,
Bruce Parnham S V RPhurst