Flight from Messina Strait

Navy Training Ship in Syracuse Harbour

Isola Vulcano, Aeolian Islands, Italy

The time came to push on from Syracuse.  The stillness over the marina in the early morning was matched only by strong winds and swell (not forecast of course!) outside the heads.  GS did well to rally but ensured the bucket was within arm’s reach.  So we bashed and crashed our way north hoping that conditions would settle as we neared the protection of Italy’s big toe.  Let’s just say that not a lot of people were making this their chosen direction. 

Looking up & up for Taormina

Mt Etna, sultry in her cloud cover

After not much discussion and even less headway, we decided to call it quits and made for one of the few anchorages on this coast, Naxos, and set the hook in lovely sand (GS is SO over a glutinous, muddy anchor & chain) under the cliffs of famous Taormina.  Taormina perches high on the side of a cliff with amazing views over the Straits and some wonderfully green, if not steep, hilly, country.  We decided we didn’t need either another climb or to see more Baroque architecture (or churches) despite D.H. Lawrence having lived there, so our water view “up” would be just fine.  Besides that, we sat with an entrancing view of Mt Etna (possibly very clear because of the evil winds that day).  So we swam in quite cold waters and tried to eat a little after our bucketing ride – let’s just say waistlines are diminishing!

Charybdis in action

We left again in the early morning to escape the onset of strong winds and had a wonderful glide (under the iron horse) until we hit the Strait exit, where strong north-westerlies and an adverse current set up a challenging experience for "little” boats.  Cap’n Undertow skilfully guided us inshore (oh, so close) so we managed to lessen its effects; at one stage WJ3 was showing 7.3kts and only actually doing (speed over ground) 3.7kts.  We skirted Charybdis, watching the autopilot struggle against the pull from strong whirlpools & eddies and kept a wary eye on darting swordfishing boats.  

You can just see the man at the end of the very long bowsprit

Driver and lookouts up in the crows nest

Driven like a Grand Prix Maserati – all speed and testosterone - these souped up and amazingly agile craft dash and dart after their quarry, sleeping swordfish.   Pity the swordfish that are skewered with a trident (possibly Neptune’s own) and any naive tourist who potters in their path.  That of course was us!  Just as we thought we had escaped the worst of the rat race, we had a boat (at speed) on our clacker, just a tad too close for comfort.   An international incident (and a  broken boat) was averted but not before the high-riding skipper left us with a much, much-too-close bowsprit salute as a final reminder of who really owns these waters… 

Then it was on with more bashing into the wind – for several hours – to our next anchorage, Isola Vulcano.  Again, we were the only ones mad enough to keep up the grind.  Just on dusk, we settled into a very busy and exceptionally deep anchorage under the cloud capped and smoking rim of Vulcano.  The air is fragrant with the smell of sulphur gases and the bay rocks and rolls to the comings and goings of a vast number of commercial craft, but we didn’t care.  With the anchor set, we scoffed the last of our (almost hard tack) provisions and fell asleep, rocking in the swell, dreaming of the little whale (a pilot whale?) we saw heading for a tasty fish supper at the Straits.  “Watch out for those crazy men with harpoons!” GS called after his wake.

Anchored under a smoking Isola Vulcano

Romancing the Food

Fresh tuna or swordfish steaks cut to order

Syracuse, Sicily

We had arrived back to Syracuse in time for some seriously strong winds to blow through the area (forecast to 35 kts or more) and it was setting from the north west (Well hellooo, Mr Ponente!), the direction we were heading.  Needless to say, our stay in the marina was extended and we set about doing – yes, even more boat duties. 

One pleasurable activity however, was exploring the local fresh food markets.  Our Cap’n had been enviously watching nearby fishermen arrive with daily catches of squid, fish and huge swordfish.  Sicily’s central Med location clearly means it has a plentiful supply of fresh seafood.  It was available in abundance at the markets each day.  The Straits of Messina is the star location for swordfish and in a few days we would be negotiating this challenging waterway, with its heavy traffic, unruly currents and unique fishing boats.

The Italians clearly love their food and have a great respect for Fresh, so local daily markets are supported in droves; gawking tourists bumped out of the way so that locals can select the best at the best prices.  It is bad manners to touch the produce – the vendor will select for you.  The mushrooms I asked for were lovingly handled, potting mix still fresh on their stalks.  It was a moment to make any “wanna-be” foodie cry!  I felt honoured to be trusted additionally with rosy garlic bulbs and freshly dug potatoes. 

Further on, we could not help but buy some smoked mozzarella.  We were given strict instructions in how to refresh if after refrigeration and then serve it; chunks of cheese and a handful of sun-dried tomatoes, sprinkled with fresh parsley & mint, dressed with olive oil (only the best extra virgin) and a dash of lemon juice.  GS bought a pack and considered briefly whether she might live here.  Other tables bulged with oysters, ripe and tasty tomatoes, a variety of soft lettuce leaves (am I going on here?) and ready to eat fresh & tasty fruits.  Cherries and peaches are in season at the moment and are an absolute delight!

Our cooking and curry aromas wafted over the marina in the evenings, unfortunately attracting the wrong sort.  Ratus Romanus Gladitorii led a midnight raid breaking into the galley, making a b-line for the fresh bread – the only thing (or so we thought) not enclosed or boxed in plastic.  A few days later we discovered that he had also led a charge through the bowels of the boat to find the ground coffee, which apparently was not to his taste. (Maybe it wasn't Italian coffee?)  We’ve seen no sign of him since, so here’s hoping he’s retreated back to his fishing boat or portside residence for better quality feasting!

Despite the odd glitch (and not unreasonable demand for new galley equipment), you can see we are not starving…. Although I can just hear the Cap’n meditating, but I think he’s dreaming of legs of lamb, not reciting melodic mantras.  Hopefully he can wait the 6 hours it might take to cook one in our tiny, flagging, oven! 

Riding the Rails

Noto, Sicily

Given recent and exhausting dealings with public transport in Sicily, we mooted sightseeing options.  Closest was Noto, a hilltop village noted for its flamboyant Baroque architecture.   Trains left Syracuse; we could only hope they returned.

After a brisk walk to the station in the early morning heat, it was a welcome relief to note that a. there actually was a train; b. it was air-conditioned, and c. it almost left on time.  Our stop at Noto was at the bottom of the hill, needing a not-so-energetic but 15 minute climb.  Buses do not meet trains and not many travellers use trains.  It’s complicated and very Sicilian, or so it would seem.

Minor Basilica of St. Nicholas of Myra, the Noto Cathedral

Noto is a UNESCO World Heritage site, famous for its Baroque constructions.  An earlier town was destroyed in an earthquake (1693).  Architects of the time were keen to leave their mark and, I presume, families had sufficient means to accommodate this rebuilding.  Consequently, within a small and easily walkable area, it is possible to see palaces, convents, churches and mansions alike, all covered in exuberant features that typify the Baroque style.

We arrived at the beautifully shaded Viale Marconi and in front of the Porta Ferdinandea, decided a coffee granita was the perfect way to start our tour.  From there, we followed our guide book’s walking tour, making our way through clearly planned streets, lots of stairs and ultimately into Palazzo Nicolaci Villadorata.  This was one of the few interiors open (other than churches), so we took a stroll through its lavish rooms, wondering if the chandeliers came from Venice….  

Back down to the very deserted train station, we sat on the rim of a crumbling fountain (no seating for passengers) in a garden full of weeds.  Once this would have been quite lovely – not anymore!  Despite our concerns, the train arrived on time.  We were still the only ones about, the Cap’n concerned we were going to be mugged.  No gunslingers from the OK Corral showed up; just a quick ride back to Syracuse, our travelling aspirations in Sicily more than fulfilled.

On the Road, Sicilian Style

Valletta, Malta

An Easy Excursion?

You would think, would you not, that getting a mere 120km to a sizeable (and international) ferry port would be easy?  Pozzallo is serviced by train, bus and a smart new main road (still under construction).  Well, this is Sicily and buses don’t run early and neither does the train, so the ferry provides a bus, leaving from the International Airport, a similar distance north of here.  We waited and waited at the appointed pick-up destination for the 6.15am bus.  By 7.30, we knew it wasn’t coming.  Finally we found someone who could speak English; the consensus (our new friend and a local bus driver, including all his passengers) was that we should catch the 8am local bus from the nearby Syracuse terminus, which of course, meant missing our ferry to Malta.  In desperation, we called the taxi that had picked us up from the marina and for a mere €80 and a drive “with a little bit fast”, we made our ferry – just in time to board.  Thank you Giancarlos, what a star!

Are we coming or going?

Needless to say, our collective moods were lethal.  Still, after the 90 minute superfast ferry ride (a Malta-run and on time concern) across to Valletta, there was more to come…. 

Breaking through a barrage of taxi drivers at the port who for €20 offered to take us to our hotel, we lucked upon a bus stop with a €2 fare to our destination.  Despite the confusion over Marina Street and marina (meaning beach in Italian), our bus driver let us off at desolate Fort Rinella.  His problem solved (i.e. he got us out of his bus), he pointed us down an even more desolate road, leaving us with a bit of a hike in the heat and lots of stops to ask directions to our hotel, Villa del Porto, on Marina Street. 

About time you made it, I've been waiting for ages!!

Despite the very early start, we had little of the day left, so after a brief respite in our air conditioned room and a refreshing cold shower (by choice!), walked to the local village shops for a pizza and a medicinal beer.  Finally, we could relax!  Orientating ourselves, we noted that Kalkara Marina is on Marina Street too and the beach near Fort Rinella, just over the ridge.  The bus stop we really needed was, naturally, almost in front of the hotel!

Kalkara Marina and Il Birgu in background

Bella Domenica

Syracuse, Sicily

Do Not As I Do

Syracuse Duomo (Cathedral) in full blown Baroque frenzy

Entering a strange harbour at night is not fun.  Despite the best made plans, we seem to do it, time after time.  Entering Syracuse, a port off an exceptionally busy shipping corridor on Sicily’s east coast, had its moments – especially with a gazillion flashing coloured lights, unlit fishing boats and rocky outcrops to be negotiated.  Still, we did it and managed to set the hook at the outer limit of the anchoring field for a very early morning arrival.  Even with discos still open for late stayers blaring across the harbour, we both crashed.  All this day hopping across Greece's pleasant anchorages has made us soft...

Grand Harbour Town Quay, Ortygia Island (the Old Town)

The splendour of Syracuse’s old city, Ortygia, greeted us in the morning sun.  Swathes of yellow sandstone mansions, miles of Baroque features and everything bursting with that marvellous (Italian) sense of the good life – we’d certainly changed gears.  Well, given that it was Sunday too and locals were heading out in droves on water craft of all shapes and sizes.  Destination - their favourite anchoring spot off the old fort.  Ah yes, it reminded us of Quarantine Beach (Sydney Harbour’s favourite boatie anchoring and picnic spot) all over again.  Weren’t those the days, full of youthful vim & vigour?

Anchoring in the shade of the Fort on Sunday

It was time to try out the land legs again, just to see if they still worked.  After a refreshing cold coffee granita sipped in shade off Grand Harbour town quay, we mustered shanks ponies and headed off for a walk that promised to be challenging in the heat of the day but in shaded narrow cobbled streets proved quite pleasant.  We didn’t walk far or for hours but seemed to cover most of old Syracuse’s impressive legacy. 

 

Ortygia was settled by Corinthians (yes, those Greeks again) in 734 BC.  The bay where we sit, anchored in peace and comfort, was the site of a huge maritime challenge.  The Syracusean fleet orchestrated a splendid victory against the Athenians and the city established itself to become the most powerful and largest fortified Greek city in the then known world.  Sicily’s history is generally something of a Heinz variety with all sorts leaving their mark in some way or the other on the island.  It’s complicated and quite fascinating, making good reading so we’ll leave you to it… 

Fountain in Piazza Archimedes 
Yes, Archimedes was one of Syracuse's famous residents.

Meanwhile, enjoy these photos.  We’d love to tell you about them but finding tourist information was challenging indeed and clearly not something the local Tourist Bureau was used to.  We’re also having difficulties adapting to long lunch breaks (and therefore shop closing times – strictly enforced!) and rather late 10pm dinners.  And we’ve learnt the hard way to ask the price (for everything) before you agree to buy – timid  tourist and buyer beware! 

Casstello Maniace & another view of the Sunday crowd

Sailing with the Ancients

The Strait of Messina, Italy

Time to move on again!  We made an early start through the narrow strait that separates Vulcano from Lipari, the most established of the Aeolians.  In the distance we could  see Stromboli, hazy in the early morning light.  Belching, puffing Stromboli is considered the first “lighthouse”; a unique marker for ancient sailors to warn that the Straits of Messina were close by.  It is best seen at night for its firework display.  However we had no desire to add another night to our sailing schedule and turned left to do battle with Charybdis, Scylla and the Cyclops, three of Ulysses adversaries. 

Gulet (a Turkish design) anchored off the Strait for lunch

The narrow strait, full of eddies and whirlpools, sets up an unusual current – one minute it was with us and the next against.  (Check the unusual tide chart of the area).  We easily crossed the shipping lanes, fortunately deserted on a Sunday, to hug the east coast or Italy’s big toe.  It was an exhilarating ride, especially dodging those big car ferries connecting Sicily to the mainland.  One sight that added a further sense of fantasy to the “Straits experience” was the strange swordfish fishing boats.  We saw two, remarkably dexterous, darting around what remains of Charybdis (that whirlpool!).  These boats are controlled from a high tower where the driver sits to spot fish.  A crewman stands on a very long bowsprit (sometimes longer than the boat itself) with a harpoon.  One can’t help but wonder what Ulysses would have made of them.  Sadly, the Cap’n refused to cross back over the shipping lanes and bastardi (no, tidal eddies not the Cap’n!) for a decent photo…... 

Swordfishing boat doing the daily slog

And so it was, we floated in relatively calm waters for three days and two nights.  Once out of Italy’s land mass we did pick up a decent breeze that lasted through both nights – more or less.  As luck would have it, we had the Tyrrhenian Sea to ourselves with only a little passing traffic, mostly in the distance.    

Bastardi in action - on a good day!

Sites around Italy's big toe

Last Italian landfall

We were ever so pleased to finally make our port of entry, Pylos, in the sheltered natural harbour of Navarino Bay, Greece.  

From:  Isole Vulcano, Italy Lat/Long: 38:24.897N 14:56.739E Date/Time: 21/07/13: 0730

To: Pylos, Greece Lat/Long: 36:55.324N 21:42.073E Date/Time: 23/07/13: 1500
Time Taken: 357nm (55.5hrs) Distance (this year): 1777nm (283hrs)
Distance Total (since 2008): 12602nm   Weather: NW 10-12kts avg;
Fastest Speed: 7.5kts; few clouds at night and hazy during day; full moon

Food Faking

Isola Vulcano, Aeolian Islands

We’ve all been there haven’t we?  Tourist food and travellers’ fast foods!  At least you mostly know what you are in for.  When you order the famous local “slow cooked” speciality and receive pan fried pork pieces, doused in carton mushroom cream sauce and garnished with a couple of hard dried figs, well, you know you’ve been had.  We’ve been lucky so far though and enjoyed quite a few encouraging local dining experiences.  

Are you sure you asked for pizza?

We thought we’d found the perfect spot to celebrate another of the Ancient Mariner’s (many) birthdays.  The setting was right – on the water’s edge, with a little dinghy dock.  Bruce took us to the door, almost.  The place was busy and the food looked good.  Little did we know we were in for a “Faulty Towers does Sicily” experience.

The harbour looked so inviting!

We were slow to be seated, hardly surprising given the restaurant’s popularity.  However, even then, things started to go awry.  Our table, in a prime spot overlooking the water, had apparently been reserved and we had to move.  The Cap’n grumbled.  A grovelling maître-d found us another table – down in the take-away pizza area but none-the-less with a water view.  And then we waited, and waited and waited.

Birthday Boy

To compensate for this neglect we were suddenly surrounded by imperious waiters, offered discounts on our meal (we hadn’t even ordered yet!) and proffered plates of appetisers as tempting “typical Sicilian starters” to keep the boiling Cap’n happy.  We weren’t offered a menu but rather told what we were to eat.  This charade had something to do with translating Italian to English (we think).  The Cap’n steamed.  Finally, out of the chaos, our order was settled and we asked for a glass of wine.  Then we waited. 

 
The appetiser and entrée arrived at the same time, plonked on the table. Eventually, our mains arrived, first separately, then finally together (after waiting) but when the Cap’n asked for another glass of wine – we waited again.  Giving up, we called for the bill.  It arrived with promptness not previously experienced.  We paid up and left.  They could wait for a tip….

We suspect a waiter is still running round tables trying to find who ordered that glass of wine.

And there's even a free beach here too!
But only the worst & hardest area to access...

Under Volcano's Brow

Isola Vulcano, Islands

We made Palermo at the break of dawn two days later and took a slow dawdle along the coast looking for a suitable anchorage.  Let me tell you, they are few and far between.  Palermo Harbour, another huge concrete jungle, simmered in a heat haze on a breathless morning.  Sitting in a marina (if we could find space) didn’t seem quite what we had hoped for, so we kept WJ3’s nose pointing east.  At last Cefalu!   With room in a tiny anchorage – even better!  Doesn’t anyone anchor in Sicily? 

Cefalu - city side

Whilst Cefalu’s medieval town beckoned us (it was a bit of a walk from the harbour) we noted it for “sometime later” and, after a decent sleep to get over our last “leg’, we hot-footed it off to the Aeolian Islands for cleaner water, sulphurous air and beneficial hot mud pools.  Good for the health, particularly arthritis.  Sure… 

WJ3 alone in Maestro Minico anchorage, Isola Vulcano

WJ3 is parked right under the brow of Gran Cratere, a smokin’, ash covered, still active volcano.  The island of Vulcano is home to four craters in all, and was described by Homer* as the workshop of Greek God, Hephaestus.  Hephaestus, God of fire, made his home in nearby Mount Etna. This island however, is named after the Roman God of fire and metal forging, Vulcan.  Are you keeping up with me? 

Meeting Mr Vulcan at the sulphur pools
"Where did you get those shorts?"asked my Mum...oh-oh! 

Meanwhile the anchorage is so nice, we’ve settled down to a few days of rest rather than try for a round the islands “race”.  Stromboli will have to wait too.  It’s been added to the later list.  The Cap’n is now happily paddling about, snorkelling here and there in deep water so clear it’s hard to believe.  There isn’t much life in Med waters but at least what there is has been left alone to someday “stock the pond”. 

People pay to coat themselves in this... We made a quick decision not to take a steep in this healing muddy slush.

*Now lads, I am not talking Simpson here. Homer was a Greek poet and wrote at least two well- known works; the Odyssey (Ulysses’ voyages) and the Iliad (Trojan War).  These works are credited with being the oldest examples of Western literature. 

From:  Cefalu, Sicily Lat/Long: 38:02.239N 14:02.125E Date/Time: 18/07/13: 1015
To: Vulcano, Aeolian Islands Lat/Long: 38:24.897N 14:56.739E  Date/Time: 18/07/13: 1900
Time Taken: 49nm (8.5hrs) Distance (this year): 1420nm (227.5hrs)
Distance Total (since 2008): 12245nm   Weather: NW to E best 10-12kts; fine & hot
Fastest Speed: 6.9kts; more dolphins and a sulphurous odour as the mountains fume…