Our spring adventures have happened in three phases: the transition from life in France to cruising life; our experiences on our sea passages; and life on board Bloom in the Castello d’Aragon Bay on Ischia, the largest island in the Bay of Naples.

Transition

Our transition was a stormy one: we couldn’t get out to sea. We postponed leaving our slip at St. Jean for five days because of the highest winds we had seen on our knot log meter in our nine months there – 38 knots deep in our protected port. When we finally left, on April 6, we enjoyed one balmy, lazy afternoon at anchor in our favorite bay at Villefranche before being startled again that night by unexpected gale-force winds. Our anchor dragged, we drifted toward a large motor yacht and started the engine just in time to gain control of Bloom. It was about 2 am and we motored around the bay in the wind until first light. During that awful night we lost the inflatable floor of Ultra Violet, our dinghy. We had left her tied behind Bloom for the night in calm seas, a usual practice. The ferocious winds blew her around like a pinwheel, slamming her into the wind vane on Bloom’s stern and back into the air again and again. We lost our humor for a while, as well. Early in the morning we entered the Darse, the small port at Villefranche that dates back to Roman times. There were no berths available; luckily the port authorities let us tie up to the fuel dock until the weather cleared, seven long rainy, windy days later.

During that week our friend Carlton joined us. He is an old sailing hand, and we planned to cross from mainland France to Corsica and then circumnavigate the island together. We couldn’t leave the Continent, though, until the new inflatable floor came in to the chandlery. So from the fuel dock at Villefranche in good weather, we headed west along the French coast toward the Porquerolle Islands off the coast of Provence. We enjoyed one lovely day of sailing and a calm night at anchor in the Baie d’Agay west of Cannes, and hit another gale as we headed further west – the strongest winds and fiercest water we had experienced yet at sea. Tom watched as the waves rose behind us, catching them at an angle that allowed him to steer Bloom. Once again we were forced into port, this time at St. Raphael, where we stayed another week. Carlton was definitely not getting the sailing vacation he was hoping for.

At last, one afternoon toward the end of April, we set sail for Corsica. It was a perfect crossing. Sky and sea were clear and calm and the wind blew across our beam at first, then aft. We sailed most of the way, motoring for a short while when morning came. I saw a whale spout in the evening not far out to sea and two dolphins, briefly, in the morning. Carlton joined me on my night watch while Tom slept. His company was a welcome change from the usual solo watch. We arrived at Calvi in the afternoon and anchored easily in the familiar bay. This was more like it.

When weather again caused us to cancel our plans to sail south from Calvi, Carlton decided to see some of the interior of Corsica, and he set out by train for Corte, Corsica’s capital during its short-lived independence, and points south. Then he headed home.

What have we learned from this transition? Next year, we’ll stay put in our slip until May 1 and let the April rain and winds rage out there without us.

Passages

On May 1 it was as if someone threw a switch: the weather cleared and has been beautiful ever since. We set out that day with our French cruising friends, Christiane and Pierre, sailing in tandem to St. Florent in northern Corsica, around Cap Corse to the Italian islands of Elba and Giglio off the coast of Tuscany, then to the Pontine Islands 50 miles west of Naples and finally to Ischia (Is’ keeya), the largest island in the Bay of Naples. Our passages from island to island ranged in length from five hours from Elba to Giglio to 30 hours from Giglio to Ponza. The winds in the Mediterranean are famously fluky in both strength and direction: we were unable to sail exclusively on any passage without extending considerably the length of the passage, and we used a combination of sailing and motoring to cover the distances. This allowed us to arrive at each destination during daylight hours with time left to find a good spot and set our anchor. We have read accounts of sailors with motor-less sailboats, who tack again and again to accommodate winds from the wrong direction, or stay becalmed. Although we much prefer to sail, we are happy to take advantage of Bloom’s 40 horsepower Volvo engine when we need it.

Our passages were smooth. We have a before-leaving checklist of tasks to do below deck, in the cockpit and on deck. Below-deck items include making sure nothing is left out loose, securing cupboards, closing hatches and seacocks, preparing food and drinks, and getting out foul-weather and other gear we might need. Cockpit items include having our life jackets out as well as the harnesses that attach us to the boat during rough weather and if we have to leave the cockpit at night. On deck, we check the rigging, making sure halyards and other lines are available and fair-led, that is, they won’t get tangled in anything when we use them. We remove sail covers, secure jack lines to the deck (they are the lines we attach ourselves to with those harnesses) and put a reef in the mainsail if necessary. There are about forty items all together; and following the list has assured us of a smooth transition from port or anchor to passage. En route during the day we are usually both awake, though one of us at a time can nap. At night, one of us is on watch while the other sleeps. We have experimented with different lengths of time, starting with two hours and increasing as we gain experience. We like being at sea. We enjoy sea and sky views as the time of day and other conditions change. We get small chores done. Tom trolls a line off Bloom’s stern for tuna – no luck yet but we are ever hopeful. There is some traffic – barges, container ships, cruise ships, other yachts – but mostly we are alone and it’s peaceful.

There was one eventful passage, though we didn’t realize it until later. We were on the overnight run from Giglio to Ponza. I was on watch at about midnight and Pierre was sailing parallel to us off our starboard side. I saw him shine a spotlight first from his bow and then off the stern. After a few minutes he began steaming ahead more quickly, crossed our bow and ran ahead of us and to port. He continued to shine the light off his stern for a while. I wondered what he was doing, but our VHF was on and he didn’t call, so I assumed everything was OK. He continued to outdistance us – Pierre and Christiane's boat, PICH-NOS, is longer and faster than Bloom, and they used their motor exclusively, while we sailed for part of the time. When we got into Ponza he told us his story. At around midnight, his radar picked up an echo and when he looked out with the help of his light, he saw a mostly submerged, enormous container that must have fallen off a container ship. He was surprised that his radar had picked it up. Radar is adjusted to allow for sea movement so it doesn’t continually register waves as obstacles; therefore it doesn’t register other movement on the surface of the sea either. The shipping container was barely above water, but the sea was calm that night and the radar showed PICH-NOS on a collision course with the giant box about 100 meters ahead. He moved across our bow to get out of its path and watched to see that it was not in our path. Since it wasn’t he postponed telling us about it until we reached Ponza.

We don’t have radar yet – it’s on our wish list but not at the top. Radar is power-hungry and we are always watching our electricity use; also, there are virtually no fog and no crowded shipping corridors -- the primary conditions that call for radar --in this part of the Mediterranean. Our plan is to add radar to Bloom’s equipment array as we head back west for Gibraltar, where both of those conditions exist. We reevaluated after the container incident, but haven’t changed our minds. There is an almost endless list of helpful things one can install on a boat. We try to balance safety concerns, comfort and convenience, storage space onboard and costs in determining how to equip Bloom. Other major items on our list right now include a third solar panel, a wind generator, a stainless steel structure to hold the panels and serve as a permanent sun shade, a new dodger (a combination awning and windshield over the companionway hatch) and sailcovers, a water maker.

We traveled with Christiane and Pierre for a few weeks, until we reached Ischia. They left just after we arrived, to meet one of their sons in Sicily, and we stayed on.

At the Italian Island of Ischia

It’s summer now and we have been in Ischia for over a month. We are anchored in a small bay bounded on the west by the eastern shore of the island and the small fishing town of Ischia Ponte at its northeast corner. From our anchorage we see the ends of winding town streets lined with old three-story buildings painted yellow and pink and white and sometimes not at all. There is a plaza along the water, where fishermen work on their boats, launching them from a ramp built into the sea wall. Kids play soccer on the same plaza, there are shaded and sunny benches and a fountain where we get our water. In the evening people are out, the main business street is blocked to car traffic and a couple of musicians set up along the sea wall. On the coast south of town are a few quiet hotels and restaurants, a small beach with three hot spring pools, rocky outcrops, wooded hillsides with some terracing for grapevines, and the Michelangelo tower, an ancient building where the artist once worked, now an art gallery. (We saw an exhibit of the work of the Italian sculptor, Arnaldo Pomodoro. I don’t know which was more interesting, the work of the artist, massive shields, spears and other warlike symbols, cast solidly in black or silver or gold metal, mottled and textured; or the ancient building, its stone steps worn down by hundreds of years of use, its hallways decorated with ancient murals, and every gallery window looking out on the sea.) On the east, our bay is bounded by a 14th century castle and fort, the Castello d’Aragon, sitting high on its own rocky islet; on the north a low causeway connects the islet to the island. The anchorage is open only to the southeast, and on clear days we can see Capri across the water. East beyond the castle is Prochida, a small, low-lying island and beyond it, the Italian mainland, Naples and, further inland, Mt. Vesuvius. The prevailing summer winds are from the northwest; the southeast winds we’ve had have been light, fortunately, and, except for one rolly night, our anchorage has been comfortable the whole time.

(P.S. since I wrote the last paragraph: A few days ago the wind came up strong from the southeast. We moved to the north side of the causeway and are now anchored with a different view of the castle and Ischia Ponte. We are better protected here and although the wind approaches 20 knots, we are comfortable.)

We’ve explored our neighborhood on foot, by bus and in Ultra Violet. Ischia is a volcanic island. The narrow streets and the causeway to the castle are paved with black volcanic rock cut square. The island is old and lush, full of woodlands and parks, hot springs and fumaroles, Greek and Roman ruins, beaches and fantastical rock formations. There are vineyards everywhere and several local wineries. Tourism thrives in the few main towns. Apart from the Italians, most of the tourists are German; menus and shop signs are often in Italian and German, seldom in English or French. Inland and along the coast away from the main towns, tourists are not much in evidence. We’ve walked the parks, visited some of the sights and toured the interior by local bus. We motored in Ultra Violet a few miles across open water to Prochida. We tied up at a small marina, walked across the island, had lunch at a seaside restaurant in the main port and took the bus back. Prochida is densely, indigenously populated – not tarted up for tourists, as the guidebook says. Facades to the street are shabby. Looking through gates and archways, though, we saw pastel buildings with gardens full of orange and lemon trees, fuchsia bougainvillea and climbing roses and, now and then, glimpses of the sea.

Our bay is quiet during the week. Brightly colored water taxis -- small skiffs powered by outboard motors -- deliver people and goods from town to the hotels, restaurants and hot springs. One young taxi driver, Angelo, insists on towing us between Bloom and shore whenever he sees us rowing Ultra Violet against an adverse sea; he just grabs a loop at the front and off we go. Fishermen -- we haven’t seen any women -- set and pull in their nets and check their traps around us. Franco, a retired graphic artist, paddles by in his kayak almost daily. He lived in the States for a while and speaks English fluently. He has helped locate batteries and hoses for Bloom in regular markets outside of the chandlery, and joined us on Bloom several times for a meal or coffee. We’ve met other cruisers. British, Dutch, and French sailors and an Australian couple have come through and we’ve enjoyed conversation, wine and food with them on our boats. Karl and Minda, the Aussies, built their boat in their backyard in Sidney. It is a 32-foot double-ender, beautifully designed and executed. A sailboat came in from Ramsey, Minnesota, believe it or not, and we met Jack Mowry, a businessman from Elk River. In 2000, he began his around-the-world trip from Bayfield, Wisconsin, in his 40-foot yacht, Breagan (accent on the second syllable). He sails in two-month segments: May and June, and September and October. The rest of the year he’s back at work; while he’s gone his grown children run the shop. Jack’s in Malta now, having Breagan hauled out of the water until he returns. We have kept in touch since he left Ischia via single sideband radio (SSB) and e-mail, and hope to see him in Greece or Turkey in the fall.

On weekend days the quiet of our bay changes dramatically. Neapolitan families motor over in powerboats of all sizes to anchor for the afternoon. The boats are crowded with many people to a boat, often rafted up with friends on other boats. The music, shouting, splashes and laughing make it a noisy, festive time. The giant party ends at about 4.30, when the revelers start the twenty-odd-mile trip back to their homeports, and we are happy to have the bay quiet again. As the weather gets warmer, the weekend bay grows livelier. We counted a hundred boats around us last Sunday.

We had been warned against thieves in the Naples area, by our cruising guidebook, three cruisers and Franco, our Ischian friend. Sure enough, at 4 one morning Tom heard a motor approach then stop near our boat. He went out to the cockpit, surprising three men in an old skiff in the process of stealing Ultra Violet. Quietly Tom said, ‘Keep moving.’ The oldest man said, ‘No problem’ and off they went. Later that morning as we got ready to go to shore, we discovered that the thieves had cut the fuel line and taken our fuel can. We told other cruisers in the bay, and for the next few nights there were no dinghies in the water. We are still pulling Ultra Violet, and the motor if we have used it, out of the water every evening.

We have done boat and customs business in the island’s main town, Porto Ischia, about a twenty-minute walk to the west of us. Internet services are there as well. We do our daily shopping, though, right here in Ischia Ponte. There are a small supermarket (the best wine prices), a butcher, two pescherias – though we can buy fish right off the boats as they come in each morning -- and an alimentaria near the fountain, with bread, smoked meats and cheeses. An English-speaking Ischian couple, Franco and Clara, sell produce in their shop in a back street. Their frutta e verdura, brought in by ferry from Naples, are tops; and every day they put in my bag three of the main flavoring ingredients of the island, parsley, basil and celery. Clara gave me a recipe for Ischia salad. Slice boiled new potatoes; add tomatoes in a roughly equal amount, (though the proportion doesn’t really matter, she said), chopped fresh green onions, fresh basil, a little dried oregano, garlic, salt and olive oil; and mix gently.

Two couples visited us at Ischia, and their visits overlapped. Tom’s brother Rich and sister-in-law Cheryl came from Montana and stayed with us on Bloom. We did what we normally do, minus the boat chores, so it felt like a real holiday. We chatted, swam off the boat, bathed in the hot springs on the beach nearby, explored the coast in Ultra Violet, played Scrabble and chess – chess is a Bloom brothers constant competition – cooked, ate, drank a little wine and generally lazed about. It was great to have them here; they are easy and helpful guests and good company. Our other visitors were Bob and Cathy Hanson from Minneapolis who were in Italy on a delayed honeymoon. As part of their trip they stayed for a weekend in a small hotel right in the castle. (This castle is partly in ruins and partly privately owned. In addition to the hotel, there are a few apartments, a restaurant, a chapel, a weapons museum and torture room and walks and gardens. Happily, there are no indications of any of these from the outside, and the castle and fort look as they must have looked long ago.) We were happy that Bob and Cathy included us in their honeymoon, and the six of us shared meals and conversation, including political discussion with a full range of views represented.

We have done many boat chores while we’ve been here, some planned and some unexpected. We knew, for example, that one battery was low. When we tested the batteries, we discovered that four of our five ship’s batteries were very low; only the engine battery, on a separate circuit, was strong. We found and bought new ones (a weeklong process in Italian) and installed them – in a space that turned out to be a hair too small for the only batteries it made sense to buy. We thought the impeller might need replacing; that is the device that pumps seawater into the engine to cool it. We discovered that, in addition to the worn impeller, the hose linking the impeller to the seacock was badly chafed and also needed replacing. We couldn’t locate the hose that Tom preferred, eventually substituting another. So far so good. A few days ago the freshwater foot pump in the kitchen unexpectedly sprung a leak, the pressure water pump stopped working at the same time (so we can’t get hot water from our heater), and the outflow hose from the head was siphoning seawater into the toilet. These unexpected breakdowns and repairs have delayed our departure, and we are now pressed for time to get to Greece. Our friends Gordon and Barb will join us there so we have a deadline.

We had been thinking that we had stayed at Ischia too long, even before the delays. Now we find that we are enjoying experiences that would not have happened if we hadn’t stayed on. Franco, our kayaking friend, invited us to dinner at his small house near the beach; we ate on his terrace – homemade pesto over perfectly cooked pasta. Clara and her husband Franco, the greengrocers, also invited us to their home, a villa that Franco built overlooking the castle and the sea. Clara made our supper almost exclusively from her garden and sent leftovers home with us. Angelo, the taxi driver, helped us fix our outboard motor when he saw that we were stalled in Ultra Violet with a full load of water and groceries on board. (We use the motor for longer distances and big loads. We row when we can.) We had coffee with Angelo later and heard about his dreams of owning a larger boat. Our conversation took place in German and Italian; Angelo has a little German, Tom has more than a little, and I have my Italian pocket dictionary with me at all times. A man who lives near the village fountain where we fill our jerry cans began inviting us with gestures to use his hose instead. It’s much faster and there are no interruptions from people who want to wash their vegetables or their feet, get a drink, fill a small pail. The water taxi dispatcher, Giovanni, now regularly pushes Ultra Violet off the ramp for us. Mostly cruisers meet other cruisers; we are happy to have a few Ischian friends.

So at last we’re preparing to leave. Tomorrow we’ll top off our water and diesel fuel supplies, buy a few more groceries, check into the internet café one more time and go through our list to get ready for an early morning departure the next day. Although we won’t be able to stop along the way as we had planned, we will sail past Stromboli, the Aeolian island where the volcano is always erupting, and spend a night or two at anchor at the island of Vulcano. We’ll go through the Strait of Messina, where the Sirens called to Ulysses, and stop once as we cross the boot. Then we’ll make the passage – our longest yet - to Kefalonia, in the Ionian Sea, our first stop in Greece.

Copyright © Thomas and Abby Bloom, 2003