Weatherly Sailing Adventures
The narrow channel between Tunisia and Sicily has a reputation for strong winds funneling in either direction between the western and eastern basins of the Mediterranean. When a good weather forecast came along for the region, we set off and ended up motoring for 28hours right across the channel on flat seas and little wind.
Nearing Favignana Island, off the west coast of Sicily, I was very keen to sail on what little breeze there was. So sails were hoisted and we ghosted along, frustratingly slowly, against a slight current. A hydrofoil thundered past, showing off vast power and Italian flair, seeming to mock my flaccid sails as the wake behind it shook Weatherly violently. After 3 hours of sailing less than 2 knots, I started the engine again and motored into Trapani.
When Italy won the America's cup, they held the next races off Trapani, and there were a dozen or so large mooring buoys left over for free public use, inside the harbour. A sailing school passed our mooring with about a dozen kids dangling their legs over the gunwales in the water, which wouldn't help the slow progress it was making, but sounded like they were all having fun. Trapani is a pleasant port town with warehouses in the fortified sea wall, some stately old buildings, and a nice shady park where we had lunch on hot days.
We took a cable car up the mountain behind Trapani to the historic walled town of Erice. It was cooler at the higher altitude, but hot walking up the steep hills on cobbled roads, in the midday sun, so we stopped off for a cold drink. I was shocked the bill came to 10euros ($16), my total daily food budget, for just 2 iced coffees. It was a lesson learnt to check prices first, especially in tourist villages.
Well, there was a great view from the top of Erice, looking east along the coast we were to follow, and out over Trapani to the islands we had passed.
After checking around for a place to leave Weatherly, it was clear that the marinas were too expensive or had no room. So we continued sailing along the north coast, anchoring at St Vito Cape, and on to a little port of Castellamare. I took a basic marina berth and we flew to Turin. Many dramas ensued between Cristi and her parents, and between Cristi and me. The relationship became more unstable and fractious, it was just a matter of time before we would separate.
I did enjoy looking around Turin, a clean town with a modern transport system, graceful buildings and boulevards, a palace, forts, museums, chocolate shops, restaurants, a backdrop of snowcapped alps and a fast running river flowing past the town.
Back in Sicily, we continued sailing eastwards and picked up a mooring buoy at Isola della Femmine marine reserve. The island was a few hundred metres from the beach where we moored, and was full of birds. We waited hours to catch a local bus to visit Palermo on a very hot day, and had a look at some fountains and buildings. We returned to Palermo with the boat, a few days later for an overnight stop in the port, mainly to fill up with water, and take a brief second look at the city. There was much more I wanted to see, but I needed to find a job quickly, so spent most of my time in internet cafes putting my resume out to agents and asking friends in Sydney for any work going on.
Further along the coast at Porticello, I anchored and after returning from a short walk, discovered my dinghy was gone. Around the corner, I spotted it, swamped with water and with 2 kids in it, the oars washing against the rocks. I couldn't speak Italian and it seemed noone was in charge of the kids. So I just glared and yelled a few angry words in English. The dinghy had ruptured in several places and it would take many hours for me to fibreglass up the holes. I should get a padlock and chain too.
The north Sicilian coast was dominated by rocky bluffs and fine, sandy beaches with clear water. We had mainly light winds along the coast, hot days, and often a hazy sky, though I only show the photos on clearer days here.
We reached a pretty town of Cefalu with a cathedral, fortifications and a large rock overlooking the town. There was a wedding party going on at a restaurant just next to the place I anchored. They even had fireworks, which lit up the town and beaches.
Leaving Sicily we sailed for the group of volcanic islands of Alicudi, Filicudi, Salina, Lipari, Volcano, Panarea and Stromboli.
Arriving at Volcano around midnight, I motored around several anchorages, one too deep, one too crowded and the last rocky and shallow, but suitable while the wind stayed in the same direction. I use the anchor alarm on my GPS to detect when the boat moves outside a specified radius circle. The GPS didn't go off, but next morning I could see rocky patches all around us so moved position in the same bay. There were chubby, pale-skinned tourists paying money to enter a fenced off section of the beach, caking themselves with yellow volcanic mud, reputedly to lose weight. It looked funny to me, and thought reducing their food intake would probably work better, or perhaps sailing on Weatherly for a few weeks.
We then set off to climb up the steep volcano. It is still active and had erupted the year before, but the rangers at the entrance assured us it was stable now. It was a tough climb up, but well worth the effort for the great views over neighbouring islands and the volcano crater which was smoking dramatically, see pics.
We sailed across to neighbouring Lipari island for a few days, because the anchoring situation was better there. This turned out to be a week's stay due to a supposed collision involving Weatherly. One day we visited the unimpressive fortress museum, and on walking back from the hilltop position, I couldn't see Weatherly at her anchoring position. I began running back and noticed it was moved to a mooring buoy off a private marina. I asked the manager why it was there and he told me it had dragged towards rocks, hit another boat and he wanted to claim salvage money of a third of the value of the boat, or 30,000 euros. I scoffed at that, as I was near broke, and argued that it was impossible, because I had set my heavy Admiralty anchor and tested it was holding soundly before going ashore. He claimed a strong and sudden wind sprung up (in the 2 hours we were inside the museum) and it dragged into another boat.
Well it was late in the afternoon, with only a slight breeze, but I demanded to see the damaged boat, and talk to the coast guard. He showed me a small speed boat with vertical scratches right along one side of the speed boat, and we looked for incriminating marks on Weatherly.
There was one small white paint mark on the windvane at the stern of Weatherly, but nothing which could have caused the marks at the height on the other boat. I took a lot of photos and spoke with the owner. He was hoping to get new stickers to cover all the scratches and not worry about fixing the mark on the deck which could possibly have been caused by Weatherly.
I snorkelled around the vicinity of the boats, surveying the seabed for any drag marks which my anchor would have made, but saw none. Another yacht nearby said he did not see Weatherly drag near the other boat either. Well, I lodged the insurance form with my insurer, accompanied by photos showing ruler measurements on both boats.
The insurer said not to worry, it was in their hands now. I never found out if the marina owner and other boat owner were fraudulent, but I came out relatively painlessly, by negotiating with the marina manager an agreed 20euros for his efforts to move Weatherly, and the insurance covered any other damages to the boat owner.
I caught a tuna fish at dusk off Panarea just before anchoring. The next day, after some more arguments, Cristi wanted to be taken to the closest port, Milazzo and go her own way. By peculiar chance and timing, I received a phone call from my friend in Sydney that there was work at Qantas and could I start as soon as possible. Breaking this news to Cristi, she changed her mind and wanted to stay with me again. We dived into the water naked to celebrate, in the middle of the sea, miles from land. There was no wind, but I pulled the sails down and locked the rudder in case of any change. It was a bazaar day.
In Agropoli, I tried to get documentation from Italian authorities for Qantas. Their stringent policy is to obtain evidence new staff have not had any criminal record from any country visited in the last year. Well, I had been to 9 different countries (none of which I engaged in criminal activities) but tried at least to get something in writing from Italy. So I ventured to the nearest police tribunal, several hours away by bus to the regional centre in the mountains. After locating the person responsible, I was told they did not keep records on people who were not permanent residents of Italy, so had to return empty handed. I seem to have wasted a lot of my time on unfruitful missions, looking for spare parts, or documents or jobs. Ultimately, solutions usually arrived after traversing the unproductive time period. Guess I'm learning to have patience. My manager friend said not to worry, come anyway and the paperwork would be sorted out. I trusted this would happen, so made arrangements to come over without a signed contract. It still felt a risk to me, but it was the best option I had.
I tried to find a marina that could haul Weatherly out of the water and accommodate her for half a year at a reasonable cost. They were all full or extremely expensive so we kept sailing north, hoping also my contract might be signed up in the meantime.
A personally significant port was reached, Amalphi, where I had visited with my family as a kid. It was exciting to me, because I had written on the back of a postcard in 1990 when backpacking around Europe that my dream was to sail there one day on a yacht. Well here I was, 17 years later, that dream finally realised. Wow! The Amalphi coast is spectacular. Sheer cliffs plunging to the sea and small villages, with charming old buildings and artists painting the scenes from winding pedestrian lanes. Unfortunately, in the height of summer, the towns are congested with masses of tourists, and the tiny, fenced off beaches packed with paying customers side by side on deck chairs and rented umbrellas. Positano was much the same, but pretty at night from the yacht, with all the lights from buildings right down the steep hillside.
We sailed to Capri and went out for a few drinks in the town, high up on top of the mountain on the island. It was glitsy with fabulously wealthy and glamorous people, and all the major Italian fashion shops were represented along the main promenade. Sailing around the island, we saw a small cavern, called the Blue Grotto. To one side were more masses of tourists waiting on a staircase to sit in coloured rowing boats. Lying backwards they enter the low cave and get to see the beautiful blue water lit by sun under the cave. For me, it was just too overcrowded to do it by dinghy or wait in a queue.
Finally entered the river Tevere, leading up to Rome and docked at the small marina in Fiumicino. There was an opera going on right by the dockside, an impressive event to be next to, but I was quite exhausted from pushing the boat hard over the past week to arrive here, so fell asleep to the songs from Madam Butterfly.
Spent a week trying to locate any slipway able to haul Weatherly. She weighs 17tonnes, and it turned out there were only 2 yards who could do it, both more costly than I had expected. Settled on one finally, and spent long and tiring hours sprucing up and preparing Weatherly for sale, to build a more stable future on land.
Well, there were more behavioural problems anyway, and I had to break off the relationship with Cristi. When I flew back to Australia, I was in an agitated and disturbed state of mind, as well as broke and exhausted. But I felt lucky to have a job to go to, to resume my career and put some money back in my depleted bank account.
