Category: Ports of Call (Page 16 of 39)

I had mixed emotions about coming to Taormina, thanks to the HBO hit “White Lotus 2”. The background of the series made me drool at the beauty of the location, but I dreaded the number of Americans that would overrun the place. Little did I have to worry…

The anchorage is huge. We wove our way through the mini-mega-yachts (my new term for boats 80-150 feet in length) and easily found a place to drop the anchor. Trip dove immediately and confirmed we were set in all sand. We sat and admired the town nestled in the cliffs above us. Then we got hungry and decided to go ashore for dinner.

Bringing the dinghy ashore is the hardest part of this anchorage (and everywhere in Italy, it seems). We found the back corner of a concrete wall loaded to the gills with tour and fishing boats where one of the locals said we could tie off. We were actually in Naxos at this point, the next town over. Everything here was at the water’s edge, so we decided to walk along town. We did a lot of people watching over a beer at a local cafe, and then dinner at another local restaurant that included a huge jug of wine and involtini (rolls) of local swordfish.

My goal was to see the Greek theatre and the guides recommended getting there early to avoid the crowds, so the next morning we got up early and took the bus through some hair-raising switchback turns up into Taormina. We opted to pay for a guided tour of the theatre which turned out great due to the guide we got. He had a healthy sense of humor and did a wonderful job explaining the history of the Greeks, Romans, and Moors in this area.

Naxos (where we had dinner the previous night), was the oldest Greek colony in Sicily, dating back to 734 BC, but was destroyed when they picked the losing side (the Athenians) in trying to take over Siracusa just 50 miles south. The locals fled to Mount Taurus and founded Taormina in 403 BC (the village of Castelmola was set even higher in one of the six hills that provided land-based protection from invaders).

The theatre was built sometime in the third century, BC. Even today, it is considered one of the most beautiful Greek theatres in the world, combining man’s work with nature (the views are breathtaking). The Romans later adapted the theatre to their own purposes, added three stories of marble columns. Centuries passed, everything fell to disrepair, marble was taken and moved elsewhere in Taormina, but the theatre remained. Today, preservationists have chosen not to try and rebuild, but to preserve it as is. The theatre is still used for performances, which I would have loved to have seen, but we didn’t have a chance.

Having gotten up early, we had skipped breakfast, and were lucky enough to find a fully stocked cafe at the theatre. Sitting with breathtaking views overlooking the water, we sat and enjoyed lemon granita (a Sicilian slush of sorts), coffee and arancini for breakfast.

Taormina is a cute town, but very touristy and catering to the wealthy. It always has been. Throughout history the town has drawn crowds with money that like to live the good life. It became part of the Grand Tour for wealthy Europeans in the 19th century, and later saw such famous Americans as Truman Capote, Ernest Hemingway, Tennessee Williams, Ava Gardner, Cary Grant, and of course Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. The White Lotus is simply the latest version of wealth and fame making its way to the city. The hotel where the series was filmed, formerly a convent, is now owned by the Four Seasons and rooms currently start at $3,750 a night! (We tried visiting for a drink, but the entire place is closed off to the public except the courtyard where Jennifer Coolidge perched so awkwardly on that Vespa.)

From Taormina we took another bus further up to Castelmola, a small charming village perched even higher in the hills. We visited the castle on top of the hill, and wandered the streets.

We stopped at Cafe Turrisi for a drink, ogled all the naked statues and paintings, and learned that the founder of the restaurant and cafe was instrumental in making Castelmola and Taormina a safe and welcoming place for the gay community when homophobia was still rampant in the world.

We had lunch sampling local tuna and different grilled meets at a small restaurant overlooking Mount Etna. Then it was time to make our way back down.

We picked Scilla as an anchorage before passing through the Straits of Messina, which need to be timed because of current. It was a rolly night, but the city view was beautiful and I wish we had had time to go ashore.

The next morning we were lucky enough to see one of the swordfishing boats heading out. The high lookout on these boats is necessary as swordfish are normally spotted sleeping on the surface of the water!

I don’t know why people fear the Straits of Messina. It’s a busy passage with lots of ferries to and from the mainland, cargo ships and mega yachts taking the short cut to Greece, but it’s wide and easy to navigate. It’s nothing compare to New York harbor or the Cape Cod Canal!

Another day, another motor sail. At least we were able to anchor just behind the expensive mooring balls (€100/night!) close to the beach. There were no dinghy docks around (sigh, Italy), so we hauled the dinghy up the rocky black sand beach. We wandered through town – a very, very, chill laid back place.

And then it was time to climb Stromboli. The path was much easier than Vulcano – the trail was solid, there was a nice breeze, and there was lots of vegetation to provide shade.

Whereas climbing Vulcano was like hiking a lunar moonscape, Stromboli had all sorts of interesting flora and fauna.

And the requisite seismological equipment. The town square had a daily briefing which listed the conditions as “moderate”, so we knew it was safe to hike and we hoped we would be treated to some (not too much!) volcanic activity.

About half way up, we heard a big ‘poof’ (a louder version of a whale surfacing next to you on the boat) – it was the volcano releasing gases!

And then we were there. You can only get to 400 meters from the rim of the volcano, but we were still treated to a show. First came the hot rock slides, dropping all the way down the side of the island into the sea, kicking up ash clouds everywhere and crashing into the sea with a boiling splash. And then came the eruptions.

Our poor little phones can’t get the quality of photos and videos that we wanted to capture, so we gave up after a while and just enjoyed the periodic explosions of lava jetting into the air and flowing down the side. What an experience – the day before my birthday, no less! That’s two years in a row now that I’ve been able to celebrate in an extinct volcano (last year in Sao Miguel) or on an active one!

Lipari was only a few miles from Vulcano, but we decided to use it as a rest day between Vulcano and Stromboli. The anchorage was busy, but we knew it would clear out at the end of the day when all the little boats go home.

Unfortunately just then, 10 boats from the same charter company came flying into the anchorage. Luckily they all headed to one end, and actually kept to themselves and were quiet for the night, so we were able to relax and enjoy the evening. I am certain that this quiet was also appreciated by Atila- a hermit who built a ramshackle house on the beach and has lived there for over twenty years.

All the wind of the previous week had died down, leaving us to motor sail from Cefalu to the Aeolian Islands. With limited time remaining in Italy (Schengen), we decided to skip the western-most islands in this chain and head straight for Vulcano. The island is an active volcano, and you could see the fumeroles smoking around the crater at dusk from the boat in the anchorage.

The town of Vulcano is tiny and filled with sulfuric mud baths (closed for the season), a few stunningly beautiful black sand beaches, and a bunch of small shops and restaurants. But the highlight is the climb to the top of the crater. As we wandered past one of the many pizzerias, Trip waved and said “hi” to the head pizza maker, already furiously churning out pizza in front of a smoking, blasting, hot pizza oven. The man waved Trip over and handed him a loaf of pane cunzato, the Sicilian loafs used to make sandwiches. It was quite tasty and fortified us as we walked. That same pizzeria would later sell us the beautiful commemorative Messina beer glasses that I couldn’t resist.

But back to the volcano. It’s unpatrolled and done at one’s own risk. Because there is no shade and the sun is blistering in the summer, the trail is closed from 10:30 AM to 4:00 PM every day, and stoplights (with cameras) are at the trailhead to remind those of the rules.

The hike is nothing more than a series of switchbacks. It’s not particularly easy at the beginning, as you’re climbing through ash and sand and gravel. It’s one step up with a partial slide back. There’s seismological equipment stationed all around to measure the activity of the volcano as well.

We had brought a fair amount of water, but were shocked to see the numbers of people hiking with no water at all. I also had to laugh at the stereotypes in the hiking crowd: the Italian women hiking in dresses, the French women hiking in fashionable big floppy sun hats, the Germans with children too young to remember such a strenuous hike.

Of course the views at the top were absolutely stunning and completely worth it.

The one bad thing about where we had anchored was that it was in a lot of boulders (Trip says I exaggerate and that they were large rocks at most). We decided to re-anchor when other boats left to make for a more comfortable night’s rest (chain sliding along rocks creates a grinding noise) and to make it easier to leave in the morning, Trip dove to clear as much chain as he could before we upped anchor. A big motor boat came by, thinking we were definitely stuck, and had their lines out with offers to help free us – so kind! I reassured them that we were not stuck and they waved and moved on. I was crushed to have to also wave on the local fishermen selling their catch straight from the boat, but we had no time to stop. Luckily it was a straightforward thing to up anchor and reset.

I did one of these for Morocco, Sicily is turning out to be equally loaded with photogenic felines…..

Will this never end? Another day of winds much higher than forecasted, again in the 20’s, gusting into the 30’s. Now the seas were up to 6-8 feet, though they were at least more stable, if big (and breaking periodically). We scratched the plan of going to Palermo after reading about the fires, the haze, the water problems and power outages. Palermo is a big dirty city and this did not seem to be the way to experience it. Instead we headed for Cefalu.

Cefalu is a gorgeous little seaside town. The only downside is that the swell AGAIN wrapped around and made it’s way into the anchorage. Getting the dinghy down and the motor on involved a lot of cursing.

But town is absolutely stunning, especially in the late afternoon early evening sun. We stretched our legs and wandered through the cobblestone streets. We watched the surf crash on the breakwater and realized we had a lot of protection despite the swell (such is life on a boat).

We managed to get the last table at the restaurant La Brace where I was horrified to hear that they didn’t have their famous rabbit and chestnuts (provisioners supply chains disrupted by the fires). But we each had a steak that qualified as some of the best we’ve tasted this year. We finished up with a walk through the square where we watched an amazing and funny street performer juggler who was entertaining everyone as well as families with children, and then we closed up the evening with a cannoli and espresso.

We decided to stay another day as swell died down in the harbor and the anchorage got more comfortable. We got our SIM card topped off (it’s still hard to believe €25 gets you unlimited data for an entire month). Trip really wanted a granita in the heat, so we headed back to the main piazza. We toured the Cathedral of Cefalu, a UNESCO world heritage site featured as one of the only churches that encompassed Arab, Norman, and Roman building techniques. The stained glass windows, the most unusual I’ve ever seen in a Catholic Church (and controversial given the abstract nature) are beautiful.

And what would a church in Italy be in summer without a wedding? While we sat in the piazza eating granita, we watched yet another wedding party emerge from the church in all their finery.

The next morning everything was still burning and we needed to leave. The winds were forecast to be 15 knots from the west. Fabulous. Turns out they were in the 20’s, gusting into the 30’s, with 3 foot choppy seas (southerlies shifting to northwesterlies suddenly). At least it was a downwind run. We poled out a third of the jib and were easily making 6-8 knots.

We stopped in Cala di Mondello for the night along with several other boats, it was still blowing hard, so none of us were heading ashore, but at least we were protected from the swell. At least till morning that is. Swell managed to make its way around the point and it was time to go again….we watched the local firefighting planes circle and drop down into our bay to collect water as we were leaving. The smoke was still thick in the air.

Winds were starting to shift and gain in strength so we decided to start making our way north and east. It was a sporty but good sail to San Vito Lo Capo, and the beach under Monte Monaco was absolutely breathtaking. We headed ashore to do laundry and have a drink and some snacks. (We also did our good deed of the day and rescued a randomly floating dinghy in the harbor.)

But that night all hell broke loose. The heat was unbearable (somewhere in the 100’s) and the wind made it feel like sitting in front of a furnace blasting on high. I decided to sleep in the cockpit. I woke up after a few hours of restless sleep to see the mountain haloed in a red glow. Very strange, I thought. I watched. Suddenly, before my eyes, parts of the mountain caught fire and started to burn. I could not believe what I was seeing. It made sense, the heat and winds combined with the lack of rain made this place a tinder box. I waited half an hour before waking Trip up.

‘Um honey, I think the mountain is on fire.’

‘What???’ (Groggy)

‘Never mind, go back to sleep.’

‘No this I have to see.’

The fire raged all night and into the morning. We took turns sleeping and sitting up in the cockpit, monitoring the burning. The winds were blowing away from us, so our risk was low. But it was howling, gusting into the 30’s. I watched a floating pool toy blow by us. I watched a sail come unfurled and barely get rescued. I watched multiple boats drag anchor. It was an unnerving night. We later learned that 40 people had to be evacuated, including a group that had been in the mountains when the fire started and made it to the beach where the Coast Guard picked them up. Sadly, the whole area was left to burn. There are forest fires everywhere in Sicily right now and most of the firefighting resources (so limited and stretched thin) were busy in the Palermo area.

To escape the heat, we took a cable car up into the mountains to the small town of Erice. The entire town looks like it was carved out of stone.

Sicily suffers from terribly hot dry summers (we haven’t experienced rain in weeks and this is normal), but the town here has taken a cue from the Moors. Alleyways were narrow and homes had small windows to limit sun (and therefore heat). But what struck us most was how similar the streets were to riads in Morocco – you would peer through a non-descript doorway and suddenly see a whole beautiful courtyard, possible for more than one family.

It was wonderful walking through the little streets and peering into the small churches. But the highlight was going to the Maria Dommetico Pasterrichia. Maria grew up in Erice and was sent to live in the local convent with her younger sister when their father died and their mother had no means of supporting the family. Often abandoned financially by the church, nuns turned to pastry making as a means to support themselves. Maria not only learned all the pastries, she was savvy enough to open her own storefront which is the most famous in northwest Sicily. Even today she still sits behind the counter collecting money from customers flocking to the store. Coincidentally, I had been reading a book (recommended by my aunt) about an American who moved to Sicily and stayed; it turns out she knew of Maria and collaborated on a book telling Maria’s life called Bitter Almonds, which I had just begun to read!

Topped off with pastries, and having met Maria in person, we headed off to lunch and a drink. Trip got to try his first arancini (rice ball stuffed with Raghu and fried), one of my favorite street foods. But dinner was the absolute best. We had homemade buchiate (a twisted pasta like rotini) with the local trapani pesto, smothered in strachiatella cheese and dusted with ground and toasted pistachios. Divine!