Category: Ports of Call (Page 18 of 39)

The trick to anchorages and moorings is to plan your arrival for late morning, as everyone is vacating for the next cove. We lucked out on Caprera Island and got a mooring (I have mastered laying down on deck, hanging out of the lifelines, to get a line through the ring as no pennants are provided).

The harbor is home to a sailing school, and we would watch 50 dinghies go out every morning and afternoon to practice. Boats further out in the anchorage found themselves as marks sometimes, with dinghies tacking to get around them.

We took the dinghy ashore and stretched our legs with a walk to a local restaurant for lunch in the woods. Along the way we foraged for wild figs and black raspberries, and saw lots of evidence of wild boars (they are incredibly destructive and dig up everything in their way).

That evening, we had new neighbors Tim and Sharon aboard for drinks (they were kind enough to bring Pimms cups in honor of Wimbledon). A British couple, they knew New Jersey well, as they lived in Morristown for a couple of years. It’s always funny how small this world really is!

We wanted a change of scenery and still needed protection from the strong westerlies, so we headed up to the northern side of La Maddelena Island. What we didn’t anticipate about the anchorage was that it was a low lying side of the island with almost no land to protect us from wind. However, there was no swell whatsoever, and we were the only ones in that part of the anchorage. We watched local kids out in dinghies (dinghies can do incredible speed in 20 knots!) and enjoyed a beautiful sunset all to ourselves.

The posts for this part now start with a sunset and end with day shots, since the pattern in the Maddalena Islands is to arrive and anchor at the end of the day after the day tour boats have left (and you have the anchorage to yourself). Have a wonderful night of a cove to yourself, get up, and over breakfast, around 9:30, the onslaught of another day’s worth of daytrippers arrive.

We left Asinara Island with 50 miles to do to get to the Maddalenas – the other marine sanctuary in Sardinia. We were waiting for the winds to calm (toward the Maddalenas they were still blowing in the 30’s) and the seas to calm down (we already had two choppy sails and we didn’t need another).

The wind now was almost too light, so we motored for a bit here and there, but the seas were calm and it was a nice sail. It got a bit sporty as expected when we got to the islands (the wind & seas build as they get squeezed between Sardinia to the south and Corsica to the north) and it was blowing mid-20’s, but we were prepared. The anchorage I had picked was empty (a boat seemed to be chasing people out), and we quickly realized that it was unsuitable with the winds and swell. Luckily I had a backup picked just a mile around the corner. We dropped anchor among four other boats and relaxed.

Asinara (land of the donkey), is a large but remote island off the northwestern tip of Sardinia with a fascinating history. Humans have been there since Neolithic times, but the scarcity of fresh water has kept the populations to a minimum over time. It didn’t become Italian state property till the end of the 19th century, when the locals who lived there were shipped off to found the village of Stintino on the mainland to make room for a penal colony on the island. Ironically the penal colony had its own herd of cows, a cheese factory, a vineyard, and even a pasta factory (priorities – it is Italy). Then it was a quarantine site, and was a POW camp during WW1.

A maximum security prison was built in the 1970’s to house terrorists and members of the mafia, and the island became known as Italian Alcatraz. Then it all came to an end in 1997 when the island and neighboring waters were turned into a nature preserve. Almost no building has been done since and the remnants of all the past buildings have been left to decay. There are more donkeys (including the famous albino ones) than anything else there these days.

We were lucky enough to get a mooring at the island, and were ‘stuck’ there for four days as the mistral winds howled in from France. We had a chance to explore Cala Oliva where you can visit the remnants of the old prison. It is now called a museum of memory, and does a very thoughtful job of considering the concept of prison in such a beautiful remote place. It does not try to hide the history, but rather invite reflection.

There was one restaurant open and we treated ourselves to our newly favorite Sardinia pasta, culurgiones (pasta meets pierogi stuffed with potato and mint).

We had originally taken a mooring in Cala Reale, only to return from exploring that it was suggested that we move our boat to one of the smaller mooring fields up island for better protection. We didn’t need urging (I thought those mooring fields (only 8 moorings each) wouldn’t have had room, and we high-tailed it to Cala Bianca where we found one other boat. There were some tourist boats the next few days that braved the winds to come for a swim, but otherwise it was just a few of us hanging out swimming and relaxing till we could move on.

It had been a tiring passage, and we knew officials for the boat and passport wouldn’t be open till Monday, so we stayed in the anchorage north of the town. Saturday we had it all to ourselves, but the winds shifted on Sunday and we were inundated by day trippers on boats. After all that isolation, it was fun to have company again, which included Tim and Lisa, a Canadian couple on holiday who came by in a rented power boat. They invited us ashore to their hotel for drinks, but the dinghy outboard died, so we postponed those plans.

Monday we moved to the town anchorage. It was a 20 minute row into town (outboard still dead), but luckily Trip rows well and the dinghy is designed for it.

Sardinia is absolutely beautiful, but the bureaucracy is insane. Our trip to the Guardian Costiera was a comedy of errors. We talked to five people, whose job it is to clear in boaters like us, but seemed to not know what was going on. I had to ask three times for the ‘constituto’ (boat papers issued by local harbors when traveling in Italy) before it occurred to them to process the paperwork. They told us where the immigration offices were, but insisted they were not allowed to call to check the hours. Of course, we arrived an hour after those offices closed and they are only open 9-12 Mon/Wed/Fri, and we got there at 1pm Monday!

We were hungry and thirsty at this point, so we picked the first decently priced restaurant we could find, and what a pleasant surprise. Trip had a burrata cured ham tomato pizza, and I discovered culurgionis; a local Sardinian pasta where ravioli meets pierogi with a mashed potato and mint filling.

We ran errands for the rest of the afternoon, and then met up with Tim and Lisa for dinner. Sardinians are fiercely proud of their food and wine, and deservedly so. We sampled everything from local Prosecco, smoked fish, beer, wine (canannou grape), veggies, pasta, dessert, and mirto (a digestif). All of it scrumptious, even my overcooked steak in a blue cheese sauce.

Trip spent all day Tuesday fixing the outboard, but it works again! We went into town to drop off a propane tank for refill, get some groceries, and have a tapas dinner at a little corner restaurant. Wednesday was a lesson in frustration. The Coast Guard cleared us out easy enough, but it took a lot of convincing for Trip to get the Immigration officer to stamp our passports, as they insisted we didn’t need to because we were still in the Schengen zone (we want clear stamps indicating entry and exit – we’re counting our allowed days carefully!). Then we found out the propane tank couldn’t be filled, so it was lugging the empty back to the boat. Now it was afternoon, and we had a 38 nautical mile run north. The winds weren’t as cooperative as we would have liked, but we had a great sail tacking back and forth before we settled into a slog of a motorsail north. The passage into our anchorage was not the best to do at night, but the electronic charts brought us in smoothly and safely and we dropped anchor that night.

It’s 200 miles from Menorca to Sardinia. A two day sail for us. We studied the weather apps and made a plan. Days of winds from the south were now shifting as a mistral (famous brisk north wind from France) was developing. We wanted to take advantage of the wind as it developed, without getting caught in the big stuff.

We were doing 6+ knots easily the first day, with a double reefed main and half a jib. We had set the wind vane, so the boat was essentially steering itself, and using no electricity. The first 24 hours were some of the best sailing all season.

The night sky was absolutely spectacular. I had been resting in the cockpit, lying on my back, and opened my eyes to take it all in. All of a sudden I was distracted by what looked like a chain of 20 lights moving across the night sky. Luckily I got Trip’s attention and he saw it too (he’s always teasing me of seeing cool things and not telling him). Other than a really slow UFO, we had no idea. I later googled it and found out that it’s one of many StarLink satellite chains.

Then the seas grew. Two meters (6 feet) is generally not that big of a deal, but they were only 5 seconds apart. You generally want twice the interval in time to the height – we had a one-to-one. The boat plowed through the swell easily enough, but the wind vane had a hard time because the sails were not balanced and it was a bit bouncy to be going forward unless absolutely necessary. Trip decided to hand steer and muscled his way through several hours. We were finally getting closer, and could change course and set the auto pilot (wind vane bungee had snapped, and the repair would have to be done in calmer conditions).

The next challenge : Finding a place to anchor in the dark. Italy is like Spain in that they have huge colonies of the sea grass posodonia which needs to be protected, which means you can only anchor in sand. Easy enough to do at noon with full sun, not so easy at 1 AM. We had done so well with speed that we were now arriving in the middle of the night instead of early morning. As soon as we had cell phone coverage (whew, the Spanish SIM card was still good in Italy), we started studying the anchorage apps for options, and then comparing them to google maps, whose aerial shots do an amazing job of showing sand. We picked a no-brainer anchorage, motored to about 20 feet of depth, confirmed with google maps that we were in sand, and dropped the hook. I use a headlamp when anchoring at night, and very quickly realized that with the night sky (sliver of a moon but very bright) and the crystal clear waters, that, even at that hour, I could see the anchor and chain! Every inch of the boat was covered in salt, several blankets and shirts were soaked from the sporty sail, but we were in Italy!

With a few days of winds from the south, we weren’t going to be able to sail to Mahon (also known as Mao by the Catalans who make up a big presence on the island). We opted to take the bus instead.

We had intended on clearing out of Mahon (Spain) before going to Sardinia (Italy). Technically you don’t need to, as we would be moving from one Schengen EU country to another. However, by clearing out, we buy a few more days on our Schengen clock (90 total in any 180 day period). As usual, we went to the wrong office first, but were quickly pointed in the right direction, and after a little bit of waiting got our passports stamped and boat papers signed.

I wish I had had more energy to walk around town as it was a very charming place. But it was sooooooo hot and humid and I was melting. We had time for lunch in the shade, a bit of a wander, and then coffee and ice cream before catching the bus back to Fornells.

The run to Fornells was a slog with the wind, but at least it was short. We had a mooring reserved (holding is supposedly poor and strong winds were coming), and there was a single, poor, but very friendly marinero in a powerful RIB rushing around the harbor helping boats onto moorings as they arrived. We were put on a mooring across the harbor from town, which made for a bit of a wet ride back, but provided a lot of privacy.

Fornells harbor screams ‘Block Island of the Med’ to me. A tear-dropped shaped harbor with a single entrance to the north, with crappy holding and one little town. Fornells is a little more upscale though. This is where people do the casual but expensive dress up and splurge on lobster that costs $76 per person (minimum 2 person order). I refuse to pay that much for lobster, but the $18 local shrimp were worth every penny, along with the duck confit cannelloni and confit cod (even the tapas are upscale in this town).

The British built Fort Fornells (known as the Tower) at the beginning of the 19th century, only to hand it back to the Spanish a year later. The fort is on a small hill at the entrance to the harbor and is a short, though hot, hike for a great view of the village and harbor. The fort itself is quite unique in that it is round and has sloping walls – the better for full-round access as well as exceptional defenses.

The remains of a castle are also still there at the water’s edge, and have been carefully preserved and incorporated into a public walkway. That, combined with a roped off ‘natural pool’, maintains public access to the water in this ritzy little town.

My only complaint about Fornells was not the fault of the town itself. All the wind from the south brought a fine red dust from Africa. It covered every inch of the boat, and combined with the heat/humidity made breathing difficult!

Yet another beautiful spinnaker run (glad we’ve been leaving it out on deck)! This time we were headed for a beach where we could get out and stretch our legs. I knew it would be a popular anchorage, but the cala is accessible only by boat or a 15 minute walk in from a dusty parking lot. It didn’t disappoint.

I discovered my new favorite ‘retirement boat’ (sailors usually retire to trawlers when they can’t manage the activity of sailing but want to stay on the water) in the form of a Minorca Islander. I haven’t even googled it yet because I know we can’t afford one, but they’re so pretty to look at.

After a refreshing swim, we rowed the dinghy ashore and hiked the beach, following a trail that took us back to a brackish marsh that was home to turtles. We made our way back climbing over and around some massive rock formations that split the beach in two. Back on the boat, Trip went for a second swim to cool off again and I was about to join him when I spotted my new arch-nemesis, a jellyfish. I couldn’t believe it – there must have been 50 people in the water, and I find the one jelly swimming nearby. I packed it in, and even Trip hustled back to the boat after that.

All the day trippers left as the sun went down, but there were still 20 or so sailboats at anchor. Quite unusual for Spain, there were no loud parties or music. Just a beautiful quiet night for all at anchor.

And the forecast was wrong again, but at least this time in our favor. I was incredibly frustrated to see a tiny sliver of wind that we could barely chase, followed by nothing. So we committed to motoring from Mallorca to Menorca, only to find that we managed to catch that little sliver. Up went the spinnaker and we had the most glorious sail!

The anchorage didn’t look promising based on the wind and swell (again), but we gave it a shot and were pleasantly surprised. We had this massive anchorage all to ourselves. Well us and the sheep and the jellyfish (sigh, guess no swimming).