September 29, 2015

We had a successful crossing of the Tyrrhenian Sea from Cagliari, Sardinia to Trapani, Sicily– a couple hundred miles of open ocean – one of the places where humans first practiced navigating the seas. We were on a route that has been traversed by Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthaginians and Romans, headed for Trapani – a harbor mentioned in the Odyssey – on the west coast of Sicily.

The ocean looked just like it did to them, as far as I can tell. Deep, deep blue, shading to very dark blue as the sun set. Homer’s controversial remark about the “wine dark sea” seemed, finally, completely justified. It may not have been the purple of wine, but it was every bit as dark.

All the modern satellite-based weather services promised mild weather for the crossing. Mostly it was. Some great sailing. Then the huge thunderstorms started to show up, and caught my attention when one of them began to generate waterspouts in front of us. Waterspouts are just tornados at sea. So twice we hove-to to let things settle down a little before continuing on. “Heaving-to,” for the non-sailors, is a maneuver where you backwind the headsail, keep some pressure on the mainsail, and lash the tiller to the lee side. Even in stormy conditions a good boat (and ours is) will sit quietly, barely moving, just bobbing along with a gentle motion over the waves.

Distant thunderstorm

Sarah said she enjoyed the trip, “except for the part about thinking how we might die tonight.” As it turned out, we ducked all the storms, to be returned to the normal human concerns about being run over by a bus, or whatever…

While the sea, and the clouds and the eclipsed moon didn’t look different from the view offered to a slave rowing a trireme, one thing was definitely different. We didn’t see a single bird, or a fish, or a dolphin during the crossing. Really unthinkable after our experiences in the Pacific. For the time being, at least, the Pacific seems too big for people to totally exterminate sea life, but the Mediterranean has been intensively fished for a few thousand years, most recently with mechanized, computer-guided, unregulated factory boats, in addition to the charming little subsistence-fishing craft we see around us in this harbor here.

We humans are going to pay for our inability to stop the destruction at sea, and in more obvious places…

Traditional fishing

September 26, 2015

After almost three months in Spain, we are experiencing a kind of culture shock, having arrived in Cagliari, Sardinia a few nights ago. Our reasonably serviceable Spanish is no longer the key to easy conversation with locals, and we have to adjust to different wines, different rum( !), and different rhythms of life and speech. We head out to Sicily today, where we’ll spend the next four or five months, perhaps longer if it is a difficult spring, trying to learn enough Italian to feel comfortable with the exuberant, ancient, and complicated culture around us. Should be fun!

Port Mahon, Menorca was our last stop in Spain, before setting out for the 250 mile trip across the Mediterranean to Sardinia. Ellie caught a flight there, beginning her return to the US after being a great addition to the crew for two weeks. Sarah continued on with us, stoically serving her nighttime watches and fitting in perfectly with the rhythms of life on a boat.

Port Mahon, so long occupied by the British, was an interesting blend of Spanish, Catalan and more generalized European culture. For me, a very cool part of the experience was re-reading while there the first book of the Patrick O’Brian series – “Master and Commander” – which begins in Port Mahon. The first trip in the book is a sail from Port Mahon to Cagliari, and the rest of the action takes place in the waters we have been sailing since arriving in Spain. It adds some wonderful depth to a story to be familiar with the setting in which it takes place. If only it were easy to do that with all the books one loves…

Meanwhile, there has been a dramatic, to us, shift in the weather, suggesting that we are none too early getting to our winter shelter. It’s become cool at night, with, every few days, episodes of significant wind and even rain.

Our 180 mile sail to Trapani, Sicily will bring us close to the waters that have been the site of so many recent tragedies involving refugees travelling from North Africa. The refugee crisis is very much in our thoughts, and our heartfelt sympathy goes out to those driven to traverse these waters in vessels much less appropriate to the task than our sturdy little boat.

September 15, 2015

In the spirit of full disclosure, as Tricky Dick used to say, we have been having such a great time that we haven’t been thinking that much about the blog… and, full confession, there have been a couple of occasions – the captain turning 70, and the 8th wedding anniversary of the most long-term members of the crew. But there have been some other things worth recording – especially our enthusiastic and complete enjoyment of Menorca, the smaller of the two large Balearic islands.

We are anchored in Puerto Fornells (pronounced “fornays”), and old town in a very ancient settled area. Lots of nature around, good swimming from the boat, a whitewashed village a short row away, and wonderful seafood. We have not enjoyed anywhere this much since leaving the Azores.

There’s a reason, in the long and continuous history of Mediterranean wars, why Fornells and Menorca in general are such pleasant places. During the Spanish Civil War, Mallorca, the big island, enthusiastically went with the fascist uprising against the elected government. Menorca remained committed to the Republic (and social-democratic). After Franco’s victory in 1939, lots of development money went to Mallorca, and Menorca didn’t get a penny.

As a result, Mallorca is not crammed with tourists, “clubs,” and crappy restaurants catering to day trippers. Menorca is quiet, largely undeveloped, with large, open natural areas.

Still, a bloody place, historically. First the Phoenicians, then the Carthaginians, then the Visigoths, the Romans, pirates (although, weren’t they all), the French, the British, and the Spanish all seized the islands, frequently feeling it necessary to destroy everything and everyone they could get their hands on. Not a lovely view of human history.

This dinky little bay, with a permanent population of 498, has many stone fortifications piled on the hills near the entrance to the bay. So many that one of the guide pamphlets in the museum, established in a 215 year old British fort, says, “The ages of many of the derelict defensive fortifications around the entrance to the bay are unknown.”

On the plus side, I had the best grilled prawns I have ever eaten in my life yesterday, and the bay is sheltered from the currently odd weather, and fun to swim in. Sarah and Ellie are here, good boatmates, and on Thursday morning we will sail on to Port Mahon, Menorca, to connect Ellie with her flight back to the US. It will be a sad parting from an even-tempered and pleasant companion and excellent hearts player.

What with all the wars and occupations, there is an interesting relic – Puerto Mahon makes a truly excellent gin! And there are lovely little, traditional sprit-sail rigged fishing boats that are always a pleasure to see. Don’t miss it!

Sarah and Ellie on the way back from town.

A traditional spritsail rig, with the town of
Fornells in the background