Heading South; Sicily and ‘The Boot’.
After the fine in Corricella we revisited the plan to get Nick’s parents, both over 80, onboard. It was to have been Procida, but we didn’t relish another brush with Italian authorities so we reverted to Salerno. After a spicy entry in 22 knot crosswinds we spent a night as the guests of Autuori Ormeggio in a very tight berth. The team there were great. Helpful, engaging and interested; we’d happily recommend their franchise.
The older generation safely embarked, the following morning we departed in light westerlies for the 30nm trip to Ogligastro, a spit of land that provided some overnight shelter although with the light winds we could have anchored almost anywhere. The next day was another 30-miler to a beautiful bay on the east side of Capo Polinuro. Winds were very light, but the big red asymmetric did us proud and we gently sailed the entire day at between 2.5 and 5 knots. Every other sailing boat we saw had opted for the noisy engine option, so we felt smug having saved our diesel watching the shimmering sea slide serenely past. We anchored in time for sundowners, surrounded by interesting cliffs and caves.
After a lazy morning takingKylie the Kayakfor a spin, it was on to Sapri. We had intended to visit Scario too, purported to be one of the best anchorages and towns on this coastline, but winds were predicted to be SW and Scario bay is totally open to that direction. Sapri boasts a more enclosed bay, and we tucked behind the breakwater of the small harbour for the night. Amazingly we were the only yacht in the bay… surprising for a Bank Holiday, it being Republic Day celebrating the Institutional Referendum of 1946 in which the people of Italy went to the polls to decide on the future structure of their government following the fall of fascism. Republic Day is a big deal, with presidential wreath laying on the tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Rome and many parades and festivals around the nation.
The coastline hereabouts brought a welcome change.
Mountains still provide a dramatic backdrop to picturesque cliffs with multicoloured hues rather than the imposingly dark volcanic rocks further north. At casual glance the coast seems pretty devoid of shelter, but inspect closer and many little protected coves are to be found in between headlands to tuck behind, especially along the 60-mile stretch between Agropoli and San Nicola Arcella. It’s also less visited than it’s glitzier neighbours and for us that makes it far more pleasant. It’s not a coast to explore in southerly or westerly (onshore) gales, but with the benign weather we could have happily spent a few more days here.
Of Earth and Fire
Nick’s father, William, had expressed a notion he might like to see Stromboli by night. With his birthday approaching, the fiery orange gases and rocks emanating from Stromboli’s summit would make a memorably different alternative to candles on a cake. The weather promised NW winds at 15 knots overnight, so we spent a leisurely day in Sapri and weighed anchor late afternoon for an overnight passage, aiming to make the 100nm by the following morning. The winds held, and we slipped past Stromboli just before dawn. The soft orange glow of the eruptions was visible every few minutes as we sailed past, upwind of the island just in case! A good reminder that Mother Nature wields prodigious power and we are at her mercy. Incredibly, there are small settlements on the Stromboli’s coast and a couple of deepwater anchorages where sailors report their yachts being liberally covered in volcanic debris.
We sailed on into a beautiful dawn to anchor in a bay on the south east of the next island, Panarea, for a night, then on to the tiny island of Salina for a second night. There was definitely an island vibe going on here, and the tiny, open anchorage off the small hamlet of Lingua provided just enough shelter for us to get ashore for a stroll and dinner – excellent fresh fish at Il Delfino. The Aeolian islands are geologically fascinating, but not an easy place to spend an extended duration in a yacht. The anchorages are deep and predominantly rocky; when the wind does come, and it can come with considerable force here, it gets tricky. But for a couple of days in settled weather they were perfect, different and a little off the beaten track.
Myths and Monsters
Having seen the heat of the earth spewing forth from Stromboli, our next challenge was to navigate the dual dangers of Scylla and Charybdis, the sea-monsters depicted in Homer’s Odyssey. They inhabit either side of the Strait of Messina, Scylla, a six-headed monster, inhabiting a rock on the mainland side, Charybdis skulking in an underwater lair on the Sicilian side. Scylla swoops down from her perch to take six hands from each passing ship, one for each of her heads, while invisible Charybdis creates powerful whirlpools capable of dragging ships into the foaming deep. Which side should we choose? Was Scylla hungry, or Charybdis awake and in mischievous mood? As we were only four onboard, we feared we would anger Scylla by cheating her of two souls, so we stuck to the Sicilian side of the strait and kept a sharp eye out for frothing, spinning water.
It’s all legend, of course, although at spring tides the interaction between currents in the narrowest part of the strait can indeed form whirlpools which might give small craft an uncomfortable rather than dangerous passage. We slipped through just after high water, when the flow is generally slack and whirlpools non-existent. We had a cracking downwind sail, the genoa alone pushing us at 9 knots towards Taormina where we anchored in the large roadstead in plenty of time for dinner. Next stop was Catania, where we were dropping Nick’s parents off, so we took a berth in the marina just to ease the process. It also allowed us to get the laundry done (all four loads of it!) and reprovision in a reasonable supermarket. Still can’t find our preferred Fever Tree tonic, though, and stocks are low enough to be close to an emergency…..
Turning East again
We now had a few days to ourselves. But rather than languish in Sicily, we needed to cover the 280nm to Taranto on the eastern side of the Boot’s ‘instep’ to meet our next visitors, Chris and Anna, in four days’ time. The wind, of course, was predicted to be light and variable, so we made the most of a strong westerly for the first afternoon, then motored for several hours to reach a beach anchorage at Africo. We dropped the anchor at 0200, slept well and awoke to a desolate scene of dilapidated buildings, a railway line, and not a lot else. Still, it was a quiet night, for which we were grateful as the next night was to be spent on passage. The wind remained light, so the engine worked overtime to get us to Taranto, occasional breezes giving it some rest. The sea was mercifully calm and there was almost no other traffic, so as passages go it was not taxing, just boringly benign. We made Taranto as planned, tying up in the friendly port just after lunch the next day.
The famous Puglian wines
While in Taranto we met our friends Chris and Anna, both gregarious lovers of wine and good food. They had arrived in Brindisi the night before and had planned a trip to Manduria, the heart of Puglian wine making. We joined them, and had a fabulous day sampling rather palatable wine, most notably in Agricola Felline. Chris had researched it beforehand, but on arrival we found a remote industrial estate rather than a boutique winery. Undeterred, we opened the side door into a vast wine making enterprise, a voluminous hall with bar and tasting areas set above equally capacious cellars whose musty aromas gave authenticity to the whole. Our spirits were dampened when the owner’s son said they were closed for tasting and the winemaker wasn’t available anyway. We must have looked forlorn indeed, for he took pity on us and proceeded to open a bottle of pretty much every wine they made, and the next hour passed in a blur of Primitivo and Negromara! We departed with a dozen bottles of wine so he got some trade, but more importantly we left with a new friend and an excellent experience.
With our friends moved onboard in Taranto, we headed to sea. We had planned to amble south towards Gallipoli (not the famous one – that’s in Turkey!) but southerly winds forced a change of plan. So we sailed on a glorious reach across to Argonauti, a brilliantly protected marina as close as one can berth to Matera. The marina is quiet and isolated, but incredibly well maintained, rosemary plants evocatively scenting the quayside air. It's part of a resort, but with nothing much to do in the immediate vicinity it was eerily empty and, sadly, struggling to attract the volume of visitors it relies on. It was also the cheapest marina we found – 99 Euros per night.
Sailing the Stiletto to Otranto
We had nearly two weeks to get to our summer berth in Albania, but decided to head for Otranto on the Adriatic side of the boot in plenty of time to check out of both Italy and the EU. We had received much conflicting advice about the process, with most reports saying it was at best hit and miss with offices rarely open and several sources indicating it was no longer even possible in Otranto due to the recently introduced digital finger printing system for EU entry and exit. Many had advised the use of an agent, but at 300 Euros we decided to head to the city in good order and see the lay of the land for ourselves, with enough time to get to Brindisi if needed where we knew we could complete the check out.
As it turned out, we were enthralled by Otranto. It’s amazing. Set in a shallow bay with a great anchorage under imposing walls and the spire of the cathedral, it was as picturesque as it was sheltered. It had a lively vibe, but not to the detriment of the historic, pedestrian-only centre. Smart bars and restaurants lined the shores, but the prices were surprisingly low and the whole place had an authenticity which was preserved despite the visitors. We took a day trip by bus to Lecce, known as the ‘Florence of the South’, and were wowed by its stunning baroque architecture. Not just a few streets of it, the whole original city. Sure, the outskirts are modern, but the centre is simply incredible and a match for Florence any day. All in all, we had an excellent week in Otranto’s sheltered outer harbour, a number of other yachts coming and going with new friends being made.
The Battle of Taranto
If the name Taranto rings a faint bell, perhaps you are thinking of the Battle of Taranto? As a good Fleet Air Arm Officer, every year I have attended a formal Fleet Air Arm Mess Dinner to remember the effective removal of the Italian Grand Fleet from the Second World War. It was the night of 11th November 1940, with 21 obsolete swordfish aircraft launching in two waves in the late evening darkness from the carrier HMS ILLUSTRIOUS, some 170 nm from Taranto’s natural, well-protected harbour where the Italian battleships were anchored. The pilots had to dodge not only anti-aircraft fire from all around (a total of over 15000 shells was fired by the Italians), but avoid the 87 barrage balloons protecting the fleet and still get within a few hundred meters of the Italian ships to launch their single torpedo inside the anti-torpedo netting or drop their bombs with precision. Two Swordfish were hit, with two lives lost and two crew taken prisoner. The remainder made it back to the carrier, still 170nm away although in a different position, landing back on in the dark in the wee hours of the 12th November. The aircraft had no modern navigation equipment and one can only imagine with awe what it must have been like to fly over the indistinct gloom of the sea, no lights, no radar, nothing, into the maelstrom of enemy fire. The raid was a success, several ships being sunk and others damaged beyond repair. The Italian fleet did not take any meaningful part in operations for the rest of the war.
I was privileged to have met some of the crew that took part in the raid, the ‘Men of Taranto’, at the dinners and their tales were inspiring. Having been in command of the Fleet Air Arm in my last job in the Royal Navy, to sail into Taranto harbour on my own yacht, my Fly Navy burgee fluttering in the breeze, was poignant. I doffed my cap to the bravery of the British and Italian men and paid respects to those lost on both sides as we passed the modern naval docks where several Italian warships, including their aircraft carrier, were berthed. I found it a sombre moment of reflection.
Taranto has a spectacular setting. The harbour is impressively large, and the marina was right on the island separating the inner and outer harbours. This island is where the original town of Taranto was first settled and has a myriad of winding streets. The architecture was grand, with an air of faded elegance hinting at former prosperity. The Italian Navy still has a headquarters in the old fort on the island, open for free guided visits, and is well worth a stop.
A amazing troglodyte town
Matera is exceptional. First inhabited over 9000 years ago – yes, nine thousand – it is one of the oldest continually inhabited places on the planet. The ancient caves are still occupied today, forming parts of houses, businesses, bars and restaurants which have cleverly incorporated them. The old town nestles on the side of a valley and is impressive for its overall size as well as the beauty of its winding streets. Of course, it’s full of tourists, but is capable of swallowing them without feeling crowded and the shops offer genuinely unique, individual art and souvenirs. We spent a very happy day soaking in the atmosphere, refreshing ourselves with classy cocktails and local rosé on a rooftop terrace with spectacular views. If you’re cruising or visiting this part of the coast, it should be high on the list of places to see.
A passing fishing boat saves the day
Dropping Chris and Anna back off in Taranto was a guinea a minute. We had planned to briefly rest on the fueling dock for them to step ashore while we topped up the tank. What we didn’t realise was the dock is cordoned off from the road by a huge metal fence, the firmly shut gate patrolled by a guard service. We haltingly tried to explain what we wanted to do, gesticulating madly and making train sounds like five year olds, but the guard was having none of it. She stoutly and sullenly refused to open the gate and allow Chris and Anna their freedom. The two dockies on the fuel station were incensed by her attitude, so hailed a passing fishing boat who proceeded to tie up astern of us. After a confusing conversation, they motioned for our guests to board, which they did, and the two fishermen took them to the other side of the harbour where they could walk unhindered from the jetty to the road nibbling on a freshly caught osyter. All was well….. until we heard Chris frantically shrieking from behind the big metal fence, having ran at Olympic speed around the harbour. In the excitement of the fishing boat trip he had left his phone onboard…. So we gently backed up to the fuel dock once more, nudging our starboard ama close enough for the fuel attendant to grab the phone and pass it through the fence, watched by a bemused but still sour guard scowling at our shenanigans. We waved politely and went on our way.
Leaving the EU
The first day we went to the various offices needed for check out; Coast Guard, Customs and Immigration. We were a little nervous about the Constituto, the paper that visiting yachts should be issued with at the first port of arrival in Italy and must surrender on departing. We did not have one, the marina in Rome saying we didn’t need one as we had come from another EU country, and that they couldn’t issue them anyway. We had checked this with the Guardia Finanza and they too confirmed we didn’t need one. The Coast Guard in Otranto spoke excellent English and after a few questions about our next port, sure enough asked for our Constituto, twice quoting the Geneva Convention and the need to track the yacht. Here’s where it all goes wrong, we thought; images of Skylark being towed away as we watch from a damp Italian prison cell were not inviting. We explained we had asked for one in Rome, our first port, and he paused before shrugging and saying, ahh, Rome, yes they’re useless and don’t issue them. And with that he showed no more interest and said we were clear to go to Albania once we had cleared immigration. We hastened out at a fast gallop before he changed his mind. Next stop, the customs chaps next door. He asked if we had more than 10000 Euros in cash, we said no, he said OK, no more from me and you are clear to go. Two down, one to go.
We wandered up to the police office in town, and saw a polite chap to whom we explained our request for a check out procedure. He spoke to a colleague, who then told us to proceed to the smaller and usually unmanned immigration office in the harbour. Once we explained we were not leaving today, he said, no problem, call us next Tuesday when you are ready to depart and we will come to the office to meet you. No appointment, just call. In faltering Italian I called as asked a few days later and sure enough the team came to the small office in the port. They used a portable machine in a suitcase to take Abbey’s finger prints and photo as she was already registered in the EES system (Nick was not), stamped our passports and sent us on our merry way. So it seems all the advice we had found was incorrect, and the process was, in the end, relatively straightforward. There was certainly no need for an agent, so we spent the 300 Euros on ourselves having a grand old time in Otranto!
Albania here we come….
The immigration team watched us get back onboard Skylark and depart sharpish, as we had been instructed to do. The weather was perfect; sunny with a Force 4 northerly becoming north westerly, putting us on a fast reach across the 50nm of Adriatic separating Italy and Albania. Five hours later we were pulling into Vlorë Bay, our anchorage for the night and where we would meet the agent to check in.
But not so fast, Sailor! As we headed into the bay, three large storm cells broke free of their mountain restraint and headed for open water. The squalls were impressive, bringing lashing rain, 35 knots of wind and a spectacular lightning show, which we wisely wished to steer well clear of! So we headed north a little to put some distance between us, but still picked up the wind and rain as the electrical shenanigans passed to the south by a few miles. Once clear, we dropped anchor close to Vlorë’s waterfront, and Nick went ashore to meet the agent. Agents are compulsory in Albania, but they do make the process easy and are less than a third of the cost of their Italian counterparts. Thirty minutes later we are ‘immigrated in’ and free to wander Albania.
Our summer berth
Orikum Marina is in the far south east corner of a large bay. They were expecting us, but there was still some confusion as we rocked up at their breakwater and called on VHF. Yes they had a booking for a Skylark, but were not expecting a trimaran. Our booking was very clear and we make a point of expressly pointing out we have three hulls, are 16m long and 9m wide. The information was all there, but the office team had neglected to notice and presumed we were a monohull. So we had a place hastily made available on a transit pontoon and were moved to a recently vacated space on the main pontoon the next morning. Of course, the price we were quoted for our two-month stay was also based on a monohull, and should have had a 50% premium added for a multihull. But the marina held their word and charged us what they had quoted as they accepted it was their admin that had missed the details. Jolly decent of them, and we were accordingly generous with beers and hospitality for the few days we were there.
Head over to the marina section to read more about Orikum from a yachties perspective, but suffice to say it was secure (24 hour police presence), safe, well-protected and incredibly friendly. Sure, the bar/restaurant kept erratic hours, but when it was open the fresh fish was absolutely terrific. After five days putting Skylark to bed, we headed for Tirana and the UK. We had covered just over 1700nm in 83 days with 5 night passages and were ready for our return to house maintenance, gardening and catching up with friends and family.