Make me an offer..

Well: when it’s not pouring with rain, when the kids or parents aren’t punishing each other; and when we get enough exercise, winter cruising can be fun. It can be tough to get the planets to line up though, so there’s been plenty of squabbling.



Walking to Christ:
Maratea from above



The shin of Italy featured a series of near deserted, rain swept ports: Agripoli, Camerota, Maratea. Tumbleweeds seemed to be the main inhabitants, although at certain moments the populace would emerge for a spot of shopping or the odd café latte. Mondays and Tuesdays are the most barren as the shopkeepers tend to remain closed on these days. A swathe of zombie movie film sets in the offing, opines Master Finbar. To be fair there have been a few breaks in the clouds and these have been great: bushwalks in the hinterland at Camerota through the olive groves; a hike through the town and (almost) to the massive Christ Statue on the peak above Maratea; and here and there the odd great lunch when we find an open Restaurant (Fridays through to Sundays.)



Dusk on an oily sea



Stromboli... OK you had to be there



The night motor to Lipari was something different: a cloudless and windless day saw us motoring across an oily sea into the sunset. As we passed Stromboli the gouts of lava, whilst distant, were (in my view…) spectacular, blasting up to 100 m in the air, blazing a path through the black night. Lipari itself was something of a disappointment: the weather was good but so much was closed it couldn’t shake the zombie town feeling.



The Chinese Landry: Lipari



Helming in the Levanter

The poor forecast meant that exploring the island by sea wasn’t really an option, so we broad reached in a 25 kt Levanter for Sicily and a few days of respite off the boat.  



Typical Sicilian town



After negotiating the hire of a zippy little Peugeot we headed for Taormina, a resort town. The North Sicilian terrain is volcanic mountains, forested in places but rocky in others, with impossibly scenic little towns perched on ridges, and the ubiquitous castles dotted above or near the towns. A great drive up and over the range, with Mt Etna (3300 m or thereabouts) fuming quitely but ominously just further down the coast.



The Belvedere and the The Homey



Like Amalfi, Taormina was pure James Bond – cliffs, crazy switchbacks, and old world charm. We lucked in to the Hotel Belvedere, a classic old establishment perched on the cliffs, complete with manicured grounds, a pool, an amazing view down to the sea….And they had a suite with a separate room for the kids. The staff effortlessly made the words “Senor” and “Senora” seem friendly, and respectful; but with such style that one felt instantly elevated to the position of minor European Royalty, or perhaps a film star. One night wasn’t nearly enough: walks were left unexplored, wine undrunk, and restaurants unexperienced. Worth another look.



The famous ceramic stairway of Caltigirone



We had a disturbed night in a house built in 1300 AD which, though charming in its architecture and internal antiquities, proved near impossible to find: we got lost in a very depressing nearby grey forboding town that emitted a sinister air.

We then headed for Agrigento. Like Delphi, this is the site of a series of ancient Greek Temples, dating circa 600 BC. The kids enjoyed practicing their “assassin training” amongst the piles of stones, while we slowly walked from one edifice to another. The sunset lent an ochre hue to the site, enhancing the golden sandstone and sense of an ancient presence. Alas, the hotel was expensive and soulless. 



The Temple of Concordia, Agrigento 



Our final stop was the ancient town of Cefalu. The new high rises on the approach were a bit off putting, but once we were into the old town it all made sense. We found a tiny hotel with a small two room suite (hooray) on the cliff looking over the sea. A second night was immediately negotiated. The classic rabbit warren streets were lovely, as was the walk to the ruined castle on the headland followed by perfect Sunday lunch in a humming trattoria: the locals were out in force but waiting for a table was worth it.

Gelato on the steps of the Duomo, Cefalu

Back on the boat and back into the kid’s squabbling. It is disappointing how rapid and how total can be the failure of two intelligent and well educated adults to manage simple tasks like room cleaning and schoolwork. The excitement of some 50 knot gusts (90km/h for the lubbers) howling through the marina gave us a few minutes respite; but ultimately it was back to the reality of life below decks with under-stimulated homesick kids.

We are weathering this storm in Milazzo, which is surprisingly picturesque given that the skyline is dominated by an oil refinery. From here we will head down the east coast to Syracuse before a passage to Malta and (hopefully) some warmer, more clement weather: and a date with some English books and movies.

Cathe's update



Back on the boat



Leaving Sydney to return to Familia was much harder this time. We all knew that the last warmth of a Mediterranean Summer was being shunted along by Autumn’s cooling winds and rumbling Fronts, we knew the kids were reluctantly being pulled away from their easy going grandma ,fine friends, now elevated school and the sheer incomparable wonder of Bondi Beach, and we knew a 36 hour transit of movies and games would see us sick and stressed at the end. Right on all counts.



The Cable Car at Capri



Coming back was a necessity: we had to finish what we had begun. Sailing into Capri reminded me of it. We almost didn’t go as Steve, the boys, Dom + Susie had visited whilst I was back in Sydney. But you can’t sail blithely past one of the worlds famous landmarks and not pop in. We were the only yacht in the marina and the berthing charge had suffered a steep descent in our favour. We walked up to Anacapri, the centro in terms of shops and cafes and fell head first into drifts of bustling tourists aimlessly window prowling for the latest + greatest + tackiest: I’m now sure the 10 /10.30 opening is intentional as it guarantees a feeding frenzy and even I felt disproportionally upset from being thwarted in purchasing a delectable ceramic ensemble of hot red chillis (now observed to be in every tacky tourist shop at half the price) as we HAD TO Go and View the top of the Island.



Axel Munthe's Sphinx, Capri

A singeing cliff face bus ride brought us to the chairlift which we took to the top. Then we meandered down to the Axel Munthe Museum , the former residence of a early 20th century Swiss Doctor who built over the remains of Tiberus’ villas (reusing the stone/ unearthing mosaic floors and mysteriously finding a sphinx revealed to him in a dream and to this day perched high facing outward on the terraced promenade keeping watch, inscrutably over the bay of Capri and all mankind’s endeavours, follies and transgressions. His autobiographical novel “ A life at San Michele” is an interesting read to discover more about the island as well as his unusual and civic minded life.



Capri to Amalfi at Dusk



We left Capri and sailed back to Amalfi where we resumed our berth with Julio and where we found ourselves once more – a sign of things to come – the only yacht / vessel there and about to have the jetty packed away. We felt familiar with Amalfi and really enjoyed the streets to ourselves and the locals. Our two biggest challenges were: staying awake for the pizza ovens to power up at 7pm, a long stretch when darkness falls at 4.30 pm and the kids have begged (and been bribed) for it, only to fall asleep mid mouthful, and The Walk Of The Gods.

Coffee above Positano

The walk normally starts at the village of Bomerano, high above Amalfi and traverses the cliffs to a long descent to Positano. Missing the Bomerano bus sealed our fate: so we caught the bus to glamorous Positano, descended to the beach to gaze upon a famous tourist vista deserted by tourists and then turned around to begin the ascent up to the Walk of the Gods. It’s a walk I’m very proud of because after some determined resistance by Sholto (“ I’m not going on another long boring walk”) everyone kept to pace and the long precarious ascent was accomplished after 4 + half hours with no food, no break and plenty of good humour. It really was a walk from the sea to the clouds, a walk of the Gods.

The Walk of the Gods 1



The Walk of the Gods 2





The last of the good weather? -Goodbye Amalfi



Since sailing further south we have ploughed into a run of bad weather, with days merging into a drizzled gloom of cramped sodden spaces, tetchy tempers and mad shenanigans. We’ve been the freaky foreigners out there trudging along in morose weather with every shop shut, every house shuttered, every street deserted. The one memorable place shining out was Maratea, where we struck sunshine, good food and energising company at the restaurant of sculptor / ceramicist Paulo Tomasino. All good things come to an end and we left to sail to the Aeolian Islands before more atrocious weather rushed out to meet us. These islands are famous from Homers Odyssey and warned about then for their unpredictable and freakish winds. The story goes Odysseus was given a bag not to be untied by the gods but his ship mates thought a peek wouldn’t hurt so upon opening it released powerful diabolic winds that remain to this day. The pilot guide soberly ascertains that over years of experience and other sobering seaman’s tales he has come to the conclusion that there is an Aeolian Triangle, much like the Bermuda Triangle, where all manner of strange things happen, here ‘you be off the map’.





Dominoes under way





Waiting out the Storm in boring Camerota





 An optimist by nature I’m rapidly being disavowed of any notion that a sailing sojourn in the Med over Autumn /Winter is a tantalising opulent adventure. There are sparkling azure days but Homer’s “wine dark sea” is more prevalent to the power of 10. For Fin’s 11th birthday we planned an overnight sail past Stromboli, a true birthday candle in the sky, an active volcano flaring its fierce rage for maritimers for over 1000 years. We timed our passage for 9pm, a high light of a 14 hour sail – actually motor – and in between blinks of an eye or a protracted yawn it did perform wonderfully but the truth is we were all so tired and so cold it was a bit like “yup seen it, now can we get out of here and find somewhere warm to sleep” which the boys promptly did whilst we endured another creeping passage of 4 hours. Singing Nick Cave helps.



Cruising the Med: Part 2

We coughed and wheezed for a few days in Chiaiolella befire finally setting sail again, into the teeth of a blustery Sirrocco gusting 20-30 knots (40 - 55 km/h for the landlubbers.) Well: Sailing in a Sirrocco - another tick vehemently applied to the bucket list - Errol was with us as we bore away to run with the near gale. It was only a short haul over to the Island of Ischia but a long way from the gentle nor westers of late summer. Wet weather gear was the order of the day - we are decidedly in the "low" cruising season now.



Sailing in the Sirrocco



We arrived in Porto D' Ischia and battened the hatches as the forecast was for more to come: the next day saw winds that must have reached 40+kts and an electrical storm and downpour to match. Our agenda was lunch and a bushwalk on the mountain. We got the rabbit cacciatore down in the moutainside restaurant, but the wind was extreme, so heading back to the boat looked like a better option than being blown off a cliff. By then, the gale had forced the seas into the harbour, raising the ocean level and threatening the quayside establishments: the water was ankle deep on the quay heading back to the boat.

The next day was more moderate so we headed for the Castello Aragonese, located on an island that first saw a fortified settlement in 474 BC.





Cathe on the Terazzo Delgi Ulivi, Castello Aragonese, Isola D' Ischia 





The causeway to the castle



The views were breathtaking, but so too were some of the macabre historic details. The Nun's cemetery is a dungeon with what appear to be stone toilets around the walls. If only. In fact they were the repositories for the dead bodies of the Nuns while the flesh rotted and the juices flowed into vases located beneath the chairs.  The best detail? The other Nuns would spend many hours in this room meditating on the transitory nature of the flesh of their sisters, often contacting diseases in doing so. Later the skeletons would be buried in mass graves. The torture museum surpassed this though. Suffice to say we left without taking photos of that particular display.



Dead Nuns in the Cimitero Delle Monache Clarisse



We are enjoying the low season vibe, the locked hotels, the empty streets.We are also looking forward to some of the sleepier fishing villages further south on the way to Sicily.







Soaking up the last of the sun - relaxing after homework, on route to Capri

Familia is now rocking in the deserted marina at Capri. The ferries come and go but there is not another cruising yacht to be seen, despite the fact that the prices have plummeted. It is dark at 5.15pm. Whether we hoof it up the hill or do a BBQ on the boat remains to be seen.





Familia - lonely on the dock at Capri



Ciao.