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.