Back in Calabria for the Winter

Roccella Jonica
November 2016

It was a long cruising season, this one, but we are back in our winter home, same as last year, here in Roccella Jonica, Calabria, Italy. We have only been back for two weeks, and, having left at the end of April, it was, indeed, a long season.

We had our adventures and saw the sights in Croatia, Montenegro and Greece, some of which we already wrote about.  In Croatia, we visited areas in the northern part that we had not visited on our first trip.  Krk and Rab are two beautiful islands with excellent anchorages, free of concessions, that are also largely free of the charter crowd. In my opinion, that makes them the finest cruising grounds in the Adriatic.  After three months, our visas expired, so we sailed on to Montenegro.

We have been there twice before, but this time we spent over a month, rented a car and drove through the mountainous interior. It was magnificent.  There are alpine valleys and lakes, canyons, forests, and quaint villages nestled throughout. That along with beautiful Kotor Bay makes Montenegro well worth a visit by land or sea.

Next up was a trip to Ionian Greece, my first time there. We left Montenegro with a forecast for some downwind sailing, but true to form we ended up motoring for 46 hours to Corfu. At least we had no headwind. Many Med cruisers only ever seem to go to that part of Greece and rave about it, so expectations are set pretty high. Certainly the scenery is beautiful, the people are all very friendly and there are anchorages to visit. Staying on town quays is inexpensive and anything in the way of provisions or parts are widely available.  I guess that is why it is so popular with the cruising and charter crowd. We were there in September and it was pretty busy, but I heard the stories and would not want to be there in high season when it is jam-packed.

Mechanical problems seemed to be a theme that pestered us this season. In the spring we had to haul out in Crotone to replace a seized seacock in the head. Then whilst in Greece, our shaft seal began to leak which meant another haul out, again in Crotone.  Towards the end of September, and pretty much since then, the weather became unsettled.  It was tough to find a weather window to cross the notorious strait at the bottom of the Adriatic and then Taranto Bay, which forms the arch in the boot of Italy. We staged our departure from Greece on the north side of Othonoi Island and left in the middle of a lightning storm.  The southerly winds had been high and I was expecting the worst for crossing the strait, but it all turned out well and we stopped in San Maria di Leuca, which is right on the heel of Italy. A few days there and we took some winds and reached across Taranto.

Finally arriving in Crotone at the beginning of October, we hauled out and began work. Besides changing the shaft seal, I also changed another seacock which was also likely to fail since it was the same brand is the other two that did fail and were replaced. We also repaired some osmosis blisters and applied a few coats of antifouling.  After two weeks we were ready to launch and had a short window to make the trip across the Bay of Squalls and back to Roccella.  Unfortunately, while still in the crane slings, water was leaking in through the newly replaced seacock, so it was back on the hard and into a cradle.  Repairing the leak only took three days but now we were weather bound and it would be another 10 days before the winds would favour the trip again. Fortunately, we really enjoyed being in Crotone and Elio and his staff are marvellous.

Well it is all behind us now and we are happily back in Porto delle Grazie in Rocella Jonica and have joined the small live-aboard community here. The marina has made dramatic improvements to the facilities here, which include a new clubhouse and another block of toilets. As always, Francesco and his crew are very friendly, helpful and do their best to make us feel at home.  This is definitely a jewel of a place, as is Calabria, in general.

Ciao,
Branko

Escapee from Alcatraz

We set the anchor in the centre of a fairly wide channel.  “Fairly wide” is based on a standard of my making, could I comfortably swim to either shore, I felt I could not.  That evening I emptied our well tied and double bagged garbage and recycling into a shopping bag. The bag is reusable and I use it to store, garbage/recycling until we get to land.   The bag prevents unwanted garbage juice leaking into the dinghy or the cockpit locker, plus all garbage is contained in 1 bag.   This evening, in preparation for going ashore in the morning, I put the bag in the dinghy.   The dinghy was hanging beside the boat, level with our rub rail, quite a ways above the water.   I did hesitate to leave the garbage in case our yorkshire terriers might smell the bag and hop into the dinghy.   But decided it was late enough and the dogs likely would not be out on deck alone.   So,  there the bag went for the night.

In the morning Branko lowered the dinghy,  put on the motor, attached the gas tank and spent sometime getting the boat ready to go ashore.   As he moved the garbage bag, out jumped a rat, a smallish rat which I first thought was a mouse.   The rat ran up the dinghy line aiming for the boat, I dropped the line into the water, thereby setting Branko adrift while the rat jumped nimbly onto the rubrail, destination 1 floor up by my feet...eekkk!   So I did the only thing any smart thinking person would do I stamped my feet and screamed.   

Mr. Rat jumped into the sea heading for the snubber line and anchor chain.   Thankfully Branko was still adrift and could give me instructions as to where the rat was.   I continued the stamping and yelling, it worked.  I knew this type of commotion would be successful in warding off any male attention.  As he looked ready to scurry up the line, I could see him cringing from my shrill voice, that was when I knew he was a Mr. and not a Miss.

Not only did he swim away, fast, but most of his swim was underwater.  He headed for shore and we soon lost track of him near the bathers, hehehe, but we heard no screams so obviously they did not see each other.

Where is Branko going?

Are you wondering what our “bred to kill rats” dogs were doing?  Nothing absolutely nothing. They did not see the rat, they did not smell a rat, it is as though they were just, dogs. They were however distressed to see Branko had left without them, all they were capable of was to watch Branko drift away, silently hoping he would return and save them from the shrillness.   

We determined that the rat swam from the uninhabited island; starved from lack of food and saw his chance to live on a boat or make a stop before continuing to the mainland, brave little guy.

Rab and Krk - the circumnavigation

3 Top Cruising Points:

1)  No Concessions
2)  Excellent anchorages; holding, protection & swimming
3)  Fewer boats

We turned the corner from Pag island and saw Rab in the distance, as we neared the 1st church steeple came into view followed by 3 more nestled in between the orange tiled roof tops.   Rab is built on a peninsula that juts out from 2 harbours. One where the town faces and the 2nd is a large bay with a beautiful stone walkway that winds it's way back to the town along the bayfront.   We anchored in the 2nd bay with views of the churches, a monastery and trees.     This bay became our home base.

Rab town

Home base in Rab

Walk from Rab

Rab street

View over Rab rooftops

The local cross-bow champions

Rab  is first heard of under the Illyrians in 360 BC.   Eventually it became part of the Roman empire with Emperor Octavian Augustus ordering the building of the town walls.
In 1358 the island came under the rule of King Louis of Hungary and from 1409 to the end of the 18th century it was ruled by Venice.   Eventually the Habsburgs took over under Austrian rule till 1918.
Since a majority of its residents were Italian-speaking, the locals sought to be annexed to theKingdom of Italy, but Italy eventually decided to cede the island to Yugoslavia in 1921.

We did not stay for their yearly medieval festival held at the end of July but we did participate in the crossbow festival.   The pictures say it all,  people dressed up in period costume, acting out the pageantry of the crossbow competition and old cannons being fired from the castle wall.  It was interesting.  As though we were brought back in time .   There was traditional dancing with the band playing a sheep's bladder, flutes and horns.  The competition was between San Marino in Italy and the Rab town crossbow champions.  I had no idea who won but think it was the Italians. 

We sailed to the north of Rab, supertarska to sit out some south winds, lovely clear water and free internet.   Our plan was to spend Branko's birthday, June 21st in Punat on the island of Krk.   Back many years ago Branko had vacationed in Punat as a child.  His memories were of a beautiful sand beach, swimming in clear water and jumping off a barge/ship anchored off shore.   We found everything but the barge and celebrated his birthday with our new friends Burkhart and Alice, who unexpectedly arrived the same day.  

Krk town walls

Krk wall walk

Street in Krk town

Krk harbour

Krk island has been inhabited since the Neolithic age, remains of inhabitants have been found in caves in the central valley.  Krk came under Roman rule, then the Avars in the 7th century, 1001 Venetians ruled until 1430 when the Frankopan Counts took over.    In 1797 Austria took control,  Italy again and then to Yugoslavia in the 20's.

At some point we decided a circumnavigation of Krk and Rab was just the thing to do,  which included sailing in the Velebit channel.    Umata, our Dutch friends joined us on our escapade.    Our start point was the town of Krk, where we anchored in front of the town.   The next day we left with a good wind that eventually became no wind as we rounded the north coast.   Beautiful sandy anchorages dotted the entire west and north coast,  with only a few that had any boats or buildings.   Our destination was a bay called Klimno on the eastern shore of Krk.   We had to sail past Rijeka and under the huge bridge that joins Krk to the mainland.   Klimno is a mud bottomed bay, fully protected from all winds, that used to be the site of saltworks.  Cows grazing on the shore mooed at us as we sailed into the bay.  The bay was almost empty of boats but many tourists on vacation, sunning themselves on the rocks, wallowing in the 'beauty' mud and swimming. 

Just a few miles south was Vbrink an old town known for it's fine white wine.   Now that was a reason to visit.  

Besides the city of Krk, Vrbnik was one of four castles (Baska, Dobrinj, Omisalj and Vrbnik) which were independently ruled in the time of the Frankopans.    An ancient town, surrounded by stone ramparts with very posh looking homes within from the 6th century.   The narrowest street in the world is said to be in Vrbnik,  as yet no other town has contested; so currently because it is said so shall it be true.

We ended up moored to the town quay for 3 days to wait out yet another bura.   Elly from Umata made a deal with the harbourmaster getting 3 nights for the price of 2.    The town is beautiful, the bay although busy with tourist boats was clean and refreshing for swimming.   Amazingly everyone swam in the harbour; boats coming and going through the narrow entrance ( where people were swimming across) nobody seemed concerned, except me, but then we too jumped in as the boats seemed very conscious of all activities in the water.

The cross-bow band, Rab

Vrbnik town

Vrbnik harbour

Sculptures in Rab

Soon we let go the lines and motored down the Velebit channel, flat calm.   Destination Kampor on Rab thereby completing Krk circumnavigation.   Before another Bura blew up we left Kampor after 1 night, turned right and again motored down the Velebit.   Great anchorages on this north east coast, beautiful secluded spots, but we had no time to visit had to finish up our Rab circumnavigation.   We checked out a few more places to anchor on Rab but none were as protected, calm and lovely as Fumija.   So that is where we settled for the Bura Bura bura.

Maggie

Bora! Bora! Bora!

Rab, Croatia
17/07/2016

Beware of the bora, the north easterly winds that are the most threatening in Croatia. Fortunately, they are well forecasted by the various meteorological services one might use, so you often get good advance notice of any impending high winds. They are usually preceded by a scirocco, those being southerly winds that can also pack a wallop. Being here on the Dalmatian coast for the second time we have seen our share. The most recent one that just passed was one for which we took special precautions due to its anticipated severity.

Early in the week, the forecasts were calling for a bora to hit Thursday overnight with sustained winds in the 40 knot range, gusting to 60, over a 36 hour period. On Wednesday, the Croatian weather service issued a gale warning that winds in our area could reach 70 knots and in the notorious Velebit channel they could reach 90 knots - that is hurricane strength and 12 on the Beaufort scale. At the time we were in the Velebit channel completing our trip around the islands of Krk and Rab. We needed a plan.

These two islands offer numerous safe anchorages, depending on the wind direction, and we choose the one beside the old town of Rab; the reason being that we had been there before and were knew it offered good holding for our anchor with its muddy sand bottom and that there were three stout bollards well-placed on its northern shore - ideal for a bora.

We arrived on Tuesday afternoon after completing our circumnavigation around the island of Rab with plenty of time to spare for our preparations. Plan A was to tie to the westward-most bollard along the shore because it was in the middle of the shore between two small coves inhabited by small boats on moorings.  It would offer the best shelter from winds that would curl around from these coves. Tying to shore offers the advantages of an anchoring point that won't drag and getting closer to the lee of the shore without worrying about swinging into it in foul winds. Plan B was to lie-to at anchor, of which we have five at our disposal: two on the bow, one on the stern, and two spares in the bilge. Plan C was the nearby marina in Rab that was charging 80 euros a night. Plan A was the one we ultimately executed, but if we had to choose plan B, I might have been tempted to chain our two bow anchors, a 25 kg. Delta and a 33 kg. Rocna together inline for 70 knot winds.

By Wednesday, boats in the anchorage had come and gone so that now we were able to anchor a couple of hundred feet away from our chosen bollard, but it was too soon to tie to it because the scirocco was still blowing and there would be some squalls from thunder storms that evening. Instead, we went ashore with the dogs to do a little shopping and to stretch our twelve legs. Later in the afternoon Maggie and I had a delightful swim while Wylie and Rosy kept watch. We had set our anchor towards the east, the direction from which the bora winds would commence, but that night we were struck by a squall from the west so strong that I was concerned that our anchor, or someone else's, might not reset in the new direction. In fact, a small powerboat did drag into the rocks between us and shore, but they were able to clear away after the squall passed.  Of course this kind of thing always seems to happen in the middle of the night, but the squall soon cleared and we all passed the remainder of the night uneventfully.

The next morning was B-day, and we had much to prepare before the storm. The wind had died so I was able to easily paddle ashore with a line from the stern to our bollard. I have to say that as a mariner this bollard gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling when I look at it; it's about two feet tall, made of thick iron, set in stone, and looks like you could moor an oil tanker to it.

Our stern anchor has a rode consisting of 10 m. of chain and 100 m of 3/4 inch nylon, 3 strand rope. We used that and another piece of chain to make a two-legged bridle to the bollard from our two stern cleats.

The chain we used to keep the rope from chafing on the stone platform. Nothing was going to take us away! We winched ourselves tight to set the anchor while we undertook our other preparations.

Generally, that entails lashing down anything that might blow away or break loose in high winds: solar panels, wind generator, sails, ropes, the dinghy, etc. After the work was done, we all took a walk into town to visit friends who were talking shelter in the marina. When we came back we had another swim, made supper, watched a movie and went to bed early to get some sleep before the storm, which was expected to arrive at 1 a.m. 

The bora was right on schedule and I had gotten up a few times during stronger gusts to assure myself that our anchor was holding since we were getting hammered by broadside winds from the east. If the anchor released, being only a boat length from shallow rocks, we wouldn't have a lot of time to drop stern lines and swing to anchor. The particularly strong winds at 4 in the morning got me out of bed again, and I didn't like what I saw.

To windward were two other boats that had tied to shore, a sailboat and a powerboat, the latter being farthest away. In the blackness of night, I could make out that the powerboat had broken loose from its line to shore and was now swinging on its anchor and that it had no lights on to indicate any kind of activity. We stared into the darkness through our companionway hatch to determine if the boat was dragging, but staring was difficult because the wind was howling and blowing spindrift into our eyes.  I fumbled for our spotlight and shone it at the boat only to realize that nobody was at the helm and that it was, indeed, dragging towards us. If it continued it would drag out the anchor of the sailboat upwind from us and then, in the worst case, the two entangled boats would drag onto us.

I blew the shrill emergency whistle that we have at-the-ready to raise the alarm and kept the light on the powerboat. By now the folks on the sailboat had cast off the shorelines anticipating the powerboat and were standing by. Finally someone on the powerboat appeared in the cockpit, turned on the nav lights and checked their dragging. I cannot imagine what was going on inside the powerboat before this point, but now they were under power and picked up their anchor to clear out of our area.  After some time motoring into the wind they eventually left the anchorage presumably sheltering in the marina. They were no longer my concern, but the sailboat wildly swinging on their little Bruce anchor one hundred feet upwind was!

We also stood by with our engine warming up, ready to cast off our shore lines. To prevent getting dragged into, the strategy would be to swing to anchor, thereby presenting a smaller target, and fend off the boats, or, if necessary, raise our anchor. The last resort would be to cut away our anchor if we were unable to raise it due to entanglement. These were my thoughts as I anxiously waited to see if the sailboat's anchor would hold.

Hold it did, and the crew kept a reassuring watch during the remainder of the worst of the blow. During a brief lull, they re-anchored downwind from us, and my mind was more at ease. Our anchor held and the upwind threats had gone.  The only remaining uncertainties were whether the winds would strengthen beyond what we had already experienced, and would our anchor still hold.

Eventually, the winds swung around to come from the north, as was the forecast and for which we were ideally positioned, and they did increase.  But, now we were in a relative calm spot surrounded by the tempest.  From the two small coves one either side of us we could watch small water spouts pass by at a speed equal to or greater than I have seen jet skis travel. In the open water to the east of Rab, about a kilometer away, I could clearly see sea spray blowing past the entire opening of the bay we were in.  Three large powerboats that I assume had had enough of a beating on the town quay during the night came out to anchor in the daylight to weather the remainder of the bora which continued on through the day and into the next one.

Sometime during Friday afternoon, I felt that we had been through the worst of the storm and was finally able to ease my guard.  Last night was Saturday, the night after, and I slept soundly for the first time in three days. It felt good to have a plan and to have successfully executed it. But it is a lot to endure for the sake of a good night's sleep.

After the storm

Branko

Sixth Anniversary

Klimno, Krk, Croatia
July 2, 2016

Yesterday was Leaving Canada Day for us and just Canada Day for the rest of our countrymen. It was six years ago that we left to live the beautiful life. The adventures we have had and the people that we have met along the way are beyond my ability to justly describe them, so I won't, but I will say that our appetite for more just grows.

As I write this, we are in a lovely anchorage on the island of Krk. To our cruising friends I'd say that if you never come to northern Croatia you have missed out on some of the best cruising grounds that we have ever seen.

As always we encourage our friends to visit and experience some of these adventures with us.

Doviđenja,
Branko

Croatia - Cavtat to Rab

Our guest, Ilario left us mid-May returning to Italy via the daily ferry that runs between Bari and Dubrovnik.  

Ilario, relaxing

Painting tour of Dubrovnik

It was quieter now without Ilario, no laughing, no yelling happily and  no more drinking negronis everyday.   We had to leave Cavtat and begin our Croatian vacation.  

Dubrovnik harbour

See the line of people?

Dubrovnik, again

We motor sailed past beautiful Dubrovnik, which I believe is best seen from the water.   The views of the old city provides a different perspective,  the entire grandeur that is this city can be seen clearly in one panoramic sweep.  Instead of trying to see the sights through and over other tourists you are given an uncluttered vista.  Three years ago Croatia was not in the EU and I was interested to see the change, if any.

On watch....

Srebreno, a small, bullet ridden old Serbian resort area that we discovered 3 years sgo has had a facelift.   In the sandy anchorage a run down looking catamaran ( for day charters) was anchored in such a way that no one could anchor securely.   But I was still hopeful that the old style wood buildings serving typical Croatian food and beer still remained and (fingers crossed) the inexpensive supermarket still intact.   Ah but no, a Sheridan hotel had been built  and everything changed.   A new mall with a big Konsum and fancy restaurants had replaced the traditional seaside kiosks and grocery store.   It is not surprising as Srebreno is even closer to Dubrovnik than Cavtat and situated in a beautiful cove.

View in Sipanska Luka

Our  next destination was  the island of Sipan,  a favorite place of ours.   We anchored in the bay planning to spend a few days relaxing and happily (selfishly) saw nothing really had changed.  Sipanska Luka was still a quaint village.

One day we walked across the island to Sudra10 kilometres through farmlands, passing ancient villas and many little chapels.   Sudra is trying to become a wine destination with a few small vineyards.  Back in Sipanska we watched the ferry come and go each day.   One day we decided to take a ride instead of just looking, provision in Dubrovnik and walk around the old town one more time.   Dubrovnik was crowded.  Six cruise ships were docked and 3 more anchored in the harbour, large ships all of them.  But the city still remains spectacular, especially when I and a few thousand people can see where Game of Thrones is shot.   As we walked out into the harbour along the circular pier there were 20 or so people who obviously were tourists,  sitting along the pier painting.   That was their tour of Croatia, painting different sites.   I liked watching them.

Sipan ferry to Dubrovnik

Leaving Sipan with a forecast of southerly winds we sailed up the coast with Miljet on our left reaching the tip of Kortula where all wind died.   We had to motor north, past the beautiful town of Kortula, again best viewed from the sea.  Our destination, Loviste at the north end of the mainland where we decided to sit out some very strong south west winds, rain storms and lightening  They were quite breezy and we spent 2 days anchored securely watching an ominous cloud sit on top of the Orebic peak.   When the cloud disappeared so did the wind. 

Sibenik cathedral, faces of residents

Steps into Sibenik of old

Again we left with a good southerly wind that lasted an hour, so we anchored in the first place we found, a secluded sandy bay off Hvar.  It was nice to be visiting places before ithe area gets crowded.  Finally we got some great wind and we sailed all the way to Sibenik, a memorable sail.   In Sibenik we decided to anchor in the bay near the marina.    Excellent place, good holding and a short walk to chandlers, groceries, internet and Lidls.    We also walked into Sibenik old town,  an easy 15 minute walk.   I think Sibenik has the best outdoor market in Croatia, well worth a stop for food provisions.

Sibenik was hard to leave but we obviously did and motor sailed to Murter.  

Secluded anchorage, Hvarr

 A few days spent in this very protected harbour cleaning the hull, polishing stainless and meeting up with new friends from Hong Kong.  We had met Burkhart and Alice back in Cavtat said hello and goodbye but we keep running into them.    If everybody is heading in the same direction it's inevitable that you meet up somewhere.  

Next stop Dugi Otok, a great sail all the way to the north end of this beautiful island.   Bonus was no concessions in the bay, nice surprise.   Off early morning to Pag,  an island I had read was featureless and full of loud music.   Our one stop did not disappoint, but I'm willing to have another look on our way south because Pag has a cheese factory.  

Walk into Rab

We left again early morning, misty and grey, which made Pag look even more appealing, not.   But there is a cheese factory....onwards to the island of Rab,  about 15 nautical miles north east.   Now Rab town is a sight to see, green trees, mountains,  church steeples and orange roofs magnificent.

  Pictures to follow.
Mag

Solidarity with our British cruising friends

http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/queens-speech-2016-state-opening-of-parliament-jokes_uk_573c4a00e4b03f08843ddc40

It is rare that I would make a post of this nature, but I was infuriated by the lopsidedness of the reporting in this Huffington post article and had to voice my support for the monarchy. Afterall, hasn't it shown us all over the centuries that if we are born into it we can have and do whatever we would like to, no matter how ill-equipped we are to handle it.

In the jingoistic article, if you look closely at the photograph, I'm sure you will agree that the Queen's ermine cape is one she had worn before. That's what I call tightening one's belt!

Pip-pip, cheerio and all that rot,
Branko

P.S. She is my queen, too!

Arrival in Cavtat

Cavtat
May 17, 2016

Despite our best laid plans to check in to Lastovo and avoid Cavtat, here we are. We left Otranto with a tail wind and ended up sailing the whole way. We got into some squally weather half way. Most of them missed us and we saw them pass by in the distance, but we were hove-to and ready for the one that hit us in the evening before dark. We don't have an anemometer, so I can't tell you the wind speed, but they were pretty high. We were heeled over to 45 degrees with just our cutter sail up and the sea was all foam and spindrift. Ten minutes of that, followed by some heavy rain, and it was over.

We didn't want to speculate on or experience getting hit with one of those squalls with a lot of sail up and, since the forecast contained gale warnings for the seas ahead, we kept moving along at 4 knots under reduced jib and cutter with our trusted Cape Horn wind pilot steering a downwind course under a half moon. The winds were light until morning when the breeze freshened and carried us towards Croatia at a quicker pace.

Twenty miles away, we started the engine because we needed to run the watermaker and refill our tanks. We would arrive in the evening in Cavtat on the Sunday and would have two options to check in since the customs office would be closed: go to Gruz where the office is open twenty four hours or anchor under a Q flag and check in to Cavtat in the morning.  Gruz was a further ten miles and the same again to the nearest anchorage, which was back in Cavtat, so we decided to make for Cavtat. I had taken the precaution of making a radio call to the Croatian coast guard to obtain permission to execute our plan and received it.

Once in Cavtat we nosed into the small cove where the customs office is to look at the possibility of staying on the customs dock since we were checking in in the morning. It was open, but were warned by some dude with a Port Authority badge who said we would likely be chased off by the police, so we went around to Tiha Bay and anchored. My instinct was to ignore him and do it anyway, but I was just too tired to follow through.

The forecast had us anticipating a Bura that night, one of the strong north easterly winds that prevail all along the coast, so I laid out the appropriate scope on our anchor. We were in 15 feet of water, so 5 times 15 is .... 45! (Did I mention that I was tired?). When the winds came at 04:00, amazingly, our anchor held in what I reckon were winds in the 30 knot range, and we rode them like that for about an hour or so. But when the winds increased again our poor 33 kg. Rocna unplugged and we found ourselves dragging across the bay. Now comes the kind of mistake that can sink your ship.

The night before, Wylie and Rosy made a pee on their poop mat, as is their nightly routine. This poop mat is a piece of artificial grass on a 10 foot tether so that we can just throw it over-board when it is soiled. Normally I leave it tied to the center cleat where it is harmlessly rinsed by the sea overnight. This night, however, feeling tired and lazy, I left it hanging off the stern cleat. As you may have guessed, when we started to drag, the engine was started and the poop mat fouled (no pun intended) the prop. Fortunately, we were still barely able to make headway into the high winds and reset our anchor - this time with a hundred feet of rode. While we sat with the engine running waiting to see if we would drag again, I reversed the prop a few times to clear it, confident that our line cutter would handle the mess.

Well, we were fine after that and the Bura died out suddenly as though it was simply switched off. We weighed anchor for by now the customs office was open and we headed out for the cove. We realised that the prop had cleared as we steamed to the customs dock. Once there, we dropped anchor for a med mooring and threw a line to one of those badge wearing dudes who passed it through a Kevlar loop in the cement. This is a nefarious plan to ensure that crew on incoming vessels don't have a cleat they can lasso and, therefore, require assistance from said dudes. Once ashore, I was informed that the fee for service rendered was 100 kunas, or about 20 Canadian dollars. I forcefully replied that it was ludicrous that I should have to pay to tie up to a dock so that I could then pay again to enter the country. And I proceeded to the customs office, where everything went swimmingly.

Upon my return to H2obo, I was greeted by two more badged dudes who not impolitely wondered at my reticence to pay their fee. For my part, I listened to their arguments concerning the need to follow Croatian laws once in Croatia and read their Port Authority signs and their badges, and asked some pertinent questions. I restated my position, in Croatian, as to the absurdity of their enterprise and that I still refused to pay. I had also tried to give a twenty kuna note to the badge man that initially took our lines as a tip, but he refused it, so back into my pocket it went. At that point, the head badge man made the grandiose gesture of offering to pay my fee for me, which I accepted, printed himself a receipt, reached into his cash purse and handed over 100 kunas to the badge man that originally took our lines. I thanked him heartily, shared a joke with another one of the 'staff', boarded H2obo and cast off.

Later Maggie and I pondered the absurdity of this incident. Imagine walking into a butcher shop, ordering a piece of meat, indignantly decrying the high price, refusing to pay and walking off with the goods.  I am pretty sure the butcher wouldn't pay my bill. So what happened and why did I get away with it at the customs dock? We are not sure and don't really care. It's all part of the game of 'fleece the tourists' and you need to know the rules.

Notwithstanding all the above here we are and we love it.

Branko

Easter Italian Style

Happy Easter Tree!

 Do you remember, as a kid, saying " Hey Pasquali!"

I grew up in Toronto, between the Junction area and Bloor West Village.  It was normal to hear Italian, Maltese, Polish, Ukraine, Latvian and Lithuanian spoken.   Most of my friends were born in another country and their parents only spoke their native tongue to us kids.  I quickly learned  if food was being served at a friends house, or someone was in trouble with their parents and unfortunately when it was time for bed.   Parents never changed their language for me,  they knew I'd figure out what they were saying or go hungry or perhaps, I might just go home. Regardless though of language or nationality not one parent let me go hungry.

Years later here I am in Italy and word memories come back to me; like pasquali, muncha, casa, capeche.   Unfortunately, as a child (and adult) I did not understand everything.  Similar to the words of a song I thought I knew,  turns out I was just talking (singing) gibberish.  Glad I fought the urge to list Italian and Lithuanian as spoken languages on my resume.

Easter in Italian is Pasqua, which got me thinking about pasquali,  a word I used frequently as a child when greeting my friends (along with some hand movement I thought meant "what's up?")   Pasqua means Easter and likely my hand gestures meant something impolite.   

Pasquali is actually a masculine name, but that does not let me off the hook for all those women I called Pasquali.

The sisters and their Mum

Ciccio and his Easter bunny

Lisa and Ilario

On Easter Sunday we were invited to feast at Larry's with his family and entourage.  You might remember these lovely people from our Christmas post (yes it was only moments ago) Larry, his wife Lisa, her family of sisters and husbands, mothers, in-laws, friends, sons, co-workers and us Canadians.

I think he sees her

The hug ensues

View from the balcony

Delicious food;
First course, cheeses, olives, picked eggplant and fresh bread, and wine.
Second and third were a blur,  spaghetti with lamb pieces, quickly followed by traditional lasgna (becamel creme, prosciutto,  peas and lasgna noodles) and wine.
Fourth?  must have been the plate of lamb chunks and peas, yes wine too.
Fifth,  a pork roast with bread, plus wine.
I think there was a sixth but by then I was full.

The Easter parade wove through town and passed below Larry's balcony which provided a great aerial view.    The parade started at the church that sits high up on the hill beside the Norman castle.  There were 3 floats, one with a statue of Mary,  one with Jesus and one of Joseph.   The floats are carried on the shoulders of men wearing blue satin capes.   The idea is that Mary wanders around town looking for Jesus, he in turn wanders looking for her.  Joseph is also meandering but I never got an explanation for what role he played in this production.   At noon Mary and Jesus end up in the same street, by accident? and they run (I mean run not jog) to hug each other.  The men in capes run towards each other and the statues hug, as well as any statue can, then they (men and statues) turn to run in opposite directions then, turn back and run again at each other; crowds cheering and the statues hug once again.   At this point all calms down and the procession becomes an orderly line of blue caped men, bands, statues, priests and cheering crowds that travel through the town.

Surprisingly shops were open Good Friday and Easter Sunday but Easter Monday everything was closed.  This played havoc with my shopping schedule.  

Easter Monday is a traditional BBQ/picnic day regardless of weather and everyone it seemed were outside enjoying the day.  So in keeping with this tradition we decided to have a BBQ here in the marina.  

Toe tapping music

Tracy entertaining the men

The small group of cruisers had finished the Easter BBQ early afternoon and sat looking at each other.   Surely everyone was thinking the same as me " now what? " Suddenly a car pulled up and out jumped David's dad,  Rocco's nephew, a large jolly man and two other guys, can't remember names except for Rocco's nephew, Pepe.    

Pepe brings out a guitar and starts playing and singing Calabrian folk music.  Which included intricate hand gestures.   Only in Italy can someone sing, play and tell a story using their hands at the same time.  

The music is toe tapping, similar to gypsy, east coast Canada, fun folk music, which made me feel like dancing and laughing.   

The name of the music is Tartanella and in speaking with a friend she emailed me this information

 "there is an old Dean Martin tune "that's amore" and there is a line that goes "hearts will play tippy-tippy-Tay, tippy-tippy-Tay like a gay tarantella".  I wondered why he would sing about happy spiders?"

Tarantella is a dance that requires great energy. And gay here has the old fashioned meaning of cheerful and lively. 

The dance was supposedly an antidote to the sometimes fatal sting of the Tarantula spider, the constant dancing acting to hold off the soporific effects of the spider venom. So if you didn't dance a Tarantella after being bitten you would slip into a coma and die. 

The above 2 paragraphs I copied from a site. Seemed that everyone regardless of age can dance this lively jig and sing all the words, properly.  

Mag

Start of the Cruising Season 2016

Branko and Ilario

Otranto, May 2016

After a wonderful winter in Roccella Ionica (and we'll be back again this winter), and having done some work, finally, we were all set to get started on our sixth cruising season.

Unfortunately we would have to haul the boat out in Crotone to replace a broken seacock for the toilet, which was stuck in the closed position and meant that we couldn't use our toilet.  This was the second Buck Algonquin seacock that failed within seven years. I bought Groco bronze ones as replacements.

Sailing from Crotone

Crotone yard

We had a lovely forecast for a seventy mile downwind sail, but instead motored in no wind. Two days on the hard saw the jobs done and visits with friends we'd met in previous years, which made for a rewarding stay. A special thanks to our friends Rick and Barb on Far Out for smuggling in some North American cotton boxer briefs and replacement fan blades. I don't know how European men can stand to keep their twig and berries wrapped in synthetic material all the time.

Going to the beach (bow)

Our friend Ilario from Roccella has joined us for a few weeks as we make our way to Croatia for another season to see the bits we never saw the first time. He has made sure that we are well stocked with food and booze and is hogging all the sun on the deck. Beware of Italians serving something called a Negroni (consists of Campari, Martini, and gin)! We set off in the direction of the heel of Italy making for either Corfu or the Adriatic, depending on the winds when we got there.

The sailing made up for the motoring to Crotone, and more. It was a gentle beam reach all the way using our wind pilot to steer the course.

Wylie is always curious but gentle

Lovely little bird

We were visited by beautiful little sea swallows (I think) and I finally caught my first fish, a tuna, after five years of dragging lures in the Mediterranean. It was big enough to feed the five of us two meals - the first night underway and the second night BBQ'd while at anchor in Otranto.

First fish since Bahamas

We thanked him

And now we sit at anchor in Otranto waiting to go to Vieste, Italy, which is a long day sail from Lastovo, Croatia, where we will check in to avoid the disaster that is Cavtat. If you enter Croatia from anywhere south of Bari, you will be fined if you don't check in at Cavtat.

Evening sun on Otranto

thank you Mr. Fish

Otranto from the anchorage

Otranto is a favourite spot because it offers so much, but soon it will be time to move on. We wait for the winds to carry us north and east.

Ciao,
Branko