Back to the boat life: Palermo to Reggio Calabria

11th to 13th May 2024

It was lovely to be home for a few weeks but Libra isn't going to sail herself! We flew back to Palermo on Saturday 11th. It was such an easy journey - drive to the airport, catch a plane, shuttle bus at the other end and there hey presto, like we'd never been away. Over the years our trips have mostly been long road journeys rather than straightforward flying so it's almost surprising how convenient it can be.

Stansted was foggy but there was bright sunshine in Palermo. What a joy to wander the old streets again and eat the wonderful Sicilian food! Saturday was a day for taking it easy but on Sunday it was time to get to work on boat maintenance, cleaning etc.  The plan was to leave on or about Monday morning, heading east towards the Messina Strait.

By Sunday evening the boat was 'shipshape', so to speak, so we headed to town to get something to eat. On our previous visit I'd noticed a street full of restaurants. It was too narrow for cars, just tables covering the rough marble slabs of the roadway, with a narrow gap for people to pass through. It was still early, before 8pm, so not many people were eating, but I spotted a man with a platter of seafood and told Igor 'let's eat here'.

When eating in restaurants there's a sort of rule that if they have pictures on the menu find somewhere else. The other rule, of course, is that the food you get will look nowhere near as good as it does in the photo. Well, if you go to Alcolisti per Passione in Palermo neither of these rules applies. Sipping on our Aperols, they presented us each with a huge plate piled with marvellous deep fried squid, baby octopus, whitebait and prawns, with a side dish of caponata and some bread.

Oh, it was so good. (The menu also included spleen sandwiches but I wasn't tempted).

We staggered back to the boat with an overwhelming sense of wellbeing, sorry to be leaving.

When Monday morning came there were things that had to be done before setting off. Firstly, pay the marina. Second, an empty Camping Gaz bottle that needed to be filled. Third, provisions for a few days as we anticipated anchoring on our own rather than staying in marinas (no more fritto misto for a while).

The man covering the desk in the marina office couldn't find our paperwork and said to come back later and see the boss. We headed into town and bought 18 2 litre bottles of water, which Igor put on a trolley that kept for buying heavy stuff. The wheels wouldn't line up properly and as he didn't want to overload it I ended up carrying six of the bottles. No worries, it wasn't far.

When we got back to the marina the office was closed.

As the morning drew on the possibility of leaving today started to recede. Next job was taking the gas canister to the chandlery, a short walk from the marina, at the bottom of a tall pink waterside building. An older man was working behind the counter. We asked about the gas. He didn't speak English and called his assistant who explained that instead of just swapping the empty canister for a full one, as happens almost everywhere else, they  would refill it for us. 'Come back at 5pm'. OK, we're not going today. Woo hoo! Another day in Palermo!

Heading to Lidl, a much more interesting supermarket was on the way so this was an opportunity to stocked up with better food, then it was back to the boat for lunch. Afterwards we walked to a nearby garage and bought 20 litres of diesel, again carried on the trolley.

The marina office opened again in the afternoon and the boss, Ben, was there. We said we'd be leaving tomorrow and paid the bill for Libra's three week stay. He gave us a voucher for 10% off at one of the marina restaurants, which was kind of him.

At 5pm it was time to go back to the chandlery for the gas bottle. The older man was at the counter. 'Je suis désolé' uh-oh, haven't heard that since France. Between him and the young guy, in a mixture of French, Italian and a bit of English, they explained that they couldn't refill the bottle for some reason, but they could swap our bottle for a different, full canister. This was an ancient looking thing, very solid, painted shiny blue. The older guy pointed out that it had the initials 'CG' embossed on the top to show it was genuine. As long as it was gas we were happy.

Given our plan for an early start in the morning we decided against going out for dinner. We made an interesting discovery though - if you mix cheap red wine with orange San Pellegrino it makes a pleasant approximation to an Aperol!

Tuesday 14th May 2024

Our planned disembarkation time was 6am but, spoiler, it didn't happen. We didn't set off until around 8.30. No special reason, no dramas, just enjoyed a slower start than anticipated. Oh, and we had a guest on board so had to wait until they decided to leave.

(Seeing our visitor also explains some noises in the night, it sounded like someone was walking across the deck. Must have been kitty getting ready for a comfortable sleep in the sail bag.)

Once the engine was on and ticking over we made our way out from between the boats on either side very carefully.  Ben had warned us to keep left on our exit as there was shallow water on the other side. I was on the port side of the boat, pushing against the next door power boat to walk us out of the mooring. Igor did the same thing on the starboard side and we left our berth with nothing untoward happening. It was flat calm, sunny, very little wind and that was on our nose. The forecast was the same for the rest of the day, which meant we'd be motoring rather than sailing.

We chugged along at a steady 4-5 knots. We ate breakfast, then lunch. The sun shone. The scenery passed by, hills, cliffs....

... picturesque small towns by the water's edge.

Around 5pm we reached the anchorage at Rais Gerbi, where the beach met a cliff face that provided shelter from the easterly wind. There were tables on the beach suggesting a busy resort in season, and music drifted over to us. There were no other boats there and few people. The water was clear and the bottom sandy. Igor dropped the anchor and the boat was secure. Igor went for a swim. He said it was cold. I didn't join him.

I made our dinner early and washed up while it was still daylight. The sun set in a clear sky to an accompaniment of a glass of improvised Aperol.  

Igor slept on deck to make sure the anchor was holding safely. I slept like a log.

Wednesday 15th May 2024

Another early start, the engine went on at 5.55 am. It was just after sunrise, more or less daylight but no sign of the sun behind a heavy layer of cloud. The horizon wasn't visible either thanks to mist which swallowed it up and obscured our view of the land.

I'd put a light jacket on when I first came on deck, expecting to take it off within the hour but I felt cold. On with my jumper, which I needed until late in the afternoon. At times I even wrapped a blanket round my knees having once more made the mistake of leaving my jeans at home, compounded by putting on a pair of shorts this morning.

The wind was just under 5kts again and like yesterday was from the east. The engine was the only option today.  We chugged along, making reasonable time in the calm, benign conditions, with not much to see thanks to the poor visibility.

I cooked bacon rolls for lunch.  A little later, off the coast at Calanovella, I was out on deck keeping watch.  I saw what I thought were a few cormorants. These birds swim with just their necks poking out of the water and dive then resurface quite a way away, they are fantastic underwater swimmers. I looked again, something wasn't quite right, then there was a flurry of action and I realised that the 'necks' were actually the dorsal fins of a small pod of dolphins. I called Igor to come and have a look.

A dolphin, about a metre long, swam over to the boat and then crossed in front of us. Igor was trying to take photos but, like most of our encounters with dolphins, as soon as you get the camera out they disappear. This was the high spot of our day's journey.

There weren't any more dolphins after this. At around 4pm we reached Tindari.   Ahead of us was a high reddish rocky cliff with a church or cathedral at the top. The beach stretched off to our left almost as far as the eye could see. Again we were alone.

Igor dropped the anchor. Conditions were very still, not always a good thing when you are anchoring as the strength of the wind pulling the boat on the anchor helps it to bed into the ground.  Never mind, a check confirmed we were secure.

By now it had warmed up a lot. Igor went for a swim and told me that the water was a lot warmer than yesterday. Having felt so cold all day long I wasn't tempted to go in. He put his goggles on and had a look at the anchor. The boat had moved so that instead of being ahead of us as it should be the chain was alongside. It was clearly visible through the clear water, lying on the sandy sea bed . The anchor itself wasn't visible which was a good thing. It meant it had buried into the clean sand and would hold us.

I made dinner, what I call 'boat slup'. This refers to any sort of meal that is quick, tasty and probably something you wouldn't serve to dinner guests. Today's recipe involved fried onions, tinned tomatoes, oregano, garlic and pasta. I checked my store cupboard and found a tin of quenelles de veau that I'd bought in France. The ingredient list suggested that they'd make a tasty addition to the slup. I poured the contents of the tin into the mixture and ate a green olive that fell out. It didn't taste of anything. How was that even possible?  I added soy sauce and Worcestershire sauce to try and compensate for the lack of flavour, along with couple of torn up slices of Emmenthal cheese that needed to be eaten.

When I served dinner it tasted pretty good, apart from the quenelles. They tasted of nothing, well maybe of glue. I checked on the tin - 4% meat. Glad I didn't stock up on these.

The evening was as misty as the rest of the day and the water flat calm.

I went to bed almost as soon as it got dark as I was very tired from the early start. I fell into a deep sleep and so did Igor.

About an hour and a half later we were both woken by an almighty clamour. I wondered if the boat had been hit by something or there'd been some sort of natural disaster. We got up and looked outside. A squall had blown up from nowhere, none of the weather prediction sites had foretold it. The ensign was flapping fit to tear itself to shreds and the wind was howling through the bimini we'd put up for shade, shrieking with resonant frequencies. It felt and sounded like all hell was breaking loose. Then the boat turned and as soon as the nose was pointing into the wind the flapping from the ensign calmed down. The anchor was doing its job, holding us in place. After a few minutes the squall passed and we went back to bed....

...then a little while later it happened again. Igor got up and made sure the boat was safe, then back to bed. This happened over and over again. I have a confession, I just stayed in bed as I reasoned there wasn't much for me to do. If he needed me Igor would have called.  He told me in the morning there had been a massive lightning storm but no thunder, powerful enough that he'd thought it prudent to disconnect the aerial which goes to the top of the mast (we have learned from bitter experience that even a near miss from a lightning bolt can cause damage).

What a night.

Thursday 16th May 2024

Despite the lack of sleep we were up and away by 6am. There was no sign of last night's strong winds. Igor had even less sleep than me so I spent the morning out on deck, wrapped up in windproof jacket, hat, jumper and blanket trying to stay warm. It was misty again. Igor came up from time to time, checking the wind. He opened up the jib a few times when the wind looked promising but each time we'd scoot along for a couple of minutes then the wind would die and/or change direction.

Breakfast was around 9 ish, on the move. There honestly wasn't much to see, the odd boat in the distance but the visibility wasn't great.

Lunch was a tin each of tuna salad, nicer than it sounds. We weren't particularly hungry, there is little opportunity for any exercise on the boat so we had literally been sitting around for the last couple of days.

Three nautical miles from the Messina Strait you enter a Precautionary Zone, where marine traffic is regulated by VTS (Vessel Traffic Services). They provide information and control the management of river traffic. When you have pleasure boats, commercial vessels, ferries, warships and fishing boats to name just a few in a narrow tidal passage you need to have someone keeping an eye out.

Libra reached the Precautionary Zone at around 11.15 am. Commercial vessels are obliged to contact the VTS but it's optional for small pleasure craft like us. Even so, Igor's researches showed it was a good idea to contact them as other people had been challenged for not doing so. For my first attempt to raise them I used the VHF radio but there was no reply so I rang using my mobile. They answered my questions about the state of the Strait and the wind and gave us permission to proceed.

Unlike most of the rest of the Med there is a tidal flow in the Strait of Messina. It can reach a few knots at spring tides which is enough to be a challenge if you try to navigate against it in adverse wind over tide conditions.  Our arrival time at the entrance to the Strait was just before 4pm. The tide was against us but very weak, as it was a neap (not powerful) tide and nearly slack water.

By now it was a lot warmer and we could see a few people on the beach on the Sicilian side. As instructed by VTS we kept a listening watch on VHF channels 10 and 16 and could hear conversations between a French war ship and a commercial ship that it was trying to overtake. The war ship wanted the other one to change its course but the captain of the cargo ship was adamant he wasn't going anywhere.

A little further south  was the point where we would cross the Strait.  Although there were quite a few boats on the water they were well away from us, apart from one cargo ship which we allowed to pass us at a safe distance.  

Our destination was the port of Reggio Calabria. There are two marinas. I called one, no reply, so called the other and they said they had a berth for us. A helpful marinero was there to catch our ropes. Unfortunately I was so tired I made a right mess of throwing the first one to him and it fell into the murky water, where a large dead fish was floating. I succeeded at the second attempt. He brought a wide gangplank for us to use to get to shore. The arrangement was slightly terrifying, the plank rested on top of a thick chain and slid around with every movement in the water. I told myself it'd just take some getting used to.

It was good to be on dry land again (once I finally plucked up the courage to walk the plank!)

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