First sail this year - Arbatax to Sicily
11th April 2024
In a sailing boat the weather is the major determinant of whether you will have a good or bad sail, a quick or slow sail, comfortable or uncomfortable and sometimes life or death (but I'd rather not think about that). Igor therefore keeps a very close eye on what's forecast, using multiple sources of information to determine when will be the best day for any longer crossing. He established that tomorrow, Friday, is our best bet for making the 24+ hour crossing to Sicily.
I was nervous. We haven't sailed since September and here we were heading out to the open sea. On the other hand, I trust his judgment and have a good stock of anti seasick medication so why not just go for it? If we didn't like it we could just turn around and head back.
Today was spent in preparation. Anything in the cabin that could be damaged 0r damage us if it falls on the floor must be stowed away. Water tanks and diesel canisters need filling. Provisions (or for you seasoned sailors, victualling) must be ample. Lots of last minute checks on seaworthiness. We had a final lunch at the peschetteria and an early night as we aimed to set off at 7am next day.
Friday 12th April 2024
One of the joys of sailing in the Med is that there are no tides forcing you to make horribly early starts in order to secure the best conditions. In the UK the state of tide can mean either a quick and comfortable passage or waters that are impassable. Without tides we can set the alarm for 6am and know it shouldn't have a huge impact on our plans if we sneaked an extra half hour of rest.
We took our time, making last minute checks of the boat and eating breakfast, and set off just before 8am. The water was flat calm like a mirror as we said our goodbyes to Arbatax but as we moved offshore and out of the lee of the headland the wind picked up.
By 9am we had a nice steady northerly wind, around 13.5kts and the boat loved it. Our speed through the water climbed to 7, 8 even 9kts, in 13+ kts of true wind, flying. The boat is a racehorse and finally had the chance to stretch her legs.
Due to the design of the boat we can plane (like a motorboat) if our boat speed is more than about 8kts. We leave a wake that starts a few feet from the back of the boat, with a sound of bubbles hissing as we go. The movement of the water is hypnotic as the wake approaches and recedes from the transom as our speed varies. Today, conditions were perfect and we kept this up for the best part of 12 hours.
The boat is very well equipped but our rule is that gadgets should take up a minimum amount of space for the maximum functionality. For example, last year we got a small aircon unit that runs off both battery and mains, which was a lifesaver during the heatwave of 2023 when temperatures went up to 40C. This year's big purchase is a Starlink dish. Igor chose an older model over the newer one as its power consumption is less but it still performs as it should (and was slightly cheaper).
We now have the option of extremely fast internet wherever we are. The downside is the power consumption which can be an issue when we are under sail, so we don't keep it on the whole time. We also don't use the motorised arm, Igor drilled a hole in the antenna's case to pull the plug on the motor. It no longer chases satellites around the sky but being a phased array antenna it doesn't need to as its performance is still good enough. Igor's approach to positioning is low tech, the dish sits balanced on bags in the forepeak (with the hatch open if we're not moving) though we have tried other possibilities.
Having all the information on the internet to hand is really useful, but you must make sure you don't get too distracted by it. Mid crossing we could get weather updates, vital, and keep the family up to date to reassure them we were progressing safely. It's not there for playing games or social media. The International Regulations for Safety of Life at Sea (SOLAS) state that you must keep a lookout by all possible means whenever your boat is moving. As well as using your eyes to do a visual scan, electronic methods such as AIS or radar will tell you if there are vessels over the horizon whose path is likely to intercept yours. On this passage we saw almost nobody by any method.
Conditions like these, where the horizon is clear and you know that your path is safe beyond that, mean that it can be safe to read or do other things whilst on watch provided you break off every few minutes to look around. I was reading when I saw a flicker of darkness by the cockpit gangway. I wondered what it was and decided it was probably a shadow from a loose rope on the boom. A couple of minutes later Igor called me down below. A small black and white bird was sitting on the chart plotter on the nav table. It looked at us, unafraid, pooped all down the screen, then flew into the forward cabin and made itself comfortable there. Igor had tried to feed it some bread but it wasn't very interested. It just recognised that it could identify us as lovely people who will feed you and not get upset if you shit on their chart plotter (don't take that as an invitation).
We must have been 40-50 miles offshore, no idea where it came from.
In case you're interested 'SOG' shown on the display above means 'Speed Over Ground'. This is different to your speed through the water or 'boat speed'. Currents and tides can slow you down or speed you up so you have a choice of how you measure how fast you're going. If you want to know how much distance you're covering use SOG. If you want to just know how fast the boat is going use boat speed. In different situations you may find one or the other more useful so our boat's instruments can tell you both.
The afternoon drew onwards, thankfully uneventfully. We sailed with the autopilot doing all the work. Around 5.30pm we turned the engine on to top up the batteries as the autopilot uses a lot of power.
Around 6.30pm we ate our dinner, the classic boat meal of a tin of curry, a packet of precooked rice and a (non traditional but excellent) hunk of tomato focaccia. I cooked early, well before sunset, so that I wouldn't need extra light for cooking. Nothing like being at sea to stir up your appetite. Tinned curry is so much better than it sounds.
By 7.30pm the sun was starting to set. As this was an overnight crossing we would be taking it in turns to stand watch. After checking that the sails were properly set and everything was in order Igor went below to have a rest as his watch spanned the middle of the night. The sun descended into the water. I took a photo.
The moon rose, a slim upended crescent surrounded by stars. I contemplated the vastness of the water and my own insignificance.
The northerly breeze was chilly during the day and it kept up as the night progressed. Like idiots we had taken our warm, waterproof over trousers and jackets back to England and left them there. It wasn't so bad during the day, a jumper and a windproof jacket were enough, but as night fell so did the temperature .
By now it was definitely cold. During the day I was comfortable in my brushed cotton pyjama bottoms (don't judge me, I like sailing in pyjamas) and a jumper over my tshirt.
When it started to get dark I borrowed some jeans from Igor which went over my pyjama bottoms as I had no thermals with me. I added a thin summer cardigan over my jumper, the only other 'woolly' I have with me, topped by a lightweight windproof packaway jacket. I swapped my peaked cap for a cashmere beanie and pulled the hood of my jacket over it. I was still cold. I found a lightweight blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders, tying it tight so that it stopped drafts from going down my back. Now I was warm enough, with the rest of the blanket tight around me. I sat and watched the skies and water for a couple of hours, sailing along with a perfect breeze around 14 kts. There is nothing like sailing fast on a boat that's built for it, Libra really is a marvel.
Around 10pm Igor came up on deck. The wind had dropped to around 6kts, not enough to keep up any decent speed, so we switched the engine on. Igor asked if I'd like to have a rest. Only one answer to that. I gave him the red blanket, went below to our cabin and slept, lulled by the engine noise.
When I woke up it was around 5.30am. I felt guilty at having slept for so long. We swapped places so he could go and rest. Igor gave me a sleeping bag to wrap around myself as well as the blanket. It made the difference between being cold and miserable and being warm and alert. He advised me against sitting on the starboard side where the mainsail was as the condensation dripping from it had made the bench below soaking wet.
It was still dark, just me and the water. Around 6.15am I thought I saw a dim flashing light on the horizon. I couldn't tell if my eyes were playing tricks on me but it seemed to come and go in the same place. By the time I had the presence of mind to time the duration of the light and dark phases the sun had started to rise and I could no longer see the glimmer. I had a brief look at the chart plotter and it looked like there was land in the right direction so maybe I really did see it.
The sun rose around 6.30 am. I took a picture.
It's almost identical to the sunset picture except a different bit of guardrail frames the sun. I tried to read but the book wasn't very good and staring at the surroundings seemed a much better use of my time. Just me and the water.
About 8.15 I saw a sailing boat on the horizon to the south, going in the opposite direction. There was a big ship to the north but it didn't seem to be moving. Igor got up for a little while to check everything. He identified the big boat as Italian coastguard (ITCGA), then went back to bed again. I had my breakfast, a cup of tea and Greek yogurt with muesli. I'd finished it and cleared it away when another little bird, a finch I think, flew under the sprayhood and sat by the winches. It was unafraid, pecking about, totally unbothered by me.
Around 9.15am I thought I caught a glimpse of land but the horizon was very misty. I took a photo but it was hard to see any details of what was ahead and try as I might I still can't see anything on the picture that looks like land. A little while later Igor got up and shortly after that, around 10.15, we saw what was unmistakeably land!
It felt as if we must be nearly at our destination by now. The wind had dropped again so Igor turned on the engine and we motor sailed the rest of the way to San Vito lo Capo in Sicily. We thought we'd arrive by 1pm but the marina asked us to arrive at 2pm as it was lunchtime. We switched off the engine, slowed down and enjoyed the final approach in silence and got there bang on 2pm.
Once we arrived at the marina it was far from obvious where we should go, until a young man whistled at us and pointed towards a spare berth. I checked with Igor which mooring line I should throw first. It's important to throw the windward line as this is the one that takes most of the strain so controls the boat. We agreed I should throw the port line first. As I approached the berth, port line in hand, I realised that the wind was coming from the other side but there was no time to change my actions. I threw the rope, the marinero caught it. The boat slewed to one side and ended up side to against the pontoon. Luckily there were no boats nearby and we had lots of fenders up so no damage was done. We secured the other aft line and the lines supplied by the marina which hold the front of the boat in place. We could then use the ropes to turn the boat to its correct position.
Once we were secured and the marinero had left we decided to take the slack from the aft lines to move us slightly nearer to the pontoons. We turned the engine on and put it in reverse - and it stalled. We tried a couple of times, just ticking over at very low revs but it wouldn't go. Igor reckoned that the cause was that the diesel has been sitting in the tank for too long for it to still be in tip top condition. Once we docked he spent some time troubleshooting and treating the fuel to avoid this happening again.
(Now, a spoiler for the next post.....it wasn't the fuel that was the problem, but you'll have to wait for me to tell you what was)
So, learning points from this trip:
- Never forget, you feel colder on the water so make sure you bring oilies and warm clothes, even if you're in a warm country!!
- All that stuff about 'throw this rope first not that one' is really important. I've now seen what happens when you don't.
- Diesel really can go off if you leave it too long.
- ...BUT the solution you first settle on isn't always the correct one
All in all this was a fantastic shakedown sail. What a luxury to be travelling using only the wind for such a long time. And what a destination! San Vito lo Capo is stunning, a low build small town of creamy buildings surrounded by massive rocky cliffs and a huge white sand beach.
Everywhere is just really pleasing to the eye. I keep looking at it and thinking 'Wow'.
We have had wonderful pizza and ice cream. It's quite flat so great for walking. It's a fabulous place.
Going back to how I started this post, we are once again subject to the whims of the weather. At the time of writing (15th April) very strong winds are blowing. They weren't forecast for today, they're supposed to reach here on Wednesday. We are hoping to skip across to Palermo in the calm before the storm tomorrow but we shall just have to wait and see how things develop. I wouldn't want to be at sea in these conditions.
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