No Rescue Needed

What do dolphins called Nessy, 1am Guardia visits, helicopter rescue mission attempts, and trespassing in abandoned villages have in common? Why a new adventure of course - whoop whoop 🔱💛✨.

It's always easy to congratulate yourself on a job well done when the conditions allow you to achieve. And so far in our sailing history, bar a few crazy moments, we have had a fairly easy and comfortable time of it while racking up the nautical miles. As I said, it's easy to pat yourself on the back and say we are skippering the high seas with ease, but the last few weeks have delivered a reality check of note.

Not having had adventures for a while, it's been difficult for me to write. I would like to be one of those people who can pick up my pen, plonk myself down in my favorite writing spot, and create. But alas, no. I need adversity and boy do the words then begin to flow out of me.

Not that I prefer adversity, but I have certainly had my fill of that of late. I have found that in grief my emotions are definitely not held in check and I have a desire to share them. This blog though is not about my beautiful Nessy, or my deep sadness, which I’ve been forced to put aside for the sake of safety, survival, and the opportunity to feel truly alive again, for the first time in 3 months.

Our precious friend Sergio describes smooth, flowing single track in the Barcelona mountains as Walt Disney; all safe, fun, and fluffy stuffed animals - no PG required. Well, we certainly have enjoyed a long period of Walt Disney sailing of late, not having to stress for more than a day or two for the entirety of last season, and longer. But we have to create these new adventures to give me something to write about, of course. So we decided to sail to Italy (possibly) too early in the spring season, changing it all up and giving ourselves the opportunity 😜 to learn more about sailing in a week than the entire previous year. Yip, that's sailing.

We left Menorca on 16 March, with frost still on the ground and long before the spring flowers could even think of waking up, to start our migration east to Croatia. It was a quick hop and a jump across to Sardinia, the windy Island, where we were looking forward to some wing foiling. Aiming for the stronger winds on the south west of Sardinia we quickly realized the foolishness of our hopes to venture out with a wing and foil into the unseasonably freezing waters for some much needed fun.

Giving that up for a bad idea we spent the next few days, and 19 hours of sailing, making our way to the opposite side of the second largest island in the Mediterranean. North east Sardinia gave us more scope to shelter from the strong winds, and so our yo-yo bouncing from bay to bay began, choosing new anchorages for the wind and swell protection they provide.

Not that I'm complaining though as it forced us to explore the surroundings and discover new anchorage for us, which was a highlight and the first part of our adventure. We anchored below an abandoned holiday village with over 300 reed huts clearly barricaded off with fence, tape and no entry signs all designed to discourage access. So, obviously, we were forced to explore. Naturally we did our homework first, scoping out the scene (or maybe the escape routes) by drone for a birds eye view, before trespassing.

It helps that, being South African, we can't read Italian and crime scene tape is nothing new to us. Grabbing our bikes we ventured off for some hike-a-bike adventure on the island, which naturally led us to a dilapidated stone wall (minus the tape 😜) on the way back. A quick scale of the wall, bikes include, and we were in no man's land.

What a surreal experience exploring what was once notoriously known as the debaucherous Club Med of the sixties that brought shock and scandal to the highly conservative Sardinians. Sardinians who of course weren't above a bribe, and wouldn't say no to the employment opportunities, because it allowed them to gawk at the mostly naked international guests. In 2018 Club Med pulled the plug and left nature to take its course, abandoning everything to rot from the mattresses to bedding, cupboards, and lamps; they didn't even empty the rubbish bins on the way out.

So now we are flying down the old cracked paths between the pine trees, on the way back to the beach and our dinghy, when who should suddenly appear around the corner? Why the private security detail of course. Fortunately for me their tiny Fiat was no match for my Santacruz and I broke through the danger tape like I was winning the 100m sprint at the Paris Olympics. I was long gone before they could even say charlie bravo into their radio.

In living memory it is impossible to find in La Maddalena, and indeed in no other part of Sardinia, such a radical change in customs as the one caused, in 1955, by the settlement in Caprera of the Village Magique, with its first brogues in bikini, and, after the bath, naked under a colorful sarong knotted on the breast, inclined to socialize with the most uninhibited indigents.

https://lamaddalena.info/quel-peccaminoso-club-med/

Sardinia is naturally beautiful with some of the most amazing rock formations and mountains, unbelievable turquoise waters, and exceptional mountain biking. In hindsight we should have stayed longer than the three weeks, but decided to head south for that elusive wing foiling and warmer water.

Time to explore Sicily; what a mistake. Not a comparatively pretty island at all with a rather straight coastline resulting in an absence of good bays to shelter in. But fifty hours later, at 7am, we arrived at a tiny island off the west coast of Sicily. With barely a glance we immediately declared this was not up to our high standard, and wing foiling be damned, we continued east after a quick breakfast. Operating on minimal sleep we sailed for another eight hours before stopping for a respite and an overdue night spent sleeping in the same bed at the same time. Being rudely woken at 6 am the following morning by 25 knot katabatic winds was not ideal, and praying our anchor would hold the next night in 40 knots gusts, didn't enamour me any further to this island. These winds were undoubtedly the strongest we had anchored in since the hurricane we lived through in Greece a few years back. Thus we made the decision to run for the Messina, attempting to get ahead of the gail force westerly forecasted for the next day, and just made it. Sort of. The day started out well, even though it was cold and cloudy, and we got the chance to enjoy a two hour dolphin show off our bow before the wind caught us, giving GypsyDjango a new top speed of 14.6 knots.

But it wasn't all bad news; that wild wind delivered us to the mouth of the tricky Messina Straits just in time to take advantage of the favorable five knot current. On the side, when we lived on the slopes of Table Mountain in Cape Town, I called all the many squirrels in the forest around us Sammy - they all looked the same and it worked for me. I have decided from now on all dolphins who come to join our journey, wherever we are, will be called Nessy.

Having cleared the currents, we stopped halfway down the Messina for a drop-and-splash. This requires me to make a quick run to the Lidl for much needed supplies (energy drinks, oh and some food) while Kevin keeps GypsyDjango off the beach. It was quite welcome, if not strange, to get my balance on shore for the first time in five days. Later that evening we anchored in Taormina, South Messina under Mount Etna - this time still covered in snow and fortunately not erupting. It was perfect for some good westerly protection and, being able to safely leave the boat for a couple of hours, we ventured forth for some much needed culture in the historic seaside village - and for Kevin to stretch his legs (that means I made him walk eight kilometers).

But all good things came to an end and it was time for the fun to begin. We crossed to mainland Italy to traverse the south coast and set ourselves up for the final leg to Greece. No longer searching for wind foiling spots but for warmth and more stable weather instead. Sailors need and want the wind but there is also a time when it gets too much and the next two days were not fun.

Back to Walt Disney; we were definitely searching for it and all we had been getting was a rollercoaster horror show with hell and high water. As far from Walt Disney as one can be.

So that reality check; we have learned more about sailing in the past week than in the entire previous year. We have pushed GypsyDjango as hard as we can, we have new high average speeds, made on-the-go repairs to the sails, and we can reduce the size of the sails (reef) in less than two minutes. Honestly, it hasn’t been fun with the inconsistent wind repeatedly and instantaneously changing direction by up to 120 degrees, and tripling in speed from one moment to the next. The conditions have been so adverse that my muscles are sore from maintaining balance and controlling the wheel. My feet, from stranding and grounding myself, feel like a night out on the dance floor without the fun of the tequila and good music - the wind just roars.

The highlight has to be the Italian coastguard tracking us and coming to visit at 1 am in the morning with their high speed boat, rudely waking us half an hour after dropping anchor at midnight and exhausted after battling the elements. We scrambled with fright at the sudden sound of their twin V8 diesel caterpillars right next to our cabin window, while grabbing clothes to make ourselves decent under the glare of their spotlight. Clothes are the last thing on your mind when you’re fearing a collision with another boat. The cause of this unnecessary and rude disruption? The Guardia’s affront at us supposedly not flying their beloved Italian flag. Ok, I admit our modestly sized South African flag might slightly overshadow the tiny postage stamp of an Italian flag that we have, but still it's plainly visible there to see, right where it should be, especially under that impressive spotlight. Embarrassed, they then proceeded to argue with us about the placement of our American flag (we are a US registered yacht). Kevin assured him that, for a sailing vessel, it was in the correct place and, after he called a friend to verify, without admitting their fault they wished us a good night's sleep - like we could after that 😜.

But all was forgiven the next day when the nightmare continued and, shortly after being stung by horizontal rain in a squall of 40 knot winds, the coast guard came to visit us, by helicopter, to see if we needed assistance. It was with complete bafflement as to what we were doing out in those conditions that they slowly circled us, just above the mast. Fortunately Kevin knew how to give them the all OK signal as I am not sure if they could tell whether my exuberant, excited waving was a friendly hello or a desperate plea for help. I am sure they are still confused as to why the man was standing back while the woman fought the helm in those conditions. Maybe that's why they circled us twice, they needed that Instagram photo.

As I am writing this, after yesterday's excitement, grabbing some much needed sleep, and reading the forecasts, we are sailing for Greece. We’ve decided to face the elements out there moving forward instead of standing still, and if you are reading this it means we made it safely. After the past three months I have needed something like this, and have never felt more alive. My only hope is that the wind in Greece is as chilled and laid back as the people.