First Days in Gioia Tauro

8th-21st September

Gioia Tauro is a huge container port. Once upon a time there was land there, olive groves and citrus groves, a fertile plain bordering the sea. Now the land has been dredged and a new port built, huge walls protecting it from the wrath of the sea. Behind the walls is the long, narrow port, four kilometres of it, where the giant container ships come to be unloaded and loaded. It was onto one of these ships that Twelfth of Never was to be loaded and consigned to Singapore.

Behind the container port, tucked into a corner, was the small harbour where Ron had organised berths for both boats. We found the entrance to the main harbour easily enough but after that it became a little more difficult. Desperately, we scanned the shore, hoping for some sign that there was a break in the wall, evidence of the smaller port behind. Eventually I spied some masts and then...was that the gap we were looking for? Tony confirmed it... there was the entrance. At the same time we were keeping a lookout for container ships as we had already waited outside the main harbour while two enormous monsters slowly edged their way out. And then, the best help possible... a fishing boat was entering the smaller port. Joy!!! We could follow it. We were glad of their lead because they took a strange route in order to avoid shallow patches. Then we saw Twelfth of Never and, before I realised it, we were almost berthed... bow first!!!

This has definitely been a year for trying new things. We have never berthed bow first before, believing that the bow is too high, that getting on and off would be too difficult... once we were tied up to the quay Tony set about getting the kedge anchor out of the anchor locker (at the front of the boat), carrying it back to the stern trailing heavy chain and thick rope, putting it into the dinghy, after which Alex and Stephen rowed it out into the harbour, where they dropped it. Tony was then able to tighten the line thus holding Ganaymede off the quay. For the two weeks we were there I vaguely worried about how we were going to get out without someone to help us pull up the anchor and put it away, because there would be no electric windlass to help us and Sheenagh and the boys would have gone on their way, back to France and England.

The harbour was tiny. On the opposite side were some floating pontoons, all full, no spaces available for visiting boats. Further along, hugging the wall, was another pontoon, small day boats taking up every available space. On our side of the harbour there was a quay with five or six fishing boats, none of which seemed ever to leave the harbour, a couple of coastguard boats and, immediately next to Twelfth of Never, two large fire boats. Immediately next to Ganymede there was a flotilla of small fishing boats and day boats. There were too many of them to all be tied directly onto the quay so there was a system whereby a line went from the wall to a buoy about twenty metres into the harbour. One boat was then able to tie up to the wall while five or six others tied on to the line front and back... There were maybe a dozen such lines and it was quite an effort for the boats to make their way in and out. Nevertheless, many of the small fishing boats went out very early each morning and although when they returned I watched carefully (or so I thought) I was never able to discover whether they actually caught any fish.

Ron headed back to France, back to work. Sheenagh went with him by taxi to the airport at Reggio Calabria, where she hired a car. There were some men working on the fire boat and Tony asked if there was a bar nearby where we could go for coffee, yes, was the answer... but we are going that way, come with us, we will show you... so off went Tony and came back within minutes... the bar was indeed close by. And it had a small restaurant. Naturally, then, our first foray out of the harbour was to the restaurant to enjoy a simple Italian lunch.

The days were still hot, the relentless sun beating down on us mercilessly. Now that there was a car available we were able to go into town. According to the pilot guide it was a good thirty minute walk into town, with not much shade... but from the car it didn't look too bad. In the town, food shops, clothes shops, bars and restaurants. By chance we found the bar that supposedly served the best coffee. It certainly was delicious.
We had no news of when Twelfth of Never would be loaded, The container ship had yet to arrive and so we passed the days pottering around on the boats, visiting the town, eating in the local restaurant and sightseeing.

Inland, the countryside is spectacular with high mountains and lush, green valleys. When we went out in the car Sheenagh and Alex shared the driving but Alex somehow managed to get the worst bits: the hairpin bends, the mountain roads. Our first excursion was to Vibo Valentia, along winding roads, through small towns, confronted by sudden valleys, views of the sea, of the mountains. But we didn't stop when we got there preferring to negotiate our way through the traffic and down to the sea. We stopped in Vibo Marina and ended up having a drink in the bar of one of the marinas there. It was quiet, relaxing. I liked it. Just for interest, I decided to get some information about over-wintering there. I know... our plan was made, it was to be Corfu for the winter! But still... just for interest...

And then we headed home, trying not to head back up the hill to Vibo Valentia again... it was a VERY twisty road. Eventually we came to Tropea, or the outskirts. What a first view of it we had! The marina tucked into the bay down below and then, suddenly, to see the mediaeval town, high on a cliff, the houses built out to the very edge. Stunning! As it was late, we decided to visit it the next day.

After that, try as we might, all roads seemed to lead to Vibo Valentia. We did get home, eventually, but I am sure towards the end Alex was exhausted and no longer appreciating the beauty of the scenery.

Vulcano

4th-7th September

The island of Vulcano is another of our favourite spots. It is the most southerly of the Aeolian Islands, a group of seven islands of vulcanic origin of which the most famous is Stromboli. There are two safe anchorages, one to the east, the other the west, separated by a small isthmus. We always choose the eastern anchorage, nearer the town and just outside the harbour. It is always busy with boats at anchor and ferries rushing in and out all day long.

Ashore there is a hot spring, a sulphur mud bath. It is an experience, sitting there in this cloudy, grey water that can be very hot in places, bubbles rising all around, covering oneself in the malodorous whitish-grey mud. There are always lots of people: sitting in the opaque water, rubbing mud on faces, arms, necks, legs, standing ankle-deep in the water or on the side of the pool allowing the mud to dry hard before washing it all off and starting again. There are signs: Please Wash Mud Off Before Going into the Sea. I think the mud may be running out... A word of warning: always warn friends who plan to go there, wear an old swimsuit, one that can be thrown away afterwards, because it will never be the same again.

Although small, the mud baths are the dominating feature of Vulcano, more because the smell of the sulphur is all-pervasive than because it is an obvious feature of the landscape. After a few days it seems to get into everything, sometimes just a hint, sometimes so strong it almost hurts to breathe. I find that eventually I get a headache. But even so, I love going there.

Vulcano is not a particularly attractive town, at least, not in a picture postcard way. There are no elegant buildings, no narrow alleys, no beautiful churches. What there is is life, lots of it. The town thrives on tourism and all day long there are people arriving or leaving, shopping, eating, relaxing, walking through the small town. The main beach is on the other side, near the other anchorage. A thermal swimming pool has been constructed recently with, according to the brochure, various pools all at difference temperatures. It all looks very exciting. And for those visitors who want to explore the island, it is possible to rent bicycles, scooters, quad bikes. I think the whole island can be covered in less than a day.

Then there are the organised hikes up to the crater of the main volcano, which is still slightly active. Well, there is smoke... a little. But it does seem to be more each year. It is always too hot when we visit to even consider the hike. Every year I promise myself I will go and every year the heat beats me. This year was no better. I think that the days since we arrived in Sicily have been the hottest of the summer, no matter that it is now September. I had forgotten just how unbearable it is. One morning I talked to a woman in a shop who told me that that day was to be particularly hot... Oh no, not hotter, I just couldn't cope! So, once again, no walk up to the crater. But it is there to look at, above the town, the top devoid of vegetation, smoke appearing in various places along the ridge and occasionally further down the mountainside.

There is a Centre for the Study of Volcanoes and eventually Tony and I managed to find it. It wasn't easy. Although they seem to want visitors they also seem not to know how to advertise themselves. Which is a shame because it was interesting. Obviously the main study is of Stromboli and they had a short film showing amazing footage of the eruption that took place in 2002/3.

After a few days it was time to move on. Ron and Sheenagh had caught up with us once again and I particularly wanted them to visit Stromboli, to see the volcano at night, passing on the western side where they would see the eruptions that take place every fifteen to twenty minutes. It is the most remarkable sight, lava exploding out of the crater, shooting up a hundred feet in the air before landing and rolling down the mountain. Nothing grows, there is nothing but black lava scree running down from the crater, about a kilometre wide when it reaches the sea. And the sea... it is a deep, deep blue, almost black. Even fifty metres from the shore it is already a hundred metres deep.

Our first stop would be the island of Panarea. In the past we have anchored away from the town in a small bay with a few houses on the shore and space for maybe three or four boats.
I had long wanted to try the anchorage in front of the town so that was where we headed, from Vulcano along the coast of Lipari and then to Panarea, Stromboli in sight all the time, puffs of smoke emitting at regular intervals. The anchorage looked doubtful. There were mooring buoys scattered everywhere but we had no idea whether we could pick one up and if we did, would it be strong enough to hold Ganymede should the weather turn bad. We dropped anchor, didn't like where we were, moved and dropped anchor again. Then we went ashore.

The town was slightly disappointing. I don't know what I had expected. Perhaps a prettier version of Vulcano, perhaps a larger village, more elegant shops and restaurants ... There were lots of people sitting around when we arrived, waiting, looking bored. We wandered along the harbour, passing a few shops and cafés, and then back. By the time we had chosen a bar to sit in and enjoy a cool drink a ferry had come and gone... and so had all the people. Perhaps I got the wrong impression but I think Panarea may be best seen from the sea. On shore there seemed little for the visitor to do other than eat and drink, at least in the suffocating heat of summer... in cooler weather I am sure there are lovely walks and I know from going ashore at the other anchorage that there are lovely villas, their gardens lush with brightly coloured shrubs: bougainvilea, oleander, hibiscus, summer jasmine. The narrow lanes are wide enough only for the golf carts that are used as taxis (as they are on Stromboli also).

Tony and I spent the night at anchor while the others continued on their way, timing their passage in order to pass Stromboli as soon as darkness fell and then on to Gioia Tauro, their final destination. We slept soundly and then made an early start to arrive in Gioia Tauro just after midday.

Cefalú

31st August to 4th September

From Mondello it is an afternoon cruise past Palermo Bay (this time we made no detour into the bay, no overnight stop in Palermo for dinner in one of the fine restaurants in Piazza Marina) to reach the anchorage at Zafferano, on the far side of the bay before nightfall... our arrival planned for after the day boats have gone home so that we didn't have to struggle to find a good spot. It worked perfectly and we passed a quiet night at anchor, only the moon, the stars and the lights on shore to keep us company.

Next day we made our way to Cefalú. That morning, finally, we heard from Ron and Sheenagh, a message on our Spanish phone number: they were on their way to Castellammare!

From Zafferano to Cefalú is a distance of some 20 miles, an easy passage, and in no time we were approaching the town. First the huge rock that stands above the old town, then the cathedral and finally the buildings of the town, winding slowly down the hill and almost into the sea.

Now, I know it won't surprise you to learn that we like Cefalú... a lot. It is breathtaking, awesome.

When we first visited Cefalú we always anchored in the bay in front of the town and took the dinghy the short distance to the tiny little harbour. It is a lovely spot but, as the pilot guide warns, there is often a swell, sometimes untenable, and after one particularly bad night we moved round to the new harbour and discovered the wonderful anchorage there. So now, although it is a longer walk into town, that is where we go. We are behind the rock here, although it still dominates. There is the fishing harbour with a marina and, of course, summer pontoons for all the small boats, The scenery is about as good as it gets, the mountains, the villas scattered around, boats at anchor, cliffs and rocks.

The walk into town winds up from the bay and then down into the narrow alleys and streets of the old town. There you are met with an abundance of small shops.. tourists shops selling tea towels and post cards and pottery and... and... and. Then there are the food shops selling wine, and meats, and vegetables, Sicilian delicacies of all types. And the shops selling hats, antiques, clothes, jewellery. Of course, there are also bars, ice-cream parlours and restaurants. There is a terrace where you can sit and look over the small harbour. The main square is in front of the duomo (cathedral) and that is where we often sit and drink a coffee, watching people go by.

This visit we seemed to discover a lot of new parts of the town. For the first time in seven years the duomo was open to visitors. We think it may have been closed for renovations in previous years because there is still evidence of on-going projects. It is so beautiful, even in its current, unfinished state. Light and airy and cool. In summer I like nothing better than to sit in a church for a while, just sit, cool down, and enjoy the peace. Then I am energised, ready to go out and join the world again. I bought a paper that gave an excellent explanation of the symbolism in the various paintings in the cathedral. I must keep it for future visits to Italian churches because I am sure it would serve equally well for any religious painting.

From the cathedral we deviated from our usual route downwards, back through the town and instead headed slightly upwards and above the town following signposts to 'Diana's Temple'... until they ran out. We continued on, in spite of the heat, keeping in the shade, looking down over the town, over the rooftops and on down to the sea. Behind us was the rock and on top, I forgot to mention before, the old castle. Eventually we reached the last part of the road... closed Tuesday said the sign. Of course, it was Tuesday. I think we were relieved. It had been quite a climb and looked like being steeper still and we had already enjoyed some wonderful views of the rooftops and the sea so it was time to head down again.

Back in town, it was lunchtime. There are some lovely restaurants that have terraces overlooking the sea and we repaired to one of them. I had to check a number of menus before we settled (Tony would have gone to the first one...) and happily it was a good choice. We sat at a table on a small balcony off the main restaurant. Just us at our little table. Below was a terrace built out over the rocks and that is where most of the other diners were seated. No-one wanted to eat indoors on such a day.

As we ate I noticed that a number of people were passing by on the seaward side, there seemed to be a small path, but I didn't know how far it went. I asked a waiter as we were leaving and he to said that in one direction it led to the little port in the town, in the other to the fishing port. Hmmm. Could we exit that side instead of going back out into the town? We could and did.

The town is built straight out of the sea. For the most part there is only the smallest area of rock between the sea and the walls of houses, or the town wall. Some time recently a path has been made along the outside of the walls, a path made by filling gaps between rocks with concrete so that it is easy to walk along, steps have been constructed where necessary, there is even a bridge or two. After a long lunch was perhaps not the best time to tackle it, but there was a cooling breeze blowing off the sea and we were in shade almost all the time, so it could have been worse. And it was such a great walk!!! We didn't really believe that it would come out in the fishing port... and it didn't. I may have been quite glad about that as the final part of the path would have taken us along the outside of the town sewage plant...

However, having congratulated ourselves that we hadn't had to climb the long hill that leads out of town before the descent once more to the port, we were suddenly faced with a flight of steps that was, oh, one hundred times worse! Straight up they went. We needed several stops to rest and then, at the top, the bar where we always stop on our way back from town. A long, cool drink was just what the doctor ordered!

Ron and Sheenagh arrived early next morning after a night passage from Castellammare so we enjoyed a second day of exploring. The cathedral was being dressed up with white roses and ribbons... one detail was that three white roses and a trailing white ribbon were placed at the end of each pew...so simple, so effective. A wedding was to take place. It was obviously going to be quite an affair.

We visited the cloisters - another first - the lady on the door explained that it had been allowed to fall into disrepair but that it was now slowly being restored. The plans sounded fantastic, to include, among other things, a new garden. I'm looking forward to next year's visit.

Crowds started to gather outside the cathedral around four o'clock, the time of the wedding. I had forgotten that in Sicily the favourite colour for wedding guests is black. It is rare to see a woman dressed in any other colour and if she is, she certainly stands out. Such elegant outfits the women were wearing. I must mention a brilliant blue dress that was memorable for its oppulance. The wearer looked uncomfortable, perhaps she wasn't Italian... or Sicilian... (after all, the groom was from Rome we had discovered) and hadn't known the unofficial 'dress code'. We tried to guess which man was the groom... but then the guests started heading inside. The bride arrived by horse and carriage, glowing with happiness.

We wandered off, through the narrow streets, window shopping, looking up at cast iron balconies, admiring the architecture, commenting that most of the renovation work seemed to be on religious buildings, stopping for granita, and then, quite without plan, we were back at the duomo. An hour had passed and still people were waiting around. The horse and carriage were still there as was the cutest little 1950 car, bedecked in white roses, of course. People arrived with balloons... but no sign of the bride and groom emerging from the church. 'Who is getting married' asked an old lady of the town. When given an answer she sort of 'hmpphed' - obviously didn't like the family much, but like the rest of us, she waited.

When eventually the bride and groom came out, after almost two hours, two white doves were released. Then the balloons. And the happy couple posed for photos in the old car. The bride went round the guests that were standing around, accepting their congratulations, offering sparkling wine, sharing her happiness. Aren't weddings wonderful?

We wound our way back to the anchorage, back to Ganymede, and eventually shared dinner on board Ganymede with Ron, Sheenagh and Stephen and Alex, their sons. Next day we headed for Vulcano... or at least Tony and I did. The others took a longer route and stopped overnight at Capo Orlando.

Mondello

29th - 31 August

Another beautiful sail. I remembered how much I love this northern coast of Sicily with its rolling hills and high mountains, layer upon layer of mountain range, or so it seems as we pass along near the coast. It was a perfect, lazy afternoon, knowing we had lots of time to get to Mondello Bay before nightfall. Tony wants me to mention that part of our route involved passing Palermo airport, quite close to the runway at one point. One of the planes coming in to land seemed too close for comfort, I crossed my fingers, hoped our mast wasn't too high which, of course, it couldn't have been or sailing boats would not be allowed in that particular area.

Mondello is another of those Sicilian towns that we visit whenever we are passing by. The town developed as a beach resort in the 19th century when rich merchants from Palermo started to build large villas there. The magnificent bathing pavilion that dominates the sea- front dates from that time. Unusually for this region, most of the 2km beach has been taken over by private clubs and access for the occasional visitor seems to be limited, but that is only my impression. I assume that seasonal visitors buy a temporary membership and then enjoy all the facilities that each club offers, from sun loungers to pedaloes to windsurfers and small sailing dinghies and whatever other entertainments the beach visitor demands.

Next morning we went ashore. The small harbour was unchanged, pontoons full of small pleasure boats (most of the harbour is too shallow for anything else), a place on the quay for the Guardia Costiera boat and the tour boat that comes in a couple of times a day and various small fishing boats tied alongside the quay. As usual, we found a place by the steps, tied up the dinghy and went off for our cappuccino and some shopping. As usual, the harbour area was a bit untidy, in need of a good spring clean, but full of life, full of activity.

Our first stop was the main square for coffee. As we approached I thought, oh, there is one of those 'living' statues, and was waiting for him to bow and thank whoever had put a coin in his collecting hat. As with the' Sailor Home From the Sea' in Cartagena, I had been fooled. Here was another of those lifelike statues, this one of a musician, violin at the ready, waiting to join in the music. At least I recognised it was a statue this time, only it was a real one, not someone pretending... Looking round there were several others, sitting on benches, reading newspapers, standing looking out to sea. They all had a 1950s American look to them and later I discovered that the sculptor was from Washington. I noticed that children loved to stop by them and touch them.

A leisurely coffee, well, leisurely by my standards, not leisurely enough for Tony, and it was time to investigate the food shops. There is a fruit and vegetable cum grocer cum salumeria on one of the corners of the square, a shop that has everything but not enough space to put it and too many customers for them to all get in the shop and certainly there is no time to browse, which is a shame because I am sure there are so many delicacies there to discover. Instead, we bought salad vegetables, peaches, grapes, bread, ham, cheese and olive oil before beginning to feel it was time to vacate the shop, make room for the next customer... we went back the same day for more of the same.

And since it was still unbearably hot we went back to Ganymede and passed the afternoon trying to keep in the shade, trying to get cool. We even went for a swim!

On Sunday morning when we went ashore we were met by the sounds of marching bands. We didn't know what the occasion was but there seemed to be three different youth bands marching down the street. Don't you love these bands? Often it is quite cacophanous as each band plays a different tune but all of them playing at the same time. Today was different, as they marched only one band could be heard at a time... although sometimes the others joined in, adding something to the music of the main players at that time. They met in the square, in front of the statue, violin at the ready... and together they played together, brass band music, well-orchestrated, a treat to the ear.

Mondello is renowned for its seafood restaurants and there is plenty of choice of eatery but for some reason we always seem to eat on board Ganymede when we are there. And so it was this time, perhaps because it was so hot we didn't feel much like eating, perhaps because we had eaten out so much when we were in Castellammare. Next time we really must plan it better.

Because, of course, there will be a next time.

Castellammare, Sicily

26th - 29th August

The countryside is lovely: mountains, cliffs and sea. Clinging onto the hillside and scrabbling down to the sea is the town of Castellammare. We stopped there last year when we needed a port during some very windy weather, enjoyed it then and were now very much looking forward to spending the next few days there.

Approaching from the sea the visitor's first impression is of concrete. Weather erosion has meant that part of the cliff on which the town stands has had to be massively reinforced. The silver-grey face it shows to the seafarer is stark still: hopefully the weather that made the work necessary will now work on the concrete, take the newness off, tone it down, maybe carry a few seeds in the wind, seeds that will fall into cracks and take root.

Now work is being carried out to extend the sea wall. As I said, we first went there in bad weather and so can appreciate why it is necessary to give more protection to the harbour. It is hoped that when the new wall is completed the harbour will provide a year-round haven for local boats and extend the season for pleasure craft.

So, although it means that the seafarer is deprived of the picturesque view of the town as it once was, the work means that the town is not going to fall down the hill and fishermen and yachtsmen alike can feel secure that they will be safe and comfortable in the harbour. And once inside the concrete is soon forgotten.

The harbour is a busy one. There are some floating pontoons for yachts and small days boats as well as a number of fishing boats at anchor. We think the plan is that once the sea wall is completed these boats will be able to tie up alongside the new quay. Maybe, too, the quay will provide a safer berth for boats like Ganymede, safe enough to consider a winter stay. With the constant work on the new wall and people and boats coming and going all day, this is definitely a place we like to be.

We were soon tied up, in exactly the same spot as last year, and no sooner was that done and Ganymede (and us!) made tidy than we were on our way to dinner. It was so good to be on dry land again and although I hadn't felt hungry for days, I was looking forward to the bowl of pasta I had promised myself. As I said in my last blog, I knew where we were going, had been thinking of little else for the last few hours. The restaurant is a short walk from the marina, along a dusty road, and I suddenly realised how warm it was. Phew!!! I don't think it had been this hot all summer. It had been hot when we left Almerimar, I admit, but not like this. Or else the week spent at sea, with a constant breeze, had caused me to forget the summer temperatures. This was HOT... and it was nearly eight o'clock in the evening.

We enjoyed a leisurely dinner, sitting on the terrace of the restaurant, looking at the small beach, the boats at anchor. The harbour area was busy, people were out for dinner, for an evening 'passeggiata', enjoying a drink before dinner... or after dinner. Children were running around, using up some energy before bedtime, playing on the beach, eating ice-creams. After our week of isolation we basked in the rhythm of Italian life. And then it was time to take the dusty road home... home to a full night's sleep, no watches to wake up for!

Next morning we headed into town. Last year it took us a week to get fit enough to climb the hill up to the main part of town and I don't remember it being so hot then. We took it slowly! A stroll down to the harbour, a stop for cappuccino (delicious!) and then it was time to face the walk up into town. As I said, the town clings onto the mountainside. The roads run down to the sea, so steep it seems they are perpendicular and climbing them is hard work. We pretend that we are stopping to admire the view. In reality we are catching our breath, taking a rest before once again heading upwards. Sometimes we take a side road, not because we need to go either left or right but because it provides us with a respite, more time to catch our breath. Eventually all our morning jobs are done, shopping, telephone, internet, and we can treat ourselves to another drink before heading back to Ganymede.
And so the days passed, spending time in town, eating in some of the restaurants, drinking cappuccino... and, of course, Ganymede needed a good clean after her hard work the previous week. We had bad news from Ron and Sheenagh though: their boat, Twelfth of Never, had engine trouble, they were stuck in Sardinia and didn't know if they could get it repaired. They were contemplating the possibility of having to abandon it there for the time being and postpone the shipment to Singapore...

We must be fitter than last year. Although the heat was intense, we didn't find the climb into town nearly as difficult. In fact, after the first day it seemed to be easy going. Except for the heat, that is, but the town is well planned, the narrow streets offered shade and often a cool breeze funnelled through the alleys.

We procrastinated, waiting for news from Ron and Sheenagh. Last year while we were here we had had our cockpit table sanded down and re-finished and I thought I would like to have a couple of coats put on of whatever product had been used before. The young man who did the work remembered us and was was happy to come to the marina and do the work. So we had an excuse for staying a bit longer... we had to wait for the stuff to dry. I still don't know what it was... some kind of wax.

And then Tony wouldn't allow us to put it off any longer, it was time to go, time to head towards our next destination. Mondello was calling.

Sea Passage

19th-26th August

I had thought I would be able to write this blog as we went along and in this way give a more accurate impression of what it is like to make a long sea passage, but it was not to be. We left the marina at the end of the afternoon, having first filled up with enough fuel for the journey, but no more than that since we would fill up again in Bizerte where fuel is very much cheaper. Once out to sea the conditions were good, the wind was behind us, pushing us along gently, and we relaxed for the first time that day.

We enjoyed a peaceful 24 hours: reading, dreaming, watching the sea, making the occasional sail change. The wind, what there was of it, was slowly moving round to the east, as predicted, and we would not be able to make a direct course to Bizerte but we had expected that. A direct route, with good wind, would have seen us in Bizerte in around four days but that wasn't going to happen. It didn't matter, we wanted to experience a longer passage anyway, that was the purpose in taking this route.

We always take three hour night watches when we are at sea. Tony would prefer four hours but I can't manage more than three: it is just so boring! Tony wanders around, makes himself tea and coffee, updates the chart, looks around. I just look around and, while I happily look around at nothing all day long, at night I just... get bored. The nights were clear, there was a full moon and a sky full to overflowing with stars... but I still got bored.

The first night we managed normal watches: one of us in the cockpit, the other in bed. After that things went wrong for a few nights. One night I slept in the cockpit because I was feeling seasick and couldn't face going below deck, other nights I slept in the saloon, bed seeming a long way away and not at all appealing and then, finally, at the end of the passage, I slept in the forward cabin... that was so comfortable! Tony usually chooses to sleep in the saloon, just in case he is needed in a hurry because his competent crew is... incompetent!

By the second morning the wind had finally moved round to the east, as predicted. I had already read one book and had given into the temptation to start another. The meals I had eaten were sitting heavily in the pit of my stomach, my head was throbbing and trying to read was the worst thing I could be doing. But I did it anyway. Tony had set a course northwards, away from the Algerian coast, and Ganymede was in rolling mode... not from side to side but up and down, up and down, up and down, forever, UP and DOWN, up and DOWN, UP and down... this was not good.

For four days we tacked up and down, first north towards the Balearics then south again towards Algeria. We made some progress, most days. The worst was a twelve hour period when we tacked first north then south, twelve hours of it... and we progressed seven miles! I had given up eating, the food just sat there in my stomach, taunting me. I sipped water, I even took a couple of seasick pills... and after book number two, I gave up trying to read. That helped! Tony was on his own when it came to meals.

After the seven miles in twelve hours debacle Tony insisted we head north. The day started badly and continued to get worse. The wind was slowly rising and the sea was decidedly rough. By evening the waves were breaking all around us and even on the horizon it was possible to see the spray made by huge waves. We were more than a little unhappy. Tony wanted to continue north, to head for Sardinia, where he was convinced that conditions would be better. I wasn't convinced, the sea around Sardinia always seems to be under threat of storms, winds, tempests, but Tony is in charge and I wasn't exactly being a very useful member of the crew. And then, as the sun was going down, the wind changed. We could no longer hold a reasonable course, so it was all change again, back towards Algeria. The wind had taken control of our course once again.

In fact, that was to be our last sail change. The wind slowly turned to the north west and we started to make good progress. All night and all day we sailed. We hadn't seen many boats since leaving Spain but now, as we followed the Algerian coast there seemed to be one cargo boat after another. And these were BIG boats. There was no slacking on watch with these around. I've lost track of time now but around day six we decided to try out the radar alarm. Now, this is our seventh season cruising with Ganymede and this was the first time we had considered the alarm might be useful. It took about half an hour of Tony fiddling around with the various controls before resorting to the instruction book... then we set the alarm to four miles, then three... and eventually we decided that one mile would be perfect. We didn't want that alarm sounding every few minutes! So... it worked. So... we switched it off again.

The sailing was good and I was feeling better but not better enough to be able to eat or to think of going down to the galley to prepare food. Fortunately, the instant stuff I had bought was holding out well and Tony wasn't starving. But I was beginning to think of the meal we would have in Bizerte when we were safely tied up in the marina.

Slowly we realised that sailing conditions were not just good... they were perfect. The wind had been steadily moving round all day and we were now sailing at 8.5 knots, racing along. Tony started muttering things like, 'of course, it is going to move to the east again'. Just what I wanted to hear! We were now in Tunisian waters, Bizerte was beckoning. And the thought came, if we just kept going we would be in Castellammare tomorrow night, one more night passage and it would be over. And conditions were perfect, couldn't be better. If we went into Bizerte we were sure to stay there several days... Ron and Sheenagh were in Sardinia: our phones had started working, picking up signal first from Algeria and then Tunisia and we had been able to exchange information. Conditions in Sardinia were, if anything, even worse. Time was moving on, we had a week to get to Calabria.

Five miles from Bizerte and the wind was still blowing us along at 8.5+ knots. Hmmm. We were tired. We didn't know the port. And I could always eat Spaghetti al Vongole in that lovely little restaurant by the harbour in Castellammare. AND it would be our last night at sea. No-brainer really. We continued on our way, heading out of Tunisian waters and to the open sea once more.

As usual, Tony took the first watch and when I went to bed we were still racing along. I was lying there, listening to the wind, thinking that perhaps we had too much sail up, when I heard the radar alarm... it was really quite persistent so I got up to investigate. Tony was at the wheel looking fraught. We were sailing along with only the tri-colour light at the top of the mast, signaling to other ships that we were going along on sail power only. A huge boat was passing on our port side, another on our starboard side and then, to make matters really difficult a simply HUGE cargo boat, one of those new monsters that seem to be about a mile long, was cutting across everyone's path. No wonder Tony was looking frantic. For the next hour we dodged boats on all sides. We had never on any other passage met so many boats passing so close together. Did the alarm help? Well, we switched it off so that may tell you something. What we did decide was that one mile was not enough notice of a nearby ship.

Of course, the wind died and for the first time in days we decided to use the engine. After the panic life returned to the usual quiet night passage. Had we made a mistake not stopping in Bizerte? Well, if we had, it was too late now. But by mid-morning next day the wind was with us again, not exactly in the best direction, but helping us along. And then the engine was off, we were sailing comfortably along, that wonderful sensation when the noise of the engine ceases and all that can be heard is the sound of the wind in the sails and the movement of Ganymede as she moves steadily through the waves, a comfortable movement, not in the least sick-making. I was beginning to feel better, not enough to read, or get out the computer, or even so some of the knitting I had planned to do (I need the instructions... which were in the computer!) and certainly not enough to eat but I could go below, I even managed to prepare some food for Tony. The thought of the vongole was keeping me going.

Ron and Sheenagh were still in Sardinia. Tony texted our position as we neared Capo San Vito on the north western coast of Sicily. We were nearly there. Soon we would see the town of Castellammare, the city walls, the new sea wall, not yet finished. The passage had taken seven days. On that last day of an easterly wind Tony had said we were never making a long passage again, we were going to Greece and we were staying there. As the wind changed in our favour and the sailing became easier he thought that after we had seen Ron and Sheenagh's boat on to the container ship we would go to Siracusa and then make passage to Croatia, there was time before the end of the season. As conditions got better still and we were more and more comfortable he thought that it was a pity we couldn't make the Atlantic crossing...