ALIESHA     

 Part 2—The Voyage Home

Chapter 20 Marmaris to Gibraltar and Beyond

We'd had quite a lot of work done on ALIESHA over the winter and planned to do lots more ourselves on our return.  Sadly, however, Pam's Mother suffered a heart attack just a week before our flight out and was rushed to hospital.   She was fitted with a pacemaker and happily soon started to recover.  We delayed our return until just a week before our launch date, which could not easily be postponed.  With 2000 boats lined up in ranks twelve deep on the hard in Yat Marine, changes to the agreed schedule are not welcomed and are punished with hefty additional charges.

Our late return meant postponing many of the tasks we had scheduled but they weren't critical.   However the incident had convinced us that we should definitely abandon tentative winter plans to cruise the Adriatic this season and should rather move ALIESHA as close to home as we could.  This would mean traversing most of the Mediterranean, crossing our wake in Gibraltar (and so completing our circumnavigation) and wintering the boat in Lagos on the Algarve coast of Portugal. (See Map)  We would visit seven countries, see many new places and quite a few we had visited before.  There would be some decent passages plus lots of coasting.  All in all, a pretty good itinerary.

It was mid May before we felt ALIESHA was ready to depart.  One of our jobs had been to make up and fit a passerelle so we could back down onto a quay while using the main anchor and its chain and the all-important electric windlass.  This required some modifications to the steelwork which supported the solar panels and to the pushpit and, of course, removing the windvane.  We were able to find a buyer for this albeit at a bargain price but it funded the alterations and the new passerelle so we were pleased with the outcome and even more pleased by the convenience of walking on and off our stern.

The three weeks we spent in Marmaris were not all hard work.  We knew many of the other cruisers, some from as far back as Australia, some from the Indian Ocean and the Red Sea and a few from last season in the Mediterranean.  Some were going to cross the Atlantic during the coming winter and so would be travelling along the same route as ourselves.  Others had settled on cruising the Adriatic, then a winter in Tunisia.  During the frequent get-togethers news and gossip was swapped and plans amended until, at last, people started leaving.  We were among the last to depart but finally, on 13th May, we cleared out of Turkey and sailed (or rather, motored) to Rhodes, the nearest Greek island.

Back in Greece

We hadn't been to Rhodes before and were really looking forward to our visit. But the harbour was full, even so early in the season and we had to anchor in the unfinished marina about 3 nm to the south.  This is typical of so many "marinas" in Greece.  The basic infrastructure has been completed, often many years previously.  There is a breakwater enclosing a large area of water.  There are concrete quays all around the edges.  And that is it.  No pontoons, no mooring rings (well, just 12) no water, electricity or toilets.  We were told that the basic outlay was funded by the EU and that the locals then failed to get around to finding the money to finish the work.

Ever careful to stay the right side of the Authorities, I trekked the 4 km or so into town and visited Customs, Immigration and finally the Port Police.  There I was informed that I must pay an 82 cents fee for the entry in our Cruising Permit.  A new regulation required me to go to the local tax office some 5km distant to actually make the payment.  If I had not got the correct receipt I would be unable to check out, and leaving a Greek port without the exit stamp is big trouble if you have checked IN.

Muttering I demanded the whereabouts of this tax office.  Luckily it was only a short step from our marina berth but what a stupid piece of bureaucracy.

Pam had a terrible cold and I spent half a day walking around the old town in search of medicines.  This was interesting and despite the hordes of tourists pouring from the cruise ships and ferries and arriving by air I still enjoyed it.  The following day we hired a car and, after shopping (and getting our receipt) we drove south to the scenic old town of Lindos.  The journey itself was uninspiring and the town overly full of tourists but we had a decent lunch on a rooftop terrace and felt happy to be back on the Greek salads, taramaslata and so on.

As in 2008 we had agreed to take part in the Spring Regatta at Porto Heli on the Peloponnesos. This meant a pretty fast run across the Aegean through the Cyclades and this we managed, motoring for much of the time as there wasn't much wind most days.  You can see where we stopped on the map.   Highlights were Amorgos and Serifos, where we met up with ASCENSION and with GONE WITH THE WIND and had a great evening before going our separate ways.

Porto Heli regatta, the Corinth Canal and the Gulf of Corinth

This regatta is a pretty informal affair, run by the local boatyard as a bit of a promotion but enormous fun.  We had invited our old friend Richard Campin to join us and strengthen the crew. Pam's  brother David, who has a boat out there, had invited two mutual old friends Ian and Philip and so a great week ensued.  We sailed, swam, ate and drank by way of training for the big event, spread over two days of racing with a dinner on the first night and a BBQ on a nearby beach for the finale.  In the regatta itself we tried our hardest but couldn't manage better than 8th, worse than our 4th last year but still well ahead of David and his crew.

Twenty four hours to clean the boat before Kate and Tony Lodge arrived.  We took them back to Ermione, scene of the Regatta dinner, then on to Spetses, Dokos, Idhra (a favourite) and Poros. 

This was Greece at its best, lovely weather, the sea had warmed up and the winds were gentle, ideal conditions for guests.

Once Kate and Tony had departed we made for the Corinth Canal.  This is only 4 miles long, a stripling compared with Panama or Suez, but it is expensive, Euros 150 for the transit.  It is quite spectacular, the pictures tell the story better than words and hacking such a channel through the sandstone and limestone with the equipment available a hundred years and more ago must have been quite a challenge.

The Gulf of Corinth separates mainland Greece from the Peloponnesos.  It is about 86 miles long and we did that in five. stages. The first night we stopped at a deserted anchorage which wasn't even in Heikell's excellent Pilot book.  Then on to Galixidhi, a charming old town which really spoke to us.  There we met up with the crew of STARDUST, first encountered in the middle of the Pacific! We so liked this town that we even enquired about the prices of property, only to find that it was a favourite retreat of wealthy Athenians and out of our range and then some.

Another day of motoring brought us to the little island of Trizonia with its incomplete marina.  This had clearly been built with sub-standard concrete as the jetties were already crumbling.  A couple of sunken yachts added to the general air of neglect.

The next day we passed under the impressive Patras bridge and out of the Gulf proper.  That night we motored up the mile-long channel to Mesalonghi, passing through mudflats and fishing huts on stilts, quite unlike any Greek scenery we had encountered before.  Here the incomplete marina was actually being finished.  It seemed an enterprising Dutchman had teamed up with a Greek businessman and they were investing in lights and power and water on the pontoons, in showers, a laundry and a clubhouse with a restaurant ashore. The pair came around in the evening to greet all their visitors, and there were quite a few, to explain their plans and to ask us to return the next time we passed that way.  We shall!  They deserve support.  (They even sent us a Christmas email with good wishes and a progress report)

Into the Ionian

On to Ithaca where we met our son Jon and his partner Jo. They had taken a villa for a week and we enjoyed some of the comforts of shore living with them before they moved aboard and we set off to explore the nearby islands.

The Ionian is prime charter boat country and here were Bavaria's, Beneteaux and Jeanneaux everywhere.  Still we enjoyed ourselves despite the weather which turned stormy.  At least we had some wind, though and some good if short sails around the local islands.

One day we sailed to a highly recommended bay at the southern end of Ithaca only to find the anchorage already filled with charter boats.  Rather grumpily we headed across the channel to Kephalonia (home of Captain Corelli's Mandolin) and to the port of Ag Ephimia.  After a slightly hairy stern-to anchoring manoevre in a strong cross-wind we went ashore for a meal and picked a taverna offering the usual fare plus live Greek music.  Suspecting the usual tourist stuff we went in and soon the band appeared, one guy about thirty, two older men and one older woman.  There was a bouzouki and a guitar, also an accordion.  This group produced some wonderful and completely authentic folk music, to which some of the locals (who made up most of the diners) got up and danced.  We were entranced.  The meal was pretty good too!

Sicily and the Straits of Messina

It is about 275 miles from Levkas to Syracusa on the SE coast of Sicily. We had to motor two hundred of those miles, only getting a breeze for the last day. as a consolation we caught a decent sized tuna, the only fish we landed in the entire Mediterranean. Syracusa is a very old city, a World Heritage site to boot and we enjoyed nearly a week there, comfortably anchored in the wide sheltered bay.  Ashore there were many attractions, not least a totally wonderful fruit and vegetable market which opened during the morning hours every day.  There were narrow streets with crumbling buildings, some grand and others humble.  There were arty shops and restaurants, more pricey than those we had enjoyed in Greece but still affordable.  There were supermarkets within a reasonable walk for provisioning, even a launderette.  We worked on our rusty Italian and almost always our efforts brought a smile and a swift change into English.  We loved it.

Soon we headed north towards the Straits of Messina, infamous among sailors for the twin perils of Scylla and Charybdis.  In the last few miles of the straits strong (4-5 knots) tides can be expected and so it is important to get your timing right.  We chose to make a stop at Taormina Roads, a shallow bay which offered some protection from the northerly winds which  now blew in our faces most days.

Taormina was a revelation.  We hadn't even heard of the town, which sits on a ledge about 200 metres above sea level, has fortified gates and walls and a splendid Greeko-Roman amphitheatre which is still used for concerts.  Jose Carreras was performing one of the nights when we were there but, sadly, we couldn't get tickets.

Part of the recommended anchoring area was occupied by bright orange mooring buoys.  These comprise the so-called "Floating Hotel" run by a Maltese gentleman named George Rizzo.  We chose to anchor at first but consulted him as to where best to land the dinghy (some distance away) and how to travel around nearby Mt Etna by train.  Nobody could have been more helpful and we weren't even customers.  So we took a mooring for one day and one night in order to leave ALIESHA safe and supervised while we rode the trains around Etna.  It cost us Euros 40, rather a lot by our standards but a taste of what was to come.  We became good friends quite quickly and George offered us a free mooring for the second night.  The following night, he explained, we would have to go back on the anchor as it was the weekend when his rates increased to Euros 70 per night!

To reach Vulcano, one of the Aeolian Islands, we would have to travel 65 miles in a single day.  The favourable tide in the narrows dictated a dawn start and the lack of wind dictated another day of motoring, at least to start with. Still, the scenery was spectacular and we were intrigued by the local fishing boats, which hunt the swordfish.  If you look carefully at the picture you will see first a tall mast with three look-outs at the top. Then notice the bowsprit with its walkway, longer than the boat itself. Apparently swordfish sleep on the surface and the boats try to surprise one, harpooning it while at rest.  Not exactly sporting but that's how they do it out there.  We saw about ten of the boats but no signs of a strike.

As we got past Reggio Calabria, said to be the prime recruiting ground for the Mafia, the current started to get stronger.  At first it was against us  so we steered a course close inshore.  Then we noticed areas of broken water, little swathes of white horses in the strengthening breeze.  When Pam steered ALIESHA into one such stretch our speed jumped up by three knots or more.  And so we hopped and skipped our way north, riding the favourable currents as often as we could until the whole channel was covered in white as the main current swept us north and into the western Mediterranean.

What of Scylla and Charybdis?  We saw no sign of either the monster or the whirlpool.  The one may be just mythology.  The other still exits but an earthquake about 100 years ago altered the topography of the seabed in its vicinity and it has never been the same since.  We were in a hurry and didn't care.

The Aeolian Islands

By dint of motor sailing in the light breeze we made the anchorage on Vulcano just as it got dark.  There were dozens of yachts clustered tightly together on a narrow shelf  of relatively shallow water.  Go off the edge and the depths plummeted.  We finally came to rest with our stern about three boat's lengths from the mole which protects the harbour, the anchor having a dubious grip on the rocky sea bottom.  It wasn't a good place to be but it was the only one available.  We slept but lightly that night, partly because of our nervousness about the holding and partly because of the terrible smell of rotten eggs.  Sulphurous gases bubble up from cracks in the seabed and fill the air with a horrid stench.

In the morning light we were impressed by the huge cone of the volcano itself, lowering over the little town.  Less impressive was the almost continuous wash as, from 0700, ferry after ferry came and went at high speed  bringing tourists in from Sicily and the mainland.  Our lungs full of hydrogen sulphide, we hauled up the anchor and motored north to Panarea.

Here we dropped anchor in a delightful bay and passed a happy three days enjoying the comings and goings of Italian yachts and motor boats enjoying themselves as only the Italians can - with style and with panache (and, it has to be said, with very little on).

There is a law in Italy which forbids anchoring within 50 metres of a beach.  Like many such laws it is largely ignored but each morning a smart motor vessel bearing the markings of the Coastguard would nose into our bay and politely ask all those who had transgressed to move.  This they duly did, the officials moved on - and the space rapidly filled up again until the next morning.  By luck we had anchored ALIESHA about 51 metres from the beach and so were untroubled throughout our stay..

Looming over the northern horizon was the cone of  Stromboli, the most active of these volcanic islands.  Our friends had told us via the morning SSB radio net that we should not miss seeing Stromboli erupt at night.  So we departed Panarea late one afternoon and motored the ten miles or so north to Stromboli, circling it as the light faded and darkness fell. 

About 2200 we were a mile or so north west of the cone, no moon and the sea calm.  Picture the scene.  The mountain is almost completely dark.  The lights of a few vehicles flicker as they drive up the tracks to the viewing positions.  At sea there are maybe 50 yachts and motor boats, moving slowly or lying still.  Just as we start to wonder if we have come to the right place, the world's largest Roman Candle goes off, a brilliant jet of golden fire reaching high into the sky, then darkness except for the red sparks as chunks of lava rain down onto the mountainside and bounce down towards the sea.  "Wow" we say, "did you see THAT!".

And so we passed the next hour, spellbound.  Every three or four minutes Stromboli did its thing, another bright jet of fire rose into the dark sky, another shower of lava rocks bounced down the mountainside.  It was magnificent.

Sardinia and Corsica

It is about 270 miles from Stromboli to the north east coast of Sardinia and we motored for much of the way, as was normal in our trip across the Mediterranean.  On the last night the wind rose to about 20 knots, right on the nose and we spent an uncomfortable 15 hours or so beating into it, changing our intended destination from one port to another as the wind swung this way and that.  Eventually we reached La Coletta, an undistinguished Sardinian seaside town of apartment blocks and cheap souvenir shops. The Pilot did recommend a nearby restaurant and we enjoyed an excellent meal that first night ashore.

On northwards the next morning and a sailing breeze at last.  We stopped at several bays, each one with more and more large and larger motor yachts.  Several were the size of small ferries or the old Royal Yacht Britannia.  In one anchorage we were asked to move on by the Coastguard, probably because we were lowering the tone!  We nosed into Porto Cervo, the renowned haunt of millionaires and billionaires but didn't stop. Our friends Terry and debs from WINGS did drop anchor and went ashore, hoping to have a drink in the Porto Cervo yacht Club.  They were denied entrance!  We felt that the displays of wealth which surrounded us were obscene.

A visit to the local major port of Olbia restored our faith somewhat. Olbia is a working town with no concessions to the tourist trade, however rich. There is a disused commercial wharf in the centre alongside which visiting yachts and motor boats  can moor without charge! There wasn't an empty space but an Italian couple on a sailing yachts as old as ALIESHA waved us alongside, helped with our lines and, despite some language problems, did their best to make us feel welcome.  Maybe we had discovered the "real" Sardinia.

Our next anchorage, in the Gulf or Arzachena on the north coast was lovely.  We shared it with WINGS and with REMEDY (last seen in Marmaris) and passed a week here, exploring the shallow rivers at the head of the gulf in the dinghies, shopping in the little town and just chilling out while the west winds blew and blew

.

On to Corsica.  Bonifacio was the big attraction but as mooring is so expensive in the marina and anchoring difficult we took advice and sailed further north to Porto Vecchio.  From there we rode the bus to Bonifacio and, with WINGS, hired a car to explore inland.  Corsica is a lovely island, it was great to be able to practise our French again and we would definitely  return.

The Balearics and Cartagena

Another 250 mile passage, all but 12 hours under motor, saw us anchored in Cala Taulera, just inside the entrance to Mahon harbour.  This was a good place, well sheltered  with excellent holding and just about enough swinging room.  The walls of a massive old fort formed the backdrop on the south east and to the west we were sheltered by the equally massive walls of Isla Lazareto, where the sick were incarcerated until they either died or recovered. The only snag was the trip into town, a 2.5 mile dinghy ride.  As we have a fast tender and the 3 knot speed limit is not observed, this was no problem - until we had a fuel blockage in the town and had to pay for a tow back to ALIESHA.

In Mahon we finally met up with Sarah and GB on DJARRKA, a couple we had come to know via the daily SSB radio net but had never actually seen before.  They proved delightful company and later we were joined by Gord and Ginny from ASCENSION and by Stuart, Kylie and their daughter Sammi so a good time was had by all.

After a quick visit to Fornells, fondly remembered from our visit in 1995 but much busier, we sailed on west to Puerto de Soller on Majorca's north coast. Here we rode the elderly trams up to the town of Soller itself, enjoyed part of their annual fiesta and survived an 0300 thunderstorm which thankfully mostly produced rain but little wind.  If it had blown harder we should have been in trouble for the anchorage was very crowded and there  really wasn't enough room.

A day's sailing took us around the western tip of Majorca to Santa Ponsa, a long inlet with huge apartment blocks overlooking the water.  Here at last we met the crew of GRACE, another "friend" from the daily SSB net.  Sean, Nicole and their three children are Aussies but had bought their boat, a Hallberg Rassy 46, in Sweden and were making their way back to Australia.

We were scenting the completion of our circumnavigation and were keen to press on to Gibraltar, where we would "cross our wake" as the saying goes.  So we left  GRACE, CLEMENTINE, ASCENSION and DJARRKA and sailed over to Ibiza and then to Isla Espalmador off the northern tip of Formentera.  Here we found a nearly circular lagoon, surrounded by rocks  on three sides and with a mile long golden beach on the fourth.  The authorities have laid mooring buoys for visitors and these are free for the first two nights and thereafter unless the warden can be bothered to collect the dues!  In these idyllic surroundings we relaxed and enjoyed the view.

As Espalmador is popular with naturists, the view was often spectacular, never more so than when we ventured ashore to walk the gold beach.  Nearing the northern end we kept passing groups of naked people covered  from head to toe in black mud.  We were invited to join them but declined.  Sadly we have no photos to record the moment.

We might have stayed longer but on the third day a wind sprang up (a rare thing, wind, in the Med that year)  About 1630 Pam said "I think we should get going" and  by 1700 we were off to Cartagena in S.E. Spain,  140 miles away.  We managed to sail most of the way, arriving in the marina just before it got dark.  Along the way we passed across the Greenwich Meridian and so re-entered the western hemisphere.  We had been in Easterly longitudes for five and a half years.

I had collected a yacht from Cartagena in 1965  but it had changed a bit since then and I remembered very little.  This is the Spanish Navy's main base in the Mediterranean and a submarine base as well so there was plenty of activity as warships and subs came and went.  The marina is run by the Yacht Club which is run by the Town Council and wasn't too expensive for a change. We provisioned at a huge Carrefour supermarket and spent hours walking around the centre which is being redeveloped on a big scale.  The local town houses are some 4 stories high and have distinctive glazed balconies which project into the street from the first floor upwards.  The developers are preserving these fronts and the resulting properties really fit into their surroundings while presumably being comfortable and efficient modern homes inside.  Maybe there is a lesson for our developers there.

240 miles to Gibraltar!  That's about 48 hours at our normal cruising speed.  We wanted to complete our circumnavigation and so departed at 0800 on the 5th September .  At first we had a great sail, roaring around Cabo Gata (the S E tip of Spain) under a bright moon in the middle of the night, 25 knots of wind from behind us and 2 knots of favourable current.  We were flying.  It didn't last, of course and the last 18 hours we motor-sailed, bucking a 2 knot foul current and steep seas which stopped ALIESHA in her tracks if we tried to sail.

During the night we encountered literally dozens of merchant ships showing the "Not Under Command" signal of two red lights at the masthead.  They were just drifting with the winds and the current, passing days, weeks or even months just hanging around waiting for a cargo.  It is cheaper to do that than pay harbour or port dues somewhere but it was disconcerting, slightly sinister.  I steered to cross the bows of one such ship only to realise as we got very close that it was drifting forward at about 2 knots. Moral: NEVER cross the bows of a ship!

Gibraltar at last

As dawn broke on the 7th September we saw the unmistakable twin humps of Gibraltar.  The wind increased as we rounded Europa Point and there were fierce gusts as we threaded a course through a score or more of merchant ships busy taking on fuel from smaller tankers.  At 0915 we passed the end of the runway and decided we had indeed crossed our wake.  Yippee!  We had done it. We had sailed all the way around the world!  47000 miles, 50 countries, 3 oceans and more seas than we can remember.  It was a good moment.

In the eight years that had passed since we sailed away from Gibraltar much has changed there and not for the better.  For a start it is now illegal to anchor anywhere.  The marina situation has worsened with the closure of Shepherds, and a casino now fills most of the space where once yachts lay on the pontoons.  We had reserved a space in Marina Bay, from which we had departed in late September 2001 but it was from the 8th so we went back into Spanish waters and dropped the anchor in La Linea, a half a mile to the north.  The view was better, it was free and we were tired so it seemed a good thing to do.

And so our trip around the world ended, no wild parties, no fireworks but we did open a bottle and toast ourselves and ALIESHA.  We had completed a major goal and it felt good.

In the morning, tiredness banished by a good night's sleep, we moved into Marina Bay marina and took a swing up Main Street, which I had first visited in 1963 as a young lad.  It is pretty tacky these days.  We bought a few necessities and returned aboard.  That night we enjoyed a really good meal ashore and then our friends started to arrive.  First in came CLEMENTINE after a horrendous trip from Espalmador, with a broken engine, broken mainsheet, failed water generator, autohelm and failed fridge.  They were followed by ASCENSION, DJARRKA and GRACE.  We had a few celebrations, including my birthday. 

It was getting to be the parting of the ways.  CLEMENTINE and DJARRKA wanted to visit Morocco on their way south to the Canaries and across the Atlantic.  ASCENSION and GRACE came with us to Cadiz where we enjoyed a marvelous evening of flamenco, the real thing and not tourist rubbish.  Then they too sailed south and we continued to Lagos in the Algarve where ALIESHA is spending the winter.

We have had the most wonderful eight years and it isn't over yet.  In 2010 we have to bring ALIESHA back to England, via the Azores which we have yet to visit.  But the big goal has been accomplished.  The circumnavigation has been done.  Achieving a major goal leaves a big hole after the euphoria has faded.  We are both people who prefer to look forward, not back.  We don't spend much time dwelling in the past.  So we ask ourselves, what next?

On the eve of 2010 we are still looking  for an answer.