Westward, ho!

On our final morning in Sicily, we cast off dock-lines at 0800 and set our course for Teulada, Sardinia, 220 miles west. Once underway, we shared a cantaloupe for breakfast in the cockpit, as SD motor-sailed over a flat sea along Sicily’s south coast;  by nightfall the island was no longer visible. There were flickers of lightning far away to our north, but the night sky above us was clear, dotted with hundreds of stars, with the stardust-y looking band of the Milky Way arcing overhead. Very cool to be able to look out at the edge of our galaxy!

Despite variable winds and a lumpy sea, we were making good progress until late the following night, when the engine began running erratically. Ken’s inspection revealed dirty fuel, and for the next five hours, he nursed the engine along, bleeding fuel, changing filters, adding fresh fuel, and coaxing it back to life each time its diminishing RPM’s signaled impending doom.  As Captain Ron says in the hilarious movie of the same name, “If anything is gonna happen, it’s gonna happen out there!”  Too true.
 
Thanks to his efforts (Ken’s, not Captain Ron’s), we were anchored in Teulada, Sardinia by 0730, and got right to work pumping out the foul diesel and changing the engine oil.  In Teulada, diesel is only available by delivery to boats in the marina; there’s no fuel on site.  So in we went, and wasted no time in hooking up our hose to wash off all the salt and any traces of diesel. We also had a “situation” in the galley;  a particularly wicked wake from a big patrol boat had caused an expensive bottle of maple syrup to escape from its compartment and leap to its death, creating a mess of broken glass and sticky syrup inside (thank goodness) one of the lockers. Bummer.

There was nothing much at the marina other than a backdrop of pretty hills, so we treated ourselves one evening to rum and Cokes at the patio bar, and the next day took a bus eight miles to the unremarkable little town for provisions. We spent a couple of days back in the anchorage, waiting for a weather window, and weighed anchor one sunny afternoon as we bid “arrivederci” to Italy and pointed SD’s bow toward Spain, 435 miles away.

We had a mixed bag of weather for the passage, and although we had some benign periods, we also had a day of confused following seas, 2-3 meters, and Ken ended up doing a lot of hand steering. In the standard Med conditions of either no wind, too much wind, or wind on the nose, we didn’t get a whole lot of sailing in, and had to motor-sail so much that we ended up too low on fuel to make it to Spain.

Fortunately, the island of Ibiza was just a few miles north of our rhumb line, and so we altered course and arrived there late one morning. We knew that Ibiza had a reputation as a playground for the rich and famous, but we were still unprepared for the shock of reality. The place was like Fort Lauderdale’s Bahia Mar on steroids. There were three crowded marinas in the harbor, berthing dozens of monster mega-yachts and assorted floating palaces. We had to wait in the queue for fuel,  and little SD was like a chihuahua among Great Danes, daintily turning lazy circles while dodging passing behemoths. We took on our bunkers and beat feet, but even after leaving the harbor, we were still at the mercy of the big boys for another five miles, as one after the other they came roaring past us as we headed south, creating wakes that rolled SD mercilessly.

The final night of our passage was blessedly uneventful, and at 0300, we crossed the Prime Meridian into the Western Hemisphere, our home “half” of the planet. Arriving at Marina Alicante at 0730, we took our berth and proceeded with our usual “boat wash”. Tired from the passage and the clean-up, we waited til the following day to see some of this lovely old city. The ninth-century Castle of Santa Barbara sits high on a hill overlooking the town and the marina. The main street along the waterfront boasts one of the most beautiful promenades in Spain, the Explanada de Espana, which is paved with 6.5 million marble floor tiles, making the surface appear to be moving. Landscaped with lots of greenery, palms, and shade trees, it’s popular for strolling or just sitting and people-watching.

We visited the amazing Volvo Ocean Race Museum, which is located right at the marina, as Alicante is the site for the start of the race, which this year is on October 4th. The Disney-sponsored “The Black Pearl” took second place overall with Paul Cayard skippering about 10 years ago, and the boat is on display on hardstand in front of the building.  Admission is free, and the museum was truly impressive in its presentation of the almost unimaginable demands that this incredible race puts on the boats and their crews.




Paul Cayard – one of the great USA sailors

The control center getting ready for the upcoming Volvo Ocean Race

The arrival of a timely weather window had us leaving Alicante after too short a stay, but we cast off and headed south along the coast, picking up a mooring for the night at little Isola Grosa, just offshore from the big lagoon known as Mar Menor.  Following a bit of a roll-y night on the mooring, we continued on after coffee in the morning, and (wonder of wonders!) we actually got to SAIL to Cartagena!

The day was beautiful, the easterly wind was moderate, and SD scooted along wing and wing under main and headsail, making good speed. (Our trip log at the end of the passage revealed a max speed over ground of 8.9 knots!!)  Our route took us along the coastline past the Sierra de la Fausilla mountains. These desolate grey mountains rose high above us, with menacing-looking jagged peaks and with steep rocky slopes running all the way down to the sea. No sandy beaches here! A forbidding coast, but starkly beautiful in its severity.

Lighthouse at Cabo de Palos

We made Cartagena by noon, and hope to have a little time to see this famous city while we wait for the next (you guessed it) – weather window!

Katie and Ken



To see where we are, click on “YOTREPS”

Sciacca, Sicily

 

Ken’s dental work was finished on Friday and lucky for us, there was a 30-hour weather window good for heading west beginning Saturday, July 26. So we took advantage of it and got underway at 0730 Saturday morning under calm conditions.

Leaving wonderful Siricusa, Sicily in our wake.

Siricusa fish market

It appears there is still plenty of tuna and swordfish being caught in the Med!

We hoped to get 142 miles west to the port of Sciacca (Shock’-uh) located near the southwest corner of Sicily. This would put us in a good spot for the next favorable weather window to continue our westward journey. The passage was uneventful and took 27 hours to complete, 24 of which were motor-sailing. Listening to the drone of the engine for that long period of time was tiring, but we weren’t complaining; happy to be making miles west while the going was good.

The sea was glassy the night before our arrival, and on deck the air was cold and damp. But the summer constellations were visible overhead, and the lights of Sicily’s seaside towns glittered brightly to starboard, making the night watch seem a little warmer.  By morning there was a heavy swell running, and although it eventually flattened out, we soon found ourselves in a pea-soup fog. We could barely see one-tenth of a mile, and by the time we arrived off Sciacca’s harbor at 1030 Sunday morning, the glare of the sun behind the thick fog completely obscured our vision. We stumbled around trying not to run into anything and finally spotted a small boat headed into the harbor and followed in its wake.

On entering the harbor we were directed to one of the transit slips in the marina. The well-designed harbor is used by pleasure boats and a large fleet of fishing boats. We got in just under the wire, because a few hours later it was“blowing like stink from the west.

The pleasure boat side of Sciacca’s harbor; you can barely see SD’s masts, just inboard of the big power boat at far left.

Sciacca’s ancient town is built high on a hill, with spectacular views overlooking the harbor and the sea. The narrow streets, paved with slate and marble, open onto wide piazzas, and enormous weathered churches and basilicas appear at every turn.  The new town has spread its buildings down onto the lower slopes of the hill, but the real action is in the old sector, reached by a challenging series of steep steps. (Unless you have a car, which is not part of SD’s gear.)  The evening is the high point of the day, when the locals all hit the ancient streets for their passeggiata (evening stroll), often dressed to impress, to see and be seen. All the shops and trattorias are open, as are small kiosks selling “street food”, and some streets are closed to vehicular traffic. It’s an abondanza of people-watching!

SD’s skipper, hangin’ with the home-boys!  The “URP” sign translates to “Official Public Relaxation” spot!

One of Sciacca’s charming little side streets

Sciacca is known for its “majolica”:  hand-painted glazed ceramics; it even decorates wall and steps

Sciacca side street

Our trusty steed. We picked up this cute little folding bike in Thailand and it has served us well.

We ended up spending six days in one of the Sciacca marinas and it has been a good stop. Beginning Saturday, it looks like we have a 48-hour weather window good for heading west. This should give us enough time to make the 223 mile offshore passage to the southwest corner of Sardinia before another friggin’ Mistral gets brewing. We plan on getting underway tomorrow morning. Stay tuned.

Cheers! Ken and Katie