Our greatest challenge...Lipari Islands, Sicily

May 14 - 12 noon
The anchor slipped and we all were awakened at 2:30am.  We had drifted about 300 meters, and, as Martha explained, Eric used his mystical powers to sense this, awoke, and sounded the alarm (by starting the engine).  The anchor was reset in 30 minutes and we all retired until 7am.  We will sail direct toward Sicily today, and expect to arrive May 16.

A long and eventful crossing.  The sea temperature is 13 C (too cold for tuna, Eric says).  Nevertheless we rig a couple of lines with 6-7 inch colorful lures that remain a couple of feet below the surface, and appear to dart to the left and right.  With the boat making 4-5 knots it may appear to be a wounded small fish?  We remain hopeful.

High wind halts progress.

 Anchored off the Northeast shores of Sardegna.  Eric's decision to remain here for a day or two has us all involved in behaviors we have avoided for the past 5-6 days.  I'm updating the Blog and napping as if it were an Olympic sport.  Anna got out her paints and studied the blues of the wine dark sea.  Martha studied navigation, and Eric looked for the wind to abate; both took naps.  We enjoyed a leftover cauliflower and veggie soup for lunch.

The Sardegnan police arrived after dark with questions about our plans.  Apparently we have anchored just off the shores occupied by a deluxe hotel, golf course and what not.  Anna used the moment as a chance to break out her beloved Italian and soon they sped off in their formidable craft with pontoons, spotlights and, I'd guess, a machine gun rack. I chose to remain below.

We leave French waters May 12 2pm.

We leave today for Sardegna and the 350 mile trip to Straits of Messina.  We will make two stops in Sardegna and seek to leave Northern Sardegna and sail direct to Lipari Islands off the North coast of Sicilia.  There will be round the clock watches.  

I awake coughing much of the night.  I am napping several hours during each day, and feel OK.  It has become more of a bother than anything else. A nice rest in Bonifacio has been wonderful.

May 11 11pm- We are in Bonifacio, Corse

We left Port St. Louis May 8th and sailed to Ciotat; anchored for the night.  The boat is well provisioned and behaving as it should.  We have 150 nautical miles left to reach Campomoro, Corse.  Eric motors off at 2am.  No wind.  I wake at 3:45am to relieve Eric.  We motor through the night.  Eric relieves and tells me of his dream.  "It's a good time but we are in a hospital".  (My cold has worsened.)

(To jump ahead 5 years and return to exploring the Platte River and Omaha, click here.)

It's 6am and by now there is a little wind but still we motor until 2PM when sails are set.  A second night on watch finds Anna & me getting up at 1:45 to relieve Eric at 2am.  We are relieved at 5am; go to bed and sleep until 9.

We catch a Sfirida (Greek for Grouper).  Arrive Campomoro by 6pm.  We all enjoy the Grouper (originally we thought it was a Pageot, later a Cernier) barbecued, with a nice bottle of Cote du Rhone, petty jealousies, minor irritations and narcissistic wounds aside (more of that later).

Entrance to Bonifacio port is just to the left of the limestone cave pictured here. We left Campomoro 9:30am and arrive Bonifacio by 2pm today May 11th.  Eric hooks a fish likely a tuna. Alas, the fish escapes!

 View from hilltop where most of this ancient city lies.

We are tied up in the port for the night. Anna & I climb to the fort, watch towers and numerous restaurants, shops and apartments at the top of the limestone bluffs.  A natural harbor and unlimited views of the sea have make Bonifacio much more than a pretty face.

May 6 - Getting underway without being in the way

 I've contracted a cold. Eric wants to purchase all food supplies for the journey, so the evening before we set about constructing detailed lists (4 kg. onions, 6 kg. mozzarella (I'm prepared to make pizza, or should I say determined, on and on); and, since I have little or no interest in the mathematics of determining how much mozzarella need we purchase to cover however many pizza would I cook in 5 weeks, (it turned out to be 6 kg, 6 nights of pizza for the four of us), I remained as cheerful as possible.

We buy $700+ in food supplies at Intermarche.

We install the mainsail.

Launch after lunch. 6 of 10: still jetlagged

The three day Mistral has blown itself out.  We launch the boat today.  Martha and I shopped for baguettes, jambon, et fromage at Supermarche in Port St. Louis.  The best Camembert is made au lait cru in Normandie (unpasteurized milk, unavailable at home).

PS. The Blog displays the date time at home (Pacific). We are +9 today, Central European Time.


At the bottom left side of each page click "Newer Post" to get the correct order.

Mistral

Thanks to our round-the-world sailing and tennis friends Bob & Sara McGowan I learned of this windy phenomenon.

Mistral

Eric has delayed our departure until Tuesday. "The boat is not ready", he says, "and we cannot sail in this wind.  So we find ourselves with three days;  we decide to rent a car and take our chances.  Amelie, colorful the Europe Car manager in Arles offers, "Mistral blows for one day, three days, six days, or nine.  This time they say it is three."   An hour before we were nearly blown off the taxi stand waiting for a ride to her office. "We have only one car; it has manual transmission," says Amelie smiling,  "it's that one there, red like The Bull".  We took it.  Leaving Arles on the A-8 we see a red neon warning sign, "Vent violent.  Adapt votre vitesse"; we drove off to visit Salon de Provence.

The two star Select Hotel near the center of Salon proved one could be lucky, with a little research.  Parking is seldom easy in the center of these ancient towns, but here we park on the street across from the front door.  The resourceful Proprietors, Donald and Laetitia suggested a walk to the "fountain", an aperitif at Cafe des Arts, then to La Salle a Manger for a remarkable gastronomique dinner.  The Dorade Royale served whole was preceded by Thon Cerviche flavored with lime, ginger and soy sauce plus une petite je ne sais qua.  Anna enjoyed her pizza soufflé and the bouillabaisse in Thai spices, and the  remaining half bottle of a local Cote du Rhone sits on the table of our modest room as I begin this post 6am Saturday morning.

Mistral (Wikipedia)

The mistral (Catalan: Mestral, Greek: Μαΐστρος) is a strong, cold and northwesterly wind that blows from southern France into the Gulf of Lion in the northern Mediterranean, with sustained winds often exceeding forty kilometers an hour, and sometimes reaching one hundred kilometers an hour.^[1] It is most common in the winter and spring, and strongest in the transition between the two seasons. Periods of the wind exceeding for thirty kilometers an hour for more than sixty-five hours have been reported.^[2]

In France, it refers to a violent and cold north or northwest wind which accelerates when it passes through the valleys of the Rhone and the DuranceRivers to the coast of the Mediterranean around the Camargue region.^[3] It affects the northeast of the plain of Languedoc and Provence to the east ofToulon, where it is felt as a strong west wind. It has a major influence all along the Mediterranean coast of France, and often causes sudden storms in the Mediterranean between Corsica and the Balearic Islands.^[4]

In the south of France, the name comes from the Languedoc dialect of theOccitan and means "masterly". The same wind is called mistrau in the Provençal variant of the Occitan language, mestral in Catalan, maestrale in Italian andCorsican, maistràle or bentu maestru in Sardinian and majjistral in Maltese.

The mistral is usually accompanied by clear, fresh weather, and it plays an important role in creating the climate of Provence. It can reach speeds of more than ninety kilometers an hour, particularly in the Rhone Valley. Its average speed during the day can reach about fifty kilometers an hour, calming noticeably at night. The mistral usually blows in winter or spring, though it occurs in all seasons. It sometimes lasts only one or two days, frequently lasts several days, and sometimes lasts more than a week.^{[5]Salon de Provence}