Three Seas in Three Weeks

At 0900 this morning, a military helicopter dropped an Italian marine, equipped in full diving gear, into the Brindisi harbor, about 250 meters from Gerty.  It wasn’t until a floating tank exploded a smoke screen that Michael shouted from where he sat in the cockpit.

“Jill, come up here!  You gotta see this!  They’re storming the monument!”

It’s just another day on the Italian coast, but this time we’re docked just down the road from the Maribase Brindisi (Marine Base.)  When the troops aren’t doing drills, we feel fancy.  The city docks in Brindisi are free, so Gerty’s anchor is resting in it’s cradle while we are spending a few nights moored alongside the Lungomare Regina Margherita. We are happy to be staying still, in the center of it all, for a change.

This is because we have been on the move.  Sailing three seas; The Tyrrhenian, Ionian, and Adriatic, in just three weeks had us passing through remote places at a rapid pace.  Lucky for us, it’s Europe, where history and culture creep into even the most out of the way seaside towns.

From Mallorca, our plan was to sail to Menorca, but the Mistral we had been missing all summer blew in from the North and we sailed on it most of the way to Masua, Sardinia.  The unusual Porto Flavia mining operation made for a picturesque rest stop before we officially checked into Carleforte, Sardinia.  At least, we think that’s what we did.  We don’t speak Italian (yet), and the Guardia Costiera at the Port Capitaincies didn’t speak English, but it was clear that the most important thing was that we got the Constituto document; an essential hand written record of all the ports Gerty would go to that would be submitted by us upon departure from the country.

It was time to celebrate yet another passage to another country over the local specialty, which was not fresh pasta, but tunno kuskus.  This is because Carleforte is a special island off the coast of Sardinia, AND Sardinia is a special island country off the coast of Italy.  Everything from the history, to the culture, to the food is a little bit different from the Italy we thought we knew.

In intermittent wind, we ventured onward to seek, and find.  The otherworldly sand dunes of Porto Pino, the ancient city of Nora, and the unexpected Ferragosto inspired fireworks in Villasimus, were like hidden treasures that seemed to rise up out of the Sardinian heat.

Only another Mistral could bring the temperature down, and when 28-32 knots came, we didn’t hesitate to take Gerty downwind to Cefalu, Sicily.

Cefalu had what it takes to be an old town: ancient aqueducts, a Castello, narrow stone streets, a Norman cathedral, dating back to the 12th-century with elaborate Byzantine mosaics, and a free grocery store delivery service.  Fantastico!

The thrill of provisioning conveniently carried us happily across the northern coast of Sicily, until the dull drone of Gerty’s motor started to eat away at our sanity.  

Splash!  Pulling up along the coast for frequent quick swims was Michael’s grand idea.  Why should we torture ourselves in the heat, when the 30C (86F) Ionian awaits?  

Our spirits were back up by the time we stopped for gas and swordfish sandwiches in Ganzirri, where the local boats appear to be modernized replicas of the traditional phoenician style, complete with a central tower for the spotter and super-elongated bowsprit for the harpoonist.  Needless to say, the fish was fresh, and it energized us to keep going.

Watching propeller planes swoop down, scoop up water from the ocean, and head towards forest fires in the mountains, we understood just how serious Italy’s heatwave had become.  We were the lucky ones.  Our log entry at 21:40 on August 19th proves it.  “Motor off!” it reads.  “Jib out to starboard! Yipee!!! TWS 12.6 AWA 58 SOG 7.0.”  We were sailing to the ball of Italy’s foot. 

We anchored at Le Castelle and the structure, built in the 15th century upon a now carefully exposed Greek foundation dating back to the 3rd century BCE, was beautiful against the full moon backdrop.

When sailing the Med in August, beggars can’t be choosers, so we beat upwind for fourteen hours on our overnight sail to Santa Maria de Luca.  Nevermind the seasickness, because a short distance away was Otronto, and it was worth it!  It’s an old town, within an old mote, within an old wall, within an old harbor, with an old castle, and we loved it!

We didn’t give Italy enough time because, 1. The end of our 90 days of Schengen time is nipping at our stern, 2. We will be back for the entire winter, 3. We can’t stop eating gelato, and  4. There is a gentle low forming in the Adriatic that should push Gerty from behind, on a rhumbline, to Montenegro.  So, Michael checked us out.  He went from the Guardia Costiera to the Polizia, and back again two or three times.  Nobody wanted the Constituto in the end, but we got our stamp out of the EU, and along with it, our peace of mind.  Smooth sailing ahead.