May 13 to June 5, 2010
A light south breeze and the motor started us off on Thursday morning bound for the island of Sardinia. The second largest in the med (after Sicily), this mountainous Italian island sits 7 miles south of French Corsica and 110 miles from Italy. The RTTY forecast from Hamburg was calling for the wind to provide great sailing but to be followed by a steady North West 4 to 5 Beaufort growing to 7 on Saturday by noon. Our 40-hour sail would take us in to Northern Sardinia around 1 am on Saturday morning. If the wind increased earlier than forecasted, we would alter course 25 miles south to the protected harbour of Alghero on the West coast. On Friday afternoon, we listened to gale warnings in 4 languages and sailed around the numerous thunder cells that lit up the radar screen. Steve decided to turn on the motor to charge the batteries but no start. A comment I made earlier, “You wouldn’t want to be bobbing along with no motor with this system building,” suddenly came back to haunt us. After a tense 20 minutes where Steve jump-wired across the starter terminals to remedy a finicky starter, Mr. Diesel Sir roared back into life.
We picked up the odd hitchhiker on the way – a fat grey moth, a bumblebee and a delicate female sparrow. She joined us 35 miles from shore and was clearly exhausted as she clung to the gib sheet. After a few minutes of blowing in the wind, she landed on the lifelines and with one eye on me and the other down the hatch, she took off below. When I checked later, she was sitting on the ledge under a porthole in the forward cabin.
Just before midnight on Friday, we reached the infamous Fornelli Passage separating the north of the island and the former penal colony, Isola Asinara. This shallow passage is impassable if the wind has blown east or west for 2 days previous. Steve lined up with the range light and we proceeded in under driving rain and inky blackness. The second range light to indicate where you turn was obviously burnt out but our navigational charts were clearly marked. We continued on instruments only; there’s nothing like putting your faith in your depth sounder and nav system when all else fails. The 2-knot current added to the fun by slewing us sideways through the passage along our course line. One hour later we steered around the breakwater and into the Port of Stintino. We tied up bow and stern beside a tourist cat. We knew it wouldn’t be used for the next few days – unless filled with German thrill seekers. Happy hour commenced at 2 am and we retired thankful to be in before the gale.
I woke to the wind roaring at 7:30 am and it continued to blow from the north for three days. In the meantime we explored the little town of Stintino to the sound of the church bells ringing on the hour and a rendition of Ave Maria at 6 pm every evening. We found the only internet café and a scrumptious pastry shop. We met Stig and Lily, a Swedish couple who are preparing their boat, Sudden Light, for a sail to South America. Communicating with the locals was interesting and even funny. I asked the butcher for 4 kilos of sausage instead of a quarter kilo. I realized my mistake when everybody in the shop burst out laughing and made gestures to show how much I had asked for. Steve was able to make himself understood to Elio the mechanic with the bad back, using Spanish to explain the starter problem. Elio’s face fell, understandably, when he realized the engine was below the floorboards. He replaced the bearings and brushes and we were ready to go.
On Thursday morning early we pulled out of Stintino and into the Golfo Dell Asinara in light winds. About 5 miles out the primary fuel filter plugged and the engine died. Steve changed the filter and tried the starter motor. Nothing. Back we sailed into the harbour and tacked just before the candy striped pinnacle sitting on top of a shallow band of rock. The wind died and suddenly we were wedged on the rock. The Mason Boat Owner’s Manual states, The design we have chosen is strong and well protected and should the boat go aground (which is inevitable) it should be much easier to unstick her. Our previous grounding experience was with sand and I expected rock to be unforgiving but with no wind and no waves, we only managed to knock a few more barnacles off our keel before help arrived. Two marina guys in dinghies came to our rescue and led us into the dock.
Back came Elio the mechanic and he discovered the starter housing had cracked. He pulled it out to send to a welder. We asked about ordering a new starter as a back up. Between Steve, Elio and Claudia from the marina office who spoke perfect English, they tracked down a dealer in Italy. Of course, the dealer had to import it from the US at twice the cost of home – the price of keeping your boat in the med, I suppose.
We departed Porto Stintino on Sunday morning with plans for Claudia and Elio to courier the starter to Marina Del Sole in Cagliari when it arrived a week later. The wind in the Golfo Dell Asinara was favourable giving us a beam reach all the way to Cabo Testa just before the Bonifacio Strait. With Corsica in view, we anchored early evening beside one other boat in a nice sandy cove on the southeast side of the isthmus, under the timed glome of the lighthouse.
The next day we sailed into the strait and 15 miles later dropped anchor in front of a huge Maltese sailboat beside white sand dunes in Porto Liscia. Steve spotted a beach bar and soon we were planing in the dinghy towards the bar. As he tested the motor’s speed, his hat flew off and into the water. A quick circle to pick up the hat which contained his beer money and we were on our way to the beach. The barman graciously accepted the soggy note. Sitting in the cockpit later that evening, we were entertained by 6 other boats coming in to anchor. This anchorage is a challenge as the depth shallows unexpectedly (50 to 35 to 25 to 9’ within 20’), causing one sailboat to throw the throttle into hard reverse on his way in. The most entertaining boat was French with seven men on board and it was a committee decision on where and how to anchor. “Don’t let them see you watching,” Steve said. But after an hour of them circling, dropping anchor, pulling it up again, arm gestures back and forth, it was difficult not to watch and wonder. The other sailboats were glued to their antics too. They finally did the French thing – dropped anchor between ours and a British boat, knowing we had the sweet spot and determined to get as close as possible. I wanted to put out all our bumpers in case they bumped in the night but Steve thought it would be rude!
We sailed out of Port Liscia the following afternoon and through a school of windsurfers who played chicken with Whitestar as they crisscrossed her bow. A perfect Sunday sail past the Maddalena islands for which most are protected as a marine reserve allowing no anchoring, no diving, no fishing, no motoring, no nothing; a pleasant group of red granite islands surrounded by a sparkling aquamarine sea. It was a busy Sunday with ferries taxiing back and forth from the islands. “Don’t make eye contact,” said Steve even though we had the right of way as a boat under sail. It’s a bit difficult as a monster ferry bears down on you at five times your speed. It reminded me of sailing in New York Harbour as we held our course through the path of 5 large ferries. The clay coloured villages blended into the island’s shoreline and the delph blue sky and white puffball clouds were begging to be painted. As the sun slowly sank into the sea we pulled into the anchorage in Golfo Di Cugnana. This large bay was home for the next day as we relaxed in the sunshine and caught up on small chores.
Steve had heard that the Nato naval base on Isola Travolara was decommissioned and we headed out to anchor in the natural harbour previously occupied by the base. As we approached we had difficulty defining the harbour entrance – it certainly did not match our paper and electronic charts. On closer inspection we could see a crane filling in the entrance. Then we heard the roar of the coastguard’s boat heading directly to our position. We continued around the island staying away from the off-limits marine reserve while under the watchful eye of the coastguard boat that bobbed nearby. A low level close pass by the coastguard helicopter and the remaining military parapanelia on the island ‘nature reserve’ indicated it was not open to the public. We continued on and anchored in the tranquil Capo Cavallo with 2 other boats and were joined later by 4 more. Just before dusk the coastguard helicopter flew overhead – probably checking to make sure we were all where we should be for the evening.
On Friday morning we headed out of Capo Cavallo and down the east coast to Arbatax. We planned to stay 2 days but news of another gale encouraged us to hunker down and wait it out. Steve and John from Solstice stood on the dock and watched lenticular clouds building with a promise for a very rough blow the next day. John and Shirley sailed from California 4 years ago and are heading back to the U.S. next year to work. The small town of Arbatax was definitely off the tourist map and fishermen and shepherds account for most of the population. It offered an opportunity to relax for a few days before heading south along the east coast towards Cagliari to pick up a fresh crewmember, Ian.
The favourable current and breeze kept us close-hauled on the way south to Cabo Carbonara on Tuesday morning. This part of the coast is quite desolate and offers few protected anchorages or even marinas along the way. Around 10:30 a military boat approached with a man on the bow holdings his arms in a crossed fashion. We pulled in the gib as they came alongside. He spoke in Italian, switching to French when he saw our confusion. “You must go north,” he said. “We’re going south to Cagliari,” said Steve. They asked that we monitor VHF Channel 10. A military officer came on the radio and advised us to take a course of 80 degrees (instead of our course of 160 degrees) for 25 miles before turning south. Steve advised him that this would cause a safety concern due to a delay in our arrival time and pending unfavourable wind conditions. Steve asked why we had to detour from our course and was told they were holding a military exercise in the immediate area. He then asked how long the exercise would take. After a few minutes, the officer came back on the radio and asked us to move 3 miles north and hold until noon when the exercise would end. We bobbed around (heading north) enjoying the sunshine and I decided to make lunch early while we were waiting. While I was below, 2 warning explosions were set off to mark the range of the exercise. As I came on deck I saw the puffball dissipate and a silver missile launching out of the shoreline and disappearing over the sea and out of sight. It was followed shortly after by a rumble somewhere over the horizon to the east of us. Steve wondered if Sardinia had just declared independence. A few minutes later the radio buzzed and we were thanked for cooperating and could resume on our course. Another exciting moment for the crew of Whitestar.
A nice southeast breeze boosted Whitestar to 7.5 knots for the remainder of the sail and we arrived in fading light to the anchorage. On entering shallow water, we were surprised by 2 rocks awash in 50’ of water, not shown on our Navtronics chart but marked on our Imray chart. Some anchorages are shown in great detail on the Navtronics system, others have none. It shook our confidence in Navtronics and served as a lesson to check both nav systems in future. During the day a gale warning had been issued over the radio and by midnight we were getting very severe gusts in the anchorage and the other 5 boats were also awake and checking their anchors.
The wind lessened the next morning – just enough to encourage some beach-goers to take in the delights of the Tiki beach bar. We were sitting on deck for Happy Hour and heard a cheer go up on the shore. Some young people were waving a red towel with Canada emblazoned on it. I grabbed our air horn and shot off a few blows in recognition of kindred spirits. There’s a shortage of Canadians here in the Med – sailors and tourists alike – and it’s heartening to see the flag flying in the most out of the way places.
On Thursday we pulled out of Capo Carbonara in 10 to 15 on the nose and rounded the cape in very lumpy seas. The winds escalated to 25 to 30 and Steve convinced me we were not going backwards. It was slow going – you know, bite your teeth-kinda-slow-going that drives you to drink, but it’s only 9 am. We soon tired of bucking and rolling and pulled into the most expensive marina on the trip so far (70 euro), the ‘don’t do it unless absolutely necessary like bad weather’ marina of Villasimius. We were able to tie up North American style, as it wasn’t full – surprise!
The conditions were conducive to making a run for Cagliari the following day and headed across the Golfo de Teulada. We pulled into the Marina Del Sol and docked with the assistance of a dinghy in a very tight space. Our new starter motor was a welcome sight – sitting on the table in the marina bar. Steve was happy!
At 7pm there was a sharp knock on the bow. “Permission to board,” asked Ian as he hoisted up his army backpack laden with surprises (peanut butter, new propane regulator, blue tooth headphones, grease gun, and rum). After an hour enjoying the sunset, the men headed up to the marina bar to catch up on Ian’s 7 months in Afghanistan.
Provisioning included the delights of Sardinia – bread, pastries and cheese, and the usual amount of local wine and beer – we were heading to a ‘dry’ country after all. Our American Tourister cart was buckling under the weight walking back from the store. In the early afternoon we paid a visit to the coastguard office and were greeted by men in white (there’s a lot to be said for men in uniform, especially white) where we filed for our departure from the EU paperwork. This is especially important for foreign vessels, as you need a record of departure to avoid passport control problems on re-entry to the EU. “This is the first time we’ve been asked for this,” said the handsome officer in white. An hour later we pulled out of the marina and off to Tunisia.
Sardinia, a delightful old-fashioned island, not on the tourist map for many North Americans, but definitely worth discovering.
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