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Tunisia

June 5 to 25, 2010

Two yellow blobs appeared on the left of the black radar screen and that was my cue to raise myself from my watch position on deck and scan the horizon. It was first light, the sun was yet to show and I could make out two blurry shadows in the distance. During the night we sailed from the Gulf of Cagliari through the Sardinian sea and were on the home stretch to Tunisia, 120 miles away. This time of the morning is conducive to deep thinking but my thoughts were interrupted by the nagging need to determine if we were on a collision course with two shadows. I watched on and off for half an hour as they morphed into freighters. I wished I had taken the time to learn how to use the bearing feature on the new radar that allows you to mark the other boat’s location and establish its course. I realized the first one would pass ahead of us but was unsure of the second. My eyes, the freighter’s speed, and my gut instinct screamed, “You’re on a collision course,” but I wanted to be really sure before I went below to wake Steve. I wondered how close would be too close, and that musing sent me scurrying to wake the expert. He came on deck and through bleary eyes confirmed we were indeed going to intercept. Before either of us could react, the freighter did a hard deek to starboard indicating he would pass behind us. “How nice of him,” I thought, even though we have right of way under sail. We never take it for granted that the bigger guy can, or even cares to see us.

Back went Steve to the warm tempur and back I went to my position on deck. Within minutes, the VHF radio, which had been quiet for my watch, exploded into life and shrieked coordinates into the air in English and French. Through the static I could make out some words: “All ships, all ships… under fire… stay clear from the following coordinates…” It sounded like someone was having a military exercise. “How come this all happens on my watch?” I grumbled. Down I went to check the coordinates on the chart and see if we were sailing into any of the affected areas. It soon became clear the exercises were being held just to the west of us, off the coast of Algeria, and out of range. It was time for a shift change and a long-awaited sleep for me.

Ian and Steve also played Freighter Dodgems on their watch as we sailed through busy shipping lanes. Early afternoon brought us in sight of the north coast of Africa and the Arab lands of the Maghreb. We sailed past little blue and white coastal towns sitting among a surprisingly green landscape sprinkled with vineyards and olive groves. An oasis, considering the Sahara desert lies two hundred miles to the south. As we approached one of the main ports of entry, Bizerte, two coastguard officials in a dinghy came out to greet us. They led us to a fishing dock in the harbour of Zarzouma; as the main marina was under construction. Tunisia is a popular destination with European sailors because of cheaper marina fees and a place to winter out of the EU. Many marinas are planned, and existing ones closed for redevelopment, to capitalize on the increased interest in this coast. This currently leaves very few places for boater’s to stay.

Checking in reminded us of Cuba, as the custom’s officer and coastguard checked our paperwork. The custom’s official asked if we had any alcohol onboard and Steve said we had beer, wine and some liquor. “The bottles of alcohol are open are they?” he led. “Of course,” said Steve. That’s what he wanted to hear. Wine and beer are not an issue but closed bottles of alcohol are. He asked Steve for a gift. Steve offered wine but he turned it down saying, I’m Muslim.”

The Coastguard officers who inspected us next, were very professional. It was Sunday so they arranged fuel (1 dinar per litre or less than half the price of Sardinia), a friend to change money for us, another friend to taxi us to town, and promised to keep an eye on Whitestar while we were gone.

The people of Bizerte appeared surprisingly modern and contradict their surroundings of biblical-looking buildings and narrow alleyways of hundreds of years ago. Men sit in cafes drinking coffee and young people walk around in modern dress. You still see older people in traditional dress but for the most part, Tunisia is more liberal than they would have you believe; both Tunisia and Morocco banned the burkah several years ago. We walked through streets assailed by the smell of fish grilling outside restaurants and enjoyed an early dinner in a boat restaurant floating in the town’s old harbour.

We pulled out of Zarzouma early on Monday morning and around Cap Farina to the pretty town of Sidi Bau Said and into the oldest and probably the smallest marina in Tunisia. It’s well known for accommodating visiting yachts no matter how full they are. Steve hailed them and they directed us into the narrowest possible space, deep in the heart of the marina. They did a good job of guiding us in and helping to tie-up. Getting out, I feared, may be a challenge.

We roamed the town the next day, mingling with hundreds of tourists belched out of the huge cruise ship docked in Tunis, a busy modern metropolis. Provisioning in a relatively well-stocked supermarket was interesting, finding red hot pepper dip, saffron and eucalyptus, among other treats.

Steve went looking for a weather forecast at the marina office. “Great forecast, he said. “Pity it’s yesterday’s!” He asked the surly port captain for an updated one. “In an hour,” he said gruffly. We went back in an hour and the next day but the old one was still posted. Fortunately, we weren’t relying solely on his forecast and got an update from a UK weather site (weatheronline.com) on the Blackberry.

 

We skillfully manouvered out of the marina on Wednesday morning in light winds and with a very small weather window, bound for the anchorage at L’Eau Chaud. We hoped to get close to the lee of the land and duck into the anchorage before it blew to a full gale but the weather was building fast. Four miles shy of the anchorage all hell broke loose. Steve turned to Ian in disbelief and said, “This is a lot of wind – I’ve never seen anything like this before. The short fetch waves were manageable but the gusting wind was lifting sheets of spray into the air. Ian dropped the sails. We motored east on bare poles and took one hour to move half a mile towards shore as gusts blew down the mountainside. I watched our painful progress from the dry cabin as Ian and Steve were pelted with spume. In hindsight we should have left a triple reef in the main to get some additional forward motion, but as usual hindsight is a wonderful thing. Later, we watched the wind continue to play with the water right inside the anchorage. We sat out the blow as it continued into the next day. Despite good protection in the anchorage, it was difficult to light the BBQ.

When the wind finally died, we headed past Raz El Fartass (not a spelling mistake, I swear) to the anchorage before Cap Bon. The wind was steady until the last 5 miles when it increased to 20 knots on the nose. The anchorage turned out to be quite desolate with a Mars-like landscape and only mountain goats for company. We stayed there the next day and even when the wind lessened, we could hear it still blowing hard on the other side of the cape.

We sailed to the fishing town of Kaliba – halfway between Cap Bon and Hammamet. We docked around lunchtime but the shared visitor/fishing dock was crowded with visiting yachts and local fishing boats. We tied up in the dive boat’s spot but would have to move when he came back so we decided to make a run for Hammamet, our final destination, 30 miles away. Ian was on deck when a Tunisian Navy boat hailed us. They asked the name of the vessel, the number of people on board, their nationality, and our destination, and all in English. Tunisian officials keep track of their cruising guests in a non-intrusive and friendly manner. They know your itinerary and call it ahead to the relevant ports. I think a Canadian boat is a bit of a novelty in these waters.

We arrived at Marina Yasmine Hammamet just after dark and tied up at the visitor’s dock to hand in our paperwork. After an hour, the marinara in his dinghy gestured for us to follow him down the channel to our berth, although in the dark it was difficult to see which berth he was pointing at. Our new German neighbour Oscar helped us in.

Marina Yasmine, aptly named with the smell of jasmine in the air, is one of the nicest and best run marinas in Tunisia. It’s a tourist area, filled with white holiday villas, shopping centers, restaurants, young boys selling bunches of jasmine, and the usual excursions including life-like pirate ships filled with bopping sun-baked tourists. We caught up with Mick and Jo, an English couple with whom we’ve only chatted with through e-mail, who winter in Yasmine on their boat. We bumped into Canadians Denise and Robert from Quebec on Eccentricity – we first met 2 years ago in Smir Morocco when they were deciding where to leave their boat. Ironically enough, they were leaving their boat in Yasmine and flying home – just like us.

Two days later we motored over to the Rodriguez Shipyard slip to haul out. Steve had to back the boat in and that was an exercise in itself. They lifted Whitestar out and placed her on the hard. That night the wind rose and sent vibrations down the mast making it seem like the boat was moving and was going to tip over. The next day, shipyard staff assured me it would not topple.

Decommissioning work began with bleaching of water tanks, stowing sails and lines, touching up teak work, flushing the salt water cooling system, and wrapping Whitestar in her new tarp. All went well except for the bilge cleanout. I was warned that what comes out may not be water and ended up splattered with spots as I stood below the bilge drain holding a bucket. Steve owes me a new outfit.

 

It wasn’t all hard work. We rented a car and drove through the countryside to the town of El Jem where the second largest coliseum (after Rome) still stands. As we travelled south towards the Sahara, where 45 degree temperatures are the norm, we drove past hydro poles topped with huge stork nests. Almost all were inhabited by one or two offspring waiting to be fed. Although a major world historic site, there is very little signage. Friendly locals point you in the right direction as you navigate your way through tiny back streets. After immersing ourselves in the historic walls and corridors of the 3^rd century Coliseum, we sat on a terrace and enjoyed a lamb and vegetable couscous lunch and watched the world go by.

Another day, we took a break from working on the boat and visited the Domain Atlas winery to sample their award-winning wines and enjoy a typical Tunisian lunch on a vine-draped terrace. Tunisian cuisine embraces North African, oriental and Mediterranean influences and their wines are still made in the old French tradition. After lunch, Steve selected 2 dozen bottles of their finest to leave on the boat for the next sailing trip.

Some of the sights in Tunisia would make you think you’ve had too much sun: the solemn funeral walk of men carrying a shrouded loved-one on their shoulders through the streets; the beauty of the flowers that adorn a bride as she and her womenfolk parade around; the collared pet goat following three little girls along the road; the impressive pirate ships ferrying the tourists around the Gulf of Hammamet; and the camel resting in front of the ancient Coliseum in El Jem. Through the mirage, you see how lucky you are to sail and experience life in this unique country.

And so ends our journey for this year. Until next time!

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