Dear Neptune, I offer you a small shot of Limoncello and ask that a mahi-mahi or a small tuna might take my beautiful blue-skirted lure.
"Anicke!" they shout excitedly from the boat. "You’ve got a fish!!" I rush up just in time to see the poor fish bend the rod twice before taking off with the entire reel, dashing my dreams of ceviche or grilled fish on the boat. I just hope it’s not suffering too much as it swims around now with my lure and line. Clearly, I need to up my game and make sure this doesn’t happen again – for both the fish’s sake and mine. I haven’t bought extra fishing gear, but I will once we get to Sardinia.
This part of our adventure begins with our departure from Montenegro.
Sailing from the Adriatic Sea through the Ionian Sea and into the Tyrrhenian Sea, we are passing through south of Italy far faster than we would have liked to.
Aside from the sea turtles and dolphins we saw at the start, and all the little fish around the boat, we haven’t seen much marine life along the Adriatic coast. There are especially few birds. That changed when we reached the area where the Ionian Sea and the Adriatic Sea meet; now we see lots of birds following larger predatory fish hunting underwater. There's constant action on the surface, and we spot small dolphins hunting around schools of fish. It was also in this area that we got our first bite – and lost all the gear. Going into the Tyrrhenian sea, the birds are gone again, we did see a sea turtle and dolphins here.
Our route:
Montenegro-Otranto - Cape Santa Maria di Leuca - Isola de Capo Rizzuto (Nature Reserve) - Porto Della Grazie - Marina Porto Bolaro - Isola de Lipari - Sardinia Cala Gonone
Montenegro to Otranto
The sail from Montenegro to Otranto gave us lots of side waves but lovely sailing winds throughout the day and night. Clear visibility was ensured by a fantastic almost-full moon and starry sky. As we approached Italy, we had to navigate between large cargo ships and cruise ships. Upon arriving in Otranto, there was no space at the marina, and we soon learned that it's not so easy to find a spot in these charming little marinas in this area. Espen takes the dinghy ashore to clear us into Italy (and the EU) again. Italy has several agencies similar to the Norwegian Coast Guard, and it was a bit uncertain which one was the right one for our clearance. Espen thought Guardia Finanza was correct and went on a search for it but was met at the entrance to a restricted area and politely directed to the Polizia. This place was closed, but he found a doorbell, and eventually, another friendly Italian came to explain that this was the wrong place but suggested trying the next building. Guardia Costiera was finally the right authority, but they had gone for lunch. When Espen returned a little later he was met by the most friendly and charming bureaucrats. This isn't a place many people check in at customs – the week before, there had been none, and the person who helped us had never had anyone from Norway before and assumed there were only about 6-7 boats so far this year. This turned out to be a very formal process; all documents were carefully reviewed by three people. Everything was properly written down by hand in bound books, and the documents were copied for the archive before we could all take a trip ashore. It has its charm that not everything is done electronically.
Otranto has a history that dates back to ancient times. It was originally a Greek settlement and later became a Roman port. The town is known for its stunning cathedral, the Otranto Cathedral, which houses the famous mosaic floor created in the 12th century. This mosaic is one of the largest in Europe and depicts a tree of life with various biblical scenes.
Otranto also played a significant role during the Middle Ages. In 1480, it was invaded by the Ottoman Turks, leading to the tragic massacre of 800 martyrs who refused to convert to Islam. These martyrs were later canonized by the Catholic Church.
Otranto to Cape Santa Maria di Leuca
We managed to squeeze in some swimming and yoga before we set off again. Lovely sailing wind. We realize we’re not getting much done other than covering distance, so we decide to start around 5-6 in the morning the coming days, letting the kids sleep through the first few hours and us have time to explore a bit wherever we land. Again we were met by no available berths in Santa Maria di Leuca and the anchorage was crowded but OK.
Santa Maria di Leuca is located at the southernmost tip of the Salento peninsula, where the Adriatic and Ionian seas meet. The town is famous for its lighthouse, which is one of the most important in Italy, and the Basilica of Santa Maria de Finibus Terrae, built on the site of an ancient temple dedicated to Minerva. According to tradition, Saint Peter landed here on his way to Rome.
As we sail a long the the coastline we enjoy all grottoes and caves, some of which contain prehistoric remains.
Cape Santa Maria di Leuca to Roccella Ionica - Russian warship
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, ship is sinking” is the first message we hear on the VHF. Then comes a new message, “Mayday relay,” and it's clear that a boat is in trouble.
The coastal radio responds, asking for a position, but we can’t quite hear – it seems they’re having communication trouble. We can see the Coast Guard setting out from the dock on the AIS on our ORCA; after a while, the AIS is turned off, and we lose sight of them.
Then we clearly hear a call to the coastal radio: "This is Russian warship ready to help and assist if you need. We can talk on channel 11." We try to listen in on channel 11 but don’t hear anything from the Russian warship. Did we hear correctly? Russian warship. The war in Ukraine, which has been quite distant of late, suddenly feels very close again.
About 30 minutes later
Mayday relay Mayday relay Mayday relay This is Sea Eagle, position given. There is a boat that has sent out a flare and is in need of help. There are at least 30 persons on deck; don’t know how many are below deck.
"OK, what does the boat look like?""It is a sailboat with one mast. It's white."
The coastal radio calls up the Russian warship to see if they can assist; we eavesdrop but can’t hear what they respond, so we have to leave it up to our imagination. We wonder if it could be migrants desperately trying to cross the sea, given there are so many people onboard.
Then the coastal radio calls up the first boat, Dorothy II, to hear what's happening around the target. Dorothy II replies, "It doesn’t seem like anything is wrong " The last we hear is that the Coast Guard will be there in 1.5 hours.
This is also the stretch where I lost my line and lure to the sea. There are a lot of waves, and Emilie and Christoffer get seasick. We find a nice anchorage for the night, though it was ruined by karaoke until sunrise, two women with particularly foul voices made the night long.
Otranto, Santa Maria di Leuca and Isola de Capo Rizzuto are part of the Regional Natural Coastal Park, which aims to preserve the unique landscape and biodiversity of the region. We would liked to stay in this area longer.
Roccella Ionica to Porto Della Grazie - Thunderstorm warnings
Up at 5 o'clock for Espen and Christoffer. Tonight, we will be staying in port.
There are many thunderstorms forecasted with alerts on the phone and a sky-high CAPE index.
We compare tables in PredictWind, especially for lightning strikes, and keep an ear on VHF for warnings. We spend a lot of time on the weather, as it's very uncertain and comes on very quickly. This is something we’re going to experience again at Lipari. The Mediterranean has large landmasses, and GRIB files lack data from a forecaster’s grey matter that would investigate the effects of grey masses, frontal activities, squalls, and local geographical anomalies. They do not master modelling thermal effects or the topographic effects of land masses or local changes in sea temperature.
The large land areas heat up and cool down at different times depending on their position relative to the sun. This gives significant thermal effects that the weather models can't get right. In addition, there is channeling and funneling from the land and complex pressure systems over sea and land, which you don’t get in the open sea. The result is that you can't expect precise and accurate weather forecasts.
Every day now, we see the cumulus clouds develop from cute little fair-weather clouds to cumulonimbus and thunderstorms with a lot of lightning releasing the energy. Thunderstorms and gale winds are forecasted on the VHF; so far, the weather has hit the places behind us. On our app we can see lightning strikes hammer down over Sicily and Sardinia.
As the day comes to an end, we take a big U-turn around the breakwater marking the entrance to Porto Della Grazie avoiding the silt that builds up here. We thought we had fixed the VHF but are struggling again to make contact over longer distances. Strong winds in the small marina, and we almost crash into the dock, but it goes well. We have dinner at the super cozy little pizzeria and decided to use the laundry machine to do our underwear.
Porto Della Grazie to Marina Porto Bolaro
The next day, we are up again at 5 o'clock and head out into a beautiful sunrise. There is now a lot of wind and quite a few waves, so we reef the sail; I struggle to get the reef fixed to the mast. It's a disadvantage that we must stand at the mast to fix this. But together, we got the reef in place and continued outwards with 20-26 knots of wind. We arrive in the afternoon at a charming, tiny marina – there were three boats here for the night: a French, a German, and our Norwegian one. There was also a shopping center just 4 minutes away, so we got a much needed restock, which is good since it will be at least five days until we’re in port again. The marina has space for 16 boats, but it was full with our three. A quiet, charming restaurant and bar right by the boat.
Marina porto Bolaro
What is this, a roundabout at sea?
Heading up through the Strait of Messina. Little did we know that there are actually roundabouts at sea. The Strait of Messina separates mainland Italy from Sicily and is the main route to and from the Ionian Sea. Most cargo ships, cruise ships, fishing boats, sailboats, small and large motorboats sail here, and ferries goes constantly between the island and the mainland – even the train takes ferries across. At its narrowest, it’s only 1.5 nautical miles, and with so many large ships, it becomes a busy stretch. To keep everything under control, they have established a southbound and a northbound lane as well as this special roundabout. If a vessel needs to cross or change direction, it must do so in the "roundabout." The entire chaos is controlled by VTS Messina. And here we are, about to cross. On the way up to the roundabout, we stayed well outside the shipping lane, as it is strictly monitored, and there are heavy fines for obstructing commercial traffic. Before entering the roundabout, we called up VTS and ask for permission to cross. The VHF is just as hectic as the strait itself, with boats coordinating with each other and others announcing that they are entering. Espen heard on the radio from a busy ferry: "To tanker, I am faster than you and will pass close by your bow.” The response comes from the tanker, “I would rather avoid a collision and will slow down.” It is a bit unclear if we got the green light from VTS, but we have notified them and now plunge into the roundabout. That is, we are puttering along at 6 knots, and here Espen wishes we could go faster to get through quickly. We have two large cargo ships approaching us from starboard and a cruise ship on the port side, along with very fast ferries crisscrossing. We were quite relieved when we reached the other side without any honking or scolding from VTS. Or being clipped by a large tanker. Now we could continue at our leisurely pace up the rest of the strait, staying at the edge of the lane while being entertained by the VHF dialogue between other ships. We had chosen a good day to cross the strait; there was little wind and waves. Our pilot book, the "Italian Waters Pilot," tells of strong eddies they simply call "bastardi" and that there are often strong winds channeled through here. It's apparently worst in the spring. We saw several of the characteristic swordfish boats on our way through, as the swordfish also migrate through here.
The roundabout in strait of Messina.
Aolian Islands- Isola di Lipari
I’m losing control of the boat; get the anchor up now! I immediately stop pointing to where the anchor is rising and just push down the "up" button. Christoffer has just pulled in the other anchor we set out. The waves and wind are hitting us hard, and the high, beautiful volcanic cliff now feels dark, huge and threateningly close. Did we leave the decision to leave the anchor to late?
These islands are volcanic mountains, two of which are still active: Stromboli and Vulcano. We set course for an anchorage on the southeast side of Isola Lipari. What a fantastic landscape. We pass by and see the smoke over Vulcano; there are many pinnacles rising out of the water, creating an incredibly striking landscape. In several places, there are holes in the rock. We anchor late in the afternoon. There were two other boats here, but not long after, we are completely alone. It is exposed, but calm. Fredrik has spotted a pinnacle that must be perfect for cliff diving, so we get in the dinghy and go on an expedition. It turns out to be spot on; jumps are made into the sunset from 10-12 meters.
Fredrik cliff diving. Emilie and Espen in the sea.
We enjoy a quiet night and a perfect day with lots of swimming, SUP and cliff diving.
Then thunderstorms build up on both sides of us, making it difficult to see which direction the weather will take, but it seems likely that it will pass us by. The sun is still shining where we are anchored, and an ice cream vendor comes puttering into the anchorage. I ask what they think about the weather, and he replies that he is also a fisherman, and as things stand now, as long as we have visibility to Isola Alicudi and the wind isn’t coming straight in, this weather will in fact pass us by. So right now, it looks good. I ask if they think it’s safe to stay the night, but he doesn’t answer; his wife is clearly uncertain.
The blue dot is Yggdrasil surrounded by lightning strikes.
Espen and I are going back and forth in discussion. We don't have an anchor 5 meters in on the chain, and the dive tank has little air left after we tested it earlier in the day. We agree that the anchor held well last night and that it had dug itself really well into the fine sandy bottom. So, we decide to drop another anchor using a bridle. We fire up the grill and prepare for another night at this beautiful spot, with the burgers that the kids have been wanting for a long time. After a while, the island completely disappears, and the wind blows straight towards us. Onshore wind. The waves are building up and are getting quite big. The large rock wall that was so beautiful yesterday is no longer so.
Christoffer, Espen, and I reassess the situation and decide to pull up the anchors and get out of here. Christoffer bounces around on deck in the waves while he pulls up the extra anchor by hand.
After we’ve gotten both anchors up and have control of the boat, we start the journey out into the large waves, which are now 6-7 meters high. Everyone is up, with their life vests on, and everyone is secured to the boat. Lightning and thunder are continuous around us. Now we see that the last stragglers are also leaving their anchoring spots, and we are all heading to the shelter on the opposite side of Lipari. It feels good when we turn the boat around and take the waves from the stern; they wash over the deck. Emilie says she feels nauseous, but at the same time, she seems fascinated. We pass a boat that has thrown out a sea anchor.
Lightning strike as we turn around and get the waves on our stern.
Along with 20-30 other boats, we are cruising around in the shelter on the back side of the island.
On the VHF, we keep hearing MAYDAY calls, especially from one woman who has called a mayday relay for a boat and keeps asking for an update from the coast guard on whether the five people on board are safe.
On the leeward side of Lipari it’s still blowing at 26 knots; what we had on the other side I never found out, Espen said he saw 36 knots on the display. We go to the innermost part of the bay and drop the anchor at 17 meters, and take out three times the the depth in chain length, we can’t let out more if we are to avoid crashing into the boat behind us. After we are securely anchored, Espen says, “It’s not allowed to anchor here.” I reply, “We’ll just have to risk it.” Its now pitch black night and we don’t see any cables on the chart. Christoffer asks what happens if we get caught anchoring here and Espen believes all the boats coming our direction are coming to kick us out. “We’ll get a fine,” says Espen. “How much does it cost?” asks Christoffer. “Don’t know,” we reply. He buries his head in his phone, “No one has gotten a fine like that in Norway anyway,” he says and seems content with that. We fry burgers in the pan, and Espen and I take turns keeping anchor watch through the night. The weather calms down, and we’re anchored securely. Early the next morning, we head out at dawn, without any penalty and with the bow pointing towards Sardinia.
Crossing to Sardinia
The sea is relatively calm, and we make good speed. But the wind has left us, nothing is left of the thunderstorm from last night. Motor sailing and motoring all the way. Little wind also means no waves so we take the opportunity to do some man-overboard drills, or rescue 'Joppe' as the fender is now called, and have a quick swim.
Emilie is pointing at Jeppe, Christoffer driving the boat and Fredrik is picking him up.
We are mostly by our selves, and see no other boats. On crossings like this, we feel small. We were given a fantastic sunset and starry sky. Then lightning started behind us; I felt my pulse rise and prepared for yet another thunderstorm. But it stayed over Sicily and eventually disappeared completely on the horizon. We had a calm night. At sunrise, I thought about how amazing nature is and how much we depend on it. It’s easy to become philosophical when you're out on such crossings. The next day and night was all calm and we enjoyed yet another magical night under the stars before anchoring up in Gala Gonone Sardinia.
Now we will enjoy some quiet days in Sardinia and not travel long distances for about a week. The boat is in need of a proper clean, before we can welcome friend onboard tomorrow.
- Anicke
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