We Have Hit Bottom

After sailing through the Straits of Messina, we headed to the town of Gallipoli. No longer headed south, we are now sailing east along the bottom of the boot. The old town of Gallipoli is built on an island perched once again on high cliffs. These towns really knew how to defend themselves. The new part of Gallipoli is built on a peninsula that now connects to the Island. As we sailed into port, we were told it was a fishing port and no room for us. The Italians make a lot of noise and you think their decision is final. Just when they sense they have won, they relinquish and tell you to go dock over to the right. No fees just stay for free. We throw the lines through the old cast iron rings on the dock that have been securing boats to the harbor for centuries. Four teenage boys curious about our boat immediately come to pay us a visit. We invited them on board and they loved all the room. It didn’t take them long before they were doing back flips off the back and swimming under the main hull between the two pontoons. Big smiles and wide eyes, they welcome us to their home.

Once again, we are entranced by the narrow streets and Italian buildings aged with many winters until they take upon their facades a wonderful texture and subtle color tones of yellow and ochre. In front of the local church, teenage boys are smoking on the steps, slipping into a macho persona much older than their age. Girls flirt and hover hoping to be noticed. With the toll of a bell, they all gather in the courtyard for a youth meeting. Songs of redemption and swaying hands tell of a faith deeply rooted in tradition. The group is mostly girls, and it seems the guys that are there are more interested in picking up girls than being saved.

The next day we meet with the Raymarine dealer who comes and fixes our autopilot and depth gauge that was giving us problems. By lunch we are headed to our next port, Santa Maria de Leuca

Sirens and Mythical Monsters

The Strait of Messina separates Sicily from the mainland of Italy. It has been a place of mythical stories since the voyages of Odysseus. He records in the Odyssey of having encountered monsters and demons that could swallow whole ships and pluck sailors from unwary ships to devour. And if that isn’t enough to throw at you, there are the sirens that sing songs to lure you into their clutches. The men were counseled to stuff soft bees wax in their ears to block the sounds. But if the captain wanted to hear their seductive vocals, he was to be lashed to the mast. And if he asked to be released, the men were instructed to lash him even tighter. My girls thought that might be a good tradition to continue, but fortunately they are not very good with knots.

With this legacy, we were a little intimidated by what lay before us. We wanted to make sure the weather was mild and the seas relatively calm. All the turmoil in the strait is caused by two oceans coming together. The Tyrrhenian Sea is warmer and less salty then the Ionian. When they meet in the strait of Messina, big whirlpools and eddies can form.

With all of this historic bad press, we enter with everything prepared and on top alert. But quite frankly, we didn’t really see much to even notice. There was a strong current that helped push us through, but we failed to see even a minor demon grabbing at our boat. I guess it helps to have two powerful diesels backing up your sails. You can power right through the wrath of powerful gods.

Southern Italy and Lucky Charms

I can’t get over how beautiful southern Italy is. It is like a charm bracelet with each little hamlet a unique charm to be collected and saved as a memory. I have hear how beautiful the Amalfi coast is, but I didn’t expect it to be this way all the way to the tip of the boot. Each town has a storybook quality, rising from sheer cliffs and crowned with a stone church built a century or two ago. After the hustle and bustle of Genoa, Pisa, Florence, Rome and Naples, it is a welcomed change.

We stayed a couple of days in Maratea, which is in the middle of three small fishing villages that are perched on the cliffs along the coastline. You hear so much about the northern Chinqua Terra, but these unique towns are every bit as spectacular but without the tourists and souvenir stands. The girls went to the beach and I rode my bike from town to town. It was a steep ride and quite a workout. I have to do more riding. I think I have lost some of my edge. And riding a bike is the absolutely best way to meander through these small towns. You connect with the landscape in a way you can never do from a car or train. I rode down to one of the beaches and hung out for a while at the local refreshment stand. Everyone is very welcoming and they don’t laugh very much over my communication skills. I think I laugh more than they do. It is pretty feeble, but all in good fun.

The next day we boated past two or three ports that I would love to throw my anchor around, but we are trying to at least pretend that we are making our way to Greece. I think I could spend a month or two just hanging out and enjoying what this region has to offer. Our next port is Tropea, another precious memento to look upon and treasure. It to is built on sheer cliffs with the harbor down below. You have to climb 200 steps to get to the city above, but it is worth every step. It is like walking into a living fairytale, or maybe I am just out of breath a little. I rationalize an extra gelato every time I climbed it. The main part of the old town is built like a cross with two main streets intersecting and anchoring the majority of the action. As is pretty typical of Europe the crowds start descending on the place a about 10 every night, and are there way after we leave at about midnight. You see families with little kids hanging out and enjoying the social mingling. I gotta wonder when these guys sleep. It doesn’t seem to matter much if it is a weeknight or the weekend.

We had planned to spend two days there, but ended up staying three. It was partly because of weather and partly because we couldn’t tear ourselves away from the place.

The long and short of Capri

Is this where those pants that are either to long or to short came from? Across the bay of Naples lies the small island of Capri. Once a small fishing village, little remains authentic there now. It has become a major tourist get away spot. A continuous stream of ferries arrives dumping tourists at its doorstep on a daily basis. The harbor is very small and very crowded. They had no room for us, so we tied up outside the harbor with two lines for safety on a buoy. There were several other boats tied up also. It looked like a great place to be. I rowed our little dingy into shore, dropped off the girls and then tied up to a small buoy right of shore. We had a difficult time figuring out the bus system and how to get to the famed blue grotto, but finally took the funicular up the hill and had a delightful lunch at one of the local restaurants. Our next move was to catch a bus down to the blue grotto. We looked down at the bay to check our boat out, and it was nowhere to be seen. With that small gut ache that you force down and deny it is there, I decide to go back to where the funicular was. I knew we could see the boat from there because we took pictures overlooking the bay. It was not there. That gut ache immediately blossomed into full panic attack as I went back to the girls and told them…it’s not there. We all made a mad dash back down the hill, willing with all our might for the funicular to some how speed up its steep decent. Trying to figure out how or even what to report to the authorities, I finally was directed to the Coast Guard. The guy looks up at me and says your boat has been towed to the harbor. It broke loose from the mooring and was headed for the rocks. I don’t know if it was damaged, but it is still afloat. There will be a fine for this. Come back when you have had a chance to inspect everything. He asks one of his sailors to take us to the boat. With dread, I follow sheepishly this all white uniform that has a walk all its own. Not fast, not slow, but very determined and precise. I did not know if I wanted him to hurry or to take his time and delay the bad news. When we finally got there, I inspect the boat, and not a scratch on it. I thank God and included all the Roman gods just incase that everything was ok. We go back to the coast guard office to fill out the report and find out what the fine would be. As it turns out, the buoy itself broke loose from its mooring with my lines still tied to it. As the guy is filling out the report, he realizes that it is my birthday. With a nervous laugh, I say I am not sure if it is a luck birthday or unlucky that the buoy broke loose. He looks up at me and says, well let’s make it your lucky day, I am not going to fine you. Good luck and have a great time in Capri. You gotta love the Italians. When you are most in trouble and down, they come to your aid. We spent the rest of the afternoon putting together big fruit baskets with lots of goodies in it to give to the coast guard and to thank the people that helped save our boat. We ended up staying in the harbor for a couple of nights before moving south once again.

What is all this stuff falling from the sky…cough…

Our next stop takes us to Pompeii and Herculaneum, two cities destroyed when Mt. Vesuvius blew it’s top around 79 ad. People were so caught by surprise that many were buried in soot and ash before they knew what hit them. While the tragedy wiped these two costal towns off the face of the earth, it left a historical record of ancient Rome unique in the history of the world. Pompeii is huge and excavation has been going on there since the 1700. Most of Herculaneum has been dug up just recently and there is about 3/4th of the city yet to be exhumed. Between the two, Herculaneum is much more intact and filled with a more complete picture. You can see how the interior walls were painted in most of the buildings. They are very beautiful with individually designed decoration in each room. No two rooms are painted the same. The bathhouses and some of the homes are very close to how they were left, frozen in time for centuries. Floors have intricate mosaic work that shows the artistic level of the civilization. With a little dusting shops could reopen for business without much trouble. They even found cupboards with the food still in them. And the people? So caught by surprise that they were still sleeping. The archeologist injected plaster into the cavities where the bodies were to create an exact cast of what the people looked like and to some extent how they dressed. The most different thing about them is they are pretty short, around 5’. I loved both cities. If you only have time to see one, I would recommend Herculean. While it is smaller, it is much more complete and takes longer to go through because of the detail that can be found there.

Roaming around Rome

We had a little difficulty finding a berth in Rome, but finally found space in the port close to the airport. Once again, the Italians threw us lines and helped us get situated. It turns out Luigi who manages the port became our best buddy, helping us find grocery stores, taking us to the laundry and making reservations for us at a nearby restaurant. It was all pretty incredible since he didn’t speak a lick of English. We are all getting pretty good at charades. Rebecca’s Spanish is helping a little as well. She seems to understand most things and is picking up the variances of Italian enough to get basic ideas across.

What can I say about Rome. It is a huge city with traffic everywhere. Even the sidewalks are not safe. It’s history is sprinkled throughout the streets. You begin to think nothing of a 2000 year old marble column lying around. The old Roman forum and city center is still there, in various stages of decay. There was certainly nothing like it anywhere else in the world during that time period. Grand plaza’s with historic fountains surprise you on a regular basis. Churches with works of all of the renassance painters are a regular site. It is hard to take it all in. But it kinda soaks under your skin and you walk away with a feeling of power and greatness that once was alive whose influence is still all around us today.

St. Peters is awe-inspiring. It is so huge. And the art is hanging in every nook and cranny. We climbed 544 steps to the very top of the dome through very narrow passages. It is not for the weak hearted or clastrophic, but the views are a great reward.

I have seen pictures of the Sistine chapel all my life, but I still was not prepared for it’s beauty. The depth and perspective is something that really doesn’t translate to a photograph. It is amazing how Michelangelo got such dimension. The figures look like they are reaching towards you. Not bad for a guy that claimed he was a sculptor not a painter.

My Slant on Pisa

When visiting a foreign country, it is thrilling to see the monuments of past glory days. Architectural feats executed so many hundreds of years ago are a marvel to behold. But what tugs at your heart is the people themselves. And so it will always be when I remember Pisa. We chose to stay at the closest port to the town of Pisa. Pisa is slightly inland, but there is a river from the ocean that goes a couple of miles from the town. It is a bit of a challenge. Very shallow, in some places just a couple of meters deep. The other challenge is the fishing nets. The Italians strung high cables across the river. They then have huge fishing nets on a frame that look a little like upside down umbrella’s. The nets slide along the cable and drop in the river to catch the fish. The trouble is, the cables almost caught my mast as well. When we passed under the first set of cables, it was inches away from my VHF antenna. There is not really any organized harbor on the river. It is more like rambling docks owned by a dozen different people. All of them looked completely full. But luck would have it, we found just one space and pulled in. It was lunchtime and we decided to make a quick meal of baguettes, cheese and chicken. While we were eating, a local guy came up to us. He didn’t speak much English, but he did better with Spanish. So we had Rebecca talk to him. It turns out he spent a couple of years in Brazil and spoke Portuguese. Close enough. He told us, that the spot was not vacant. The owner was just out sailing and would be back in an hour or so. Seems like our luck was a bit short. But then this guy started making calls to all of these marinas up and down the river. Then he told Rebecca and me to get in his car and we could go talk to a few of the owners. He drove us to several marinas, but no luck. We thought we might have to just anchor out in the river and were resigned to do just that. Then his friend called and told us we could stay up the river a bit further. So the guy tells us he will go with us on our boat and help us negotiate the deepest part of the river. As it turned out, the water lever, while very shallow was not the problem. There were two more sets of cables across the river. Going up further, they just got lower. We nudged up next to them hoping it would not hit my wind gauges. The mast cleared them by literally inches. The VHF antenna bent back as we tenderly passed beneath. He showed us the marina and the empty spot. It looked like we were home free. Then the trouble began. As I passed by one of the docked sailboats, my propeller caught his slime line and wrapped up tight enough to cut the engine. Because the river was so shallow, the lines were just below the water surface even at quite a distance from the boats. Not only was I caught, but also I didn’t have much control as we slowly slid toward the docked boats, their anchors at the bow of the boats looking like angry teeth ready to rip the side of my hull. The Italians sprang into action, going to the bows of the boats and making sure my boat was pushed off, avoiding any damage to the boat. We managed to get a line on the left side of my boat, but the other side was still tangled. I ended up getting a mask and flippers on and going down to try and release it from the prop. It was very tightly wrapped around. So the owner of the marina gave me his knife and I cut the rope free. Once it was cut, with a little effort, I managed to free it. The four guys that were on the dock all helped to secure the boat. I was relieved that everything worked out ok, but also overwhelmed with the kindness of these strangers. I think there is nothing more charitable then helping a complete stranger. It shows a side of humanity that we sometimes are not sure is still there. The guy that drove us all over just to help us find a spot, and these other guys that were willing to do what ever they could to save us from a very difficult situation. When we were ready to leave, I gave the owner of the marina a pie that we picked up in Pisa, and in simple English and broken Italian, thanked him and his friends for helping us. Just as we were shoving off, he came out with a bottle of wine to wish us well on our journey. I didn’t have the heart to tell him we don’t drink wine, but thanked him graciously and was again overcome with a grateful heart. It was worth more than all the monuments and cathedrals we saw during our stay there. No matter how grand a cathedral is, the outreach of love is always more grand. Grazie.

Oh yeah, Pisa and Florence.
For the most part Pisa is just a big city where people make a living and enjoy life. But hidden amongst all the hustle and bustle of the city is this little oasis that is so beautifully designed it takes your breath away. The infamous leaning tower, the grand baptistery and an even more monumental church anchor a grand plaza making it one of the most beautiful spots we have visited. And wow is that tower leaning. It looks like it is defying the laws of gravity. It started to lean even before it was completed in 1372. The architects tried to balance out the lean but with no avail. Not only does the tower lean, but the baptistery and church also lean. I guess this was just not the best place to build. Different attempts have been tried to stop the leaning. For a while big cables attached to 600 tons of lead weights buried in the ground were used, but it continued to get progressively worse. A couple of years ago, they ended up taking out some of the dirt from the high side and have managed to stabilize the structure for the time being.

Pisa is mostly a university town, and has been since the time of Galileo. Lots of marauding scooters and bikes barreling down the busy narrow streets. Great shopping and great people watching.

The next morning, we caught an early train and headed to Florence, which is about an hour and a half away. Florence can only be described in terms of magnificent, astounding, monumental, and impressive. Buildings with intricate designs adorned with grand sculpture are everywhere. And at the center of it all is Michelangelo’s masterpiece, David. We went to the Uffizi gallery, which houses the greatest collection of Italian paintings anywhere in the world. Giotto, DaVinci, Raphael, Rubens, Titian and Michelangelo are all there. In fact it holds the only surviving easel painting Michelangelo ever did. The wait to get in is long, and the collection massive, but all well worth making your way to this art Mecca. I felt like I was walking through the pages of my art history books. We all loved it.

The other not to be missed museum is Accademia, which houses the infamous David. Besides this masterpiece are a room full of works Michelangelo did in his later years. They are a series of sculptures that are still immerging from the stone. The part that is immerged is very finished and very beautiful, while the rest of the form is still waiting to be released. I find these very exciting pieces. I personally think by not completely finishing the piece you get a sense that Michelangelo was not so much sculpting as he was releasing the figure that was trapped in the block of marble. If you love art, Florence is its birthplace.