A Real Italian Port With No Tourists

Yeah they exist. We have been staying in some small fishing villages. Several have become resorts for weekend getaways. Last night we stayed in Neptuno. It is probably the most Italian place I have been. No tourists are here. We went to a small restaurant last night and had fresh calamari and pasta. Two guys played the guitar and sang all classic American rock songs. Even though we were the only visitors, all the Italians knew all of the words and everyone was singing along and enjoying the whole thing. The waiter told the little band that we were from America. One of the singers welcomed us and told us he visited California and loved it. I told him I have visited Italy and love it as well. They all thought that was funny. Then they sang Hotel California for us. We bought them a couple of cokes and they gave us a copy of their CD as a present.

Lean on Me

Pisa was as beautiful as ever. Even though we arrived pretty late, we took the time to climb up to the top of the tower. I hadn’t done that before in previous visits. Now that was an interesting experience. The floors tilt so much it feels like you are off balance. Combine that with the height and it disorients you pretty good. There were quite a few people that were clinging to the rail because they felt like they were going to fall. After climbing up the tower, we went to take the bus back to the port. It was pretty late and no one else was waiting at the stop. We were a little nervous that maybe the buses stopped running at some point, so I asked the guy at a near by souvineor stand if the busses were still running. He said yes and to take the blue bus that said Lucca on it. Well; shortly after that the bus came and we hopped on. Everything was going fine until the bus turned right and started up the hills. Something was wrong. We asked one of the passengers if the bus was not stopping at the port first and they said no, it was going straight to Lucca. Humm, that is a problem. We didn’t have much choice so we decided to try and catch the bus back from Lucca and start over. But when the bus finally arrived, the driver told us the next bus back to town was tomorrow morning. He told us we might be able to catch the train back that night and told us some complicated instructions on how to get to the train station. We stepped off the bus a bit confused but headed to the station. I guess he could tell we were a little out of our element and pulled up beside us told us to get in and drove us to the train station. You gotta love the Italians. That would never have happened in the US. Everything turned out well. We caught the train back to the port and made it back to the boat ok.

Au Revoir, Bon Joruno

Ah Italy, where the pasta gets better, the bread gets heartier, the language gets more passionate and hands are required when speaking. The other day I saw someone on a Vespa on his cell phone. One hand on the phone, another waving wildly in the air and no hands on the motorscooter. You gotta love the Italians. We head to La Spezia where we meet Mike Crowell. He and Nanette spent a couple of days in Rome before joining us. Nanette had to fly home to take care of a little emergency with her dog, but joined us later in the week. We once again did one of the most beautiful walks anywhere in the world along the Chinqua Terra coastline. It is like a walk for the gods. You feel like you are halfway suspended between heaven and earth. The crashing sea below punctuated by five postcard villages that were once small fishing ports. Now they are fishing for tourist dollars. It has been while since we have run into Americans, but this is definitely on the American Itineary. Despite the mob of tourists, it is hard to resist the charm of this part of the Italian coastline.

The Riviera That is not a Car From Detroit

The coast of France continues to ooze beauty and charm. Seamlessly blending from the Cote d’ Azur into the French Riviera the ports of call continue to be some of the best in Europe. Punctuated in the middle of this stunning coast is the tiny principality of Monaco. Presided over by the oldest continuing ruling royal family, the Giramaldi’s. They have governed this little kingdom for centuries by figuring out how to extract more money from visitors than most. With their copper domed Casino where fortunes are won and mostly lost in a single evening and upscale shops lure people off the streets like a diamond crusted worm on a hook, few people leave Monaco without leaving a piece of their bank account with them. Red Ferrari’s and yellow Lamborghini’s roar up and down the tightly looped roadways that every May becomes part of the Grand Prix. Everyone has some kind of fluffy ball attached to a leash. The streets are so clean that the 5-second rule of dropped food does not apply. The entire country less than the size of Central Park in New York.

We continue to anchor out away from the marina’s where possible, but can’t always find a sheltered cove in this part of France. After 10 days aboard, Jody leaves us at Nice to fly home. A couple of days later, we are hanging out in Menton, famous for its lemons. Each year they have a festival where they build huge sculptures solely out of citrus fruit. This is our last stop in France and where John leaves us to return home.

The Cote d’ Azur is the Best for Sure

The playground for the rich and famous, nothing beats the Cote d’ Azur. It’s famous ports run off the tip of the tongue like honey: St Tropez, San Raphael, Cannes, Antibes, Nice, are all like precious jewels set in the glittery coast of France. Super yachts are outdone by mega super yachts. Sun worshipers wash the beaches in golden tans that blend with the terracotta rooftops of the quaint fishing villages. John suggested we spend a few days anchored in the bay near the point des Fourmis just east of Nice. We spent some time visiting the Rothchild’s estate with its exotic gardens and walking past David Nivens old estate that was originally owned by Charlie Chaplin. While we didn’t exactly get a dinner engagement, we did have a light lunch in the Rothchild estate tea room.

On to Toulon

Not my favorite city, Toulon is more a working city with a strong French Navy presence. The port is at the foot of the town, but quite old and out of date. I was surprised when the capitanari remembered me from being there almost two years before. They remembered the girls traveling with me and asked how things had been going. We spent four days there picking up a couple more passengers, Jody, a friend of a friend that chartered the boat for the next 10 days and John who spent time with me when I was in Barcelona. John’s ability to speak French quite fluently endeared him to the crew immediately. We did a big stocking up at Carrefour to last us for a couple of weeks and then set sail for the golden sun of San Tropez.

Sheer Cliffs and Sheer Delight

We headed out to one of my favorite ports in the Mediterranean, Cassis. Instead of attempting to squeeze into its tiny marina, we ended up anchoring out in one of the beautiful bays nearby. That experience was to change the way I sail in the Mediterranean. While we don’t get to plug into electricity and fresh water every night, we do get to plug into nature in a very beautiful way. Picture perfect soaring cliffs embracing us with the moonlight shimmering on the ocean lighting a pathway to our boat. The slight summer breeze under a canopy of stars and a peace that is not possible in port fills the air with a magic not found in port. The boat rocks a little more during the night and you hear the ocean lap against its sides. It is a very connecting experience. We embrace it and want to do more of this kind of overnight stays. We stayed a couple of nights only going into port for gas before heading to Toulon.

Crossing the Dotted Line

Yeah we crossed the national boundaries into France. Immediately the bread got better the yogurt more fruity, and we had more choices in cheese, While it is wonderful to be back in France, I already miss not being understood. Everyone is very helpful and most people speak English “juzt ah little”. The winds were still pretty strong and we got some perfect days of sailing in with strong winds that pushed our sailboat faster than if we were under motor. We went back to Cap d’ Agde, stayed on the islands right across from Marseille at Isle du Frioul for a couple of days before sailing into Marseille. I always love the port in Marseille. It is a huge rectangle that the heart of the city beats around its stone quay. Large iron rings have been anchored into the solid stone moorings that have been tying up ships since the clippers ruled the seas. I can feel centuries pass before me of a time where ships brought cargo from around the world to this center of commerce. You can almost hear the creak of the old wooden ships and the sailors spending their satchels of money from being out to sea for months on end. Times have changed and now a couple of upscale yacht clubs manage the port finding spots for travelers stepping off their mega yachts equipped with every imaginable convenience. Most of the buildings surrounding the harbor are relatively new due to the hard bombing the city took first by the Germans to capture the city and then the Allied forces to liberate it during World War II. In between the newer structures you will see a matron building that has seen centuries come and go.

The Wild Costa Brava

In Spanish, Costa Brava literally means wild coast. It sure did live up to its name. The first couple of days into our journey along the north coast of Spain, the winds whipped up to around 35 knots and the waves kept growing until the height was somewhere around 6 to 8 feet. While the boat did fine, it gets a bit tiring after a while. These winds are known as Tramontana, which are part of the Mistral winds coming from France. The marina we planned to stay in was a little too far and we ended up taking shelter in the protected bay at Cadequez. As soon as we entered the embrace of the bay, the waves calmed down and the winds, while still strong were tamer. We threw out the anchor and made sure it sunk deep into the sandy bottom. It wasn’t long before some other boats joined us. A couple from Germany anchored right near us and later in the evening a large yacht anchored a little further away. For the next two days the winds continued to howl and we continued to hunker down. We awoke on the third morning with relative quiet winds and from where we were, it looked like the seas had calmed down a bit. So we ventured out. It didn’t take long before once again the winds whipped up and waves began to pound. By then, we were far enough to make the marina at Port de la Selva. So with an E ticket rollercoaster ride on the crest of the deep blue waves, we surged into port. There were just a couple of slots opened, but we managed to wiggle between two boats and finally tie up to the quay. All the people nearby helped us with the lines and welcomed us out of the storm. A couple of hours later, the German couple limped into port as well. I guess they tried sailing with the same optimism that we had.

Three, Two One, Blast Off

It was hard to leave Barcelona. After so many months living there, it feels like my home away from home. I know my way around, and can find the supplies that I need. My Spanish has gotten just to the point where I can express myself well enough to make my point. Just when things are starting to come together language wise, it is time to say goodbye. My friend Steve came the first part of June and we spent the first couple of weeks finishing up things and gathering supplies for our summer journey ahead. It is not that they don’t have food where we are going, it is just the difficulty in finding all the things that we need. So we visited the big grocery store here one more time and carted it back to the boat. It looked like we were setting out for a ocean voyage to far off lands. Had a nice farewell party with my friends that I have made here in the marina and left the middle of June.