Ok....here's more about why we're trying to get the Hell of of the Med!!!

Unfortunately, medical malady of one of the crew members (Ok....me) caused us to take some time out in our bid to put the Med in our rear view mirror.

So, we end up in a port in Ibiza, just 60nm short of getting to the coast of Spain, which we can run down in the worst of the westerlies.

But, we need to make the jump.

While we were waiting a typical Med gale hit, 50nmph + and over 30 boats got dragged ashore!

We were tied up to a huge catamaran that was directly upwind from us, but we still heeled at over 20 degrees....you could not sleep in a bunk without a lee cloth (used typically offshore) as you would get tossed to the floor.

It howled for at least 20 hours, before subsiding to the normal 24nm wind.

We're waiting on a weather window to make the jump, Armando is in a foul mood, he hates to be stuck somewhere.

But, this is actually a nice town with lots of internet access (that never happens!!!).

Anyway, we're pinned down, it's not as bad as when these boats were driven ashore but when it blows it blows for days.

Scott's Back! (Ouch!)

Over the years, I've had the misfortune to have had some back problems, first on the starboard side (corrected with a small surgical procedure) and then on the port side (temporarily....as it turns out...corrected via some well placed shots of some good stuff).

I'd recently started to be reminded of my port side problems and was not too happy to be visited by my old friend, but I really did a number on myself when I tried to roll\jump out of bed to respond to an anchor drag alarm....I believe the phrase is I went down like a sack of potatoes.

And this one was really bad, I couldn't sit, try to sit or even try to stand up.

So, Armando had a non-functioning, heap of plasma on his hands that was strongly suggesting that medical professionals were going to be required at some point in the very near future.

I do have a bag of prescription drugs that my physician was good enough to help me put together for the trip, unfortunately I lack a medical dictionary and attempts to alleviate pain might end up with a desperate need to visit the head, exactly the opposite of what was required (someday I need to figure out just what the heck I have in those bottles).

So, Armando weighed anchor and proceeded to the nearest port....some 10nm away.

Now, I could feel sorry for myself, but he's the one with the real problem. He's got to get the boat into port, tie up and engage whatever port authorities he can find to get things sorted out, all without doing any (more) damage to the boat, which has had a tough go of things on this trip.

He handles this beautifully and pulls alongside a pier, a rare thing in the world of Med mooring (which typically involves backing in, tying off to a line on the bow that goes to the seabed and trying to get the stern close enough to the seawall that one can climb off....sometime I'll do a whole posting on this).

I'm thinking...ok, medical 1st responders can probably extract me from the boat (very optimistic thinking if you've ever been down below on Severance and know how small the companionway is) and lift me over the side and get me on the pier.!

And so, he gets assigned a spot (after they told him to leave but he said he wouldn't as we were declaring a medical emergency....which unfortunately for me was me)....and has no real option but to go bow in, which is a feat in and of itself as he's single handling things.

So, now he goes back to the office and inquires about medical assistance....calls go out and an ambulance is sent.

At this point I'm doing the typical American thing about making sure my insurance will cover all this, so I'm on the sat phone trying to get a hold of Diane, who can't answer as she's busy making a living and keeping us covered with health insurance.

So, the ambulance attendants show up, the woman takes one look at how the boat is tied up and stays on the dock, the guy follows Armando onboard and comes down to look at what they are dealing with.

He calls the doctor and explains that he can't even get his assistant on the boat and that it's not going to be possible to get me off and into the clinic and tells the doctor they need to come to the boat.

The only way I know this is that Armando, besides speaking Italian, English, Portugese and a smattering of French, is fluent in Spanish (yes....God looks after atheists!).

So, everyone retreats and within 45 minutes the doctor and her assistant show up, clamber on the boat (along with the ambulance guy but his assistant is still too smart to climb onboard) and she checks me out, we discuss things (she thinks she speaks bad English but I don't) and she orders and injection of a painkiller and cordison(sp?), then gives me an oral antiinflamatory\painkiller, plus a painkiller and Diazapam (to help me sleep and as a muscle relaxer).

She tells me to stay put (no problem there) and to come and see her in two days, which she figures it will take to get me back in condition to stand up and put one foot in front of the other.

As the entire medical contingency leaves I ask Armando to ask for the bill and to try to figure out how to handle all this.

They look back at us with suprise....no bill, they are a public health service!

But I'm not a citizen.....but they say "you had an emergency....you needed help!"

Ok folks.....think about trying this at home.

No Dr would ever be able to come to you, they would have extracted me one way or another, doctors can only see someone in a hospital or clinic.

Anyway, 2 days later I did make my way off the boat and went to the public clinic.

There were maybe 20 people there.

I was asked for a medical card and proudly produced my Blue Cross-Blue Shield, which supposedly pays for things.

They handed it back, some discussions took place and I was instructed to sit in the waiting room.

When my time came (less than 20 minutes) the same doctor and her assistant saw me, we discussed things, she explained her diagnosis and how important it was to continue with the anti-inflammatory meds (and gave me another handful) and I told her about my problems in the past (basically the underlying problems), we talked about therapy and she warned me to not lift anything heavy and to take it easy (typical concerned health professional).....and I again asked about the bill.

And she explained that this was a public health facility. I told her that they had really saved my ass (ok, back) and could I donate what should have been the bill amount....she said they had no way for that to happen.

And then she said, you're going to Brazil.....they have more needs that we do, why don't you wait and donate to something there?

Anyway, read this anyway you want, but (to paraphrase John Lennon), Imagine health care professionals that aren't forced to run a business, not bled dry by lawyers (and those of us that sue) and that get to care for people and that the people (government) just think that health care is something that people should have....

Every health care exchange in the US starts out with "what's your health insurance coverage"....Imagine if it started out with "What's the problem and how can we help you get through this?".

I'm back on my feet, when I get back to the States I'll get out my medical insurance card and work out all the stuff to get more precisely placed injections to get at the root of my problem, but I have to say that I'm really glad that, when I was laid low in a bunk, I landed in a Spanish port....

As good as it gets!

This video was taken by Armando as we sailed between Sardinia and Menorica (probably the 1st night as the 2nd had much higher winds and waves).

We're on a beam to broad reach (wind over the side of the boat), the waves are low and not slowing us down at all, Armando has the boat dialed in and we're flying along!

The knotmeter reads 8, but it is about .5 off, but we're getting an honest 7.5 SOG on the GPS (which is really a tad higher than hull speed).

Note the job the autopilot is doing and that I'm nowhere to be seen (snoring comfortably away on the low side down below!).

This is the kind of sailing you always wish for, and sometimes get!

Enjoy the video!

The Jump to the Balearic Islands

I had left Armando on Severance in the beautiful Sardinian town of Arbatax.

Originally, the plan had been to get to Caglaria, but we fell 100 nm short.

How Armando survived in that town for 3 weeks without going totally insane it beyond me, but he was thrilled when I arrived (not really to see me, but it meant we could get the hell out of there!).

I was totally exhausted and looked forward to sleeping for 2 days, based on my experience the chances were good we'd be trapped by weather for at least that long.

In my absence, Armando had tackled a long list of problems and issues we had on the boat.

The biggest was that he repaired our underdeck, hydraulic autopilot, which had not worked since Plymouth.

There was no way we were going to make the next big leg without it, we hadn't needed it in the canals, but had done some long cold passages being forced to steer across the English channel and during our Med travels.

This was huge.

He also cleaned up a lot of wiring, getting us past some “emergency” stuff Eric and I had done after leaving the Azores.

Plus, the boat was all cleaned up, organized, tidy, just the way the house had been when I arrived!

I knew it wouldn't last and started to get a sense that there was a common thread in the disarray that seems to surround me, but I quickly dismissed that notion and proceeded to tear open and strew around all the packages I had proudly brought back with me as Armando rolled his eyes back in some kind of expression of resignation.

Armando informed me that he had good and bad news, which did I want to hear first?

I was never good at that game, but the deal was that we had a short window that we could use to sail to the Belearic islands but that we needed to leave at 4:00 am the next morning!

And, the “good” weather window meant we shouldn't experience more that 30 knot gusts, which counts as great weather around these parts!

So, before the crack of dawn, off we went.

However, when I say we I have to admit that I never heard the engine start, which is only 1' from my head and I didn't awake until 2:00 pm, at which point I took a look around and went down for a 6 hour nap.

It turned out to be a great trip, Armando and usual had figured out the weather correctly.

We screamed along on a broad reach in 20-30 knot winds, the seas built a bit given the length of time the wind was in the same direction (waves typically aren't a big problem in the Med, compared to the Atlantic or English channel).

From Arbatax the trip was about 300 nm and we arrived in Puerto de Mahon, Menorca mid-day after 2 nights out on the water.

This really felt like a big turning point as we had passed the waters affected by the Mistral (the Belearics are on the West edge of it) and could now run behind islands to a jump off point of only 60 nm from Spain.

And damn if it wasn't sunny and almost warm, much nicer than anything we'd experienced in months.

After 2 days in Mahon we left for Mallorca, anchored overnight in a cala and motorsailed in calm waters and sunshine around the coast to Palma.

For the 1^st time we're starting to come across pleasure boats out on the water, feels like we might be onto something here!

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

2 planes, a taxi, a train, a hotel, a taxi, 2 planes, one rental car and 3 hour mountain road trip and I was back on Severance!

Rested and refreshed after days with no sleep.

Homeward Bound

At some point, I bowed to pressure from abroad (mostly James Heathfield's common sense urging) as everyone was wondering about our New Year's party.

I had booked a cheap flight from Nice as Armando and I had signed up to take a class near there in late November....when that fell through we decided to make as much East\South progress as possible, so we were in Sardinia when it came time for me to take the flight.

So, one 15 hour ferry, 3 trains, 1 French train strike, one hotel, 1 taxi and 2 planes later I arrived rested and refreshed in Tampa!

And I thought winter boat travel in the Med was tiring!

Diane's dog seemed to remember me, Diane was happy to have me home (I think she got over that quickly) there were some clothes I didn't recognize on my side of the closet, but they turned out to be women's clothing (Diane was claiming more space in my absence) and the house was wonderfully clean and tidy (which it wasn't when I left 3 weeks later....hmmmh).

You could take a shower without sliding a token into a slot and pressing a spring loaded faucet every 1 minute and you could control the water temperature and the whole thing didn't time out on you!

What a wonderful, wonderful place, very strangely unreal.

Anyway, 3 weeks and I left all the important stuff until the last day (of course).

Great New Years party (thanks Jimmy Sexton....I hope you come back and I promise we won't work you to death again!) as those of you in attendance know.

It was very strange to look at my empty boat lift and realize where Severance was, and had been, got a new perspective on this whole thing.

The weeks went quickly and it was soon time to get back to my reality....the trip is about ½ done at this point and there are a lot of miles yet to put on the keel.

The “Plan” Changes!

Pictures are in and around Bonifacio (South coast of Corsica).

Ok, no laughing, there really was a kinda, sorta plan, which involved going East in the Med, at least as far as Greece.

But, reality being non-negotiable, (even though I've never quite been able to accept that) it turns out that the Med is no place to be in the dead of winter in any kind of “pleasure” craft.

We now know that the surprise expressed by fellow sailors (upon hearing our plans to sail the Med in winter ) was really just a way to politely avoid openly calling us “fools”.

The tip off should have come in when, in our 1^st Med port (where our mast had been delivered) we had a 5 day SE gale (atypical as the worst ones generally are the Mistrals that come down the Rhone valley from the North).

Since that time we've been so many gales that I've lost count.

The worst one generated 90 knot winds, we were on the West coast of Corsica and it came from the East, breaking up a marina on that coast and knocking out power to large parts of NE Corsica.

It was so bad in the marina we were in we could not climb from our boat onto the sea wall.

Leading through a series of misadventures that involved inflating the dinghy to give us a way to get 6 feet from the boat to the dock, towing the dinghy when we left there in a hurry, losing the dinghy (the rule is you never tow....this was the 1^st time on the trip I did that) in a 50-70 knot storm we got trapped out in when it finally broke it's lines....it took us 3 hours to fight our way into a cove where we were trapped for 3 nights and 2 days...worst high sustained winds I've ever experienced....I don't even want to talk about it, which is why I'm just burying this in a paragraph I'm hopeful people don't read....

Proceeding down the coast of Corsica, which I admit was very beautiful and the 1^st time I've ever sailed a boat and looked up at snow capped mountains (did I mention it was cold as hell???) , we experienced sleet and sailed within 2 miles of a huge waterspout, (read gigantic tornado!!!!) and watched as 4 more spouts came down from that cloud.

On the South coast of Corsica we stayed in Bonifacio, where the docks are at the narrow end of a long cut in the rocks.

The wind was blowing it's typical 25 knots (which it always does when it isn't blowing 50+) straight down the cut, docking required turning the boat up wind in a wide spot and then blowing down the cut bow to the wind, allowing me to land Armando on a pier from the bow with a bit of forward maneuvering.

Just trying to paint a picture here....the Aussie I met in Bonifacio commented that everyone in the Bahamas was avidly watching the weather trying to avoid anything above 18 knots, when we never see anything less than that and typically have days of 30-50 (he also thought that, had the Bahamas been hit with a sustained 90+ it would have made CNN, but the Corsican gale probably didn't make the news anywhere in Europe).

After Bonifacio we jumped down to Sardinia and traveled the East coast, providing protection from the inevitable Mistrals that circles counter clockwise and thus typically hit the West coast.

One night found us in a small “protected” spot (which we surfed into, not the way you want to enter a small cut) where the locals advised us to tie up to the largest fishing boat as that night's expected swell would make the visitors' dock totally untenable.

Which worked out well for us as there was no charge, the fisherman gave us glasses of homemade clear “brandy” and ensured that we would get an early start if the weather cleared, as they would fire up their engines and charge out at 4:00 am (which they and we did).

Anyway, back to The Plan Changes.....at some point going down the coast of Sardinia and contemplating the next logical Eastward jump (Sardinia to Sicily – 170nm) I started to do some (uncharacteristic) thinking and planning.

I had known I was short on time and had briefly broached the idea to Diane of coming home after the hurricane season, which would give me the 6 more months I needed to sail the Med, get to Brazil and home.

I don't recall exactly what Diane's response was, but it was something about my stuff and the driveway, so that idea was a non-starter.

The problem with going East (which was fairly easy as the Mistral turns to the East and will blow you as far as you want to go that way), is that you have to claw your way back West if your intention is to exit the Med at that end.

The Aussie in Bonifacio told me the cheapest place to buy sailboats was Turkey in the winter, as no one wanted to sail them back out!

Going to Sicily started to look like a bad idea. Even getting West (to the Balearic Islands off Spain) from Sardinia was going to take 2 days of “good” weather, of which we had not experienced in our time in this pond.

If we turned West and managed to get the Balearics, then a trip to Brazil could be envisioned, along with more time in warm places, swimming and the whole deal one envisions when thinking about sailing.

And, thus the new plan....Eastward Med sailing was abandoned, the new plan was to get as far West and South as fast as possible and Brazil was back in the picture!

More or what you never want to see!!!!

Here are some photo's taken by Armando while we were heading down the West coast of Corsica.

It's hard to tell just how close this are to us, but I would say less than 3 nm, which is waaayyyy too close!

I would have to say that this is one of the 10 (or 5) worst things I've seen in my years on boats, I was very pleased that we managed to maintain some distance as I had visions of ending up with a stripped down fiberglass shell as everything that wasn't metal or part of the hull spiralling skyward to the heavens and beyond....

Things you hope you never see!

The Blog

There is some saying about “Good Intentions” but I can't think of it now....but my best intentions have not resulted in any verbiage for the blog.

I'm so far behind that I've decided to try to start up again with the current stuff, and maybe fill in earlier parts down the road (there I go again with good intentions).

Anyway, here's the “latest” (which is already stale!).

Isla de Porquerolles

This is the approach to the first island of the Hyeres Island group, Isla de Porquerolles. It was beautiful, but completely deserted.

For those of you from Wisconsin – think Door County in the winter (but without the snow). For those of you from Michigan, think Mackinaw Island in the winter (but without the snow). Now that I think of it – why is the Mediterranean ever deserted?? In any season it is better than Michigan or Wisconsin! (My apologies to our loyal mid-westerner friends.)



We arrived very late in the afternoon, after the Captainery (Harbor House) had closed. We considered our options. There was a long pier that we could tie up to without having to do the “Mediterranean Mooring” – backing into a “parking slip” tied stern to with mooring lines holding the bow out. This form of docking (which is how they do it everywhere in Europe because there is not enough dock space for everyone to tie up to a pier) was uncomfortable for me because you somehow had to get from the stern of your boat to land. It often was a longer distance than my short legs were comfortable with. Most boats in the Med carry planks that they use to get to the dock, but we did not. It was not as bad as I expected, but I did have some embarrassing moments where Scott had to half drag me onto the dock.

Luckily good sense overrode my desire for easy debarkation. There were many slips available for doing the Med Mooring and so we did that. Next morning we woke and saw huge barges, ferries, and work ships tied to the pier that had so tempted us the night before.

As I said, it was very deserted. Most of the cafés and hotels were closed. Very few people. Some minor construction under way…

An example of a tree tortured and twisted by the Mistral.

An olive tree.



We only stayed one full day at Isla de Porquerolles and then we were off. We had planned on continuing east to St. Tropez, but learned that it would be very difficult for Armando to get to St. Tropez from Marseille where he would be returning in 2 days. Looking at train schedules it was obvious that the best place to meet him would be Toulon.

The next day we left for Toulon.

Sanary

We didn’t go too far. Just down the coast from Cassis was Sanary. The German couple suggested it was a nice place to go if you wanted to do a little shopping.

Lighthouse at the entrance to the Sanary harbor.

Coming in to Sanary. The big homes are said to be the homes of the “Marseille Mafia”, as featured in the film ‘The French Connection”.

Sanary was very similar to Cassis, but a bit bigger. Bigger, but not big enough to spoil the ambiance. It had the same well kept fishing dinghies and the harbor was surrounded by small cafés.

And as our friends had told us, many more shops. But it was not commercial; they were all very unique little boutique shops.

The bakeries had exquisite little cakes.

And big cakes!

Scott tried to talk me into buying one. Anyone who knows Scott knows that he does not eat sweets, so I would have been on my own if I had chosen one. It didn’t seem prudent at the time, but after the fact, I wish that I had. Where will I ever see anything like this again? If I could do it over, I would choose the one on the right, loaded with fruit like Carmen Miranda’s hat!! Or the chocolate log in the middle. Or the cherry tart to the left. Oh such sweet regrets!

Rows of boats from a sailing club.

The streets were lined with Palms.

All French towns have regular days for the farmer’s market. It is generally one day a week and it varies from town to town. We stayed in Sanary for 3 days and they had the market twice while we were there. The produce looked as if it were arranged by a professional stylist for a food magazine.

Bulk spices. Scott bought some peppercorns and a Provencal mix.

Cheeses.

This was the wrapping from a sausage vendor at the market. We bought a couple different sausages, something that looked like a jelly roll with sausage and cheese rolled up inside puff pastry, and some ‘mousse canard’ (duck pate’). The proprietor was appreciating Scott’s appreciation of his products and kept throwing in additional items, including a loaf of crusty rustic bread.

We also picked up some perfect strawberries, fully red and shiny – again like a prop for a food magazine, a pound of shrimp, and some regional wine to round it out.

After leaving the market we left Sanary for our next destination – the Hyeres Islands. Hyeres is a well know destination in the South of France. Just off the coast of Hyeres is a group of 3 Islands, one of which is a protected nature preserve.

As we sailed towards the largest of the islands, le Porquerolles, we enjoyed our purchases from the market. The strawberries were the sweetest that I have ever tasted, as sweet as wild strawberries, but bigger. The shrimp, the sausage, cheese, even the ‘mousse canard’ on the fresh bread was a treat. A gourmet meal enjoyed on a bright sunlit day under sail, with a little of the region’s well known rose’ wine to wash it down - it really doesn’t get any better than this.

Cassis

What a difference a day makes!! Whatever was happening in Marseille, it was gorgeous in Cassis. We awoke to bright sunshine and blue sky.

Cassis was absolutely the most charming little fishing village you could ever imagine. The pilot guide said that it was a favorite for many of the famous French artists. Even Virginia Wolfe, the famously depressed author, found solace here.

The town was picture book perfect – exactly what you would expect on the Mediterranean in the south of France. The pilot guide said that the town was bustling in the summer with every square inch of the small beach covered with blankets and oiled bodies. In November, no oiled bodies, but the cafés were bustling.

We docked across from the town.

I cannot get enough of the architecture. It looks like every French painting of the Mediterranean that I have ever seen. There are certain things that you have seen all your life in books, paintings, movies, but you never realised were real.

Examples from my life – the thatched roofed cottages with stucco and timber in Denmark that looked like they came straight out of a Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale (they did), Cowboys and Indians (I was 16 before I realized they were real), New York City the first time I visited it – Brownstones, Central Park Reservoir, Washington Square Park, Rockefeller Center skating rink - so many images you saw so often in movies but never really believed existed. My Danish sister Birgit’s big moment was seeing our country mailboxes – she called them ‘Donald Duck mailboxes’ because they were in Donald Duck comic books, but she never knew they really existed!


That is what is so amazing and satisfying about travel – to see all these things that are both familiar and exotic!

A street we passed through searching for …. what else …. Internet!!
(Known as Wii Fii – pronounced in France as Wee Fee)

The town at dusk.

The harbor was full of quaint fishing boats, and these were all working boats. We saw them as we came in the night before and we saw them going in and out in the morning.


The cafés along the waterfront featured seafood, all of it freshly caught that morning. When we ordered oysters, the gills were still fluttering. I must admit – maybe a little too fresh for me.

The harbor was surrounded by cafés and as we wandered around Scott was especially intrigued by the people we saw eating sea urchins. We came to this café which had a seafood platter that included all of the most interesting little sea critters. Scott decided this was worth splurging on. It had a wide array of local sea life. He is consulting with the proprietress as to the freshness!

Stone crab, mussels, oysters, shrimp, bulots (snail-like creatures, but not escargot), and sea urchins! Yum?

We compromised. I got the best of the crab and in return I let him have the sea urchins!

Shrimp is always served with the head on to show that it is fresh. No one would think of eating a headless shrimp. Who knows how old it was?

This is the edible part of sea urchins. Little tiny slivers of flesh, surprising sweet and delicate.

While we were in Cassis they had some kind of car rally. All I know is that they were vintage Citrons.

More old cars – this generated a lot of interest from others. To me – big deal, old cars…

(Sorry Kevin, it's how I feel!)

I took this picture for Robyn. She has a friend that likes the Michelon Man. This one’s for you Robyn!! (Who knows who Paul Ricard is? Obviously not as well known as the Mich-Man!)

The view of the fabulous cliffs from the beach at Cassis.

The beach that is, according to the pilot guide, covered with oiled bodies in the summer. Scott has been searching for the famous nude beaches of the French Riviera – here’s one! It appears to be completely denuded.

The beach at dusk.

Scott contemplating the ‘Nude Beach’. Do you think maybe you scared them off, Scott?

And the highlight of every stay – the Supermarche’! We provisioned well as this time we really were heading for the island.

This cliff is a very distinctive landmark of Cassis.

Leaving Cassis.