The Bottom Passage!

The trouble with bloody rain on a boat is it points out that your boat leaks but not in any way that is useful because a leak that starts at the mast can show itself in the stern cabin. Also because there is so much moisture in the air and ventilation is down to a minimum then condensation develops and slides along whatever edge it likes then drops water drops in any particular spot. Usually just near a screw or hatch making you think that there is a leak when there isn't. It's not easy having a boat.

Mrs K becomes a little stir crazy when boat bound and has to take up a position to spy on the neighbours to see how they are struggling. Although she does seem a little happier now that I have a mosquito bite on my arm.

Continuing with the condensation theme I really don't get it, women seem to know things. We have a lovely stern berth on Hermy and when it came to selecting sides Mrs K said she would let me sleep on the side with the hatch above it. I saw this as a real win as I could look at the stars  and see the dawn rising and escape first if we sank at night. 

Now just going back to the condensation edge dribbling point it wasn't long before one morning lying on my side a large and cold blob of water landed in my left ear. In a half conscious state I repositioned myself on my back in order to receive the next blob right in my left eye. A subsequent shuffle lined up my right ear perfectly to receive what felt like an inordinately large blob. Well I awoke in a 'to do' and ranted at the hatch only to catch a glimpse of Mrs K rolling over with a wry smile on her face. Women. They know these things!

Now you don't buy a boat and sail all the way to Cagliari just to suffer Macclesfield weather. But we did. We even got our wellies out which have not been used at all in three seasons. Luckily the handle on this five litre box of grape juice didn't give out until I was on board. Then I opened it and I gave out.

Ten days in Cagliari waiting for the weather and finally it sorts itself out. We say goodbye to the nice French, American, Spanish and English people we have met and hot foot it out of the harbour. Being a commercial port makes it a bit more complicated with its four lane traffic separation scheme and a prohibited area just off the oil refinery at Sarroche adds to your problems. Anyway I thought I had done it right but you can never be too sure. I usually rely on VHF  Channel 16 which usually bursts in to life with words like 'the yacht in position so and so are you receiving? And that hesitant reply 'Hello Yacht Hermione do you mean me?' But nothing this time and just as I am congratulating myself and trying to get Mrs K to appreciate the importance of correct navigation techniques, I looked over my shoulder and I could see a grey, very military type, boat making for my stern. Most boats approaching from behind will offset their course to make it clear that they will overtake you but this one didn't. They only send a boat when you are really in trouble!

He wanted me and came alongside asking for my papers and passports. Interestingly they didn't board but poked a large net at me to drop my stuff in to which I duly did wondering which violation I was guilty of.  After five minutes they reappeared and poked the net back at me with my papers in saying everything was fine and 'enjoy your holiday.' 

I did get the feeling that a more economic way of checking boaties papers might be to stroll along the dock when we are in harbour but the presence of his, albeit covered up, machine gun made me select my words very carefully just as Mrs K had taught me over the years. We continued on our way and finally anchored up at Teulada bay just next to the Budello tower for the night. Built in 1601 to protect a fish pond. Bloody poachers. At least we weren't kept awake by the bloody Dutchman's bloody dog in Cagliari.

It wasn't the Dutchman's dog but some other bloody dog as well as a bit of rocking that kept us awake but not  too a bad night.

Teulada has very little around it other than a pretty landscape and one of the largest live firing ranges in Italy. The trouble with these ranges is that they simply draw a large square extending a long way out to sea and say ' Live firing, dangerous to enter.' Great, we say, and where do we find out if there are any trigger happy artillery soldiers on duty today? Well it mentions the' Italian Annual Summary Firing Ranges' but that reveals nothing on the internet that I could find and anyway sounds like it might just be a list of their yearly successes. 50 targets 3 motorboats a fisherman and 12 yachts!

The trouble with this square is that it had been drawn right in our way and I didn't fancy going  round it. So Channel 16 on, main sail up, motor on full and go, was my meticulous strategy. A keen look out for any flashing and listen for low flying jets. You can't stop imagining how tempting a small slow moving blob on a flat landscape is to a bored artillery soldier.

Despite no other boats being about we pressed on and were within two miles of the exit line of the square when the radio crackled up ' yacht Cannonball, Cannonball this is Echo India 321 are you receiving? It took a minute to work out that this wasn't a warning about an incoming cannonball. The rather irritated man on the radio only got an answer after about five calls interestingly in English and with a slight hesitation in the skippers voice he explained that he was sorry as his radio was on channel 9 as he had just come from the marina. He was duly told off that he was in a live firing range during a military exercise and was given a course by which to exit. Interestingly a similar course to our exit point. Luckily we had been too far out to get a call but I can imagine the temptation on their part to pop off a warning 30 pounder!

Just when we were getting a little bored we were joined by a couple of dolphins who obliged by swimming under our bows and consented to a photo. Lovely.

This event occurred just as we passed the Island of Sant Antioch. Again a place of importance to the Phoenicians and the Romans for its resources of silver and lead. Originally known as Sulki Island then the island of Lead. Clearly it needed a dead saint to come floating in so that it may receive a more appropriate name. And, luckily, just that happened when Sant Antioch having been despatched in Africa, no doubt for listening to Christians,  washed up together with his identification papers and became the patron saint of the island. His remains are in the very old church above the town to prove it.

We were making for the Island of Sant Pietro named after a short weather bound stop over by St Peter. The town of Carloforte is actually one of the more picturesque of our travels and reasonably priced so we decide that this was a good place to stop for a quick jaunt home.

Very Pretty. Would be even prettier in the sunshine. Still We hear it is really sunny in Blighty!