East about Sardinia

Setting off for the first voyage of the season is always a little scary particularly after last year. Luckily no holes this year and everything seems to be going swimmingly.

We were sad to leave Santa Teresa a lovely port with really nice people and very reasonably priced.

Bye Santa Teresa we love you!

Now it is a bit early in the season so weather can be changeable. We decided that we had done most of northern Sardinia so felt we should just crack on. We slid past the extortionate Cervo, we had visited by Renault Clio and had a rather substandard sandwich in the play port for the rich so Hermy wasn't interested in a visit. We plumbed for a little anchorage called Calle Di Volpe about five or six miles South of Cervo. We entered a rather rock strewn bay and managed to inadvertently glide over the one submerged rock Mr Heikell tells you to watch out for. Unfortunately all the warning signs had been removed and I only found out after I was safely anchored about 50 yards away from it.

Still 'all's well' and all that. We had a lovely calm, free night and set off bright and earlyish southwards. Spurred on by our successful night at anchor we picked another rock strewn bay at Brandinghi after passing Olbia and anchored with a view to cheat the Sardinian marinas out of another night. However after a couple of hours, I believe because of a hill nearby, the wind decided to go in a different direction to the waves and we began to roll. We were also a little close to a mooring buoy which had 'tangled around prop' written all over it. As the evening progressed I detected a slight variation in Mrs K's mood which had that hint of 'If you think we are bloody staying here you are very much mistaken'  about it.

"Should we move my sweet?"

"Yes"

We decided to make for the nearby but posh port of Pundaldia. A tricky entrance in a blow, made slightly more stressful as, on approaching the small entrance, Mrs K reminded me that it was Friday 13th April that blowy day. Once we were in it was fine. The usual lack of response to the radio led to a quick tour of the marina to spot the man waving his arms around and we headed for him. He guided us in to a slot and took Mrs K's lines. 

As we always go pointy end first the only way of stopping yourself stoving the pointy end in to the dock is to take up what is called the stern line tailed to the quay. This involves the skipper picking up a slimy, barnacle encrusted line that is attached to a huge submerged concrete block somewhere behind you. As your boat depends on it you forget the slimy barnacle encrusted bit and haul on this line with all you have got. The quicker you get it tight and secure the less likely Hermy will suffer damage. The trouble is you cover yourself in mud, slime and blood.  

a quick tour of the marina to spot the man waving his arms around and we headed for him. He guided us in to a slot and took Mrs K's lines. As we always go pointy end first the only way of stopping yourself stoving the pointy end in to the dock is to take up what is called the stern line tailed to the quay. This involves the skipper picking up a slimy, barnacle encrusted line that is attached to a huge submerged concrete block somewhere behind you. As your boat depends on it you forget the slimy barnacle encrusted bit and haul on this line with all you have got. The quicker you get it tight and secure the less likely Hermy will suffer damage. The trouble is you cover yourself in mud, slime and blood. 

Clearly the rich don't come out when there is a chance of April showers and nothing was open. No supermarket, no water as you needed a special adapter and you had to get this from the marina staff who were not around all morning. We decided to slide off and make for Caletta where there appeared to be more life.

We escaped the rocky entrance and missed the Turks Head rock and made our way South. It was lumpier than expected or forecasted and we headed out to sea to miss the Pedrami rocks which stretch out from the coast to about a mile and a half. We motored as the wind wasn't strong but the wave height was high and sideways on. We had thirteen nautical miles to go and I could see that the motion was not conducive to a happy wife. My efforts to  distract were met with the usual response of 'Why the hell am I on this boat with you?' When suddenly, looking to my right, I saw the huge back of a large whale which, right on cue, blew out a huge spray of water and submerged. Well Mrs K was placated. After thousands of miles we saw a whale. I was a little concerned that there may be others and that Hermy may try to mount one but there were no more signs of whales.

Despite my best efforts to grab my phone to get a picture I only managed to pop one off of an empty sea.

Caletta was fine except it was really difficult to determine where you should go. They seem to have space both in the yacht club and the port but there are no signs as to what you should aim for and no one is listening to the radio. Our first two attempts landed us on pontoons with locked gates. Our third attempt put us pointy end first with a stern wind on to a concrete dock. Lots of slip slop slapping and a night worrying about blunting the pointy end.

Caletta town was alive and kicking and we provisioned up after a surprisingly cheap beer at a bar. The next day we decided to dig out the Bromptons and make for Posada the pretty medieval town on a hill just north of Caletta that we passed on our way in.

Surprisingly the bikes were good to go and we set off intending to have lunch on the way.

We think we went the long way and of course it was up hill. The village was spectacular if a little closed and we walked right to the top of castle Della Fava only passing one cafe. This rock was apparently inhabited as long ago as 4000 BC and saw various comings and goings from the Romans to the Spanish with loads of pirates in between. No time for basket weaving here.

I realised at this point that I had been pushing Mrs K hard and that we now needed food or there would be trouble. We descended to the little empty cafe and ordered a Caprese salad and what we thought was a Calzone pizza. 

The cafe had a lovely roof terrace and we could look up at the castle and watch the birds flying around while we ate. Also visitors to the castle could look down on us eating as they caught their breath. Mrs K said that we were a good advert for this little cafe. I had just balanced an olive oil and vinaigrette soaked piece of tomato and a similar lump of mozzarella cheese on a piece of crispy bread as she said this and as I looked up the tomato fell from the bread on to my tea shirt. My, all too late, counter tilt meant that the mozzarella followed over the other side leaving two greasy tramlines down my front. I can tell when Mrs K is reconsidering what she has just said.

A shorter return journey and a nice lie down on a sandy beach restored our energy.

Next day we ventured further on the bikes cycling to Siniscola inland which was quite run down although we had a lovely sandwich at a cafe. So from there we decided to make for Santa Lucia the other end of Caletta's white sandy beach. The route was very countrified with an abundance of flowers shrubs and trees.

 There were also little enclosures with long haired sheep sporting tingly bells and an almost cartoon like protective white Labrador type of dog usually sitting amongst them.

We didn't quite make it to Santa Lucia as our bodies, particularly my bottom, could not face the down hill followed by the inevitable uphill return journey so we made for a beach bar on the sandy beach and Mrs K had her first paddle.

The weather looked settled and the next harbour had to be Santa Maria Navarrese about 40 nautical miles away as the only other harbour on the way was Gonone which by all reports looked a little dodgy in a blow. We set off after we discovered that our spare gas bottle had not been renewed at the end of last year. Clearly on my forgotten list of things to do at the end of last year causing a mad dash in to town before breakfast and we set off in very still calm conditions.

Silky but no sailing.