Hermione the Whaler!

Santa Maria Navarrese is tucked away in to a spectacular corner of Eastern Sardinia. There aren't many large towns in this area due to those pesky pirates and  because of malaria in the past. This leaves the mountains and coasts relatively unscathed. The place gets its name from a shipwrecked daughter of the King of Navarre about a thousand years ago. She washed up here and in true tradition, built a church and planted an olive tree both of which survive today.

You can just see the olive tree behind the  large and picturesque information board.

Although a very pretty place it only had a couple of small, half closed supermarkets neither of which had any fresh meat to buy. Food being of utmost importance to the gastronomy of the crew of Hermy we decided that we would have to leave the lovely, friendly. little marina and make for a larger supermarket at Arbatax just three and a half miles along the coast. Well by Arbatax we meant Tortoli. The bus stop for Tortoli is at Arbatax and is running. The supermarket at Arbatax also doesn't do fresh meat.

The name Arbatax is more of a mystery. Mrs K was not convinced by my suggestion that it was from the tax you have to pay to enter the 'Arbour'. Most educated guesses seem to think it's to do with Arab pirates and that there is a defensive Spanish tower here. Arbatax being Piratese for 'watch out there's a Spanish tower there'!

We entered the harbour and despite several calls on the radio there was no reply. We decided to head for the fuel dock and fill up. The pump attendant seemed amused at my attempts to ask for five thousand litres but a bit of sign language got it down to fifty. He also mentioned that the marina channel was channel nine and the harbour authority was channel eleven. so a subtle change of channel and a crisp English reply was forthcoming. They even asked us if we would like to berth 'side to' so we did just in front of a pretty French sloop.

Now we are very proud of our Bromptons and you don't see many around in Sardinia so we were quite surprised when the French couple sprang off their boat with two Bromptons. Mrs K watched them carefully. The Frenchman lifted the folded bike from its bag and placed it on the floor. He then proceeded to unfold and assemble the bike in a calm effortless manner. There was no swearing, he didn't trap any of his fingers in the hinges, he did not cover himself in oil and at no time did he fall to the floor wrestling a multi hinged monster in a fit of anger at the designers. As they  rode off quietly and happily with both bikes remaining in their constructed state Mrs K's eyes turned towards me. I decided to do a bit of hull cleaning.

As to claims to fame Arbatax is a very small place, really the port of Tortoli up the road. It is also the terminal point for a narrow gauge railway that runs from Cagliari. When I say runs it doesn't in the winter but is generally regarded as quite spectacular when it does. The Arbataxians saw a bit of action in the war when on 23rd April 1943 during a bombing campaign directed at the Italian Navy the harbour was attacked and thirteen people were killed . Sadly four children and possibly two parents or grandparents as well.

The geology is interesting here in that the usual granite background changes to a red type of sandstone together with some yellow and a type of slate. These lads put it to good use.

The old lady fishing in the same pool didn't seem to mind.

We stayed a three days here as we were only paying 15 Euros a night and there was a bit of exploring to be done.

Mrs K does put me through my paces not only did I have to climb this old Spanish tower I had to cycle a mile to get here. Then another couple to Tortoli to stock up for our next leg which was again going to be devoid of Supermarkets. I don't mind cycling this time of year, I was only overtaken by one lycred up racer. A Lycretian I believe!

The trip down to Porto Corallo was a five hour trip with again little wind so Hermy had to motor all the way. The journey was punctuated with a pod of dolphins off the port bow just before coffee and then three whales off the starboard bow just before lunch. Again quite a distance off and an uncanny ability to submerge at the sight of a zoomed in phone.

Next stop was Corallo with not much there just an old doctor with an even older and, about to be scrapped, motor launch built in 1943 as an Air Sea rescue boat.

We stayed the night then made for Villasimius on the South coast. Mrs K struggling with our new expensive but as yet not leaking, hose.

The long motor was rewarded by three whales that agreed to be photographed, well at least by Mrs K.

I got a picture of Mrs K taking the picture!

So feeling like a Nantucket whaler we entered Villasimius harbour and tied up. It looked a bit posh but it was out of season so should be fine. We went to the Capitanarie and were hit with a 45 euro a night bill. Well Mrs K wasn't happy. We deferred payment and went back to the boat to discuss it and looked at the chart. Just outside the harbour was an anchorage so I was dispatched to tell the  lady in the office that 45 Euros was too much and we were going. She had a rather unsurprised look about her that seemed to say that if you could afford to stay here you wouldn't be wearing that shirt or that hat. We slipped out and dropped the hook about 400 yards from the entrance where after a while we were joined by several other like minded cheapskates.

A very pleasant, calm, still and free night. Happy wife.