Week 16: Trapani to Olbia (243 nm)

We started the week with a bit of stress after a wave in our marina in Trapani meant our mast hit the mast of the boat next to us. We were very lucky to have limited damage! After some minor repairs, we set off on our one sail for the week – the passage from Sicily to Sardinia. Over c.48 hours, we (mostly) sailed the 243nm from Trapani to Olbia, along the way getting some pretty crazy weather. We then settled down to prepare for the arrival of our next guests – Alec’s parents Barry and Sarah, who are exploring Sardinia and Corsica with us next week!

In fact, the theme of this week has been extreme weather, which has been peculiar and a bit of a shock for us! That is for the most part because the weather this summer wherever we’ve been has stayed uncharacteristically calm. Normally, you’d expect a few storms here and there – but for us they all came at once! Don’t worry, Serenity took it like the champ that she is, and we got to tick a few “never seen that before” boxes 😊.

Highs and Lows in Trapani

We ended last week with an evening out in Trapani, which left us in high spirits following Alec’s post as we looked towards a lovely weekend in the UK celebrating Alec’s Grandma’s 90th birthday. Trapani was a pretty town, which had some cool and different cafes and bars. We had dinner at a place called Sood (short for “slow food”) that served us organic, locally sourced food and beer. The beer was especially interesting because it had borrowed from viniculture – it was sold in 750ml bottles and then enjoyed in wine glasses. We tried a lovely pale ale that hit the spot! It was a really nice way to share a beer. Afterwards, we found a bar that specialised in unusual spirits and ended up tasting several varieties of Mezcal (a smoky cousin of tequila that hails from Mexico).  By the end of the night were feeling very merry and excited for the weekend!

It is usually at such times when things go wrong, and fate had indeed been keeping a close eye on us. We had an early start the next day to finish sorting out the boat and packing for our trip. With slightly sore heads, we were just coming to when a weirdly huge wave came rolling through the harbour and our boat started rocking wildly back and forth. As did all the other boats in the harbour. We were startled out like a shot when a horrible clanging started. We ran up on deck to see that our mast was crashing into the mast of the boat next to us. There was little we could do but watch in misery until the wave had passed and the boats settled down again. Immediately we could see that the VHF antenna at the top of our mast had been ripped off its mount and the wind direction indicator was broken in half. The real fear was whether there was any structural damage to the mast or the rigging, as these would be huge blows with lengthy, expensive repairs…

We frantically rang the marina director and dragged him out of bed and down to the pontoon. He looked at what had happened and then said “oops! Silly me, I should have told you we sometimes get big waves here and that you should have staggered your mast with the boats around you.” We were super frustrated that they’d neglected to tell us this, to say the least! We didn’t have much time before our flight, so we could only quickly reposition the boat, do a speedy inspection (determined no catastrophic damage to the mast or rigging, secured the VHF antenna so it wasn’t dangling) and tell the marina guys in no uncertain terms that they needed to find the repair parts for the antenna mount by the time we got back. And then we had to leave Serenity – absolutely not what we wanted to have to do in this situation!

Despite all this drama, we had a fantastic weekend back in the UK, and returned to Sicily with a renewed sense of determination and optimism. When we got back to the boat, we were relieved to see she was still in one piece, and the man from the marina had even found us the parts to fix our VHF antenna mount. So up the mast I went with a bag full of tools and parts. First, I had to reattach the mount for the VHF antenna. The mount had come off because the three rivets holding it on had sheared. So, I needed to knock out the remains of the old ones and then install new ones. This was harder than it sounded and in the end I had to send my tool bag back down to the deck so Alec could hoist me up a drill to drill them out. But before too long the mount was back in place and the antenna was reattached. Victory! I then spent about an hour carefully combing every inch of the mast and rigging, inspecting the damage. I think we got really lucky – there were no cracks or breaks in the mast or any of its fittings. There were a few scrapes and some wear on the rigging where it had rubbed on the other boat’s shrouds, but it all looked to be superficial damage. Thank goodness!! P.S. you would not think this was physically difficult, but three days later I was STILL sore from those hours up the mast!

Reassured that Serenity was ready to sail, all the was left to do was for me to get a stamp in our Italian transit log at the Coast Guard station and we’d be able to head for Sardinia. Again, this felt like something that should only take a few minutes… I’ve whined at length about the paperwork requirements involved in our trip before, but this visit was particularly special! Literally all I needed was a stamp to say we’d arrived at and then departed Trapani. In order to get this though, I had to speak to four different coast guard officers (many of them two times), fill in dozens more forms, and wait nearly two hours. You really gotta want it to travel Europe as a non-EU flagged vessel (and do everything by the book)!! Anyway, we did get there eventually and were finally ready to set out!

Alec Evens the Tuna Score in Tough Sailing Conditions

We set off on a calm morning, aiming for Olbia on the north eastern side of Sardinia. Based on the mileage, we expected it to be about a two-day journey.

On the first day, we were delighted that the wind filled in before long and we could sail most of the day. At 17:30, Alec put Marcus (our squid-shaped fishing lure) in. At promptly 17:40 the line went, to delighted shouts of “FISH ON!” from Alec. This one was a fighter, but about ten minutes later we finally hauled another big Bluefin tuna to the surface. This time, we didn’t muck about, getting it quickly on board and immobilised so it couldn’t escape. The score now stands at Alec 2, Tuna 2! We have been very happily gorging on tuna ever since, as Alec tried a different way of processing the fish this time and we got about 50% more than from the last one (despite a slightly smaller fish). So excited for more fish curry!!

As midnight approached, weather conditions became very confused. The sea state was a stomach-turning swell hitting right on the side of the boat, meaning we were constantly rolling back and forth. This motion is particularly unpleasant, as in addition to challenging even the most season sailor’s stomach it is difficult to stow everything on the boat well enough. There is always a certain amount of running after and rescuing items about to fall off shelves or out of cupboards (in our case, the fridge door managed to open itself a couple of times, sending milk and ice cubes everywhere!). Additionally, the wind couldn’t make up its mind. For a while, we had it on the beam (at 90 degrees to our direction of travel), which is ideal, at a very agreeable 8-10 knots. That is until a wild squall arrived with 20-25kt winds out of nowhere! Then, about half an hour later, the wind died away completely. So, we were constantly changing the sails and desperately trying to keep sailing in a reasonable direction. There were a few bouts of engine to help us, but we managed pretty well given everything. In the background, through the night, were huge lightning storms. Luckily none right on top of us, but close enough to see the big bolts as they lit the sky every few seconds. It was a bit disconcerting to say the least!

As the sun rose we were intrigued to find ourselves fallen in among a group of about 10 other sailboats. This is unheard of for out in the middle of the sea, so we were a little confused. The light of day eventually revealed that all the boats had their spinnakers up and we realised it was clearly a regatta (race). How embarrassing to discover we had been cheating with the engine on at times! But in our defence, we had no idea we had joined a regatta. We later discovered that this was the annual Palermo to Monte Carlo race, which meant they would be passing by Olbia – so we actually ended up sailing with these boats for our whole passage. Though they of course steadfastly stuck to their sails (race rules!), while we gave up and motored when the wind went below 5 knots 😊.

Spurred on by our neighbours, we decided to get the spinnaker out and practice our light wind, downwind sailing. It took about half an hour or so of adjusting, but once we finally had something we were happy with we managed to keep sailing for most of the day even in barely 5 knots of wind. We were very proud!

[UPDATE: an American boat called Rambler was the overall winner of the race, who were already long ahead by the time we met up with the main race pack. We’ve also just learned that both Chenapan 3 and Livia 5, two of the boats we sailed alongside, have still yet to finish – tough run!]

The second night of our passage brought more wacky weather. Once again we had intense lighting storms, only this time we were sailing right through them. They seemed to have more bark than bite though, so once we got used to the noise and constant flashes, we settled into our usual night time watch routine. I did however have a minor panic attack when, during my graveyard watch (2:00-5:00am), the instruments went a bit funny. The AIS system (which lets us see other boats around us) suddenly stopped receiving signals and all the boats disappeared from my screen. At the same time, our wind instrument inverted, and started showing the wind from the opposite direction to where it was really coming from – very strange! Luckily, once the lightning died down, the AIS signals came back, and the wind instrument righted itself after being rebooted. We think it must have been electrical interference from the storms that caused these oddities. Very confusing at the time!

Olbia and Our first (and hopefully last) experience of a downburst

By mid-afternoon on day 3, we rounded Isola Tavolara and started into the channel that leads to Olbia. It felt much more like sailing into a British port than a Mediterranean one! To be fair, that was partly because it was raining, but also because there was a long, narrow channel up to the harbour that was marked by posts – a much more common landscape in the UK than the Med. We then managed to find the last space available on the town quay, which was right next to a large boat named “007.” We can neither confirm nor deny that Mr. Bond was aboard; we are still working on getting an invite for martinis. In any case, the skipper sent his staff to very kindly help us park, so whoever’s boat it is we like them!

Safely moored, we passed out, as is our usual MO following a multi-day passage. When we were feeling a bit more human again, we started thinking about going into the town for a little explore. While Alec hopped in the shower, I started closing hatches and readying the boat to be locked up. This is when I noticed a very large, very black cloud headed our direction. I figured we were in for a bit of rain, so I cleared the decks and got all our kit downstairs. A few minutes later, the heavens opened as expected. But then, completely to our surprise, the wind suddenly went utterly mental. In the space of maybe 5 minutes the wind went from 5-10 knots to easily 40 or 50. As the wind picked up, the harbour became shrouded in a thick mist and huge hailstones started pummelling the deck. We were so grateful to be tied up rather than at anchor, and that we’d put out all the fenders we have. It meant we could watch all this unfold from a very safe place. While the wind continued to howl, we saw that many of the boats at anchor in the harbour had started to swing around wildly and that several were dragging (meaning their anchors had lost their hold). We could only watch through our window as boats drifted into one another and their skippers had to brave the elements to try to untangle themselves and keep their boats safe. We were actually quite lucky none dragged towards where we were moored on the harbour wall. Other boats had had to turn on their engines and motor against the wind to keep their boats in place. The wind raged on like this for about 15 minutes, and then, just like that, it was gone. The mist lifted, and a flurry of tenders sped out to help the yachts in the harbour that were in difficulty. Honestly it was probably the craziest weather event I’ve ever seen. That the wind went from nothing to everything in such a short space of time was insane, and NONE of the weather or wind services had predicted it. It was a humbling reminder of 1) why we take so much care when we moor, and 2) that sometimes things come out of the blue that no one foresaw – which is why we drill safety procedures continually and have so much emergency kit on board! We noted two of the anchored boats who demonstrated particularly strongly what it means to be prepared vs. unprepared. The first was a British couple who stoically dealt with everything that came up. When their anchor dragged, they calmly helmed under engine to hold the boat in place. They had full gear on and were clearly ready and equipped to deal with whatever came up. The boat next to them had the opposite reaction – everyone on deck running around, shouting and panicking. It meant they’d got tangled with several boats before they thought to turn on their engine. It’s hard to assess a situation and come up with a plan if you’re running around in a panic! Thankfully, all the boats were ultimately okay, and the storm was short. Alec has just started to study the science of weather, and from one of his textbooks we learned that what had happened is called a “downburst” – basically a freak storm that can occur at the edge of a cold front. Hopefully one we don’t encounter frequently!

Once everything had calmed back down, we ventured into Olbia and were delighted to find a beautiful town full of creative, modern little bars and restaurants. We selected a cool hole-in-the-wall cocktail bar where I enjoyed a delicious smoky old fashioned while Alec sampled a Sardinian craft beer. Afterwards, we had some incredible traditional Italian dishes at a place uniquely named Peppermint Patty. An amazing evening!

Sarah and Barry are due to arrive on Sunday, so we’re making Olbia our home until then (and doing a few boat jobs in the meantime). Probably going to have to go back to that cocktail bar at least once more… 😊!