We enjoyed a relaxing morning. Kealoha was anchored fairly close behind us, and Michael Holliday and party, who had arrived via Alghero that morning, dropped by on their way to lunch. John spent some time updating the web site. By the following day, we were in the grip of a maestrale. Jarrod had decided to stay put, and very kindly ran our kedge out as a second anchor, having done the same himself for Kealoha. John went in to the internet point to try to clear the e-mail queue: he guessed correctly that it was photos from David Holliday that were the culprits that would take ages to download via the mobile phone. The hour cost 8€, but the wifi costs just 15€ for 6 hours. He sorted the bank accounts and various other matters at the same time. We spent an hour or two with Kealoha's ships company in the evening before returning to consume Mo's curry supper. The maestrale continued to send gusts across the anchorage for much of the next day, but Kealoha set off around midday with crew all in lifejackets. We recovered our anchors, and moved up to re-anchor just outside the harbour with a view to using the wifi facility. This proved somewhat abortive, so John packed up the machine and went into the 'point' where he used his own notebook via wireless plugged into their power, and was able to download photographs, update the anti-virus, and further investigate a replacement laptop. During the evening it became clear that we had dragged a couple of boat's lengths, fortunately missing everyone, and we re-anchored.
John came too at about 3am (awoke is too strong: although exhausted, sleep would not come) to find that Fuga had set off to see the exotic superyacht that was anchored about a mile downwind across the bay. We have since caught up with some yachtie press and now recognise her as the Maltese Falcon. She was enormous: had three unstayed masts each with 5 yardarms/booms that appeared to be hydraulically trimmed. A further stubby mast forward carried communications and radar equipment. Having tried letting out more chain, we decided to upanchor, and discovered a string of lobster pots was attached, one in the 'claws' of the Bruce anchor. We managed to drop this over the side without cutting it, and then re-anchored in the dark, south of the marina where we hoped the holding might be better. This was not to the liking of a Czech yacht, who hung out fenders, but Mo remained on deck until day broke to ensure that we were secure. The wind quietened for a time, but then continued to gust for much of the day. We checked and dried out the bilges, which again had a substantial quantity of sea water sloshing around. We could not trace the source, and resolved to check it more often.
We woke to blissful peacefulness. At last the wind had died down! One of our neighbours had taken off at 0530, but we got up to a gentle southerly breeze, and we were drifting lazily on our main bower and kedge. We were able to recover the latter without any hassle. After breakfast we moved to anchor off the superyacht wall on the southern side of the marina, where we had picked up a strong wifi signal the day before. This enabled us to use up our remaining three hours, updating the web site, sending and receiving e-mails, and placing an order on Dell for a a replacement laptop. Our current one will not work off mains as I destroyed the motherboard and battery when trying to get it to work directly off 12 volts. We then had time to Google on marinas in Malta, and finally spend some time on calling family on Skype. When we did at last leave, well into the afternoon, we re-anchored close to Isola Portisco, so we could go back into the marina to pick up some fresh fruit to last us over the weekend. That achieved, and a swim, we then set off for Cala Volpe. While we enjoyed having a look around the assembled superyachts, mostly motorboats, with their toys including helicopters, we decided in the end that it would be quieter in the Cala we had spotted on the way over, with just two sailing yachts at anchor. We anchored between them, one Austrian and one Swiss, two nautical nations! Mo had excelled herself with a tomatoe sauce (tomatoes, onions, garlic, peppers and any other rotting veg that she could find, it seems), and this she served to me on cheese and potatoe filled ravioli, while keeping to spaghetti herself. OK, yes I did pig out, but I did not ask for the indigestion.
We awoke to the wash of numerous motorboats, who had invaded our quiet cala. Our plan was to head for Corsica, but first the dinghy had to be recovered, and the mainsail sewn where we had spotted a seam coming unstitched. When we were eventually ready we were glad to get away from the confused sea caused by the comings and goings around us. As we made sail, a large Spanish motor yacht insisted on coming by at full speed within about 20 metres, and our journey out of the bay and around the headland was punctuated by numerous power craft overtaking, or meeting us head on with scant regard for colregs or courtesy. The wind of course was NE, and managed to back as we rounded the corner, so that we tried sailing briefly, but soon gave up. An ominous thundery cloud was hanging over Corsica, and we were bored with motoring, so we began to look for a way out. Initially we thought of an anchorage on Isola Santa Maria, one of the northern Madalena group, but soon modified our objective to Cala Spalmatore on the NE side of Madalena itself. We found a lot of motorboats there, moored to large red buoys, and with one vacant buoy we attached ourselves to that - pick it up would be a misnomer! We were soon approached by a couple of guys in a dinghy who suggested we moor to the quay at the head of the bay, but we assured them we were ok spending the night on the buoy, feeling of course a hefty fee coming on. We had been in for a swim, when the National Park boat came along, and as expected charged us 22.50€ for the license. This fee is for the day and depends on length: David (with 22m) had been charged 80€ for the privilege: a sum that would certainly make you think! Later in the evening a couple of lads came around and told us the mooring was private. We thanked them and told them we would leave, if that was the case. They tried everyone, now yachts who had come in as the motor boats left, without success, and roared off to try the next bay. We had the rest of Mo's killer sauce on spaghetti with bacon, really gorgeous, and Mo then beat John yet again into submission at chess.
We set off at around 1015, with a breeze filling in from the WNW. We made a good decision to keep the one reef that was already in, as the breeze continued to build. We had a delightful sail in bright sunshine, close on the wind. We had a bit of a challenge from an Italian yacht that overhauled us, but then fell off so that when he eventually tacked we were just ahead of him as we crossed. We then had some brief interest with another yacht that appeared not to be able to sail: his course was well above ours but his foresail was flapping. We decided to drop below him, but soon left him behind. By 1330 we were anchored in shallow water just south of Capo Biancu in the Golfe de San Amanza, so called because of its white chalk cliffs. There were a mixture of yachts and motor boats anchored off the pleasant looking beach. We had another go at drying out the bilges: the last time had been two days ago and there was a considerable amount of water back again, but still no clue as to where it is coming from! John snorkelled over to the rocks below the point and found a much greater variety of fish than we had seen recently, although nothing that looked too edible. We then moved Fuga over to the beach at the head of the bay, in order to explore ashore. There was a hotel/restaurant, and two other restaurants, as well as a beach bar that seemed to be attracting custom. There was no sign of any provisions shop, however. The buildings on the quayside that may have supported the oyster cultivation appeared largely derelict, with a crane and lorry clearly unused for a long time. Fish farming was confined to a block just off the village, with about 18 small tanks there. Afterwards we took the dinghy up Cala Stentinu, where we found a shallow draft yacht had bravely worked its way in. The depths appeared to be nothing like those charted, and deeper water seemed to be confined to the western side of the inlet. Nonetheless it was an interesting place, with the high cliffs on either side cut out presumably by some pre-historic river. After lunch we packed up awning, Willie and engine and set off for a short sail to Golfe de Rondinara, about 5 miles distant. There was hardly any wind, and of course it was from the NE, necessitating a beat out of the bay. Mo was rather reluctant to put in there when we arrived, as there were a large number of masts sticking up over the beach. However, there was little option given that the wind was easterly, and promised to back northerly overnight, if a 3 day old Buoyweather forecast could be relied upon. Rondinara was the only one offering the chance of any protection from this quarter. We went in, and managed to put ourselves just off the north east corner, just inside. Monday 7th August, Spalmatore on Madelina, to Golfe de San Amanza, Corsica, 16nm
Tuesday 8th August, San Amanza to Golfe de Rondinara 5nm +
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| Mathilda, with Sulaire at Rondinara (later) |
Lightning had been flashing in the distance as we went to bed. Mo woke to the noise of the wind, and was up when graunching woke John up. The hook had dropped off the anchor chain, now held on the winch, which was slipping. We put that right, and took stock. There was a magnificent thunderstorm with forked lightning raging around us. A small French boat was dragging back between us and Sulaire. He seemed unperturbed by a naked John sounding a fog horn and flashing a torch, or by the fact that he was a 100 metres from where he started, and he rapidly returned to bed below. Meanwhile, Sulaire took off in self defence and re-anchored. All around the anchorage there were shouts, navigation lights coming on, and people moving about. The wind backed from NE to NW, and we were concerned that we were now too close to some rocks. Having decided to move, we found we could not because we were sitting on a rock, heavily disguised with sea grass! Fortunately we came off quite quickly, just as we were going to hoist the main to try to heel her, and then found a space in which to re-anchor. We spent the rest of the day relaxing and swimming.
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| Maurice relaxing with a book |
John went off snorkelling, and invited Maurice and Barbara from Mathilda, and Hugh and Cherry on Sulaire to come to Fuga for lunchtime drinks. Hugh and Cherry were catching octopii from the sea bed, and suggested bringing the proceeds with them. They showed John how to recognise an octopus 'house' made from a pile of stones. Hugh gets hold of the head with one hand and claps the animal on his other hand while he makes off back to the boat for the keep net. John unfortunately did not have either the courage or breath to fin down far enough to try out this technique. Barbara appeared on Fuga with some pastries that she had cooked herself. The party was most successful and the intended trip up to Porto Vecchio no longer seemed important.
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| Maurice looks on.. | ...over our 'nibbles'... | |
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| .. as Hugh explains how one got away.. |
Hugh had picked up a forecast of force 6, and laid out another anchor, so we decided to take precautions too, particularly as we had a rock fairly close to starboard. If the wind backed, we might swing towards it. It was just as well, as it became quite lively overnight.