September 24, 2019
It felt great to be back out at sea after the mistral had us grounded for a week. The wind was still blowing up to 35 knots, so we wasted no time getting the main out. We wanted our sails set before we reached the mouth of the Bonifacio Strait, where a Force 5 or 6 can quickly whip up to a 7 or 8. We kept the main reefed, put out full jib, and pointed Flo towards the strait and to Sardinia beyond. Our goal was to make it through the strait and as far along the coast of Sardinia as we could get before nightfall. The wind was nicely on our beam, so even with a reefed main we were flying through the strait at 9+ knots. We didn’t feel overpowered however so maintained our sail plan and just enjoyed the ride. It felt wonderful to be sailing again, harnessing the wind rather than trying to outrun or hide from it. We made it through the strait in no time and entered what they call the inner channel - the passage that runs between the north coast of Sardinia and its archipelagos. As we entered the channel, we began to understand why people wax lyrical about Sardinia, with many friends and sailors describing it as the most beautiful place in the Med. Our first impressions hinted we’d be hard-pressed to argue with that. We were blown away by the rugged beauty of the sparsely populated main island to our starboard and the dozens of little tropical-looking islands to our port. The water was bright turquoise, and if I hadn’t known any better I would have thought we were somewhere in the South Pacific. And remarkably, we were able to do the entire sail on one long tack, with the wind finally working for us rather than against us. It was such a great introduction to Sardinia and boded well for the week to come.
We made it to a deep inlet on the far north side of the island, which seemed to be the last protected anchorage we would reach before nightfall. We took in the jib but for the life of us could not get the mainsail to furl in. It seems even a small amount of wind on the sail is too much for the furling motor to handle, and it kept tripping. It was disappointing and put a damper on an otherwise brilliant day at sea. We ended up having to furl it back in manually using the little Wheel of Death - Stephen at the mast cranking away furiously, while I occasionally eased the outhaul. Once away, we regrouped and found a place to drop the hook for the night. We anchored in a little bay called Calle Bitte that was uncrowded and peaceful. We dug in sand and enjoyed our first Sardinian sunset on deck before going for an evening swim and calling it a night. We had to be up early to continue our journey down the coast to make it to Olbia in time for our friend Melissa's arrival.
Up and at em early the following day, the wind was still blowing but was fairly light, so we put out full sail and tried to make hay while the sun was shining. We turned south along the tip of the island and began our sail along the famous Costa Smerelda - a 20 km stretch of coastline along northeast Sardinia that apparently is the most expensive area in all of Europe. The area became super ritzy in the 1960s when Prince Aga Khan began financing its development with luxury hotels and villas. Today, its know for its white sand beaches, golf clubs, private jet and helicopter services and exclusive hotels and draws the uber wealthy to its shores each season. The coastline did look stunning, and we looked forward to exploring it on our way back up, though we hoped we were late enough in the season to avoid the crowds that fellow sailors have told us make the area unbearable in high season.
The channel into Olbia harbour was narrower and shallower than we would have expected for such a large port and crowded with absolutely enormous ferries that shuttle from the island to mainland Italy. For some reason, these monstrosities are decorated all over with Looney Tunes characters, which we thought a bit random. We had one entering the channel just behind us, and believe me, navigating through the channel markers with an 100-foot Tazmanian Devil on our ass was a weird experience. We swung by the Olbia Marina to pick up fuel. Note to any sailors out there: if you can avoid picking up fuel in Sardinia, do so. It's nearly twice as expensive as other places in the Med, and after filling our tanks and handing over our sorry credit card for yet another beating, we both needed a hug - and a stiff drink. We took the bullet and moved deeper into the channel. We’d heard there was an old, largely disused commercial dock at the end of the port where you can tie up for a few hours free of charge. Anything free sounded good to us. The port was essentially just a large concrete wall with a few pylons and was a bit intimidating to approach, but we took it nice and slow and with liberal use of fenders were able to get Florence secured. We had made it to Olbia with about an hour to spare before Mel's arrival. I spent the hour running to the closest supermarket and stocking up on food, wine, and snacks for our guests. Gotta be a good hostess! Once inside, I remembered why I love Italy so much - Italian wine, cheese, meats, and pasta. I seriously loaded up. I hope these girls are hungry.
Back on the boat, we got Florence spruced up and looking her best to welcome her first overnight guests. Stephen and I were both incredibly relieved, as Mother Nature had indeed decided to smile on us for a change, and it miraculously looked as if we had a week of calm weather ahead. Perhaps too calm for proper sailing, but with guests aboard I would take calm weather and peaceful anchorages over thrills for the timebeing. Mel arrived at the dock, and there were hugs all around. Stephen and I were both excited to able to share our life aboard Florence with friends for the first time and to give them a sense of what this sailing life is all about (though hopefully just the good bits). We spent a bit too long catching up, as night was beginning to fall and we still needed to sail out of Olbia and up the coast to a safe anchroage. We found one only about an hour away, so we prepared to slip the lines. I was at the helm, really hoping I didn’t bottle it, as that wouldn't make the best first impression to Mel who’s life was in our hands for the next week. Thankfully, it went smoothly, and we had Florence back out into the channel. It was dark by the time we puttered into the little bay that would be our home for the night. Stephen and I had never anchored in the dark before and cursed ourselves for not saving the merriment for once we were safely dug. The anchorage was already pretty full and had only patches of sand surrounded by thick weed, so it took us 3 gos to dig. Mel did not seem the least bit perturbed, which was helpful. Third time was the charm, and we spent the rest of the evening catching up and filling ourselves with Sardinian wine, cheese, sausage, olives, bread - the works - laughing until we cried. As wonderful as the sailing life can be, it's difficult being away from family and friends. Seeing Mel was a breath of fresh air, and I couldn’t wait for my little sister Belle to join us the following day.
I definitely slept with one eye open that night, as the responsibility of having someone else on board ups the ante. It was an uneventful night, however, and we woke the following morning to blazing sunshine and a gorgeous anchorage. Sardinia, man - this may well be the most stunning place we’d seen yet. And it didn’t wasn't at all crowded! A perk of the fall weather blowing through Corsica and Sardinia a month early is that most people had packed it in for the season, leaving us with uncrowded anchorages and peaceful beaches. We’d take it. We swam to the beach that morning and found a little hut on the beach that was shabby, cheap, and absolutely wonderful. We indulged in too many panini before swimming back. We had to up and anchor and move further up the coast to pick up my sister Belle who was arriving by train later that afternoon.
While the wind was light on our sail, the sea state was a bit choppy, and Stephen and I noticed Mel had gone a bit quiet as she lay on the back deck. We hoped to God she wasn’t seasick, as that would not be an auspicious start for the week ahead... Nope, she was just fast asleep. The sailing life seems to agree with her. We sailed into a beautiful cove called Cala di Volpe - a place we'd heard touted as one of the most beautiful anchorages on the Costa Smerelda, but in high season was so lousy with superyachts and their helipads that it’s best avoided. High season definitely seems to be over, as the anchorage was not at all crowded and the large area that is normally sectioned off for super yachts only was completely free. Happy days! Maybe September is the time to be in Sardinia, provided you get lucky with the weather.
We needed to find a convenient place for Belle to meet us by taxi, so we picked a hotel that was apparently right around the corner and accessible by dinghy. We figured we could have a cocktail there and await her arrival. The 3 of us hopped into the family car and began steaming for the hotel. This hotel was seriously swanky - grand, sprawling and lit up like a Christmas tree. We felt a bit like trespassers tying up our little dinghy (who frankly was in need of a scrub) next to the fleet of Rivas belonging to the hotel to shuttle patrons to and from their super yachts. We found a perch on a patio bar, and a waiter wasted no time handing us menus and laying our table with a selection of nibbles. I liked this spot already - any place that serves free snacks with cocktails gets my vote. The honeymoon didn't last long - we opened the menu to discover cocktails were minimum EUR32 a piece. A pint of beer was EUR25! Here's hoping the cocktails are strong, as this was definitely going to be a one and done situation. Belle was arriving soon, so we settled up and in doing so realised that in addition to EUR100 for 3 small cocktails, they had the audacity to charge EUR2 per person for the measly snacks. I mean, that is just taking the piss a bit… (still, the setting was lovely and we had a really nice time so I'll stop complaining now).
My eyes lit up when I saw my baby sister Belle barreling through the lobby and out onto the patio with her suitcases and a huge smile on her face. I grabbed her and started crying. I hadn't seen her since our wedding weekend nearly 6 months earlier. What a trooper, coming all the way from New York to meet Florence. We had much to catch up on, but we were starving and weren't prepared to sell Florence to pay for dinner at the hotel, so we walked to a little pizzeria down the road. I had been in Italy for 2 days now and hadn't had pizza - the situation needed to be rectified. The place was perfect - casual, cheap - clearly a locals place, as no one spoke any English. Thankfully, Belle speaks Italian and confidently ordered for the table. It was such a lovely evening - drinking wine, catching up, and chatting about how best to tackle Sardinia in the coming days.
Back home on Florence with Belle and Mel settled in their separate cabins, Stephen and I slept soundly knowing the anchor was well-dug in sand and looking forward to our next sail further up the coast. The following day, we did a short sail up to another bay called Gulfo Pevero, which to my mind was even more beautiful than Cala di Volpe. And miraculously, we had the entire bay to ourselves. We spent a relaxing day swimming off the boat, reading, and drinking rose. This was a different world to Stephen and my experience of the past 10 days, dodging storms, rocking around on anchor at night, and just dreading what Windy would tell us each morning. As we’ve said before, the Med really is feast or famine, and this was one famine I was happy to enjoy. We decided that evening to check out the nearby port town of Porto Cervo, considered the capital of the Costa Smerelda. We all loaded into the dinghy for the one mile ride to the port. With 4 people in tow, the dinghy does not go very fast. In at attempt to speed her up, I perched as far up front as possible and consequently got absolutely soaked during what turned out to be a bumpy ride. This should make for an interesting dinner experience...
We puttered into the port, found a place to stash the dinghy, and took a look around. Porto Cervo - how to describe it? The town felt like an amusement park for the ostentatiously wealthy. The architecture is all homogenous, and the town is connected by a series of canals, bridges and walkways. It is chock full of luxury restaurants, residences, and every high-every luxury brand you could imagine. Gucci and Prada and Chanel, oh my! The town was a spectacle and looked lovlely all lit up at night, but it's probably not high on the list of places to go if authentic Sardinian culture is what you're after. Still, it was a fun place to check out for an evening. We wandered to the edge of town to the only restaurant that didn’t require you to remortgage your home to order an entree. It was actually really sweet - an Italian kitchen with a large patio, red checkered table cloths, and super friendly staff. We got a kick out of the fact that the menu was written in Italian and Russian - it’s clear who holidays in Porto Cervo. After probably one too many bottles of red wine, we eventually rolled ourselves back into the dinghy for what was a hilarious ride home. Just a comedy of errors.
The following morning, a weary crew welcomed another sunny morning in Sardinia and dusted away the cobwebs with a big brunch in the cockpit. We then went on a lovely long sail up the coast to the Maddalena Archipelago, which we were told we couldn't miss and weather-permitting was some of the best sailing in the Med. It was as stunning as advertised - bright turquoise water with dozens of little islands to weave among. We found a deserted cove on one of the islands and dropped the hook for some lunch before heading back to our anchroage. After heading to the beach for an evening walk to stretch the legs, we got back on board and made a proper Italian feast onboard. We were no longer the only boat in the anchorage - there was a lovely large old schooner that had rocked up next to us. It looked as if it had been built around 1900 and had been beautifully refurbished. Stephen and I both thought it was one of the more elegant boats we'd seen all summer. There seemed to be a couple people on board gesturing to us. We couldn’t make out what they were saying, so Stephen dove into the water and swam over to see what was up. He came back with a big grin on his face. “They want to invite us over for some drinks!" Uhh, twist my arm. I have to say, that is the first time I have ever swum to a party. It was pretty hilarious actually, trying to swim over with a bottle of wine under my arm. When we clambered aboard, we were greeted by the boat’s two staff, a young woman and man who welcomed us with a towel and a G&T. This party was already brilliant. We went to the back to meet our hosts, who were a group of older Dutch ladies on holiday together. The boat belonged to one of their ex-husbands, and she gets to use it for a week each summer so invites all her mates. We got a full tour of the boat, which was large, old school and beautiful. A while later as I was sat on the back deck chatting with some of the ladies, the hostess approached and said, "I think it might be time for your husband to go home." Ummmm.... I looked forward and saw Stephen and Belle sprinting the length of the deck before hurling themselves from the guardrails and into the water. Interesting. When the female crew member dropped her tray of drinks on the deck, took all her clothes off, and jumped in to join them, I knew it was time to get going. Perhaps we had overstayed our welcome. Belle dove in and promptly swam the 30 meters back to Florence, while the boat's skipper insisted on driving Stephen back in the rib given he couldn't really stand up properly. I thanked our lovely hosts, and got the hell out of there. And that is how you overstay your welcome on a stranger's boat.
The next morning, we all woke up feeling a little fuzzy. No more G&Ts for a while… We thought about moving to another anchorage but didn't really see the point, as this anchorage would be perfectly calm for another night and we all fancied a quiet day of swimming and reading. Plus, there was no wind, so a motor along the coast for the sake of it didn’t seem to make much sense. Our Dutch friends had moved on (likely to get away from us), and at first glance, it seemed we might have the whole anchorage to ourselves again. Nope - spoke too soon! Lurking to our port side a mere 30 meters away was Dilbar - the world’s largest private super yacht. We had seen her before a year or so ago moored up in Barcelona, but it's impossible to get a real appreciation for her size until you are right up next to her. She's utterly enormous. She is owned by a Russian billionaire who made his money in metals, mining, telecom, and internet. And a lot of it, it would seem. We wondered if we would be invited over for a party on their boat that night (though given the number of severe-looking security personal patrolling the decks, we doubted it). It was a bit incongruous having a lazy, peaceful afternoon in a large anchorage with our only neighbour the world’s largest yacht.
We sadly had to say goodbye to Mel that day and with heavy hearts dinghied her ashore to catch her taxi back to the airport. It was lovely having her aboard, and I was so relieved to have been able to show her a good time and not be stuck in a marina avoiding another storm. Hopefully we left her with the impression that life aboard Florence is all about the swimming, sunsets, and sundowners (Ha! If only...)
And then there were 3. We spent what should have been a quiet evening aboard except for the introduction of game of Scategories. It got heated. What was meant to be a funny, convivial game got way to competitive to the point where everyone was in a bit of a mood by the time it was all said and done. We decided to clear the air and decompress by testing out a neat little feature of Flo’s that we had yet to use on this trip: her large saloon table is able to lower so it sits flush with the banquet seats and can be turned into a lounge area, perfect for a movie night. So the three of us snuggled up, made some popcorn, and enjoyed our first proper movie night aboard Florence. We will have to use this feature again!
The following day was Belle’s last, so we were up before sun to get her back to Olbia in time for her flight. The 3 of us sat on Forence's bow and watched what was the most spectacular sunrise I've ever seen - the whole sky burned different shades of purple, pink and brilliant orange as the sun made its over the horizon. A fitting last Sardinian experience for Belle before flying back to Manhattan. We made coffee and upped anchor. Once the anchor was back on deck, Stephen noticed the nut that connects the anchor to the chain was cleaving apart. Uh oh. I figured given how smoothly things had gone with the girls, we were due to have something go wrong. Though it was potentially a big problem, I was thankful the issue arose the day Belle was leaving. It would be our problem rather than hers, and we would deal with it once we had dropped her off safely. We motored into Olbia, as it was just a short hop and the wind had yet to fill in. We turned Florence back into the mouth of the harbour and began the long pilotage through the channel and back to that old commercial quai where we had picked Melissa up 10 days earlier. The train station was only a 5-minute walk from the quai, so I walked Belle to her platform and gave her a big hug goodbye. It was likely the last time I would see her for several months, though she promised to come back aboard in the Caribbean next year. I was a bit melancholy walking back to the boat but also satisfied - our first overnight guests' visit had gone without a hitch. The weather miraculously calmed down just in time for their arrival and nothing major broke on the boat during their stay - wonder of wonders. Costa Smerelda had been good to us.
As soon as I got back to the boat, the wind picked up meaningfully. It seemed Mother Nature’s timeout was over and she was back to her usual form. A quick check of Windy confirmed this, and we saw there was another mistral brewing over the Gulf of Lyon and headed our way. Excellent - back into business mode. Stephen ran to the chandlery to get a spare anchor swivel nut (or whatever they are called - I mostly make up words for things), while I ran to the supermarket for a big haul, as this would be our last change to provision until we made it to the Balearics. Back aboard, it was clear we needed to get moving. The wind was continuing to fill in and we had a lot of distance to cover before this next mistral was meant to hit, looking just as ferocious as the prior one. Our dismount from the wall was considerably more difficult this time around given the strong cross breeze blowing us on. The way we had tied up didn’t allow us to lever ourselves off the wall using a spring line as is our normal practice, so we had to wing it. Once Stephen slipped the bowline, I put her quickly in reverse at an angle just tight enough to avoid smashing her nose against the dock, but also wide enough to avoid another boat behind us. I had to move quickly, as the wind was blowing our nose onto the dock pretty forcefully. My stomach was in my throat as I watched Florence slip backwards inches away from the dock, then only a few feet away from the boat behind us, but we were fine. As we piloted out of the channel and back out to sea, it was clear our Sardinian holiday was officially over. The weather had given us just long enough of a break to show our friends a good time, but now she was back with a vengeance. We had perhaps stayed too far east this late in the season, and it was time to start heading west, and fast, before the next big blow.
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