I stayed at anchor in Milazzo for four days. On the last day, all the anchorage is emptied, everyone moves to the marina, so I also move so that I will not be an exception. The wind has turned, it is blowing from the NE and there are 2 m high waves at the anchorage. I get the last free seat in the marina, but it was too small for my boat and the creaking of the fenders right where I have the bed was unforgettable. I sit all day in my favorite bar and drink delicious Italian coffee, and in a glass case I see croissants and various masterpieces of Italian bakers, which I can’t afford today because I have a boat in the marina and only a few coins for coffee. In every city I find “my” bar, where I drink my morning coffee and wake up. That’s the way it is in life – you can’t have everything, in this case a boat in the marina and those croissants from the display case. I go back to the marina, straight to the reception, explain that the place they assigned me is not suitable for my boat and that I would be very happy if I can move somewhere else, because the marina is by no means cheap and I am not with that place. satisfied … Luckily they didn’t have any place, so I pay the marina and say goodbye. The woman in the office tells me: “Where are you going, there are two-meter waves outside and it’s already seven o’clock in the evening, it will be night soon?” that it seems to me that it has narrowed by 30 cm and for this reason lengthened by 1 m and now that I have a boat one meter longer, you will probably count me even more! I sail towards Palermo, the wind is right, there will be a bit of bouncing on the waves, it will be the hardest to get out of the marina, but it will be somehow, if of course the engine does not work any problems.
I leave the harbor and start bouncing along the waves against the wind. When I arrived around the cape, the sun had already set. On this side the sea is perfectly flat, only the wind is quite. Two catamarans and one sailboat are anchored in the bay. I decide to drop anchor right behind the cliff and go to bed. In the middle of the night, the wind gets stronger. I step out of the cabin and look at the collocations of the adjacent boats at the anchorage. The catamarans raised the anchor and sailed in place against the wind all night, and I raised the anchor and moved to the middle of the bay, where I have a safe distance from the charters. I lower the entire chain, wait a few minutes on deck, and go back to bed. I wake up in the morning, wind from nowhere and luckily my neighbors have left the bay as well. I drink my coffee, meanwhile raise the anchor and slowly make my way towards Palermo.
By three in the afternoon, the wind was still out of nowhere, only the waves remained, so they just invented an engine that rumbled in my boat. Two hours before sunset, the wind returns, of course exactly from where it is not needed. I drive all night with the other shortening and half of the genoa. I am already before Palermo before sunrise. I can’t even dream of how and where to enter, because the city is full of lights and it’s night outside. So I wait for an hour for sunrise and for the fishermen who leave the port early in the morning and are the best guides for entering and leaving. I had to stop in Palermo only because of a shipment that came from Slovenia and in which there are new solar cells and EPRIB from Luxery Marina. While I was assembling the solar cells and preparing the boat for the voyage towards Sardinia, we were all waiting for the favorable weather. There are four boats on my pier sailing in the same direction to the west. It’s been raining for six days in a row, the boat is ready, I’m just waiting for the weather just like everyone else. Finally on October 2nd we all leave the marina. On the first day, the weather forecast did not look the best, but the wind just turned back to the NE.
The first night thunders from all sides, lightning falling into the sea like arrows shooting over the clouds. I fear exactly what everyone fears: that lightning would strike me in the mast! That would burn all my electronics. I take comfort in the fact that when it rains, the chance of lightning striking a mast is less. After 20 minutes, however, it stopped raining. It still thunders, flashes, lightning strikes the sea, the wind turns 180 degrees and is now blowing from the SW. I am thinking of returning to Palermo, but I change my mind. It shakes me all night, the waves come from the front and from the back, and every now and then there are some from the side. I can’t believe my eyes and I say to myself: everything is possible just as nothing is impossible! In the morning, the weather somehow improves, the clouds blow and sailing has its charm again. I sit in the cockpit and eat my lunch: a can of tuna and old bread on which I almost break my tooth, so I soak it in milk for a short time before each bite. I wonder where the other boats are, how did they spend that night? The sun has set, I sail with another shortcut and the wind suddenly disappears, and a black crow sits on top of my mainsail and by no means refuses to leave it. The boat bounces from side to side, and I look around and think, who took my wind and what does this black bird mean now on my sail?
It doesn’t take me very long to “drop” that all this lull is before the storm. Above me and all around, they gather againclouds. A black crow on a sail. I jump out of the cockpit as if to launch me. I turn Genoa in two seconds. Breke off the mainsail, sail down, quickly fold it up and wrap the rope around the boom. It has begun! The wind swirls, the windex spins in a circle. I found myself in the middle of a cyclone. I try to sail with a little genoa, but the wind just tosses it to the left and then to the right. I observe a windex and a wind gauge at the top of the mast. In Montenegro, I didn’t fix it well, because I didn’t have any nuts with plastic on the boat and I had to settle for ordinary ones, which somehow pulled away again and the meter dances next to the windex again. He tosses me all night, I can’t sail, so I use a motorbike. All in all, it lasts until four in the morning, when the sky clears, the constant wind returns with S, the mistral with not so strong gusts, so I have the mainsail on the third shortening, and I hold the genoa rope constantly in my hand so I can pull it away from vinca and thus quickly solve the problem. I have the boat practically on a leash. Today is the third day since I left Palermo and according to the GPS map I am way too high as the wind and current have carried me towards the S, so I am sailing nicely with a cold mistral coming from the French Alps. I’m calculating the distance, I’m calculating the map, and it should have been in Sardinia a long time ago, but this time I’m not alone and I’m not even in Sardinia. A small bird with a yellow belly took refuge on my boat. He sat on the fence all night and kept me company. In the morning he took courage and moved to the cabin, where he was sitting on my divine merino wool blanket, on which a cute puppy was drawn – a bird was sitting right on it. When he had enough soft wool, he moved to the stormy window, where he watched his surroundings curiously, as if he knew that Sardinia must appear on the horizon at all times. I prepared a delicious lunch again: I opened a can of tuna, thank God I ran out of bread, so I also saved on milk, and I poured a little water into the cork of my friend and crushed the biscuit on a plate. When we finished our prestigious lunch, I went to rest, and he returned to the stormy window. At five o’clock in the afternoon he jumped out of the window, flew into the cockpit, and then left the boat without any greeting or farewell, except to leave a small puddle and a white stain on my table. Thanks birdie, I hope you enjoyed my boat.
Every now and then I poke my head out of the cab and look around. In front of me is Sardinia, okay, I think and constantly look at the top of the mast if the wind gauge is still known there. Then I move to the cockpit and I still watch him move back and forth and it gets on my nerves. It’s seven in the evening, the sun has set, and I’m finally in front of the first marina in SE Sardinia. I lower the sail, put it away, turn the genoa, and start the engine. I look at the top of the mast: the wind gauge hangs on the wire again and twists horribly here and there, well at least the whole trip shortened my time with the thought of whether or not it will, just like my boat. I enter the marina and moor at the gas station. All tired and happy, I lie down in the cockpit and fall asleep there. I move to bed in the middle of the night. I wake up early in the morning sleepy and full of energy. I climb to the top of the mast, finally attach the wind gauge correctly, and descend “back into the valley,” Kekec would say. At 9 a.m., a gas station opens where I refuel 20 liters of oil just because I was moored at the pier overnight and therefore didn’t have to pay the marina. I move to the other side of the marina, where there are already other boats with which we left Palermo together. Artemis with the Swiss is here too.
Sailing from Palermo took me 68 hours, much longer than it should have. The English needed 28 hours, but sailed only with a motor and an average speed of 8 knots. When we met at the bar, they moaned and complained about the weather until I told them how long my sailing took. The conversation was about the weather, and we soon found out that the Austrians were missing. They had to go back to Sicily. The gust of wind completely laid them down as they sailed with all the sails and as a result they also lost the mast with all the sails. In contact with them was an old Englishman with a long gray beard, the owner of a huge duo. After a whole day of sitting, debating about boats and sailing, we all went back to our boats and tried to make up for the sleep we didn’t have while sailing. In this marina, everything was paid for, including showers, so I preferred to do my shower right on the pier. I left the marina early in the morning before sunrise and even before the marina office opened. I sailed to the capital of Sardinia, Cagliari, where the marina was much cheaper, and the location also provided better access to shops and other infrastructure. I spent 10 days here. Meanwhile, I sewed up the mainsail, which tore due to the wear and tear of the material. The Swiss also joined me the very next day. I caught mullets in the marina and grilled them. I didn’t even want to try them myself, saying I don’t eat fish … They were great for them, even though they were caught in the marina.
Waiting for the pleasanto the weather has already moved me quite a bit. Finally a suitable forecast arrived and at 3pm I left the port, sailed from Cagliari and set my route towards Mallorca. I sail along the brown water from the bay and race around the cape with a duel sponsored by the Sardinian brewer Ichnus. No sailor would defend such a sponsor. The forecast is beautiful, the weather should be sunny and the wind should be enough. I say goodbye to the last lighthouse on this island and look no further. Lady Ivana disappears from the horizon at sunset.
